Fate Comes Knocking

The wind picked up outside Freckle's window as a late-evening storm formed far to the west. It would be here in a while, but for now the coming tempest only gave out a warning that creatures of the city and the forests took heed. Confined to the house, the boy was content to read up on the many subjects which interested him. Unlike his public-self, Calvin in private was far more confident. He could read well, write well, knew how to keep a house in good condition, and even learned gardening from his mother.

Nina was tidying up after dinner. Doing dishes had always been relaxing for her, especially late at night when her boy was to be in bed. Of course, Calvin was under strict orders to stay put except for when she needed help around town, but after having time to cool off she refrained from being too hard on the boy. She couldn't help but place some of the blame on herself. Nina reasoned that if she hadn't let Rocky get so close to her only son then he would not have involved himself in criminal activities. At least this time around she had put a stop to it before anyone got hurt.

As she dried her hands, a loud knock came from the front door. Nina rolled her eyes, muttering to herself. "And who could that be at this hour?" Upstairs, Freckle too heard the knock at the door and peaked his head out. Late night visitors were rare in this neighborhood and Calvin of course wanted to know who it was. Perhaps a late-night priest? Or maybe a neighbor needed his help next door?

Nina, broom in hand just in case she needed to shoo away some vagrant, cautiously opened the door. Standing on the front porch was the young maa she met only once before, Ethan Kelly.

"An' just what do you think yer doin' standing on my front porch, Mr. Kelly?"

I didn't have much time for pleasantries. "May I come in, ma'am?"

Nina looked at me annoyed, ears back. "Does this have to do with Roark?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then I'm not interested. That boy had many an opportunity to shape up, yet he continued to put my son in danger. And don't think I'm not aware of your involvement in this mess. Now leave before I call the police." She finished by shutting the door abruptly. I wasn't about to give up that easily.

"Miss McMurray, please! They've been captured by a rival gang! Rocky was taken captive, as was my little sister! I need help, I need Calvin!"

The door opened again; this time wide enough that I could see Nina completely instead of just her head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Kelly. But you have reaped what you have sown. Go tell the police, turn yourself in—"

"The feds are in on it, Miss McMurray. There's an accomplice to this gang working as a treasury agent. I've been left with instructions. Here, it's all in this note!" I shoved the letter Mordecai left me under her nose, but the cat wasn't moved.

"If you think I'm putting my only son in danger for that ungrateful menace I tried to raise, you are mistaken, Ethan. And if the police are just a crooked as you criminals, then I'll just have to make sure Calvin finds a more respectable line of work—"

Freckle then poked his head out from around his mother. "Ethan? Rocky's been captured?"

I was relieved to see the boy again. "Not just Rocky, Freckle. But Riley, Mitzi, Zib, even Ivy!"

Looking at his face, I could tell Freckle wanted to help, and the thought of Ivy being captive alongside his cousin put some fire in him, yet he still held back, trying to appease his mother. "Did you try calling Viktor? He'd be more help that me."

"He's dead, Freckle. They shot him in the speakeasy."

Nina pushed her son back into the house, keeping herself between me and him. "I suppose you want him to meet the same fate. Begone before I break out the broom!"

"But mom—"

"No, Calvin. I will not permit this. Now get back to bed and let the sinners have their justice."

"Justice?" I simmered. "Is letting a little girl die justice?! And Ivy, she did nothing wrong in any of this! Even Zib and Rocky don't deserve death or eternal damnation over some booze! But that's exactly what's going to happen if something isn't done."

Freckle looked at his mother, pleading with her. "Mom, I must do this! I helped to create this problem, now I need to fix it."

"No, you don't Calvin. I feel for the poor girls, even this 'Ivy'. But you are not a gangster, you are a sweet, quiet, and well-mannered boy. Just like I raised you to be. I'm not going to let you run off and get yourself killed over a degenerate like your cousin. Roark is just like his father. He even shot someone!"

Calvin willed himself not to explode. Instead, he looked between his mother and me. He wanted to go, but he also wanted to be the good son his mother saw. For once, he couldn't be both. I finally stood down; this wasn't something I was going to make him do. If I had to, I'd face my fate alone and hope it was enough to save the others.

