Rafferty took up a spot outside the pub where he could see the two doors available

  as exits. All he had to do was wait and hope that no one saw him loitering. The

  costume was a dead giveaway that he was up to no good.

  If he went in, he would have to fight the whole pub. None of the people inside had

  the look that the casino players had. They would all turn on him to protect Bones.

  Waiting was the best thing to do. He didn’t like it. He would rather force things to

  happen. If the spy boys were right about the connection to the Jerries, it was worth

  it to see how much he could disrupt.

  If they were wrong, Bones’s girlfriend was just guilty of hanging out with a bad

  crowd.

  He didn’t think they were wrong, but he had no way to prove anything. And he had

  no connection to Brown. They could imply anything, but that wasn’t proof. The

  Intelligence people weren’t going to stand in open court and declare how they hooked

  everything together.

  He had to make the connection, but beating a confession out of Bones was not going

  to hold up in court either. Any sign of coercion and the case would be destroyed

  before it could be argued in front of the judges.

  And he doubted he could scare Bones enough to profess all of his knowledge of the

  underworld to the local copper.

  Maybe he could trick the woman into notifying her boss if she saw him being picked

  up. The agency would have to be ready to listen on her phone call. He didn’t see that

  happening fast enough to catch her.

  He considered breaking into her place and looking around. That might get him

  something. He didn’t know what.

  It would also blow any surveillance Six was doing, unless he arranged for them to

  chase her down after she discovered him going over her secret messages.

  Five would be mad that no one had handed them a spy on domestic soil since it was

  their job to hunt such people down.

  How did he use any of this? Acting as a vigilante meant punishing people in the act.

  Bones had done nothing provable, nor was he a threat while he was in the pub.

  Waiting for him to get orders and go after someone else seemed the only way to solve

  things so that the regular police could do something.

  Maybe he should go in as himself and spark a confrontation. Maybe that would get

  him something he could use. Then Fletcher and the auxiliary could watch the woman

  and see what she did.

  Rafferty considered the plans. They wouldn’t get him closer to proving Bones killed

  Corklin. Punching him in the face was tempting, but he couldn’t think of a way to

  turn that into a cell and a day before a court.

  Capturing him was well and good. It was up to the Yard to deal with him. Would

  Hawley have enough evidence to charge Bones? Would he walk away clean?

  And there was no way to connect Bones to Brown. That was the most important part

  of things.

  If Bones was taken with the gun that killed Corklin, that would be proof that he had

  killed the witness. The problem was he could claim a crazy masked man had given

  it to him after taking him from his favorite pub.

  So the plan was to wait and have a little talk with the hitman when he came out of the

  pub. A ride in the trunk of the car would follow after that.

  It seemed better than letting everyone know he had the man. It obviated the need to

  explain where the evidence came from and how it got in Bones’s possession. And it

  kept his girlfriend in the dark unless she showed up to meet him.

  It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was better than nothing.

  Rafferty waited patiently in the shadows. The pub started emptying out. Where was

  Bones? Did he have to go in and take the man?

  The pub stood empty. All the customers had left. The bar man put chairs up on the

  tables as he started cleaning up.

  Where had Bones gone? He would have to go in and ask around. That was the total

  opposite of what he wanted to do. He checked the Webley. No one said being a

  masked government requisitioned vigilante would be easy.

  At least the business was exciting so far.

  Rafferty went to the pub’s doors. He tried the knob. It was locked. The pub man

  looked up and saw him standing there. He didn’t look happy at the masked man

  looking into the room at him.

  Rafferty smashed the glass inset out of the door with the Webley. He opened the door

  as the man ran to the counter. The detective fired one shot into the shelf behind the

  bar.

  “Bones,” said the masked man. “Where is he?”

  “He went out the back,” said the bar man. “There’s a door behind the building. It lets

  out in the alley between the pub and the book store.”

  Rafferty grimaced. He went out the front. He walked to the corner. He noticed the

  green sedan had lights on. He wondered if that was Bones’s car and if he was behind

  the wheel.

  He rushed down the street. The green sedan started to pull away from Fletcher’s town

  car. He had to make a decision. Did he shoot, or let the car go? He paused long

  enough to take aim and fired the Webley.

  A tire expended all of its air out of the hole that appeared in its side. The car dragged

  the rim for a few feet before the driver gave up.

  Rafferty ran across the street. He used Fletcher’s car as cover as the driver of the

  green sedan opened his door and got out. A pistol barked as the detective ducked

  behind the trunk of the black vehicle.

  He didn’t want to kill Bones before he had some clue to what was going on. On the

  other hand, he wasn’t going to let the man keep shooting at him.

