The Lord of All Sins by Lisa Campell

Author:Lisa Campell
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2020-09-30T21:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Silas and Giovanni pulled up outside of White’s. Giovanni had received word from the owner of the club that an individual associated with Willie Dugby had information for them. It was an opportunity that they couldn’t pass up, even though they discussed at length on the carriage ride all the different ways the meeting could be dangerous. Silas decided it would be best for he and Giovanni to go in alone, leaving a couple of men outside of the property in case things went south.

“Let’s do this quickly,” Silas said, his pistol stowed at his belt. “I want to get home to my wife.”

“We’ll make all haste.” Giovanni smirked at him despite the seriousness of the evening. “You seemed to be getting along splendidly earlier.” Giovanni waggled his eyebrows suggestively and Silas dug him in the side with his elbow, trying not to smile back. They climbed the steps to White’s and knocked on the door. The owner pushed it open. He was a paltry fellow with a weak chin called Mortimer, and his eyes darted up and down the street.

“You came alone?” Mortimer licked sweat off his upper lip.

Silas and Giovanni exchanged a sideways glance. Something seemed off.

“Of course,” Silas lied easily. “Just me and my bodyguard here.”

Mortimer let them in. As soon as they stepped past him into the hallway of the club, Silas could tell that something was wrong. The gaming parlour was virtually empty and the paid women sat subdued in corners. There was no sound of raucous rendezvous or drinking echoing down the stairs. Silas turned to Mortimer.

“Where is he?”

“In the back.” Mortimer jerked his head. “He’s asked to see you alone, Mr Klane.”

Silas looked at Giovanni, who nodded, glancing imperceptibly to Silas’ gun. Even if he was going in alone, he wasn’t unarmed.

“Very well. Lead the way, Mortimer.”

Silas followed a nervous Mortimer to a room behind the gaming parlour, and steeled himself as the door was pushed open for him. He stepped inside. The room was clearly used for storage and wooden crates and boxes were piled high. Silas frowned. This was not good. Anyone could be hiding in here. A man stood in the centre of the room, a long greatcoat over his shoulders and a dark hat pulled low over his face.

“Mr Klane?” he asked, his voice tinged with a heavy cockney accent.

“Yes.”

The cockney nodded to Mortimer who turned to lock the door. Silas raised his eyebrows at him.

“I’m sorry, Mr Klane,” Mortimer quailed under his glare. “They were going to break my legs.”

“At the end of this, you may wish they had,” Silas muttered, turning his attention back to the cockney.

“Mortimer here implies you have company.” He let his hand drift slowly towards his gun. “Might you like to introduce your friends?”

The cockney tilted his head to assess Silas. He saw a long scar running down the man’s cheek, passing through his left eye, which was white from damage. The man did not look like a common criminal.

“I suppose I might know one of them.

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