Page 75 of Of Fate and Phantoms
"That's clever," I said. It would separate them from Lincoln's own inquiries. Too many people asking about a fellow named King would raise suspicions.
"We only asked other gangs," Mink said. "Orphans, like us."
Another wise move. Mink was careful.
"Cross's gang knew someone with big hands." Finley took up the story. "Big feet, too. He sniffed out their hideout one day 'bout a year ago."
"Sniffed out?" I asked. "What do you mean?"
Finley shrugged. "That's what Cross said, sniffed out. He stole a fresh baked loaf of bread from the baker and took it back to their den. He says next thing he knew, the big hand man came. Cross says he was sniffing, like he followed the smell of the bread there."
"He must have found it another way," Mink cut in. "He must have followed Cross there."
"Cross says he didn't, and I believe him. He couldn't have just found the den, neither. It's hard to find, like ours. You gotta know its there. So he must of smelled the bread."
"I believe you," I said. If the man shifted into an animal then he would have an excellent sense of smell, like Harriet. "So what happened then? Did he try to steal the bread?"
"Nope," Finley said. "He wanted them to work for him."
"Doing what?"
"Running messages, spying, that sort of thing. He said his gang needed some children to work for 'em."
"His gang?" I echoed. Could he be referring to the group of wolf-like shifters reported in the newspaper a year ago?
"Cross refused," Mink said. "When he asked the man why he needed children, the man said it was because young 'uns don't get noticed when they're little. It's not 'til they're older and bigger that they get caught. That got Cross worried. He's real careful, and he protects his gang. It sounded like the man wanted them to do something dangerous, or something that'd get them in big trouble with the pigs, so he refused."
"And what did the man say then?"
"Nothing," Finley said. "He left and didn't ask again. Cross reckons he found another group of children. Plenty of 'em in London, and most ain't careful like Cross."
Very true. Cross sounded a lot like Mink. His name wasn't one I recognized from my days living on the streets. "Did he describe the man's appearance to you?" I asked.
"He did better than that." Mink's lips stretched into a small smile, the first I'd ever seen on his face. It made him look even younger, like the child he was, instead of the adolescent he was pretending to be. "He said he often sees the man around, but he's always at the same place at the same time, every day like a clock."
I sat forward on the chair. "Where?"
"Butcher in Smithfield. Cross reckons they have a regular arrangement. The man with the big feet goes to the butcher's at the end of the day, after the market's all closed and everyone's gone. He gets any bones that's not sold and are starting to go off."
"How late in the day?"
"Dusk."
I glanced out the window. The rain had held off, but it was still cloudy. Dusk arrived early in January and must be about two hours away.
"Lincoln should be back by then," I said. "In the mean time, who would like a bath?"
Finley looked horrified. "What we want to do that for?"
"I can get kerosene for the lice," I said as Mink scratched his head. "Or we could shave your heads. Yes, let's do that first, and then you can have a bath. Mink?"
"S'pose," he muttered.
Finley sniffed then wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Not me. I like my dirt, and my lice."
"You do not," I said with absolute certainty. "I heard you complain about the lice a thousand times when I lived with you."
"I did not!"
