Chapter 8

The next morning, Rebecca sat in a comfortable, closed coach in an alleyway near the warehouse district at London's docks. The fine wool tartan over her skirts and heavy cloak over her shoulders kept the Autumn morning chill bearable.

She and Jones had followed the Ridgemont brothers to this area for an alleged planned meeting with their uncle's English supplier. Fairmont shipping and Joel Fairmont were known suppliers and shippers of weapons. There had been nothing illegal in that trade, and there still wasn't, but there was something awfully suspicious about sending large shipments of arms to a conquered region that had lost a war over a year ago.

The young men had left their hired carriage a block away from a warehouse. They were met at the door by a mountain of a guard whose bulk had hidden the entrance. Rebecca didn't understand the security need, especially against two young men. Jules told her this morning what the Ridgemont's said about being deckhands on a family-owned steamship. That built strength. The boys were also tall, matching Phileas's height, but bigger in the shoulders and solidly muscled everywhere else. Add the agility and energy of youth…

Well, the door man allowed them to enter with no issues.

Ten minutes later, Rebecca saw the boys backing down the stairs, leaving the office at the behest of three furious-looking men and the door guard. One boy did not look like he wanted to back down, but he was being held back by the other. The boys backpedaled another fifteen yards before turning their backs on the men, yelling abuse at them.

"Now, what is that about?"

The brothers were several blocks away from their unfriendly eviction from Mr. Fairmont's offices when Mark shook off his brother's hold on his arm. His breath steaming in the chilled air. "You should have let me take him. He had no call to talk like that about Uncle Matt."

"I'm not so sure," Matt said. "Uncle Matt brought a lot of weapons to the confederacy. He may have pre-ordered. But even if he did, the war is over. They can't expect Uncle Matt to make good on orders for goods when there is no confederacy to buy them. Mr. Fairmont's crazy, and I am going to write to Uncle Matt about this. Any contract he had ended with the end of the war. All the contracts were written like that. There is no way Fairmont can force us to buy war goods with no war going on."

The brothers arrived at the library calmer after the walk. By the time they met Jules Verne for their day of sightseeing, both were in a better frame of mind and took to their scheduled list with enthusiasm, but still nervously looked over their shoulders. They never saw the small slight man trailing them, but Rebecca did.

Late that night, Matthew Ridgemont ended his night early after a few friendly games of poker with Jules. His star pupil had won more hands than he had lost, which was the second reason he had left the tables early. The first had been the letter he still hadn't written to his uncle. Matt was still uneasy about the altercation.

Uncle Matt told me to go to Mr. Fairmont's office and verbally restate that their contracts with him were ended. That's all that should have been needed. The war ended last May, when General Lee surrendered. There is no way he could force us to continue those contracts with the war ended, is there?

Uncle Matt showed me the letter he sent to Mr. Fairmont, ending our trade with him. His attitude is completely unreasonable. No. And I told him there would be no further trade with his company at all. Don't really have the authority to back that up, but when Uncle Matt gets my letter–no, I'll send a telegram. When he gets the message, He will agree with me.

Continuing to mull over the morning, Matt turned a corner heading to his hotel. Walking toward him, Matt saw a smallish man he recognized as having been at the warehouse that with Mr. Fairmont. That did not bother him right away. The man had a right to entertain himself wherever he saw fit. What caught Matt's attention was the way he was walking, and the hand he had in his coat that set alarm bells off. Matt had spent too much time on rough wharf fronts along the Gulf Coast and Caribbean not to know when a man was pulling a weapon. When the knife hilt came into view, he reached for his own from the back of his belt. The street front was nearly empty. The small man made his move as Matt came within ten yards. His thin stiletto came into full view as he stopped in front of Matt, grimacing wickedly.

For a moment, Matt just looked at him, then grimaced.

Who does this fool think I am, some city kid?

Matt answered by pulling his bowie knife into full view. It was several inches longer and a sight scarier looking than the little Italian thing the other fella held.

The smaller man registered that and resized up his opponent. The boy he had been sent to deal with was taller and built larger than himself, not to mention the size of his weapon. My orders are to do damage, not to kill the boy. Fairmont wanted Matthew Ridgemont to know who he was dealing with and to let his uncle know, too. A dead kid can't do that.

"Next time, this won't be a staring match," he said in an icy, hard, lower-class accent. "Tell your uncle we had a deal."

"Come back anytime. My answer won't change." Matt drawled as the small man turned to walk away.

As the attacker disappeared, several people came around the corner. A couple came up behind him. Matt slowly turned, heading the other way. That could have gone differently.

He hurried down the walk to his hotel and back to the casino within minutes. Matt found his brother on his way upstairs with a tall blonde in red feathers. Against Mark's protests, Matt dragged him away to a private corner and explained what had happened. The boys exchanged worried looks and something else as they parted.