S ally pinned Con with a hard stare as if willing him to answer.
She sneaked a furtive peek at the bed to ensure Nell was not listening.
"Whatever it is, lad, you'd better think it through because once you set out on this path there is no going back.
" Con opened his mouth to speak. Fam stayed him with a hand on his chest.
"We know what we're about, Sally," Fam said.
"We need to take those two down before we go for Bill, and we will be going for Bill.
Now, we can do it with your help or without it.
Past time they were gone, but without your help, things could go wrong.
" He gazed at the bed where Nell sang an old lullaby to Ban.
"We need those three floating in the Thames by morning if any of us are to see Guy Fawkes set alight this year.
We've a place to go once the deed is done, a place to hide until the dust settles. "
"We do?" Con appeared genuinely puzzled.
"Mister Kamish will take us all in for a fortnight or so with no questions asked.
Sykes and Dawkins can disappear without a fuss.
Bill Green bobbing up on the River Police's hook is sure to get Bow Street's attention.
Too many of them damned Runners on his books.
They'll want to know who done for him so they know who to put the touch on for protection next.
But the Runners won't venture very far down Bevis Marks, superstitious poltroons. "
Fam was all too familiar with the rumors and gossip about the Spitalfields Jews living around Bevis Marks.
The rookeries were fair to bursting with stories of baby sacrifices, strange rituals, and black magic when it came to those who practiced the Hebrew religion in that part of London.
He knew it for the load of codswallop it was.
Sometimes he thought the people there stoked the rumor mill themselves to keep criminals and Runners alike from abusing them. He would if he were them.
Sally stared at him in disbelief. "How old are you, boy?"
"He's eleven," Con snapped. "And I'm fourteen. Old enough to do what needs be done. Where are Sykes and Dawkins likely to be tonight?"
Sally studied the two of them carefully. She finally turned her head to take in Nell and Ban. "You won't be safe. Not even with Bill gone, you won't be safe."
"We won't be safe if he isn't," Con said. "It's time, Sally. One way or another it ends tonight."
She took a deep breath. Her bosom swelled like a great sailing ship leaving the harbor, making for the sea, "They'll be at The Angel until three. The last of the girls will be coming in by then with Bill's take."
"Will they go straight back to the lair?" Fam asked.
"No. With Bill's money? What do you think?" Sally snapped. "They'll take the back streets from The Angel all the way to his warehouse. Thirty-two Wapping Street. Bill will be there waiting for them. Alone. He doesn't trust anyone else to see where he keeps his money."
Con and Fam exchanged a long look. "Give us an hour," Fam said. "Then take Nell and Ban to Kamish's. Tell them you're friends of Smudge, come to visit." He and Con moved stealthily to the door. Sally followed, checking several times to make certain Nell was not watching.
"Here," she said and pulled a small pistol from between her breasts.
"Loaded with two shots. Just in case." Con took the pistol, eyed it suspiciously, and shoved it into the waistband of his trousers.
She opened the door and suddenly pulled both of them into a tight embrace.
"God keep you," she murmured once she released them.
"Good thing Hercules is as big as he is," Fam said with a grin. "Otherwise, he'd suffocate."
"Go on with you." Sally cuffed his ear. "Saucy rogue.
" He'd have laughed save for the sheen of tears in her eyes.
He followed Con down the stairs and into the yard behind The Prospect.
The stench of the river filled his nose and even his mouth.
Con spoke to Hercules for a moment and then signaled Fam to come along.
They'd made their way toward The Angel without a single word between them.
After all, there wasn't a great deal to say when contemplating such an act.
The taking of a life was best accomplished when the blood coursed like a stream in winter and the mind went blank.
Fam held his dagger at his side, pressed against his trousers to hide the glint.
Clouds had begun to gather in the night sky.
The full moon winked in and out of sight.
The wind had grown colder and more insistent.
Fam shrugged against the prickle of goosebumps beneath his coarse cambric shirt.
He'd managed to gobble down the last of the biscuits along the way.
Con stood still as one of the statues in the churches where they sometimes slept at night. Churches were safe, most of the time. Sykes and Dawkins drew the line at buggering boys in a church. He sometimes wondered, though.