I exhaled and spoke with a slight quiver in my voice. "I'm sorry, Freckle. I wouldn't ask this of you if there was someone else I could turn to. You don't have to come with me. No one would blame you if you stayed home. But there comes a time when you have to start making decisions for yourself. I'll wait for you in the truck for a few minutes."

As I walked away, the door closed behind me. Climbing into the cab of the farm truck, I checked my weapons once more.

Inside, Freckle could hardly stand it any longer. "Mom, I need to help."

"Calvin, I know you want to do the right thing, but this was always going to be how the story ends for your cousin and his friends. Sinning against the Lord has consequences, all we can do is pray for them."

"Even for Rocky?"

"Yes, though those prayers may not be enough to save that boy's soul. Truly, Calvin, I thought I could show him the way to a pious and quiet life, but he had too much of his father in him. The incident proved that to me."

Calvin hated to admit this, but something inside him urged the boy to speak out. It wasn't justice then to kick Rocky out, and it wasn't justice now to let him die!

"Mother, it wasn't Rocky who shot the neighbor… it was me."

"Lying won't save your cousin, Calvin. Now, enough of this—"

"It's true! I had the gun in my hands. It's just that something… something about a gun brings out another side to me. I can't really explain it, but—"

"You mean the devil? Of course such a beastly weapon brings out the worst in boys. I'm sure Mr. Kelly knows something about that."

"No, mother, you aren't listening! Rocky has been covering for me all these years. He's not a screw-up. He's not like his Dad! He's a good man!"

Nina decided then to be more direct. Her son was being uncharacteristically bold. "Calvin, I'm tired of this. Now go to upstairs, pray, ask forgiveness for lying to your mother, and let fate deal with Roark and his ilk."

But the decision was made. Freckle marched upstairs and came down a moment later with clothing. Now Nina was angry. "Calvin Allen McMurray! Get back upstairs this instant!"

Instead, he pulled out his father's coat and hat from the closet. He looked at his mother, it finally occurring to him that he was actually taller, and likely stronger, than the woman who raised him. "Move, mother. I have to go."

"Someone is looking for some proper discipline tonight, aren't ya? I'll give you one last chance, Calvin. Upstairs, now!"

Instead, quick as lightning. Calvin got around his mother and opened the door. Now Nina was livid. She yelled out to her son as he walked outside. "Calvin! Don't you dare leave that porch. If you go off to find your cousin… you'll be banished just like him!"

He was now facing the worse punishment his mother could muster. But despite all the love he held for her, Calvin couldn't stand by and let the people he loved die. Ethan showed him that. He thought about Rocky. He thought about Ivy. He thought about Mitzi, Zib, and even Viktor. It was too late for the Slav, but the others could still be saved, he just had to trust that Ethan had a plan. Turning around, Freckle looked at his mother one last time.

"I'm sorry, mother. I'm done being a coward."

Nina couldn't believe it. It was her last desperate measure. The last threat to keep a wayward boy in line. And yet her only son hadn't ignored it. No, he accepted it and walked out anyway. Closing the door, a sudden dread came over her. Nina had to sit down in shock. Her boy was walking right into the jaws of death, and she couldn't do anything else to stop him. She couldn't even call the police! If what Ethan said was true, they wouldn't help. But even if the department would dispatch officers, she didn't know where Ethan was going. Finally, she realized that what could possibly be the last thing she ever said to her son was a threat. "Oh God…" She said, burying her face in her hands.

I sat in the truck, letting the engine heat up the cab. The far-off storm wasn't so far off now. As I looked at my own reflection, I gave a great sigh. Perhaps it was going to just be me? No sooner did the thought come to mind that it was quickly dispelled when the passenger door opened. Freckle looked at me, a face that was unusually serious. Without saying a word, he climbed in. Looking straight ahead, he leaned back in the seat.

"Mom disowned me…"

"She… Oh, Freckle. I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it was going to happen eventually. Now, where's my gun?"

"Under the seat, fully loaded. But I'm going to get some more firepower. That and we need to see Wick Sable."

"Mr. Sable?" Freckle asked, confused.

"Yeah. They are being held at his old quarry site. He'll have knowledge we could use, and the man has a collection of guns at his disposal. Surely there's some ammo stashed away in that mansion somewhere."

