A look of profound relief washed over Alice's face. The anxiety that had been plaguing her for days seemed to melt away.
"Alright," she said, her eyes shining with gratitude.
Just then, a maid came to call them to dinner.
The Sinclair's dining room was vast, with a ten-meter-long rectangular table and a smaller round table that could comfortably seat twelve. Tonight, they used the round table. Alice's two younger brothers, Skye and Craig, aged twelve and ten, were present. They had both read the newspaper articles and were staring at Henry with unconcealed curiosity and awe, peppering him with questions about his legendary exploits.
Henry answered their questions patiently, and also took the opportunity to formally ask their father for permission to take Alice on an "outing" the next day. Marvin, of course, readily agreed.
After dinner, as Henry was leaving, he gave Alice the gun case. Inside was an exquisite Colt Model 1877 "Lightning" revolver—the small, easily concealed weapon he had taken from the assassin, Louis.
Back at the hotel, Henry called Pete to his room.
"You and Mary should take the next few days to enjoy New York," he said. "But be careful. Stay out of Downtown, and in Midtown, don't go below 43rd street. Those areas are crawling with scum."
"Alright. When are we heading back to Denver? Is there nothing you need me to do?"
"We'll leave on August 1st. For now, just enjoy your honeymoon. And check in on Linda and her family from time to time." Henry held out a ten-dollar bill. "Here, for your expenses."
Pete shook his head. "You've already given me enough. And Linda is my aunt. It's my duty to help her."
Henry put the bill away, then took out a pouch and counted out one hundred dollars in five-dollar notes.
"This is a loan," he said, pressing the money into Pete's hand. "New York is an expensive city. Don't let your honeymoon be anything less than perfect. You can pay me back when you get a bonus."
"I couldn't…" Pete stammered.
"Take it," Henry insisted. "If Mary asks, tell her the truth. Believe me, a hundred dollars will be nothing to you in the future. Don't have any regrets."
"Alright," Pete said, his voice thick with gratitude. "Thank you, Henry."
"Just be safe. If you run into any trouble, use my name. Or send someone back here to get me."
After Pete had left, Henry reviewed the day's events. He considered taking a train to Chicago to wipe out the black market headquarters, but the journey would take too long. The element of surprise would be lost. For now, he would focus on the threats at hand.
In a dark, damp cellar in a Downtown apartment building, a man was tied to an iron pillar.
CRACK!
The sharp sound of a wooden club striking a metal table jolted him awake.
"Robert," a man named Magyar sneered, "did you think you could escape? I have news for you. Tomorrow, your precious Rachel will be joining you down here."
Robert struggled to open his swollen eyelids. "Why?" he rasped. "Magyar, I was good to you. We are both Irishmen. Why would you betray me?"
Magyar just laughed, a cruel, ugly sound. "Good to me? You treated me like a dog. A useful, obedient dog. Why wouldn't you let me get close to Rachel?"
"You know it wasn't like that," Robert said, his voice filled with anguish. "I saved you. I saved your whole family."
"You saved us," Magyar spat, "and my father, my brother, and I slaved for you for ten years! And what did we get? We lived in a sewer in the slums, while you lived in a mansion with your happy family. My mother and my sister died of pneumonia in that rat-infested hole!"
"I spoke a few words to Rachel, and you flew into a rage. You never saw us as human. So listen to me, you old bastard. You're going to tell me where you hid your gold. If you do, I'll talk to the boss. I'll make sure Rachel doesn't have to service anyone but me."
"And I'll have five or six children with her," he sneered. "You'll have grandchildren, in a way. It's better than her being sold to the brothels, isn't it? Ridden by a thousand men until she catches a disease and is thrown in a ditch like garbage?"
Robert closed his eyes, unable to look at the scoundrel's triumphant, twisted face.
THWACK!
Magyar brought the club down on his back, not hard enough to break anything, but just enough to vent his frustration.
"Just you wait," he said coldly. "You'll see her tomorrow. You have no choice."
He left the cell and went upstairs, knocking gently on a door.
"Come in."