Chapter 24 – The Rescue

Penn stood on the edge of the roof, leaning into the slope and staring down at the dark street. The caged fires created pockets of light that showed fragments of what was happening. More men than might be expected at that time of night were milling around the edges of the light, trying to act casual.

Which was a complete joke. Nothing in the world drew as much attention as some idiot trying to act casual. You either were casual or you weren’t. There was no point in acting.

One figure didn’t bother pretending. The man had an innate stillness that betrayed both purpose and patience. He was the man Penn watched.

A few minutes passed, then the figure stepped into the light of the nearest burn cage. It was Haley, and he was looking right at Penn. When he nodded, his chin only dropped a fraction of an inch.

The thief turned and crawled toward the back of the building. He made sure his feet landed over the brick wall below him. Roofs tended to echo, and he had no doubt that Farnham would be listening. When Penn was in line with the last ceiling hatch, he crept up the slope, eased the hatch open as wide as it would go, and let down the rope he’d secured earlier.

The familiar tingle of excitement reached his fingertips about then.

Eleanor stirred when she heard the men on the floor below moving around. The change in the noise was subtle, but she could tell something was happening.

That realization was hardly worth the pain of returning to her senses. Her head throbbed, the cuts ached, and there was a chorus of agony from her joints. She never would have imagined that immobility could be so excruciating.

And there’s nothing I can do. Her heart whimpered at the thought.

Struggling against her bonds would probably dislodge the clots on her arms, and she knew she would be in serious trouble if they started bleeding again. Even if she did decide to risk it, she doubted she’d be able to escape the ropes—nevermind being able to do it before Farnham noticed the attempt.

When the gang had returned, Farnham had ordered them to bring up a lantern and chair. The chair was placed in front of the partition beside her, and the only time he had moved from it was when it had gotten dark enough he wanted to light the lantern.

At the moment, he was leaning back in the chair. Two legs were in the air while the back of it rested against the partition. He was cleaning his nails with the tip of his knife. They were alone. Others had come and gone, but it seemed that no one wanted to be around Farnham while he was in such a mercurial mood.

They both heard the sound of someone ascending the stairs. It was Scott, the brute.

“Mr. Farnham?”

Farnham tucked his knife away. The two front legs of the chair hit the floor with a thud. “What is it?”

Scott clenched and unclenched his hands. “There are…men.”

Farnham stood up. “What do you mean, men?”

“Outside.”

“Are they doing anything?”

“N-no. But there’s a lot of them.”

Farnham stared hard, but Scott, even as nervous as he was, didn’t flinch.

When Farnham walked toward the front gable, Scott followed him.

Eleanor had thought her emotions were dead, but a flutter in her chest made her realize that some hope had survived.

Would he come? It would be stupidly dangerous. But Penn had done stupidly dangerous things before.

The two men stared at the street below.

“I see them,” Farnham said.

“Do you think they have anything to do with us?” Scott asked.

“It could be. Penn loves to play his tricks. Could also be nothing.”

“You think it might be his gang?”

Farnham turned to his underling. “If it is, they’re dead. They carry a gun this one time and think they’ll be able to stand up to us?” He looked out the window again.

Eleanor felt a tug on the rope around her chest. Her gasp of surprise was trapped by the gag, but her heart pounded until her chest ached for want of oxygen.

Then a voice muttered in her ear, “Good evening, my darling.”

At the window, Scott whispered to his boss. “What are they doing?”

“I don’t know.”

The two men observed in silence.

“They look like they’re waiting for something,” Scott noted.

“Or gathering,” Farnham said.

Farnham tried to get a read on how many people might be hiding in the shadows, but before he could get a count, a man stepped between the two iron burn cages. The flames threw his face into deep relief. He was shouting something. They could hear the murmur of his voice, even through the glass.

Farnham moved the latch and wrenched the stubborn window open by an inch to catch the last of what the man was saying.

“—you were seen entering the building! Penn!”

Scott turned to Farnham, looking for some kind of explanation or instruction.

“Get the girl,” his boss said.

“You think it’s the police?”

“Get the girl!”

They both turned to their hostage.

Ryce Penn was lounging in the chair where Eleanor Serrs was supposed to be. His elbow was resting on the arm of the chair, and he was leaning his cheekbone on his raised knuckles. His eyes were full of the purest delight.

“Maddox!” he said. “I got your letter. You said you wanted to see me?”

Farnham shook his head, then grumbled, “You went to the cops?”

“Me? Never. Hate the filthy things. But they do follow me around everywhere, don’t they?”

Scott didn’t need any instruction this time. He rushed the thief.