Noble Knight

Wick was at his desk, doing paperwork. The band was safely stashed away in the guest house, but he had not heard anything back from Mitzi, Zib, or anyone else. It was starting to worry him. The coming storm was also beginning to worry the cat. Moving stuff in the rain was never fun. But as he looked up, Wick saw headlights coming down the driveway. "Ah, about time. Better escort Mitzi to the guest quarters, no doubt the poor woman has had a rough day."

Briskly walking down the stairs, Wick was able to answer the door just as the occupants got out. But rather than seeing an entire crew of cats from Lackadaisy, all that stood before him was Ethan and Calvin.

"It is good to see you boys again… but where is Miss M? And for that matter, where is everyone else?"

I cleared my throat. "Sir, we've got a problem. The Marigolds, they've taken everyone."

"My word… Here, come in and explain. I'll get the police on the phone and—"

"Cops are in on it, Mr. Sable. But I will explain the situation because you may very well be of great help."

Ten minutes later and we had gotten Wick all caught up. Moreau wanted me dead, and he was using Riley as well as the Lackadaisy crew as hostages. It was simple. If I gave myself up, he'd let them go. Of course, no one with a functioning brain would believe that was the case. As Wick finished reading Mordecai's instructions, he put down his glasses on his desk.

"So, this detective is trying to lure you into a trap, is he?"

"I'm certain of it. Moreau has been working for the Chicago Outfit for a long time. I've been doing quite a bit of research on him, getting as much information as possible. But more importantly, we've faced each other before."

Wick tilted his head slightly. "And you didn't kill him the last time?"

"The first time I was a fourteen-year-old boy. The last time… Well, Moreau got lucky I guess."

Our host nodded in understanding. "So he's a hard one to kill, then. Well, you boys are in luck. I certainly have enough ammunition downstairs. Not a lot of 45's, I'm afraid. But rifle and shotgun ammunition are all in a vault. Most of my gun collection is vintage, but some pieces are newer. There's a browning auto five in a cabinet downstairs. I've also got a new toy from Winchester. Only came out a couple years ago. They call it the model 54."

"I'll use whatever you can give me, Mr. Sable."

"Of course, the question is what gun I'll be using."

Freckle looked at me, then back to him. "Wait, what?"

I too was caught off guard by this. "No offense, Mr. Sable, but you aren't exactly the fighting type. It's bad enough I'm bringing a child into this mess."

"Boys, I'm far from being a brave man. But Mitzi needs all the help she can get. Now, perhaps I won't be any good in a shootout, but surely there's some way I can help?"

I thought about it for a minute. "Well… I guess you can drive, right?"

"That old farm truck? Certainly! And I know just the backroad to take into the quarry. They'll never see us coming. Now, let me get my things and we'll be ready for the road."

Dragging Freckle behind me, we went downstairs and got everything loaded up. I wasn't going to turn down additional help, though I was unsure how much help some aristocrat was going to be. My suspicion was confirmed as Wick closed the door behind him. His driving gloves, glasses, hat, and jacket said it all.

"You're joking, right?" I asked.

"I've prepared for any possible situation, Mr. Kelly. Scarf and gloves in case the windshield is busted, jacket in case it rains, a canteen in case of thirst—"

"That's a flask." I retorted. "Mind if I see that?"

"Why of course! It was a gift from- hey!"

I unscrewed the cap and downed a third of it before handing the booze back to him. "That's a good whiskey, Mr. Sable. But don't be drinking this, I need you sober."

"Says the one who just drank half my emergency supply…"

"I need it more than you, trust me. Anyways, if you're ready?"

Wick climbed into the driver's seat without complaint as I opened the door for Freckle. He leaned in to speak. "We're doomed, aren't we?"

"I have a plan, McMurray. Just trust me."

Hostages

Rocky slowly came to after passing out. His head hurt, but at least it wasn't spinning like earlier. As he tried to get up, he found himself bound by the hands and feet. Realizing what must have happened, Rocky quickly sat up and looked around. Mitzi, Zib, Ivy, and Riley were there with him, all bound the same. Mitzi had her head down while Ivy was crying softly. Zib was staring at the ceiling, somehow looking bored despite his current predicament. Young Riley was the only one who still showed some confidence, though she was snuggled between Ivy and Mitzi for security.

"What manner of activities did I miss out on, Miss M?"

