Gypsy - Lesley Pearse [85]
Theo, on reflection, was a far more dangerous animal. He was not only handsome and well bred but also suave and calculating. Sam had watched him play poker several times and been in awe of his coolness and sophistication. At the last game he played at Heaney’s he’d won over five hundred dollars, yet he’d acted as if it were nothing. Any brother worth his salt would have moved heaven and earth to stop his sister getting involved with such a man, yet Sam had openly admired him and given the relationship his blessing.
He felt nauseous as he considered that Beth could have gone the same way as their mother. He was reminded that he’d had no sympathy for her, and it shamed him now that he’d wanted to abandon her newborn baby. It had been Beth who held everything together. But for her resourcefulness and her personality they would never have been invited to live in Falkner Square and it was doubtful they’d ever have got to America.
He wished now that they’d never come here as his mind began to turn to where she might be and the conditions she was being held under. He knew it wouldn’t be a comfortable or warm place; men like Fingers lived like animals. But even more terrifying was the possibility that he might never see Beth again. He couldn’t imagine Heaney agreeing to pay a ransom for her. He’d see that as weakness. And Fingers would never let her go without payment; he’d sooner kill her than lose face.
At four in the morning when it was still pitch dark, Sam left the house to find Jack. He didn’t know where he lived, but he did know he worked at the slaughterhouse by the East River and started there early in the morning.
It was freezing cold, with a thick layer of frost-covered snow from days earlier. He walked fast to warm himself up, but he felt sick with anxiety and lack of sleep.
Beth hadn’t been able to sleep either. She was so cold it had crossed her mind that she could very well die from it. For the first three or four hours after she was pushed unceremoniously into this dark cellar she had kept walking up and down and shouting, but eventually exhaustion had forced her to sit down on what felt like some old packing crates.
There was water on the floor, and it had seeped into her boots, and the air was foul. Whether this was a leakage of sewage, something dead or rotten in there with her, or just the sheer age of the building, she didn’t know, but she wasn’t inclined to grope around in the darkness to find out.
She did know that she was in one of the alleys off Mulberry Bend, the same area she and Sam had accidentally found themselves in on their first night in America. She’d taken note of where the man with the knife at her back was prodding her to because she hoped she’d be able to distract him at some point and run away from him. But she stood no chance of that, for his hand remained clamped down on her shoulder, and he moved the knife to her side and held it there.
Beth had never seen the man before. He was tall and powerfully built, with coarse, misshapen features that suggested he might be a prize fighter. His hands were huge, like hams, and what teeth he had left were blackened and broken. By the standards of Mulberry Bend he was well dressed, in a thick, dark wool coat with a velvet collar and a homburg hat, but he had the smell she’d come to recognize of a slum dweller — mildew, tobacco and wood smoke.
She knew he must have been ordered to capture her, for if robbery had been his aim he would have taken what she’d had and moved on. And he was definitely acting on Fingers’ behalf because she had tried pleading with him, telling him she’d willingly play at his saloon as she had no loyalty to Heaney. He confirmed this by looking a little startled at Fingers’ name, and then told her to shut up. She didn’t shut up, she continued to plead her cause, but then he struck her round the face.
Her fingers felt her swollen cheek tentatively. His blow had been like being hit with a sledgehammer. She was so dazed by it she could hardly see, and he grabbed her arm and