“Did you see anyone?” Alexander asked MacAvoy as he loped down the alley. Alexander and James Thompson were standing in the shadow of a small roof over a delivery door.
“There’s three,” MacAvoy said. “One watching from the tavern across the street and one loafing in the alley behind the building. Almost missed the one in the storefront on the ground floor till he lit a match.”
“Could be more?” James asked.
MacAvoy nodded. “Oh yeah. I don’t get the feeling these ones are amateurs.”
Alexander had dug around in Schmitt’s desk after the office had closed until he found the address of the men who wanted information about Elspeth. The place that Schmitt had sent his lackeys. They told Schmitt that they’d closed up shop, but it did not ring true; in fact, it made him think that they were baiting a hook. After discovering what he could, he went to James Thompson. There was really no one else to trust with Elspeth’s safety.
“How will we get inside?” Alexander asked.
“What? You think we’re acquainted with criminal ways?” James hissed.
“No! I just thought you might have an idea,” Alexander said. “Don’t be an ass.”
“Shut up, the both of you,” MacAvoy said. “This is how we’re going to do it.”
A few minutes later, Alexander found himself crawling up a rickety ladder that MacAvoy had found in a pile of garbage. It barely touched the ledge of concrete just below the first-story windows. He pulled himself up, slowly stood, and backed against the brick wall. James had inched his way around the corner on the ledge, looking for a window that was not latched.
“I can barely see my fingers in front of me,” MacAvoy whispered. “Where’s the ledge?”
“Reach your hand straight up,” Alexander said and touched the other man’s fingers, pulling him up to reach the ledge and get his bearings. “Have you thought about how we’re to get down? It’ll be near impossible to swing down and get your feet on a rung.”
“You worry too much,” MacAvoy said and hoisted himself up, bumping into Alexander and sending him perilously close to the edge.
“Jesus,” Alexander breathed. “That was close.”
“Psst.”
Alexander turned his head to the corner of the building. “Must be James. Inch along, MacAvoy.”
They made slow progress but were finally on the side of the building facing the long alley that ran behind the mishmash of manufacturers and storefronts on the street. There was a dim shadow from the moon, enough to see James’s hand waving through an open window. MacAvoy crouched and ducked through, and Alexander followed behind. He stood completely still, as did the other two, listening for signs that someone had heard them, smelling the musty closed-up air, and seeing little. He heard the creak of an unoiled hinge and could see that the opened door had let in enough light from a hallway with long windows on the front of the building to see James’s figure near the door and MacAvoy nearby. Alexander looked around when his eyes adjusted.
“This couldn’t have been their meeting place, do you think? It’s not much bigger than a linen closet,” Alexander said.
“It’s toward the front of the building,” MacAvoy said. “I looked at the mailboxes in the lobby, and 2A is down the hall.”
“How did you get into the lobby? I thought you said there was somebody watching in the lobby.”
“In the storefront actually,” MacAvoy said. “I came here yesterday, as soon as James told me what you had a mind to do. I wasn’t doing it completely blind.”
“You’ve always been useful, MacAvoy,” James said.
“So where is 2A?” Alexander asked.
MacAvoy stuck his head out the door. “Straight down this hall, I think. Trouble is going to be these creaky floors.”
“Train’s coming. Let’s go!” James said.
The three men scurried under the cover of locomotive noise to the doorway of 2A. Alexander was beside the door and reached for the knob. He twisted it slowly until the door swung open. They walked inside, able to see well enough with the light from the gas streetlights and the moon coming in the windows. There was a desk in the middle of the room and no other furnishings, not even a chair.
“Something don’t feel right,” MacAvoy whispered.
“I was thinking the same thing,” James said. “The skin’s prickling on my neck.”
“We’ve got a watcher,” Alexander said from near the window. James and MacAvoy bent at the waist and scurried over to the wall between the windows.
“I don’t see him,” James said.
“Second floor above the tavern,” MacAvoy said. “He’s got field glasses. Union, probably. He’s got that look.”
“And he’s homing in on these windows, boys,” James said. “There’s nothing much to see in this office either. One empty desk and some dust on the floor. Let’s vamoose.”
James crouched down and headed toward the door, Alexander behind him.
“Too late,” MacAvoy said. “They’re already across the street! Go, go!”
They heard the clatter of boots on the steps as they went down the hallway to the open window, although Alexander wondered what good it would do them, unable to hurry on the ledge and with a faulty ladder to climb down. The man from the alley and possibly others would be waiting for them as they descended.
“We’ve got to fight our way down the stairs,” Alexander said, without even trying to keep his voice down.
“He’s right,” James said and turned sharply around. He ran at the men coming up the steps, screaming a battle cry that shot down Alexander’s spine. MacAvoy did the same. Alexander followed them, pushing through the flying fists as MacAvoy and James engaged with the first two men on the landing at the top of the steps.
Alexander turned the corner, hanging on to the newel post, and charged down the steps. There were two men running up, and he let his momentum carry him forward, picking up his feet and flying through the air, connecting with the chest of one man. He grabbed the banister as he fell and saw the man tumble down the steps, head over feet. He barely had time to stand up before the first punch came from the second man. He could hear the punishing blows from James above him and the sounds of a man dropping to his knees. He threw a punch of his own and landed it squarely on his opponent’s jaw, making the man’s head snap back.
“Are you all right down there?” James yelled.
“I’m fine,” he shouted and then heard the snick of a blade as it came free of its sheath. “I’m fine.”
Alexander bent back, nearly lying flat on the steps behind him as the blade came whizzing past his chest. A coat landed on his outstretched hand from above, and he quickly wrapped it around his arm fending off the thrusts of the knife.
“Come on, boyo,” MacAvoy said.
Alexander concentrated on the knife hand of his opponent and on his own footing, juggling from one stair to the other. He ducked under the blade as it came toward his neck and punched the man in the kidney, jumping back as the blade made an arc toward his shoulder.
“You can do better than that,” James yelled. “Hit the bastard. Hit him hard.”