Inkling

4.4 Avoidance, Meet Day Drinking

8:00 A.M.

If Adam Wink had a natural talent for anything, it was stumbling upon English pubs in foreign places. To be fair, the sign said Old Fashioned English Pub on it, and it was down the street from the Dragon, but in that moment it counted. Mainly because his legs were still shaking and his throat was still tight.

For some reason he had thought that, if he got to New York soon enough he would see Elizabeth one more time. Alive. He still had Avery's crumpled letter in his pocket and he set down his beer to smooth it out on the bar.

Dear Adam,

I know I am the last person you want to hear from right now, but your mother is dying. I know she has never been a mother to you, but she always wanted to know you. She was just afraid of facing you, of admitting that what she had done was wrong.

We are in New York City now, and I hope this letter reaches you wherever you are. The Pinkertons will do you no good, you will only find yourself in more dangerous situations like the one you wrote me about a couple months ago - and no I have shared what you said with no one. You can trust me.

Come and find us, Adam. Come find your family. Lincoln needs you.

    Avery Locke

Adam balled up the letter and shoved it back into his jacket pocket, pinching the bridge of his nose against a headache.

"Hey mister, a little early to look this rough." Said a large, bald man with closely set eyes on a rather small head. Adam narrowed his eyes, conveying as much annoyance as was humanly possible. The man did not, apparently, pick up on this annoyance as he decided to occupy the stool next to Adam, who briefly considered leaving. However, since he had never yet abandoned a nearly full pint, he decided now was not the time to start.

So he sat, in mildly awkward silence, with a man who looked like he broke people's knees for a living. Except that was almost what Adam's employment had been in Chicago. Rephrase: with a man who looked like he enjoyed breaking kneecaps for a living.

"I've heard about you." The man said after nearly ten minutes of various slurping sounds. Adam kept his gaze firmly on the door.

"Have you now."

"You were with the Pinks in Chicago."

"I am aware, yes."

The man grunted. But he did not leave, any mildly interested (but not wholly invested) man would have been offended, some would have even left. This one stayed and simply looked peeved. He was sent by someone. Adam scanned the bar discreetly, but there was no one that looked as though they were watching the exchange.

"Those Pinkertons are nothing compared to the operation we have going on over here." He was almost boasting, but seemed to be restraining himself.

"The Pinkertons are detectives, strikebreakers and intimidators." Adam looked at the man, straight in the eyes. "What, exactly, are you?"

"An organization, older than the bricks in these streets. We... supply wherever there is a demand." He seemed unsettled by the eye contact, or maybe it was the completely neutral expression on Adam's face.

"That seems a tad illegal, sir."

"Not if half the cops in the city are on our payroll."

"That seems a tad more illegal." Adam raised his eyebrows, wondering how long it would take this man to get to the point. He seemed to have no response regarding the legality of his occupation, and decided to move on.

"What do you dream of having, Mr. Wink?" A slightly new tactic: philosophy.

"A dream itself is but a shadow." Adam said, more to himself.

"Pardon?" The man's eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

"It's a play... you know never mind it's not important." Adam waved his hand dismissively. "What are you trying to offer me, Mr... ?"

"Boris. Mr. Wink I am offering you a job."

"Yes I got that part. What I'm asking is what are you offering me." It took Boris several minutes to grasp what Adam was asking. But he got there, eventually.

"I'm offering you power, Mr. Wink." Adam tipped his glass back and downed the last of his pint before standing up.

"I've had power, Boris, didn't quite agree with me." He put the pint glass down on the bar a bit harder than was probably necessary, and turned to leave.

"I'm not talking about that power, Mr. Wink. I'm talking about the kind of power your little brother has."

Adam stopped walking. He stopped breathing. He's not my brother. Was the first thought to pass through his head. He spoke the second thing without turning around.

"What makes you think I would be talking about any other kind?"

He left. Slowly through the pub doors. Quickly, once he was out the door. He was running and he didn't know where.