Page 33 of Ashes To Ashes
Lincoln set Gus on watch out the front while he and Seth headed down the nearest lane and through an archway to the large courtyard at the back of the properties. The buildings surrounding the courtyard were in such poor state that a strong breeze might have knocked them over. The dense, still air reeked of feces and something rotting.
A man exited from the back of Mrs. Fenton's house and pissed on the slick cobbles. He swayed on his feet and didn't look up. If he had, he would have spotted Seth and Lincoln.
When the man tucked himself back into his trousers, his elbow nudged aside his coat to reveal the handle of a pistol.
Lincoln signaled Seth to fetch Gus.
"You're going to wait for us to return before you approach him, aren't you?" Seth whispered.
"Yes."
With a nod of approval, Seth returned down the lane. Not even that movement alerted the man to their presence. He rocked back on his heels, licked his fingers and dragged them through his greasy black hair.
Lincoln stepped out of the shadows. He got to within four steps before the man looked up. "Jack Daley?"
The man reached for his gun, but Lincoln was too fast. He snatched the pistol and pointed it at the man's temple.
"Are you Jack Daley?" he asked again.
"Who wants to know?"
"The person who holds this gun at your head and has no qualms about pulling the trigger."
Daley had a high forehead and a moustache so thin that it looked like an outline of his top lip. His clothes were new and his jaw smooth. He'd recently come into money. He sized up Lincoln with a sneer. "You ain't got the bollocks."
Lincoln shot him in the foot.
Daley screamed and crumpled to the ground. A woman came to the door, gasped, and hurried back inside. The tumbling of the heavy lock was almost as loud as Daley's cries.
"It's dangerous to keep your weapon loaded," Lincoln told him.
Daley's only response was to change from screaming to whimpering. Lincoln aimed the pistol at his other foot.
"Unless you want me to make you a cripple, you'll answer my questions. Are you Jack Daley?"
"Aye! Bloody hell, man, what'd you shoot me for?"
"I know what you've done to the people in these parts. I know they fear you. Perhaps now they'll hear you limping toward them in time to get away."
Lincoln heard Seth and Gus's running footsteps before they entered the courtyard. "Jesus," Gus muttered, staring at Daley's bloodied boot. "Did you shoot him?"
"He wasn't answering my questions."
"Fair enough, then."
Seth marched up to Lincoln. "You said you would wait."
Lincoln watched his men grab Daley and haul him up to stand on his one good foot. "I lied."
Seth rolled his eyes. "Has he confessed?"
"To what?" Daley spat. He tried to pull away but Seth and Gus held him too tightly and his foot must have pained him. He gave up with a wince and whimper. "What do you want?"
"I want to know who hired you to kill Patrick O'Neill," Lincoln said.
Daley went even paler. "You the pigs?"
"The police don't shoot suspects. They waste time with protocol. I prefer to get my answers quickly. Did you kill Patrick O'Neill?"
