Red Dog Conspiracy: A Noir Future Steampunk Crime Family Saga

A run-down liquor shop in the Spadros slums: the door, warped; the floor tiles, cracked. The room smelled of mold; the lamps were dusty and streaked with soot. No one stood behind the counter, so I wandered among aisles of bottom shelf swill for several minutes before someone appeared.

“Who’s there? What do you want?” From his speech, he had taken quite a bit of Party Time already.

I emerged into view. “Your door-bell is broken.”

“Oh,” my father said, “it’s you.”

Peedro Sluff was still a dissolute wretch, who would sell his soul — assuming he had one — to supply his lusts, especially if the transaction involved Party Time.

“So this is what you traded me for? So you can snort Party Time all day?”

“Aww, Jacqui, you’re not happy wearing silks and eating pheasant? Give me the cash you’re throwing around, then.”

“Mr. Roy Spadros gives you money every month. Should I tell him you want more?”

My father gave me a sullen glare, a sour smell wafting through the room. “What do you want?”

“A man named Clover, with an eye-patch.”

“What do you want him for?” He gave me a leering grin. “A little fun?”

“He has information I need.”

“Why should I do anything for you?”

“Because you don’t want me as an enemy.”

His eyes widened. “You’re a bitch, you know that? I try to help you all the time and you don’t appreciate any of it.”

Peedro hadn’t done a thing to help me in his entire life, assuming he was even present at my conception.

He squirmed at my silence. “Okay, yeah, I know him.”

I kept staring at him.

“He comes here every day after work, buys a six-pack of beer. Half past six, every night, except Sundays. Now get out of here.”

“Thank you.”

“Where’s my money? I should get something for helping you upper sluts.”

“When I talk to Clover, you’ll get some.”

My father growled. “Get outta here, you filthy whore, before someone sees you.”

I love you too, I thought bitterly, and left.

* * *

I got home for tea, and sat with Tony in silence. Every time I had anything to do with my father, it left me feeling melancholy.

Did my mother love Peedro? She never spoke of him except with scorn, never showed warmth towards him, avoided my questions about him. The night Air died, she warned me away from him. She must have loved Peedro once; she could have had a child with anyone.

Peedro must have been a very different man twenty-two, twenty-three years ago. I wondered what happened to make her hate him, to make him sink so low.

“Jacqui?”

Something in Tony’s voice made me feel uneasy. I forced myself to smile. “Yes?”

“Would you tell me again what happened to your face?”

Did Tony not believe me? What could I tell him?

He couldn’t learn that Roy attacked me. If he knew what happened, he would confront Roy about it. That terrified me almost as much as Roy did. I regarded him warily. “What would you like to know?”

He sat staring at me for a moment, not moving, not breathing, then shook his head. “I’m sorry. You’ve told me everything.”

Not showing the relief I felt in that moment was the most difficult thing I had done in my life. But his life depended on it.

Tony leaned across the table. With great precision, he placed his hand on mine, yet his voice was stern. “I have asked my father not to come here again uninvited. He is not pleased with me, but he will do as I ask.”

I felt stunned, my heart pounding. The table turned, the vase broken … he seemed fine last night, yet I surveyed him for signs of injury with a sense of dread. “Did he hurt you?”

A small sad smile crossed Tony’s face. “My body is no more hurt than it has been.”

“Thank the Dealer.” I let the wave of relief which washed over me show, and tears came to me unbidden. “What happened?”

“That is between he and I,“ Tony said, but his voice was gentle. I felt he learned something terribly painful in the encounter with his father, something he wished he hadn’t. So I didn’t ask anything more.

But he came to my bed that night, just to hold me and take rest together. For the first time, I felt glad he wished to be there.

* * *

Two days later, a horse truck drove past Peedro Sluff’s liquor store and parked down the street. When a young man wearing a patch on his left eye came past, he found himself deposited in the back of said truck by a rather large man.

The doors slammed. I sat on a crate near the driver’s compartment. My face, hooded, lay mostly in shadow. An oil lamp stood on the floor, turned low.

Clover scrambled to crouch in the low-ceilinged truck. “What the hell?” He was gangling, disheveled, and smelled of smoke, with light brown hair and the beginnings of a beard. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Tell me about the Red Dogs.”

Clover laughed. “Who says I know about them?”

“I do. Who do you get orders from?”

“Why should I tell you anything?”

“Because if you don’t, the man who plucked you from the street could set you down somewhere worse. For example, the morgue. He watches you now.”

Clover glanced around and gulped. “O … okay, miss, no offense. Yeah, I know the Dogs … they give orders through their man. Don’t know his real name; he said call him Morton. I only seen him once; he sends a message when he wants something done. He gets his orders from the Big Man Himself, he says, but he never said what the Big Man’s name was.”