Mitzi said nothing, but Zib spoke for her. "I'd say I'm glad you're awake, kid, but being drunk would make getting executed a lot more tolerable."

"Zib!" Mitzi growled. "The girls are scared enough already."

"Oh, right."

Rocky scooted himself closer to Ivy. "Hey, I've been in situations like this before. The key is to have a positive attitude! You remember those pig farmers, Ivy? Well, they almost succeeded in killing me with the "Sunshine Express". But they didn't, because it turns out your typical bad guy is a witless rube!"

Zib rolled his eyes. "Mordecai is not a witless rube. Face it, people, we're screwed."

"An accurate assessment, Dorian." Heller observed as he opened the metal door. Two faceless agents hung out in the shadows behind him.

Mitzi lifted her head up and looked her one-time associate dead in the eyes. "Does this please you, Mordecai? Seeing your former friends like this?"

"No, but you brought it on yourself, Mitzi. Just be thankful that Moreau is after Ethan and not you. Which brings me to you, young miss... Riley, isn't it?"

Ivy wiped away tears from her face and focused her fear and anger on someone she used to think was a friend. "Don't you dare hurt this little girl, Heller! Or I'll—"

"Sit there and sob? Maybe do something stupid, such as attack me? I assure you, Ivy, I have no intention of harming Riley or you. But I would like to know more about Ethan, and his sister would naturally be a good source of information."

"What do you want to know?" Riley asked, holding on tight to Ivy.

"This…" Mordecai produced a small book from his pocket. "I couldn't help but notice that there was a connection between your brother and this… legend. "The Ghost of Charlevaux" sounds like some tall tale, yet I've seen enough of him to think there is some truth to his exploits. Now, is your brother the Ghost of Charlevaux?"

Riley narrowed her eyes. "Yes, he is. And when my brother shows up, he's going to kill you all."

"I doubt that, but he may try. Which is why this place is crawling with Marigold agents. Now, child, what do you know of his tactics? How does he prefer to kill? How many has he killed?"

"Save your breath." Mitzi sneered. "Ethan never told any of us the details. But if he's even half the warrior that legend has made him out to be, any cat would be scared."

"Most cats are. I am not. There's a plan in place. All Ethan must do is follow his part and this will all be over soon. Moreau gave me his word you'll all be released. Now then, if that's truly all you have to offer, I'll take my leave."

Mordecai pocketed the book once more and exited the room. The door audibly locked a moment afterward followed by three sets of footsteps. Mitzi broke, the last of her strength fading. She could face Mordecai, but she couldn't face fate just yet. "I'm sorry for all of this."

Riley hugged the woman. "It's okay, Miss M. We'll be out of here in no time."

Zib scoffed. "You're quite the optimist, Miss Kelly. But there's no way one cat can take on all these agents, and I doubt Moreau is going to hold true to his word. They never do in this business."

Rocky then stood up, the ropes falling off of him. "Quite right, Zib! And I for one don't intend on sticking around to find out."

Zib looked up in surprise. "Rocky, how did you-?"

"One learns many things in the circus, Zib. Especially when submerged in dihydrogen monoxide and it's the first day of practice!"

Rocky then knelt to start untying his friends. "And all we have to do now is find a way out of this room…"

Trust Me

The storm was close now, and the wind was beginning to howl. The truck motored up to the entrance of the quarry. I took a deep breath as I hopped down from the back of the truck. Coming up to Freckle's door, he tried to get out, but I pinned it shut. "No. Moreau wants me, and that's what he's going to get."

"But—"

"Freckle, I need you to give covering fire if things go south. The priority is to get our friends and relations out of here in one piece. Your tommy gun can lay down effective suppressing fire, but you need to time it just right. When you… do your thing, you need to maintain control, understand?"

"Y-yes."

"Good."

Wick leaned forward to see me. "And what, exactly, is this plan Ethan?"

"I'm going to distract and stall Moreau as much as I can. I want you and Freckle to find a backway into the quarry. Get down to the buildings unseen. If you shut the truck off and coast in, you should be able to blend right in with whatever equipment you still have down there. Anyway, Freckle will need to locate our people and show them the way out. Once everyone is loaded, start it up and run like hell."

"Not to worry, Ethan. We'll get them out. But what about you?"

"I'll find my own way out like last time. Or I'll die. Either way, get the others out. That's what matters here. Now go and get ready, I'm going to take a walk."

