Something powerful is drawing Ward back to Devil's Island. Something he thought he had forgotten. He must evade vicious lighthouse keeper George Jaggles in order to rescue it, but Jaggles will soon be the least of his worries. Because an assassin is...
When Ward and Carmen reached the Cathedral that Freeday they found Mildew waiting for them, and she led them to a disused tunnel deep underground. Ward was given a scarecrow to carry. Mildew had taken great care to make it look like a real person: it wore a suit, a hat, and spectacles, and she had even painted a spray of freckles across the bridge of its nose. She carried the barking iron Lightfinger had been cleaning the other night, along with a box of ammunition of unknown age and origin. Most firearms were antiques, which either fired sporadically or not at all. Ammunition was scarce. These items were not manufactured in Bareheep, but came into port, invariably passing through Sam Sung's, where they were marked up to obscene prices and sold to select customers. Such was the State's fear of an uprising that even the Reds weren't allowed to carry firearms: their truncheons were sufficient when the population was unarmed. The penalties for being discovered with a gun, let alone using it, were severe. Like other banned items they circulated through society more as a form of currency than anything else, and the bureaucrats who usually possessed them kept them hidden in safes and other secure places, and rarely took them out, and didn't know how to use them anyway. Nick had a more practical approach. He saw that any gun that found its way into his empire stayed there, was repaired and kept functional, and that every Scowerer and Hector was trained in its maintenance and use. Nevertheless, the weapons were few, and coveted by the clans. Neither Ward nor Mildew knew where Lightfinger had obtained this particular barking iron. He had offered it up after being told of their plot. Wrinkler was also involved, but it was clear neither Okie knew the reason for the raid. It was just another lurk to them, albeit a particularly daring one. This wasn't like the Spectaculum's disastrous heist: they trusted Mildew's judgement and didn't need to cross-examine her.
Ward went first with the barking iron. Even to Carmen's untrained eye she could tell he was terrible at it. He closed his eyes and jerked each time he pulled the trigger, the rounds burying themselves in the roof and the floor and the walls. The scarecrow didn't even twitch. Mildew had painted a big red smile on its face. It looked like it was laughing at them.
"Okay Ward," Mildew said, removing a pair of fluffy pink earmuffs "Good start."
"Really?"
"Nar awful. Never seen anyone shoot so bad."
Ward handed the barking iron over and shuffled dejectedly back to Carmen's side.
"Let's see if you're any better," Mildew said to Carmen.
Carmen gave Ward a sympathetic look and stepped up to the mark on the floor. She adjusted her earmuffs (fluffy blue), and took the barking iron and six cartridges from Mildew. She had watched carefully as the other girl had showed Ward how to load it. Now she did so without instruction.
"Good," was all Mildew said.
She liked loading the gun. Linear, logical processes had always appealed to her. She neither rushed nor faltered, and when she brought the muzzle up to point at the scarecrow her hands were steady. Ward's had been visibly shaking. She remembered to keep the muzzle low, to set her feet a shoulder-length apart, to bend her knees slightly. Then she pulled the trigger: six times in steady succession.
The first round whined off the tunnel wall beside the scarecrow. With the second the scarecrow jerked and its hat flew off. The remaining four all found its chest. The barker quickly grew hot in her hands. The cordite stung her eyes, but she liked the smell of it. As the sound of the gunshots echoed away into the sewers she brought the muzzle down, removed the earmuffs, and handed the lightly smoking barker back to Mildew.
Mildew raised an eyebrow. "Guess you're it then."
All the way back to the Cathedral, carrying the bullet-riddled scarecrow under her arm, Carmen took pains to avoid Ward's eyes. He had shown genuine admiration (and obvious relief) after seeing her shoot, so she wasn't afraid of embarrassing him, but firing the gun had been like baring a part of her soul she hadn't known existed, the part that was capable of murder. At first she had not wanted to be the one to carry it – to be the one who might have to shoot an innocent person – but now that she had fired it she felt different.
(I want to do it again)
And she wondered if this was how it was for Ward with the dice.
Back in the Okies' common room they went through the plan with Wrinkler, Lightfinger, and Slops, who had arrived while they were taking barking lessons. Perhaps firing the gun had something to do with it, but the more Carmen heard of the plan the more her confidence grew. The Okies really knew their business.
"Don't be late," Mildew finished, rolling up the sheet of parchment on which they had mapped out the plan. "You won't get a second chance. Caper like this only works once. Hatto knows we're gonna cop enough heat as it is."
"Too (unprintable word) right," Wrinkler said, but his voice was approving.
"Dawn then," Carmen said, unconsciously touching the barking iron, which was now in her pocket. "See you there."
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Get your fluffy pink earmuffs on, shit's about to get serious.