Morton. An odd name. “What does Morton look like?”

Clover shrugged. “Like us, I guess, only older. Brown hair.”

I wondered how this man survived to adulthood with such poor observational skills. “Who else is in the Dogs?”

“Don’t know, and that’s the truth,” Clover said. “They said there’s other treys, but we don’t never hear nothing about them, so if one of us gets caught we can’t tell nothing.”

Smart. “Treys?”

“Yeah, an ace and two chips. I guess Morton must give them all orders.” He paused. “Unless there are other ones like Morton who give orders. That I don’t know.”

Since this depended on secrecy, but had to be expandable, there were at least a few Mortons in Spadros. In each quadrant. Although I didn’t recall seeing reports from the Hart quadrant.

“Do you know about boys being taken? They found a Red Dog stamp at a kidnapping, and found a boy dead with a Red Dog card on him.”

At this, Clover’s eye widened in fear. “I swear, I don’t know nothing about that. Garn, they start blaming things like that on us and we’re done for.”

“So you think someone is trying to discredit you?” At his blank stare, I added, “Blame you for things you never did?”

“Yes, miss, I do. The worst I ever told my chips to do was put a rock through a window. Morton said it would get rid of the Families, so honest folk could walk without being scared of them.”

The words sounded an echo of Thrace Pike’s words, that night after the tent meeting. But Mr. Pike’s style seemed completely different.

“I’m done here.” I banged twice on the truck wall and raised my voice. “Give the man something for his trouble.”

Vig leaned in, grabbed Clover by his jacket, hauled him out, gave him a coin, and sent him on his way. We drove a few blocks, then the truck stopped. A moment later Vig opened the back door. “We gotta talk.”

I climbed out of the back and stood at the end of the truck. “What’s wrong?”

Vig put his fist on his hip and stared away. “I like you. I help you when you have trouble. I ride you anywhere. But I’ll not be no Spadros enforcer.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You used me to scare the boy. You don’t even ask. You say, ride me there, get the boy. Nothing else.”

“Vig …” How else would I get the man to talk?

“No. I live in Spadros, but I’ll not work for them.”

I had no idea he felt this way. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Vig looked outraged. “What do you think I am? A brute?”

“Vig, that’s not how I see you. We’re buddy friends, right?”

“Are we?” He shook his head. “I’ll not be no enforcer … not even for you.”

“I’m sorry, Vig … I didn’t know. I was wrong to scare him. I’ll never do it again.” I looked in his eyes. Had I lost his friendship? “Can you forgive me?”

His face softened. “Get in the truck.” So I did.

A few moments later, the truck lurched forward again and soon I was around the corner from my own back door. Vig did not tarry; once I was out of the truck, he left without saying good-bye.

* * *

“Did you have a pleasant walk?”

Tony and I sat in the parlor, across a small table from each other, sipping port and eating cherries covered in dark chocolate.

It was a lonely walk from Vig’s truck. His reaction shook my confidence. Was I someone who used people? “Yes, it was lovely.”

“Two of our guards have been found.”

“That’s wonderful!”

“Well, perhaps. They were dumped outside the warehouse, bound, gagged, and hooded. They didn’t know where they were held. They were not treated well.” Tony looked disturbed, and I dared not ask what he witnessed.

“Did they say anything else?”

“One other person was held. A young boy.” Tony shuddered. “The child was being treated worst of all.”

I felt stunned at the revelation. Could this be David Bryce? What link lay between the men and the boy? “Did the men know who took them?”

Tony shook his head. “They said the man wore all black, his face covered with a black cloth, or veil like what you ladies wear perhaps, but thicker, so they couldn’t see what he looked like. Not even a small part of his skin showed, nor the color of it, nor even his eyes, but they did say that he was a huge man, monstrously tall. He kept them blindfolded most of the time, or in the dark, and tied.”

“Well, that sounds pleasant. Did he say why he took them?”

“No,” Tony said, “that’s the true mystery. He didn’t seem to want anything with the men, or even the boy, except to torment them. Tormenting the boy seemed to amuse him more than anything else, especially when the boy would cry for his mother.”

A wave of grief washed over me, picturing Air treated so. I covered my face with my handkerchief to hide my tears.

“Oh, my love, forgive me! I never meant to distress you.” Tony turned towards me, a slight grimace revealing the pain it cost him, and took my hands. “Please forget my words. From the descriptions the guards gave us, we should find the boy.”

I tried to smile, wanting to keep his mind off the subject of the boy, who could only be David Bryce. “What of the other guards?”

Tony shook his head. “The guards know nothing of them. They speculate the men were killed, but we never found their bodies.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “It is clear a scoundrel is on the loose, of greater depravity than any we have seen in quite a while.”

I had no idea who this person could be. Jack Diamond, while tall, was not excessively so; there were few men in the city who fit this description.

