Caleb Carr - The Angel Of Darkness

“No,” Miss Howard whispered with a smiling shake of her head. “It’s upstate-my part of the country, maybe a little farther north. Yes, I’ve heard that kind of voice before…”

Back on the steps, the Doctor cleared his throat. “I think, Detective Sergeant,” he said, “that we had better get to the business at hand.”

“Oh,” Marcus answered. “Yes. Mrs. Hunter, we have reason to believe-”

“Please,” she said, giving Marcus the particular kind of playful smile that she’d flashed on him before. Then she held a hand out toward the inside of the house. “Whatever it is, I’m sure we’ll be more comfortable discussing it over tea.”

In two mirror movements, the four men on the steps and the three of us in the carriage looked at each other in shock. We’d connived and planned so much at how to get into the place to find out if the Linares baby was there that the flat-out invitation was like a kick to the chest.

“ What ?”Miss Howard whispered, when she could.

“ Tea ?”Cyrus added, similarly shocked.

“I hope they know enough not to drink it” was all I could think to say.

Nurse Hunter stood in her doorway, waiting for an answer; finally Lucius managed to come up with “Ma’am, I don’t know if you really understand the nature of-”

“Detective Sergeant,” she said, in a voice what was part motherly but still kind of playful. “I have, as I suspect you know, been through enough trouble in recent years to realize that you can’t be here on any pleasant business. I’m only suggesting that we make it as civilized as possible. That’s all.”

Bewildered, Lucius looked to the Doctor, who only weighed the matter with a stone face for a moment. Then he shrugged and nodded to the detective sergeant, in a way what seemed to say, If she wants to make it easy for us…

“Oh, God,” Miss Howard whispered. “They’re actually going in.”

The four men began to file into the house, the Doctor bringing up the rear. As he stepped over the threshold, Nurse Hunter tapped his shoulder, again addressing him with what seemed very genuine respect. “Oh, um-Doctor?”

He turned, and she looked at the three of us in the carriage; not in our direction, but right at us.

“Wouldn’t you like your other friends to come in, too? I don’t want to appear rude…”

The Doctor glanced at us, caught off-guard for just an instant; but to catch the Doctor that way, even for an instant, was a very slick trick.

“Ah,” he noised. “No. I don’t think so. They are my servants, you see. They’ll be fine.”

With that he headed inside.

Nurse Hunter glanced once down the street toward the river and once to the east. She lifted her arm, appearing to wave at someone in the distance. Then she looked directly at those of us in the carriage again:

All her smiles and respect were gone now; and for the first time, I could see hard and even murderous cruelty in those golden eyes. That vision alone would have been enough to make me ill at ease; but when I looked down the block ahead of the carriage, curious to know who or what Nurse Hunter had been waving at, my feeling of uneasiness suddenly turned into a deeper and much more immediate fear.

Walking toward us, with the agitated gait what marks confirmed burny blowers, were several figures, one an adult, the rest boys just a couple of years older than me. The man was of medium build, with a sort of swaggering, rugged manner, while the boys-all dressed in ragged clothes-were swinging sticks and old axe handles in a way what clearly indicated they’d been looking for trouble and believed they’d just found it. As they got closer, I made out the details of the man’s face-his sick, crooked smile and deranged, gleaming eyes-and realized with a wave of dread that I knew him:

It was Ding Dong, as loaded with cocaine as I’d ever seen him. The boys who trailed behind him appeared to be in about the same shape. And, just as Nurse Hunter’d done, they were all staring right at us with expressions that promised nothing good.

I leaned back, wanting to sound an urgent alarm; but for some reason, “Aw, shit” was all I came out with.

“Who are they?” Miss Howard said, my little spurt of vulgarity having caused her to turn away from Nurse Hunter’s house.

“Friends of yours, Stevie?” Cyrus asked, his voice very calm; but even as he said the words, he slipped a set of brass knuckles he generally carried out of his jacket pocket and onto his right hand. Then he casually slid the hand out of view again.

“Not exactly,” I answered. “I do know the grinning ape out front, though. He’s Ding Dong-keeps charge over the boys what run with the Hudson Dusters.”

“ Ding Dong ?”Miss Howard asked, smiling through her own nervousness. “That can’t really be his name.”

“It is, miss,” I said. “And he’s rung the chimes in enough people’s skulls to’ve earned it.”

“But what can they want with us ?”she wondered, her hand making its way into a fold of her dress-to my great relief.

“I don’t know,” I replied, “but it looked to me like that Hunter woman signaled to them. Whatever’s going on, Miss Howard, you’ll want to keep that canister of yours handy.”

The group of Dusters was getting closer, and Ding Dong’s half-crazed smile-which so many ladies (Kat, it seemed, among them) found so unexplainably irresistible-only grew wider as he stared at the carriage and realized I was one of the people in it. I tried to keep my eyes off of him and on the others; and, not much liking the vicious looks the three of them were giving Frederick, I swallowed my fear just before they got to us, jumped out of the carriage, and rushed to hold the horse’s bridle.

Ding Dong drew up to a halt in front of me and put his hands on his hips, as Cyrus-who’d also gotten to the ground-carefully made his way around Frederick’s curbside flank.

“They told me it was true,” Ding Dong laughed, his eyes just getting crazier all the time. “They told me it was true, but I never believed it-the Stevepipe, workin’ as an errand boy! How do you like shovelin’ this nag’s shit, Stevie?”

I glanced from Ding Dong to his boys. “Better’n I’d like shovelin’ yours,” I said, at which a couple of the fellows with sticks made a move my way.

But Ding Dong held his arms out and laughed. “You always did talk like a top-class rabbit, Stevie,” he said. “And when you had yourself a piece of pipe, you could even fight like one. I-uh-don’t suppose you got one right now?”

Before I could answer, Cyrus stepped around from the other side of Frederick ’s head. “He doesn’t need one,” my friend said, his right hand still in his jacket pocket. “Suppose you tell us what you want?”

Ding Dong’s smile only seemed to grow as he studied Cyrus for a second. “That’s one big nigger, Stevie,” he said. “What monkey house didja get him outta?” He and his boys laughed a little, looking like they figured Cyrus would try a move at the insult, and then seeming disappointed when he didn’t.

“What do you want , Ding Dong?” I said.

The Dusters’ smiles all started to vanish, and they took a few steps closer. “Question is, Stevepipe,” Ding Dong said, “whatta you want? Who gave you leave to snoop around this house?”

“You care ?” I asked. “Why?”

Ding Dong shrugged. “Duster territory-that oughtta be enough.”

I eyed him close. “Yeah-but it ain’t. What’s your real reason?”

Ding Dong’s grin came back. “Always was smart, you little bastard. Mebbe I wanna pay you back for almost bustin’ my arm last time we met.”