Choking On Sapphires

34 What Are You Afraid Of?

It had been a gloomy and rainy day and the night seemed as if it would be going much the same way, seeing the light fading from the sky as you're driven towards London.

You'd had a call from one of the shop owners about equipment malfunctioning and needing it dealt with as soon as possible seeing as it would make it impossible to open the next day. So, you've taken one of Alfie's men with you, a rather large man named Charles. It seems you have to have backup whenever you go anywhere now, just a part of being a gangster Alfie had said and you'd reluctantly agreed, knowing he was right. You don't think he would've let you go at all if you didn't take someone with you, it wasn't worth the fight. You leave him with a smile, saying you should be back soon and to save you a drink.

Charles had been so very polite, opening doors and calling you Miss. You talk to him on the way to London, warming him up to get some bits of information out of him. He'd let slip somewhere between the river and the destination that Alfie had told him the consequences of you getting hurt would be answered in Charles's flesh. If you died, he'd kill him twice, he'd said. This makes you laugh, but it does not make Charles laugh. You can understand why.

The moon is up by the time you pull up the sidewalk in front of the charming front of the butcher shop. As soon as your foot crosses the barrier of the doorway, the hair on the back of your neck stands up. You see John, the son of the previous owner who had passed away behind the counter. You had asked him if he wanted to man the shop as the boy had seemed a bit unfocused since coming back home. He was a soft lad but very good with numbers. You know how John usually greets you, you know the expressions that should be following your hello to him, but they don't come. Even in the dim light of the shop, you can see he's paler than usual. You might ask how he felt if it wasn't also accompanied by two hands wringing together, sweat on his brow and wide eyes trying to hide how scared they were.

You know something's wrong. You give him a solemn nod, walking towards the counter, your face turning to the back of the shop.

"You said the problem was in the office?" you say with an indifferent tone, to not give away any suspicion to whoever was waiting for you in the dark of the building.

"Yes Miss." he chokes out, glancing pleadingly at Charles who comes in behind you. You believe he knows you know someone is waiting. You assume he's been threatened and give him a nod and a supportive smile. He wouldn't set you up by choice. You won't punish him with anything but mild words later. You motion with your hand for him to get down behind the counter. You look at Charles and he understands, brass on one hand already and a hand on his gun, moving in front of you. You point to the door in question. You can smell the liquor before you're even in the room, a bottle opened sits on the desk. You knew John didn't drink. The clock ticks loudly in the bare walls of the small room. You stand behind the desk, moving as quietly as possible to not give away your position in the room to whoever was waiting in the hallway for you, just on the other side of the door.

It happens quickly, as those moments of life and death nature usually do. They don't expect the large body of Charles to be waiting against the wall. You see two of them, one being taking down by a loud crack to the skull that overpowers the tick of the clock in the sounds of the scuffle. The one man behind him blindly shoots at you and misses, but you already have your gun out, hiding behind the large wooden desk. He doesn't expect you to rise and aim at him, he bolts and runs.

"Runner." you say to Charles, jumping over the desk, the liquor bottle crashing to the floor. You run out to the hall, seeing him silhouetted in the back doorway to the building. You zig-zag your way quickly towards him, he shoots and misses again, you hear Charles fire off a shot. The man bolts off out of the eerily lit frame of the door and into the dark alley. You push your feet as hard as they'll go, chasing him across the grimy cobblestone, heels clicking like a card in a bicycle wheel, proving faster than him. Once you've fought your way to the ground, you see the drunken look in his eyes. You can tell by the scratch of his cheap clothes, the dirt under his nails, his hands wet and clammy, thrashing up at you as you bang his head against the stone of the alley that this wasn't the man with motive alone to kill you, he'd been hired. You were so much smaller than Charles that is takes him a moment to catch up, but you have the situation handled by the time his shadow is cast across both you and the man as he stands behind you. You take your dagger out, holding it to the man's neck.