"They're here." Con started to step into the alley.
Fam clutched his arm. Con looked back, and Fam shook his head.
The rivulets of hot sweat that had coursed down his back turned to ice.
There was no mistaking Sykes' and Dawkins' short square forms as they meandered along, so certain of the safety afforded them by their reputations.
The shuffle of their boots on the cobbles indicated they had been drinking, something Bill would not like when it came to them handling his money.
The whores he kept produced a good sum of the ready, especially those that worked the nearby docks.
The two men shuffled past the alley. Fam caught sight of Sykes's face in the moonlight, and he tightened his grip on his dagger.
Without thought or even the realization he'd moved, he slipped behind them and slashed the backs of both men's thighs so deep his dagger sank to the hilt and nearly stuck.
Hamstrung, Sykes went down screaming and tried to crawl away.
Con leapt from the alley and took Dawkins, who had half fallen, the rest of the way onto the wet cobbles.
The deed was done in a matter of seconds, though every moment seemed an hour to Fam.
His hands had grown slick with the first rush of hot blood.
He dropped to his knees onto Sykes' back, knocked his cap off and grabbed a handful of hair to drag his head back until his neck cracked.
Sykes wrenched sideways and choked as recognition lit his eyes.
"Don't worry, you sniveling shite," Fam growled as he leaned over close enough to whisper in the man's ear.
"I'm not going to fuck you." He drew his dagger deep across Sykes' throat and blinked against the spray of blood.
"I don't fuck dead men." He'd wanted to kill him slowly, to stab him again and again so he might know even a little of the pain he'd caused over the last two years.
No. No time for that. Rage was heat and weakness. And this night was not done yet.
He let go of Sykes and lurched to his feet.
Con stood over Dawkins' limp body, his dagger dangling from his fingertips.
Fam went to him, took Con's dagger, and wiped it on his shirt before he handed the weapon back.
"Did you find the money?" Con shook his head.
Fam dropped to one knee and turned Dawkins over.
He rifled through the man's blood-soaked clothes until he found a large leather purse.
"Here." He tossed the purse to Con, who caught it and shoved it into his jacket.
"Come on." Fam grasped his brother by the elbow and dragged him in the direction of the river. "Bill's waiting."
An hour later the moon competed with the first hesitant slivers of light on the horizon. Fam and Con slipped through the alleys and narrow rookery lanes between Wapping Street and Bevis Marks like specters. They'd kept their backs to the walls and their footsteps as quiet as death.
Death.
Bill Green had never seen Con coming. He hadn't even looked up at the creak of the warehouse door opening, too busy counting his money.
His arrogance and refusal to trust anyone had signed his death warrant.
When he'd finally realized Sykes and Dawkins had not spoken, he'd raised his head, his mouth twisted to curse them soundly.
All he saw was the barrel of Sally Big'uns pistol pointed right between his eyes.
As the fool dared to reach for the gun, Fam leapt from behind Bill's chair to pin the man's hand to the desk with a thrust of his dagger.
Fam ensured he did not move by wrapping his free arm around the gang leader's neck to hold a second dagger at his throat.
"Let him go, Fam." Con said, his voice colder and more assured than Fam had ever heard. He pulled his dagger free and backed up enough for Bill to obey Con's order.
"Get up, you villainous gutter rat. Slowly."
Fam was surprised at Bill's compliance as they walked him out to the warehouse dock.
Perhaps he'd thought to fight back once he reached the edge of the splintered assemblage of wood tacked together to jut out over the Thames.
The water lapped at the riverside. Not a soul in sight.
In the distance a ship's bell clanged. Fam saw the flash of silver, heard the shuddering gasp of a breath.
Bill fell to his knees and then listed to his side.
He didn't move, simply lay there croaking in an ever fading and raspy voice.
You...won't...get...away..."
Con knelt beside him. "Sykes and Dawkins are dead.
Pity you had no one you trusted enough to be bodyguards.
I'll wager you're regretting that right about now.
" He stood, grabbed Bill's arm, and dragged him down the dock to the river.
Con spent a few minutes rifling through Bill's pockets.
He retrieved a ring of keys and pocketed them.