"Good luck, Ethan." Freckle said. I put my hand on his shoulder.

"If I don't make it out, Freckle, I just want you to know how grateful I am. You and Rocky are my brothers, and I hope you'll take care of Riley as if she were your sister."

"We'll take care of each other as a family, Ethan. Just don't die on us."

"I'll do my best. See you soon."

The truck drove away with the lights off. Regardless of what transpired, I had to stall Moreau. Get all the attention on me. I could do it with the rifle, but there's no way I could take on the number of agents Mordecai specified. One would get the idea to kill the hostages out of spite, that's just how this kind of stuff worked. I also didn't believe for a second that Moreau had the integrity to stay true to his word. He had orders from Chicago to wipe out Lackadaisy, and that meant no witnesses. But there was a plan in place, I just had to follow it.

Dropping my gear halfway down the entrance road, I stashed everything under a particular tree that I could make out in the dark. I pulled out everything I'd need from my bag and stuck the sheathed bayonet along my backside. Donning my father's old coat, I took out some white paint. Though I didn't know the words, I made the symbol of Ogun on my forehead using a small mirror to guide me. Replacing my hat, I walked down the rest of the way. I dreaded every step. In the moment, that same phrase came back to me. I wasn't going to call on spirits and Gods to help me. I was going to defy their expectations just as I did many times before.

The voices of many miners came back to me as I recited it repeatedly. "Tell God and the Devil they can try, but today won't be the day we die."

Moreau wasn't just facing a miner. He was facing a soldier and a brother too.

The detective lit a cigarette while flanked by Nico and Sera. All three were looking over the illuminated industrial yard. Movement to their right caught Sera's eye. She went to lift her rifle but saw that it was only Mordecai.

"You gave me a fright, Cher! Movin' all quiet-like is a good way to get shot."

"Being noisy and standing in the open is an even better way to get shot."

Moreau took the cigarette out of his mouth, letting the smoke float up into the night sky. Up above the clouds raced past, but down in the quarry the air was still. It would remain so until the storm was right on top of us. "How's our guests doing, Mr. Heller?"

"They are not impressed with the accommodations, but it shouldn't be long now. I got word from Asa that Ethan survived your first trap."

"Trap? No, a test. I wanted to see just how dangerous Ethan was. If he beat two of your more competent agents, then we should be prepared for everything."

"Which is why it is odd to see someone with your intellectual abilities standing in the open…"

"If Ethan is stupid enough to try and shoot me, you all have your orders. Surround and eliminate Ethan, then kill our hostages."

"We should be taking more precautions. I should be at the entrance waiting for him."

"You are where I want you to be, Mr. Heller. What has you so worried, anyway?"

"This…" Mordecai pulled out the book again and gave it to Moreau.

Moreau took it in his hand and thumbed through the pages. "The Ghost of Charlevaux, huh? Why would this be relevant?"

"It's relevant because it is about Ethan. He's the Geist."

"Well, regardless. He is just one cat. And—"

"Shh!" Nico hushed his colleagues. "Der he is, look!"

Valley of Death

Out of the shadows and into the courtyard a lone figure emerged. Sera immediately drew a bead, struggling to hold the BAR up to her shoulder. Nico drew his revolver as several agents converged, moving to outflank their target. Mordecai remained composed while Moreau finished off his cigarette.

Clearing his throat, Moreau walked out into the open. "Ethan Kelly, I hear you're a hard cat to kill!"

"I'm flesh and blood, just like you Moreau. It's been a long time."

Moreau scanned me from head to toe as he got closer. "My my, you've grown some since I last saw you. And apparently, you're quite the killer now. Tell me, how did you kill four Marigolds miles apart on the same evening? That's always boggled my old brain."

"Trade secret, I'm afraid. Though it appears I've made an impression on your men."

Moreau looked around and saw the same fear. "Well, you can hardly blame them. I'll admit though, I half-expected you to come in, guns blazing. I was even hoping to see this Springfield rifle you've been toting around."

"Your friend, Drago, saw to it that the rifle burned up inside the Lackadaisy."

He looked down as the detective struck up another cigarette. "Yes, that is quite a shame. Asa tells me that place was beautiful in its prime. More than I can say for myself. But it had to be done. Nasty business we're involved in, isn't it?"

