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“The Committee’s watchmen are here. They’re searching the restaurant,” his father said, getting to his feet.

“What are they searching for?” Harte asked. He stood and prepared to block the old man’s way if necessary.

“The same thing they’re always searching for,” his father said as he tried to skirt around Harte. “The Committee’s main purpose is to eliminate the threat of creatures like you. If we stay here, you’re likely to be swept up in the raid.”

“Why would you help me?” Harte asked, suspicious. “Why not let them take me away? It would eliminate a problem for you.”

“I can’t risk being connected to you,” his father said, and there was enough disgust in his expression that Harte believed him. “If they knew I didn’t turn you in immediately, I’d be ruined.”

The explanation contained enough of the truth that Harte stood and followed his father through the back of the restaurant toward a rear exit from the dining room, but before his father could disappear through it, Harte caught the older man’s arm. “We’re not done with our conversation.”

“No,” his father said, tearing his arm away. “We’re nowhere near done.”

The exit led to a passageway that ran behind the main dining room and through the kitchen. Around them, the cooks and waiters were in a panic, but their waiter led them through the confusion, toward a small door in the floor at the rear of the building. The waiter opened it, revealing a staircase that went down beneath the building, and then waved them through.

“Where are we going?” Harte asked, eyeing the dark space below.

“The tunnels. They connect various buildings in the city, if you know the right people. This one ends a couple of blocks from here. Far enough away to be safe.” His father motioned that Harte should go first. When he didn’t immediately move, his father raised one eyebrow, a challenge. “Unless you’d rather stay and deal with the watchmen on your own.”

A crash came from the other side of the kitchen, followed by angry voices that signaled the watchmen were getting closer. There was no other exit that Harte could see. His only real choice was to accept the help his father was offering.

It was a mistake.

Harte was only three steps down into the gloom when he felt a sharp blow to the back of his skull. A blunt shove pushed him from behind and sent him tumbling down the steep steps. Harte tried to catch himself, but stars exploded across his vision, and he couldn’t tell if the darkness that surrounded him came from the blow to his head or the lightless tunnels beneath.

COMPLICATIONS

1904—Denver

To Esta’s relief, Cordelia Smith kept her word. The sharpshooter knew her way around the grounds and managed to avoid the marshals as she led them back toward the main entrance, but she didn’t leave them once they were free from the show’s grounds. Instead, Cordelia insisted on accompanying them into the city, where she took them to a small, barely furnished apartment. It was a safe house that she said was sometimes used by Antistasi who needed a place to lie low or meet with locals when traveling through the area. Clearly, no one had used it in a while, though. Dust covered everything, and the air had a kind of closed-up, musty smell.

Once they were inside and the door was secured, North placed the box they’d taken from Pickett on a rickety wooden table. Maggie went to open a window.

“Whatever’s in there must be really something,” Cordelia said, eyeing the box with too much interest for Esta’s liking. “Especially considering the risk y’all took to get it.”

Esta exchanged an uneasy glance with North and Maggie, who didn’t look any more certain about Cordelia than she felt.

“Well?” Cordelia pressed. “Are you gonna open it or what?”

“We will,” North said, clearly hedging. “But there’s no rush.”

Understanding, and then anger, flashed in Cordelia’s eyes. “I think I have a right to know what y’all are up to, considering that you got me wrapped up in it as well.”

“We didn’t exactly ask for your help,” Esta reminded her, which earned her a sharp look from Maggie.

“But y’all needed it, didn’t you?” Cordelia asked. “Without me, you’d’ve been caught up back there in the middle of the raid.”

Esta wasn’t in any mood to admit that Cordelia was right. Maybe with the Quellant thick in her blood, she wouldn’t have been able to slip past the marshals unseen, but she would have found another way out. She always found a way.

“We appreciate all you’ve done for us,” North said before Esta had the chance to argue the point any further.

“But you still ain’t gonna tell me what you’re up to?” Cordelia paused, considering them. “It makes me think maybe the rumors I’ve been hearing were right.”

“What rumors?” Maggie said.

“There’s plenty that think you betrayed more than Ruth when y’all left St. Louis.” Cordelia eyed Maggie, her expression suddenly suspicious. “And then after that train exploded? Seems like y’all should have contacted someone. Instead, you let everyone think the Thief was dead. Makes a body think maybe you’ve got something to hide.”

“We didn’t know who might be sympathetic to Ruth,” North explained. “You said yourself that you couldn’t believe she let Maggie go. We couldn’t risk any of Ruth’s followers coming after us.”