The Vanishing Virtuoso

Chapter 9: Harbor of Shadows

The Majestic Sonnet steamed into the harbor at Norwich, Connecticut, its imposing silhouette cutting through the morning mist. As the first light of dawn painted the sky in hues of pink and orange, Mercer stood vigilant, his eyes never leaving the bound and gagged prisoners—the conductor and his drunken accomplice. The rhythmic thrum of the ship's engines was a constant reminder of the urgency that pulsed through his veins.

Mercer had stayed awake all night, his golden Colt revolver resting on the table beside him. The weight of responsibility bore heavily on his shoulders. Across the small cabin, Grange stirred, her sleep fitful and restless. As she awoke, her eyes met Mercer's, and she offered him a tired but resolute smile.

"Morning," she murmured, stretching slightly. "Any trouble?"

Mercer shook his head. "No, they've been quiet. But we need to move fast. The Digger Gang will be stirring soon, and we can't afford to get caught."

Grange nodded, her mind already working through their options. "We need a plan to get off this ship without raising any alarms."

Mercer glanced at the prisoners, then back at Grange. "We could use the morning shift change to our advantage. The crew will be busy, and we can blend in with the dockworkers."

Grange stood, smoothing out her clothes and tying her hair back. "We need to make sure the prisoners stay put. If they alert the gang, we're done."

Mercer moved to the conductor, ensuring the ropes were secure. The man glared up at him, defiant even in defeat. "You won't get far," he spat. "The Digger Gang will find you."

Grange ignored the threat, focusing on their escape. "We'll need disguises," she said, scanning the room. "Something that will help us blend in."

Mercer nodded, his mind racing. "The cloakroom. We saw plenty of uniforms and workers' clothes there. We can change and slip out while everyone's busy."

They worked quickly, securing the prisoners further to ensure they couldn't escape or make any noise. Once satisfied, Mercer and Grange left the cabin, moving silently through the ship's corridors.

The early morning light cast long shadows as they made their way to the cloakroom. Inside, they found a variety of clothes. Grange chose a dockworker's outfit—a loose shirt, trousers, and a cap to hide her hair. Mercer picked similar attire, donning a cap that concealed his features.

As Grange changed into her disguise, she caught Mercer's eye and gave a playful smirk. "How do I look?" she asked, adjusting her cap.

Mercer took a moment to appreciate the sight before him. "You make dockworker chic look good," he replied, a teasing lilt to his voice. "But then again, you look good in anything."

Grange laughed softly, a sound that lightened the tension between them. "Flattery, detective? I didn't think that was your style."

Mercer grinned, adjusting his own cap. "Maybe I'm full of surprises."

She raised an eyebrow. "I'll keep that in mind." She stepped closer, her eyes meeting his. "You ready?"

Mercer nodded, his tone softening. "As I'll ever be. Just stay close."

"Always," she replied, her smile fading into a look of determination.

They moved through the ship, blending in with the few crew members already up and about. As they reached the gangplank, Mercer noticed the dockworkers beginning their daily routines. He signaled to Grange, and they joined the flow of workers heading off the ship.

As they stepped onto the dock, Mercer kept a sharp eye out for any signs of the Digger Gang. The bustling harbor provided the perfect cover, and they moved swiftly, keeping their heads down.