Page 71 of Of Fate and Phantoms
"Yes, you can. In time, you'll see that I'm speaking the truth. Do we have an arrangement?"
Finley and Mink glanced at one another. They exchanged no words or nods, but must have communicated in some way because they both turned back to me.
"We do," Mink said.
Finley spat on his palm and held it out to me.
Mink brushed him aside. "She's a girl now, remember?"
Finley wiped his hand down his shirt. "Right. Forgot." His gaze dipped to my chest.
"Come outside and meet Lincoln Fitzroy," I said.
"He the one with the money?" Mink asked.
I nodded and went out first. Finley followed. He blinked at the sudden brightness, even though it was another dreary day. Mink came through next, hesitating when he saw Lincoln leaning on the wall opposite.
Lincoln nodded a greeting. Mink nodded back and looked to me. Since Lincoln made no move to approach them, I led the way.
"This is Mr. Fitzroy," I said. "Lincoln, this is Mink, and you already met Finley."
Finley crossed his arms as Lincoln did and puffed out his chest. Mink remained a few feet away, warily assessing. Lincoln put out his hand and took a step forward. Mink paused then shook it.
"We have a task for you," Lincoln said.
Mink glanced up and down the lane, but we were alone. The wind, cold and threat of rain kept the streets quiet. "Something that'll get us into trouble with the bobbies?" he asked.
"No. Information gathering. There's a man known as King from the East End, most likely Whitechapel. He'll be mid-thirties, receding brown hair, and has large hands and feet."
Finley snorted a laugh. "You want us to look at every old man's hands and feet?"
"Mid-thirties is not old."
"You would say that."
"What else can you tell us about this King?" Mink asked.
"He inspires a great deal of loyalty in his friends," Lincoln said.
Mink waited. When Lincoln didn't go on, he said. "That's it? That's all you can tell us?"
"He drinks at the Cat and Fiddle, or used to."
"That ain't much."
"It's all we have," I told them.
Lincoln handed Mink a pouch of money. The coins clinked musically as Mink tore the drawstring open. Finley grinned. "Cor, I ain't never seen so much ready before."
Mink pocketed the money and once again glanced up and down the lane. "It might take a few days."
Lincoln nodded. "Be discreet."
"Be careful," I added. "If anyone seems to get suspicious, stop asking. Don't put yourselves in danger. And don't let anyone know who you work for." I suddenly regretted giving them Lincoln's name in case they were forced to reveal it.
"Never thought you were one for rules, Charlie," Finley said with a chuckle.
"I've changed."
