The Angel of Darkness - Caleb Carr [345]
“It wasn’t a gamble,” I said. “Not if you knew him like I did.”
Miss Howard, her head clearing, reached up to touch the side of the Doctor’s slightly bloodied face. “You’re hurt,” she said.
“That, too, is thanks to our young friend,” the Doctor replied, nodding my way. “But it’s not serious—all part of Stevie’s plan, it seems.”
“Hey, wait a minute,” I protested quickly. “I didn’t know she’d actually smack you—”
The Doctor already had a hand up. “It was well worth it—an appropriate punishment for ever doubting your judgment in such matters.” Then his black eyes gave me a more serious look. “I mean it, Stevie. It was a brilliant bit of work.”
As if to punctuate the remark, Mr. Moore gave my head a rub and Miss Howard smiled at me—all of which, of course, was just the sort of attention what’s always made my skin crawl. Fortunately, I quickly thought of a way to change the topic:
“What about Ana?” I asked, looking up at Mr. Moore.
His face suddenly went straight. “Oh, God,” he said, with what sounded like dread. “Yes, Ana.” He looked to the Doctor and Miss Howard. “Can you two make it downstairs?”
Miss Howard began to struggle to her feet. “I think so,” she said, finally standing. “Why, John? What is it?”
Mr. Moore, still looking what you might call inscrutable, just shook his head. “I could tell you,” he said. “But you’d never believe it.”
CHAPTER 57
By the time we got back down to the first floor of the building the action out on the street seemed to’ve calmed down quite a bit, and from the cheering sounds being made by our sailors, it seemed like they truly had come away from the encounter winners. As we passed by the front door, Marcus came in through it, confirming that the Dusters had fled the scene, a result what he, too, seemed to find very heartening. It was up to me to be the spoilsport, by informing everybody that if in fact the Dusters had disappeared for the moment, they’d likely be back: soon, in greater numbers (they’d probably call in more auxiliaries), and better armed, which meant guns.
“What makes you think that, Stevie?” Mr. Moore said, poking his head outside the door and looking around. “Those navy boys gave them one hell of a black eye—I wouldn’t think they’d be any too anxious to come back for more.”
“They have to,” I answered. “We took them on right in the middle of their own territory. They let this stand, and they’ll lose that territory, to every gang what borders them. It’s a sign of weakness, and they can’t afford it.”
“Stevie’s logic, once again, is sound,” the Doctor said. “Let’s not forget that he knows this world far better than the rest of us. Marcus, I suggest you find Roosevelt. Tell him to forget about arresting Knox or anyone else, and simply detach a group of men to retrieve Libby Hatch’s body from the roof. Then we shall return to the boats.”
Nodding in agreement, Marcus turned to Mr. Moore. “Are you taking them down, John?” Mr. Moore just nodded back, and then Marcus turned to me. “It was the garden that gave me the tip, Stevie. Remember the way it seemed so untended? And how unused you said those tools downstairs looked?”
Puzzled, I furrowed my eyebrows at him. “Yeah?”
“Well,” the detective sergeant said, heading back out into the street, “there was a reason.”
Further bewildered by that last comment, the Doctor, Miss Howard, and I followed Mr. Moore to the basement door, then down into the dusty cave below.
The one electrical bulb was lit, showing things pretty well the way I’d left them the night I’d been there: in other words, there was no sign of any secret doorway having been forced open, a fact what surprised not only me, but the Doctor and Miss Howard, too.
“Moore,” the Doctor said, “I thought you intimated—”
Mr. Moore held up a hand. “We closed it again to give you the full effect,” he said, going past the rack of preserves to the collection of old, rusty garden tools. “We did everything we could to try to move this thing manually,” he said, indicating the rack. “And you might actually have moved it, Stevie,