  Rafferty slid down to the corner of Fletcher’s car. He peeked around the side. Bones

  searched for him over the trunk of his car. The masked man smiled. He was searching

  in the wrong area.

  The detective took aim and shot Bones in the leg. The man collapsed to the sidewalk.

  His pistol bounced once before settling on the concrete.

  Rafferty rushed forward. Bones reached for the pistol where it lay on the sidewalk.

  A boot to the head fixed that. The detective stepped back. He had a wounded captive

  now. What did he do with the man?

  He muttered an expletive. He had captured Bones, but he didn’t have anything to tie

  him to the killings.

  What did he do now?

  He had burned down an illegal business and shot a suspected gunman. He didn’t have

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  a lot for his actions.

  Fletcher arrived from his phone call a few minutes later. He looked down at the

  wounded man. He scratched his head as he considered what he found.

  “What have you done?,” he asked his agent.

  “I kept this man from bleeding out,” said Rafferty. “And now I must go. Tell the

  police whatever you feel will sell the story. Tell them I was afraid of you.”

  Sir Laurence looked around. No one was on the street. The lights were out at the pub.

  He frowned. Bones seemed to be out.

  “Anything else?,” asked Sir Laurence.

  “See if you can get them to test his pistol against the bullets from the house,” said

  Rafferty. “That might be enough to lock him away for something.”

  “Call in in two hours,” said the knight. “I might have something we can use to plan

  our next move.”

  Rafferty retreated from the scene. He pulled the mask down as he vanished into an

  alley across the street from the block of buildings they were interested in.

  Sir Laurence hoped he didn’t shoot anyone else before they knew what they were

  doing. The note about Bones’s woman had thrown things into uncertain areas. Once

  they knew what she knew, they could proceed with their campaign against Brown.

  What did the Jerries want with Brown? Sources doubted he would work with them.

  Maybe people were wrong about him.

  Sir Laurence checked his watch. His watcher would be on the scene in minutes. Did

  he dare leave Bones on his own to call the police to pick him up. He had to do

  something. The man needed to be taken to a hospital.

  The knight put the man in the back of his green car before going back to the phone

  booth he had used earlier. He called the detective he had tasked with comparing the

  bullets from the house shooting. He explained the situation and asked the man to

  come down and pick up Bones.

  He walked back to the green sedan. Bones was still breathing in the back seat. He was

  happy about that.

  A whistle blew in the distance. The local police were on the way. He could ask the

  constable to secure the scene while he went about his business. He realized he might

  be stuck for more than two hours trying to explain all this to the Yard.

  They definitely needed to work on procedures so he wasn’t involved in missions. The

  agency was supposed to act behind the scenes, not take the roles of witnesses to

  manufacture crimes against its targets.

  The cases should survive the court process without his input. Now he was on the

  hook as a witness to something he didn’t witness taking place.

  Perhaps he had been wrong about Rafferty. He hated to admit something like that. It

  opened the question of what else he had misjudged.

  Sir Laurence saw a constable running down the street. He waved a hand to direct the

  man closer. He needed to hand over Bones and get to work on the rest of the problem

  he was trying to solve. He still needed to put the auxiliary in place on the woman.

  Where did she fit in?

  “What’s going on, sir?,” asked the constable once he arrived by the green sedan.

  “I found this man shot,” said Sir Laurence. “I put him in the car to make him

  comfortable. This gun is his, I assume.”

  He pointed at the revolver lying by the sedan.

  The constable pulled out a handkerchief and picked up the revolver. He sniffed the

  barrel and wrinkled his nose. He put the revolver on top of the sedan.

  “Are you armed, sir?,” asked the constable.

  Sir Laurence raised the tails of his jacket to show he wasn’t carrying a firearm. He

  turned in a circle so the man could see that he didn’t have any obvious weapons.

  “I’m going to have to write a report to file for whomever takes over and looks into

  things, sir,” said the constable. He pulled out a pad and pen and held them to write

  down the facts. “What’s your name, and how did you find this man?”

  “I’m Sir Laurence Fletcher,” said the knight. “This is my car. I had been called here

  to meet someone about a job that I needed done. So far he hasn’t arrived. I waited for

  a bit, but I stepped away to call my office. I heard shots. When I came back to my car,

  I found the wounded man laying on the ground. I did a home bandage which will not

  last long and put him in his car.”

  “How did you know this was his car?,” asked the constable.

  “The door was open,” said Sir Laurence. “When I arrived, the car didn’t have anyone

  inside it that I could see. This man wasn’t here. When I came back, he was laying

  down beside his firearm. And there’s the bullet holes.”

