Chapter 6 - The Harbor Line
The rain began the moment they pushed the iron street grate open into an alleyway three blocks south of the waterfront. It was past midnight, and the city’s industrial fringe was desolate, drowned in cold October mist.
Victoria wrapped her torn, mud-splattered coat around Clara’s shivering shoulders. The contrast between them was grotesque: an elite socialite in destroyed couture and a fugitive child, creeping past shuttered warehouses.
"We need a vehicle," Victoria muttered, checking the shadows at the end of the alley. "Arthur had a safehouse prepared near the docks. If he survived the ballroom, he’ll be waiting there."
"He didn't survive," Clara stated simply.
Victoria stopped, turning sharply. "What did you say?"
"Before you came down to the service hall," Clara said, her voice dead and matter-of-fact, "I saw the man with the scar talking to Arthur by the kitchen stairs. Arthur took an envelope from him. He gave the man the service key to your floor."
The cold air rushed out of Victoria’s lungs. Arthur. The man who had managed her private security for fifteen years, the man who had helped her stage Helena’s disappearance after Clara was born.
"Arthur wouldn't," Victoria breathed, though the reality of the ambush in the corridor settled over her like a shroud of lead. The men had known exactly which door to breach. They had bypassed the main floor without alerting the municipal police guarding the gala.
"He told the scarred man that you were getting weak," Clara added, pulling the wet coat tighter around herself. "He said you were starting to look for me."
A pair of headlights cut through the rain at the far end of the street, moving slowly, sweeping the brick walls with white light. A black SUV rolled forward, its engine idling with a menacing, predatory purr.
May you like
Victoria grabbed Clara’s wrist and yanked her behind a stack of rusted shipping pallets. The vehicle stopped twenty yards away. The driver’s side door opened, and a man stepped out into the downpour, carrying an umbrella in one hand and a silenced automatic in the other.
It was Arthur.