Tony said, “I spoke with your friend Joseph Kerr at the Gentleman’s Club today —”

My heart fluttered at Joe’s name. I missed him so much. Did he ever think of me?

“— and in passing I mentioned our troubles with that street gang, the ones with the red stamps —”

“The Red Dogs?”

“Yes, that was the one. In any case, Master Kerr said he heard rumors … he called it the Red Dog Gang … that it started in the Diamond quadrant. He speculated Master Jack Diamond might be behind the mischief. It sounds like the sort of random violence that would appeal to him.”

This dovetailed too closely with my thoughts to be anything but disturbing. “Has anyone seen Jack Diamond of late?”

Tony shrugged and took out his pocket-watch, winding it. “Who knows what the man does? I suppose his family must keep track of him. It surprises me that he is allowed to roam freely, when he might be better suited to a ward.”

This discussion unsettled me. While Jack Diamond was unwell, he owned property. If Fortune frowned on his older brothers, Jack might one day inherit the Diamond Family Business. To be known for speaking ill of him could be an unhappy habit should he come into his own.

I would have to warn Joe about his loose speech. Jack Diamond made a formidable enemy. “I do not like speaking of others who are not present, especially to speak of them poorly.”

“Forgive me. You are much kinder than I to concern yourself with the reputation of a man who has threatened you in public.”

“But that is it exactly. Master Diamond has spoken his mind and vented his rage. We know of his malice, and unless he were to go completely mad, he dares not carry out his threats. If you, or I, or my father were to disappear or be harmed, suspicion would immediately fall upon him.”

Unless, of course, he got someone else to do his dirty work. A forged note on Madame Biltcliffe’s stationery to the wrong person could ruin me. “What concerns me more are those whose malice towards our Family is silent and hidden.”

“I hadn’t considered this aspect of it,” Tony said.

The fire crackled as a log shifted.

What did David have to do with this?

Tony said, “Who holds men and boys just to torment them? And why target me with violence? I have received no threats, no demands, no word as to motive. And this hidden motive is more puzzling when I look at who might want to cause me trouble.” He paused. “Even Bridgers wouldn’t torment innocent children.”

Then he shook himself. “Let us forget this villain.” He smiled. “It’s been too long since we took comfort from each other.”

So he finally felt well enough. I remembered the situation a few nights before with sadness. But I forced myself to smile, perfectly willing to think of Joe for an evening, even though nothing would come of it.

Why did I do this, when Joe seemed to have no interest in me? It was how I endured the marriage-bed of a man I didn’t love. I suppose it was fortunate I never became a whore; I was most unsuited to the task.

* * *

I smelled gun oil and lavender. I stood at the door to the church wearing my bride-gown, searching for some way to escape this nightmare. Something cold and hard pressed against the back of my neck. A gun-hammer cocked, close behind my right ear.

Roy’s voice came from behind. “You’ll walk that aisle, and say the words, and make no fuss. Make us believe it, now and for all time, or you’ll be dead.”

I woke sobbing with terror, Amelia beside me in the gray morning light.

“There, there, dear,” Amelia said, smoothing my hair, until I was able to catch my breath. Then she said, “You just had a dream. All is well.”

I never dreamed this scene before, or even recalled it; I must have put it from my mind. But now the whole memory of that horrible day fell on me in full. I wept in earnest, unable to catch my breath.

“Do you want me to call Mr. Anthony?”

Fear gripped me; I stopped crying at once. “No.” He must never know. Roy made that quite clear. I wiped my face, forcing myself to appear calm. “No. It’s all right. I’ll be fine.”

* * *

Amelia put rosewater in my pitcher, remarking that it might lift my spirits. After I washed my hands and face, the room did smell lovely.

My mail brought bad news: while Joe and Josephine Kerr would attend the dinner party, Mr. Polansky Kerr had a prior engagement.

Damn. That left me with an extra seat.

Molly stood before an easel, which held a diagram. “It is vital that the number of men and women at a dinner party be equal. No one should feel slighted or uncomfortable by being the odd number.”

Even at twelve years old, Tony and I listened attentively. Roy impressed upon us that being good hosts was as important as anything else we did. So here I was, ten years later, with a dilemma: who to invite that would not take offense at being invited to fill a seat? The answer to this must wait; I had more important items to consider.

Unless I found this man Morton (perhaps even if I did), I would have to search for David Bryce. The major problem in doing so, other than the danger from Jack Diamond’s men, was entering the Diamond quadrant itself.

Public taxi-carriages wouldn’t drive to another quadrant without a definite address, and I had no contacts there. Entering the Diamond quadrant in a Spadros carriage without an invitation would attract all sorts of attention, none good.

I felt like one of Air’s automatons, running into one wall or another until I found my way.