Penn spun around the back of the chair, lifted it, and swung it around. It crashed into Scott’s head. Heaps of broken wood and splinters rained over the downed man, but roughly three-quarters of the chair was still intact.

“Come on, you can do better than that,” Penn said to himself.

He slammed what was left of the chair on the brute’s head. Scott’s groans were cut off, and the last chunks of the chair fell away from the back post.

“Better.”

Penn saw the shadows on the floor shift. He turned back towards Farnham. The man was moving to strike, but Penn smashed the post into his elbow. Farnham screamed. His knife clattered to the floor and spun into the light.

Ryce ignored it. He swung the wood back, hitting Farnham’s neck. Then he stepped close to throw his elbow into Farnham’s stomach. When Farnham curled over, Penn dropped his makeshift club, grabbed him by the collar, and shoved him back until Farnham slammed into the edge of the wood partition. Penn pushed his fist into Farnham’s throat.

“If you had a problem with me, Maddox, you should have taken it up with me. But you kept going around, hurting innocent people. Behold! I’m here to call down the wrath of god on you and your kind, and when that bullet calls you home, know it comes with my compliments.”

Penn grabbed the man’s hair and slammed his head into the wood. Farnham’s eyes rolled back, and he slithered out of the thief’s grip.

Breathing hard, Penn grabbed the knife and crossed to the window. He yanked it up as far as it would go.

“Inspector Haley!” he shouted. “Is that you, hound of the law and bane of my life?”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Haley looked up. “Ryce Penn, I have a warrant for your arrest! Are you going to come out quietly?”

“Not on your life! Come on in and try to catch me.”

Penn turned away from the window. Several thugs were already thundering up the stairs, but one quick kick to the first man’s chest was enough to send them tumbling back to the floor below. He didn’t spare another thought for them. Judging by how the front doors of the warehouse bulged against the wood bar, the police had already decided to take Penn up on his invitation; the gang would have a lot more pressing issues to worry about in a second.

Ryce paused by Farnham. Maddox was writhing on the floor, trying to get to his knees. Penn dropped the knife barely out of Farnham’s reach.

“You’re going to need it,” Penn said as he walked past.

There was a choking noise. The thief ignored it.

Farnham coughed and tried again: “Penn!”

Ryce turned.

Farnham’s face was ugly with fury and pain. He snatched at the knife handle. “Is this another one of your tricks?”

“One of my finest.” Penn bowed. “And now, for my last performance, I’m going to disappear!” He turned away. “Goodbye, Maddox.”

Penn went to the far end of the building and slid into the shadow of the final partition. He knew Eleanor was there. He could hear her ragged breathing.

“Eleanor?”

“Mr. Penn.”

When she reached out, he took her by the forearms so she would know where he was standing.

“We have to get you out of here,” he said.

“The police—”

“There’s going to be a lot of fighting before this is done.”

As if to support his claim, there was a massive crash below and two shots were fired, one after another.

“I have a rope,” Penn said. “Once we’re on the roof—”

Eleanor let out a weak laugh. “I can’t climb. Not right now.”

Ryce was about to ask her why or cajole her into trying, but then the message his hands had been trying to send to his brain finally got through.

Eleanor was bleeding. He could feel it all over his hands. Some of it was sticky, but some was still warm. She leaned into his grip, allowing him to hold her up.

The roof would not be a good place for her.

“Would you be able to hold a rope?” he asked. “At least for a few seconds?”

“I think so.”

Penn made sure she could stand on her own, then walked over to the rope still hanging from the ceiling hatch. He pulled out his pocketknife and climbed the rope so he could cut off a longer length.

He took it over to the rail at the edge of the loft, then motioned for Eleanor to come to him. She stepped out of the darkness and walked over. He tied a bowline around her seat without wasting a single word on apologies or excuses. Then he had her sit at the edge of the floor.

She gripped the banister beside her as Penn coiled the rope around it. He lifted the rope a foot and a half in front of the bowline knot and handed it to her.

“Hold on tight. There’ll be a jolt when you first drop, but I promise I’ll catch you. I’m going to lower you quickly so there’s less chance someone sees you.”

Eleanor nodded. Penn grabbed the rope and braced himself.

The chaos of the scene was beating against Eleanor’s dazed ears. She barely heard Penn tell her to go. Fear grabbed her heart and squeezed as her weight tipped into the fall. She instinctively leaned back to catch herself.

Eleanor closed her eyes.

As a child, she’d climbed trees with Edward. Her mother had scolded, but her father had only laughed. She always hesitated right before she climbed down—she remembered that. She remembered that moment of fear. And she remembered how she would inch off the branch until she could swing around on one arm to catch herself.

She heard Penn yell for her to go.