"Indeed. Of course, I'm more upset about the man lying dead inside the establishment. Tell me, who was it that killed Viktor. You, or Drago?" As I asked the question, I looked over at Mordecai. No one else saw it, but his eyebrows raised up. He didn't know.

"Drago put the old boar down after he tried to fight his way out. Fatal mistake around Dom, he's almost as precise as Mordecai over there."

"I suppose we ought to get down to business…"

"Yes, quite right. Cigarette?"

"No, thanks. I just want my friends and little sister released, that's all."

Moreau stepped back. "Oh, I'm afraid that's not possible. You see, my bosses up in Chicago need St. Louis to be pest free. And, well, the hostages have served their purpose. Now they could be a liability. But don't worry, they'll be taken care of quickly. Just like you."

"Shit…" Was all I had time to say as Moreau pointed a revolver at my chest and fired.

Mordecai watched as Moreau moved like lightning. Ethan didn't stumble, he simply fell back, twisting onto his face as he hit the dirt. A perfect shot right into the chest. But killing the others wasn't part of the plan. While he had no love for Mitzi, Mordecai did everything he could to avoid a direct conflict with her. Moreau smiled as he holstered the revolver and snapped his fingers. "Take him to the hole, boys. Now, Mordecai. With that business taken care of, I need to thank you for your help-"

"It… was a pleasure, detective."

"-It's just too bad we have to let you go."

"What do you mean?" A rifle barrel was instantly jammed into Mordecai's back. He froze, knowing that even the slightest movement meant Serafine would cut him in half.

Moreau smiled, finishing his second cigarette. "You see, Sera here had been suspicious for some time. Someone of your caliber doesn't make sloppy mistakes. And yet, you lead us right into an ambush. You failed to kill Ethan, or for that matter anyone else related to Lackadaisy. In fact, Sera and Nico confirmed you buried a bayonet in a tree right above Ethan's head. And then there was your contact…"

"Contact?" Mordecai asked, confused. He had many contacts.

"It was a new one. Seemed to know an awful lot about me and Drago. Some things that would only be known to someone who was in Montana years ago. The pen name was obvious once I realized you knew German. "Iren" sounds beautiful, but it also means "Irish", doesn't it?"

"This "evidence" is highly circumstantial."

"Oh, in isolation it is. But put it all together, and I think I've got it figured out. You were never truly loyal to Marigold, but you knew that someone involved with the gang pulled the trigger on old Atlas May. Tell me, am I hitting close to the mark?"

Mordecai's silence confirmed it. Moreau continued. "But it is truly sad to see such talent go to waste. So, I'm willing to offer you a choice. It was Serafine's idea, but it was a very good one. You need to sever all ties with your former crew. Execute them all and redeem yourself."

"What?"

"It's simple. I had the boys dig several graves up in that tree grove. Either you join Ethan in there, or you allow Ethan's friends and family to join him. Which will it be?"

It was an impossible choice. He felt little for most people, but this was simply barbaric and a waste of resources. He had expected this sort of savagery from the Savoys, but from Adam Moreau? Now it made sense why he was so highly valued in Chicago. He could put down someone like Zib, and Rocky meant very little to him. He found both to be annoying in their own way. He might be able to kill Mitzi, but there would be no satisfaction in it. They were friends once, to an extent. She teased him, but also made sure that he had all he needed.

But Ivy and that child? They were both completely innocent. Moreau had known Ivy since she was a little girl, and Viktor dotted on her like a father. And Ethan's sister, a mere child? The thought disgusted him. And yet he'd die otherwise. They had a plan; it was mostly his. But that went out the window quickly, all based on a false assumption.

"Well, are you going to make the smart decision? Because I'd rather get this over with and go home."

Mordecai sighed. "No. I am a hitman and an assassin. My actions have purpose. Killing people who are no longer a threat is a waste of my time."

Moreau shook his head. "Disappointing. Nico, would you do us the honors?"

With a solid right hook, Nico dropped his associate in an instant. He them motioned for two other agents to drag the unconscious hitman to his final destination. Moreau patted him on the shoulder.

"Quite the arm, young man. You and your sister have proven yourselves to be valuable. Now-"

Moreau was interrupted by the distinctive sound of a Thompson.