The Black Dove by Steve Hockensmith

Author:Steve Hockensmith [Hockensmith, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Mystery & Detective, Westerns, Historical, Fiction
ISBN: 9781429930017
Google: p0Gm2jLbNtsC
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2008-01-01T11:00:00+00:00

22

HAIL TO THE CHIEF

Or, Madam Fong’s Right-Hand Hatchet Man Gets Another Swing at Us

We were unarmed, opium dens don’t have back doors, and Diana was all out of brass bands. So there was simply no getting around it: We were buggered six ways to Sunday. Maybe even seven.

Hell, a million.

The Chief and the hunchback had stopped at the front of the room to talk, and after a moment another Chinaman stepped out of the shadowy passageway to join them—the other hatchet man from Madam Fong’s. His right cheek was still puffy and red from taking a bowl of peppermints to the puss during our little bric-a-brac barrage, and as is so often the case with men who’ve just had their teeth loosened, he did not look happy.

“Otto,” my brother whispered, “when the time comes, you just get Miss Corvus outta here, understand?”

“I most certainly do not,” I whispered back. “I’m ‘Big Red,’ remember? You should be the one hustlin’ the lady out, ‘Old.’ I’ll take care of them tong boys.”

“And how do you reckon you’ll do that? By bluntin’ their hatchets with all the rocks in your head?”

“Well, what’re you aimin’ to do? Bore the poor bastards to death with your—”

My collar suddenly went choking tight, and I was jerked away from the curtain by a hard yank on my shirt.

“Shut . . . up,” a voice hissed in my ear.

And not just my ear—Gustav’s, too. Diana was giving my brother the same scruff-of-the-neck tug.

“Yes’m,” I wheezed out.

All Old Red could manage was a nod.

Diana let us go. I would’ve complimented her on the strength of her grip, but I was afraid she’d just give me another demonstration.

My brother and I leaned in next to Chinatown Charlie again and peeked back out through the drapes—wordlessly, this time.

The Chief and his pal had begun walking slowly past the cots, pausing over each to inspect the bleary-eyed wretch stretched out upon it. The hunchback was chattering at their backs, but they seemed to be ignoring him now: The only response he got was a couple grunts from the Chief that seemed to be the Chinese equivalent of what Diana had just said to me and Gustav.

For their part, the hopheads just lay there, still sucking on their pipes even as the hatchet men passed over them like the Angel of Death. I almost envied them their calm, and if one of their pipes had been passed to me just then, who knows? Maybe I would’ve tried a puff. I sure as hell wouldn’t have said no to a shot of whiskey.

The two highbinders were just five cots from the back of the room.

Then four.

Then three.

Old Red and I moved away from the curtains again and readied the only weapons we had at hand: our fists. Charlie took a couple extra steps backwards, putting himself behind us, with Diana. I couldn’t blame him—he’d said he wouldn’t fight for us. I just hoped he would fight for the lady.

I drew back my right arm, readying it for a roundhouse.

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