Oh, this was bad-and the day had started so wonderfully. As Katja and I went through some of the standard drills and techniques I usually used in my fighting lessons, I have to admit that my mind was a bit preoccupied. In hindsight, I admit, it was a bit of a shame to miss out on what could have been some fun, playful interactions, but at the time my thoughts of her safety-and Muriel's-were more important.
Where could a man like that-a man of modest means at best-go? What resources did he have, and how did he plan to use them? Somehow my instinct told me he hadn't left New York and likely wouldn't. He didn't have the means to go far or start over. But he would have to make good on his threat to Muriel-and his unspoken one to Katja-to silence them and resume his life. That was the part that terrified me, and it was the part I needed to address. I had a few thoughts, but none of them translated into a course of action yet as Katja and I headed back inside. She needed to take the dog out. I was fine with that as long as I was with her, but again I was too distracted to fully enjoy her company. My eyes roamed the streets as we walked, even though I knew we were not really going to be attacked in broad daylight. We walked up towards Downtown Brooklyn. As we reached a busier street, one of hte bootblacks waved me over.
"Spot," he called. I didn't know this boy by name, though his face was familiar.
"Yeah?" I asked, glancing at him briefly even as my eyes continued to scan the neighborhood.
"Solly Ryan's lookin' for you," he said, and I nodded curtly. Solly was one of the premier fighters in the Jackson Hollow Gang. I tried to keep the newsies out of the way of hte gangs when I could-I wanted more for my boys, and it's always a good idea not to run afoul of a gang-but I dealt with them somewhat regularly. I wouldn't say Solly and I were friends, but we were sparring partners. See, most of the guys can't quite match me in a fight, but Solly and I are pretty even. I'm still a touch quicker than he is, but he hits fractionally harder. On any given day he is probably the only person in New York who could beat me-though I think I he'd say the same about me. It's also a good way for me to keep up to speed on the goings-on of the gang activities. It helps to know what and where to avoid, what a rival gang is up to, and such. My information network is pretty good too, so it's a two-way exchange.
"Did he say where I could find him?" I asked, though I suspected I knew the answer.
"Fulton and Bedford," the bootblack answered. I sighed, then nodded my thanks to the kid. I had wanted to spend a quiet day off with Katja, but instead I was walking another two miles to find a gang member while keeping an eye on my surroundings. All the while Katja stayed quiet, her eyes downcast. Normally I'd be trying to draw her out, but today I was both preoccupied and grateful that her silence allowed me to concentrate. We were still a few blocks from our destination when I spotted Red on the rooftops above. He was following us. That allowed me to relax a bit-I had eyes up high.
We hadnt quite reached the intersection with Bedford when I spotted Solly coming out of a building. I whistled to him, and, recognizing the sound, he started towards me. I motioned up to the building for Red to come down. Katja, who had been startled by my sudden stop and whistle, looked at me curiously.
"Stay with Red for a moment while I talk to Solly," I said, and she whipped around, surprised to see Red walking up behind her.
"Where did he come from?" she asked.
"I'll let him tell you," I said cheekily before heading over to where Solly stood across the street.
"Spot," he said, offering me his hand. I shook it without spitting in mine-that's a newsie thing, not a street gang thing.
"Solly," I responded, my tone serious but relaxed.
"Saw today's paper. Thought you might want to hear what the word on this was," he said.
"Yeah?" I asked. If the gangs were involved, things just got a lot tougher.
"Word is this guy approached the Eastmen about getting to some girl in Manhattan. Said there may be another girl in Brooklyn, but the Eastmen turned down that one-didn't want to cross the bridge." He grinned at me, his expression easy to read. He was proud that the Brooklyn gangs had a big enough reputation that the feared Eastmen would respect their turf. "We haven't heard anything about a Brooklyn hit, but saw the story, talked to your boy who sold me the pape a bit, and figured there might be a connection."
A hit in Manhattan. Santorelli knew Muriel was in Manhattan. How did he- I suddenly remembered the unease I had felt as we crossed the bridge on Friday. He had followed us. I hadnt seen him, but my instincts had known he was there. He probably knew roughly where Muriel was. That meant trouble for the Manhattan boys. I turned back to the conversation at hand.
"That's the Brooklyn girl," I nodded to Katja. "She's my girl." My message was obvious. There was not to be a move on her.
"That guy really do what the papes say?" he asked.
"Yeah, he did. To the girl in Manhattan, too."
"Bet the Eastmen don't know that," Solly muttered. There may not be honor among thieves in most things, but abusing children is the exception. We both knew that the Eastmen wouldn't have taken a hit under these circumstances.
"I'll make sure they find out," I said, and he nodded. Newsies have the ability to move between gangs, so we often act as neutral messengers. Saves a lot of bloodshed on both sides. See, while the gangs of fifty years ago didn't care as much about those things, the modern gangs have figured out that unnecessary violence leads to arrests and cuts off revenue. They're much more savvy, even if they aren't any more moral, and the result is more peaceful for everyone.
"We'll keep our eyes peeled and keep watch on your girl," he said, and I nodded my thanks. With the largest and most powerful gang in Brooklyn on the job, I knew Katja would have a layer of safety that made her almost unassailable. Nobody would take the job, especially once I took the trouble of sending runners to the Rainmen and the Dump Gang as well. But the more immediate problem was getting word to Manhattan.
"Thanks, Solly," I said, shaking his hand again.
"She must really be something to make a respectable man out of you," he said, motioning with his head to where Katja and Red stood.
"She is," I responded, turning back to cross the street. Red looked at me as I approached. He was curious, but I could tell he also knew instructions would be forthcoming and that he should hold his tongue and listen. He wasn't wrong.
"Send runners to the Rainmen and Dump Gang. Let them know there was talk of a move on a girl. Let them know who it is and why they shouldn't accept the contract. Tell them the Jackson Hollow boys are against it." Red nodded, and I could see some confusion in Katja's face. "We're going to Manhattan."
"You want backup?" Red asked, and I shook my head.
"It'll take too long," I said. "Jack's boys will be enough."
"You taking Cat?" he asked, and I thought for a moment. I'd be faster without her, but until I knew this was over, I was loathe to let her out of my sight.
"Probably shouldn't," I said, and Red nodded.
"Do I get a choice?" her annoyed voice cut through our conversation.
"Sorry, Cat," I said. She was right to be annoyed. After all, it was her situation, and we'd been talking over her like she was a commodity.
"I'm staying with Spot," she said firmly to Red. Turning to me, she added, "I won't slow you down, and I'm safest with you."
Well, that was the most determined I'd ever seen her, and she did make some fair points.
"Okay," I said. "Let's go." I nodded in dismissal to Red, knowing full well he'd take care of spreading word to the Brooklyn gangs. Grabbing Katja's hand, I pulled her onto a passing cart, and we headed off to Manhattan.
**AN: Solly Ryan and the gangs mentioned were real. Don't know much about them, but their existence is real enough.