She started moving again, hurrying, letting her stride lengthen. She glanced over her shoulder-no advantage to be gained in hiding her awareness now, if she needed cover from civilians she could just say she was being chased- and spotted Mr. Threadbare and Mr. Hat blundering towards her, splitting in a classic pincer. Most of the bystanders had evaporated or were feigning inattention- nobody wanted to be an audience for this kind of street theater. Brill took a deep breath, stepped backwards until she came up against the brick wall of a shop, then held her handbag out towards Mr. Hat, who was now less than twenty feet away. "Stop right there," she said pleasantly, and when he didn't, she shot him twice. The hand bag jerked, but the suppressor and the padding kept the noise down to the level of an enthusiastic hand clap. She winced slightly and shook her wrist to dislodge a hot cartridge as Mr. Hat went to one knee, a look of utter surprise on his face, and she spun sideways to bear on Mr. Threadbare. "Stop, I said."
Mr. Threadbare stopped. He began to draw breath. She focused on him, noting absently that Mr. Hat was whimpering quietly and slumping sideways against a shop front, moving one hand to his right thigh. "Who do you think-"
Brill jerked her hand sideways and shot Mr. Hat again. He jerked and dropped the stubby pistol he'd been drawing, and she had her bag back on Mr. Threadbare before he could reach inside his jacket. "If you want to live, you will walk ten feet ahead of me," she said, fighting for calm, nerves screaming:
Mr. Threadbare twitched at Mr. Hat: "But he's-"
Mr. Threadbare moved jerkily, like a puppet in the hands of a trainee. He couldn't take his eyes off Mr. Hat, who was bleeding quite copiously. Brill circled round the target and toed the gun away from him, in the direction of the gutter. Then she gestured Mr. Threadbare ahead of her, along the sidewalk. For a miracle, nobody seemed to have noticed the noise. Mr. Threadbare shuffled slowly: Brill glanced round quickly, then nodded to herself. "Left into the next alleyway."
"But you- "
She closed the gap between them and pushed the gun up against the small of his back. "Don't turn. Keep walking." He was shaking, she noticed, and his voice was
weak. "Left here. Stop. Face the wall. Closer. That's right. Raise your right hand above your head. Now raise your left." Nobody in the alley, no immediate witnesses if she had to world-walk. "Who do you work for?"
"But I- " He flinched as brick dust showered his face.
"That's your last warning. Tell me who you work for."
"Red Hand thief-taker's company. You're in big trouble, miss, Andrew was a good man and if you've killed-"
"Be quiet." He shut up. "You tailed me. Why?"
"You burgled the pawnbroker's-"
"You were watching it. Why?"
"We got orders. The Polis-"
"Cove called Burgeson, and some dolly he's traveling with. He's Wanted, under the Sedition Act. Fifty pounds on his head and the old firm's taking an interest, isn't it?"
"Is it now?" Brill found herself grinning, teeth bared. In the distance, a streetcar bell clanged. "Kneel."
"But I told you-"
"I said, kneel. Keep your hands above your head. Look away, dammit, that way, yes, over there. I want you to close your eyes and count to a hundred, slowly. One, two, like that, I'll be counting too. If you leave this alley before I reach a hundred, I may shoot you. If you open your eyes before I reach a hundred, I may shoot you. Do you understand?"
"Yes, but-"
"Start counting. Aloud."
On the count of ten, Brill backed away towards the high street. Seeing Mr. Threadbare still counting as fervently as a priest telling his rosary, she turned, lowered her handbag, and darted out into the open. The streetcar was approaching: Mr. Hat lolled against a wall like an early drunk. She held her arm out for the car, forcing her cheeks into an aching smile.
The Hjalmar Palace fell, as was so often the case, to a combination of obsolescent design, treachery, and the incompetence of its defenders. And, Otto ven Neuhalle congratulated himself, only a