  The knight waved at the small marks on the car from being used as cover.

  A car from the Flying Squad arrived. Two more constables got out on the street. The

  first constable went over and told them what had happened. One of the men reached

  inside and called back to headquarters. They assured him that an ambulance and more

  men were on the way.

  Sir Laurence made a note that he needed to outfit his commandoes with similar

  devices so he could contact them in the field. Communications with Rafferty had

  seemed simpler when he had thought of the operator system. Now he knew he needed

  to keep a tighter rein on his agents so they do things like sticking him with a wounded

  mobster and police scrutiny for the next few days.

  He couldn’t run his organization and dodge detectives interested in what he was

  doing.

  He put false credentials on the list of things he might need in the future.

  “Constable Wombell has told us your statement,” said one of the new constables from

  the Flying Squad. “I’m going to need to look at your credentials to show that you are

  who you say you are.”

  Sir Laurence pulled out the leather folder he kept for his papers. He handed it over.

  The constable looked things over before handing the wallet back.

  “We don’t need to keep you any more tonight,” said the constable. “There will be

  some questions when we figure out who this gentleman is, and how you can help us

  narrow down things.”

  “My office will be open to you, gentlemen,” said Sir Laurence. He wondered if any

  of the three men worked for Brown, and if they knew that someone was looking for

  Bones.

  Could a trap be made from the wounded Bones and the uncertainty of what he had

  revealed after getting shot?

  Everyone knew a mad masked man had been looking for Bones. Would they think he

  had given up after finding the man? Would they think he would move to another

  target and wreck things until he found the right man?

  How could they use this to force the Brown crime organization to move to better

  climes and stay in exile?

  He didn’t have a solution yet. Maybe Rafferty would come up with something with

  his targeting of Billy Bones only leading peripherally to something major.

  They needed to confirm the woman knew something about what was going on, and

  that evidence was worth something to put people in prison, or hang them.

  Sir Laurence got behind the wheel of his car and backed away from the green sedan.

  That had been bad luck parking behind Bones’s car. At least Rafferty hadn’t shot his

  car up when he had attacked.

  He made a note that he needed a personal car he could call the office from while he

  was out on business.

  He turned in the street and headed pass the pub. The lights were off now. Had the

  owner and servers hunkered out of the way when the shooting started. Someone

  might have seen him talking to Rafferty. He couldn’t help that. He had to keep

  working.

  He spotted his investigator standing on the next corner. He pulled over at the curb.

  He doubted the man wanted to be seen by the police while they were looking for a

  shooter.

  “How’s it going?,” said the auxiliary. His hair had turned gray while young, wrinkles

  from exposure dotted his face, his suit looked like it belonged to his father. The eyes

  were sharp and clear.

  “Get in, Harry,” said Sir Laurence. “I have a job for you, and I don’t want to be seen

  with you by the police.”

  Harry got in the town car and settled into the seat. He leaned against the door as the

  car started rolling again.

  “This is the situation,” said Sir Laurence. “Billy Bones has been shot. He is on his

  way to the hospital. I have been told he has a girlfriend that works at the Yellow

  Rose. The only name I have is a Margaret, or Maggie. I want you to find that girl and

  make a note on everyone she talks to until I tell you to stop.”

  “So I need to identify this woman, confirm her occupation and relation to Bones, and

  identify everyone she talks to until you say stop,” said Harry. “You’re looking at a big

  undertaking as far as following the woman and identifying her contacts.”

  “I’m looking for someone with connections overseas, Harry,” said Sir Laurence. “He

  will probably be using an alias and a false history.”

  “I’ll look into it,” said Harry. “Do you have a home address for this Margaret?”

  “No,” said Sir Laurence. “Put that down on the things you have to find out and

  report.”

  “Police involved?,” asked Harry.

  “They are transporting Billy Bones to the hospital in the hopes he survives the

  gunshot wound in his leg,” said Sir Laurence. “I believe they think I will be identified

  as the perpetrator since I called for assistance.”

  “The easiest solutions are the best,” said Harry. He smiled at the thought of Sir

  Laurence ever dirtying his hands enough to shoot someone.

  “Thank you for that vote of confidence,” said the knight. “You probably won’t be

  able to do anything on the block with the police there. If you want to start tomorrow

  night, that’s understandable.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Harry. “I’ll call your office and report anything I find out.”

  “Thanks, Harry,” said Sir Laurence. “You might want to stay under cover until the

  police are done looking for suspects. You don’t want to be taken in over this.”

  “It’s no problem,” said Harry. “Let me off in the next block. I have to make some

  calls to get started.”

  Sir Laurence pulled to a curb to let his investigator out.