It was that certain kind of fine day, the kind of day on which I’d rather sit in me flat and nap, waiting for the bloody sun to go down and night to fall. The sun was still shining, with no intention of leaving soon, and the sky was clear and blue. I recoiled almost visibly from it as I stepped outside, and I could sense Blarney’s similar disgust, by the feel of her tensing in my arms.

The locals seemed to be pleased by the weather; there was an air of general excitement and pleasure all around. You didn’t often see that in Cheapside. The cheery atmosphere, I mean. The average Cheapside morning featured grey skies, fog, and a lot of swearing and shoving. All it took to change that was apparently nothing but a fine sunny day.

It didn’t seem to matter much to them that their city stunk with every smell both imaginable and unimaginable. Not even sunny skies could change that. But as usual I was the only one who noticed. For everyone else, the sun brightened everything on a fine day like this. For me, the heat only made the city stink worse than ever.

But I wasn’t in a very fine mood that day. Blarney’s mood was as calm as ever, but I couldn’t take much comfort in that. The sun, the smells, and the crushing crowds of people were getting to me.

Blarney mewed quietly, reminding me that there was no time to linger by the door of our building. “I’m sorry, lovely,” I murmured to her, “I’m not in my finest condition.”

I could feel her amusement, and I smiled at her as I stepped out into the street. The people didn’t pay us any mind; I blend in around here, just another short Irishman in the plainest clothes. It’s funny, really, because I’m nothing like any of them. I’m nothing like anyone else.

It was the slight touch of a hand slipping into me pocket that broke into my thoughts, and I instinctively grabbed at it. The small lad whom it belonged to froze in fear for a moment, then struggled to get free.

“Let go of me hand!” he growled, adding on a fairly impressive string of curses. “I didn’t even take nothin’!”

“I know you didn’t, laddie,” I said, not easing my grip any at all. “But you would’ve. And you will if you’re given another chance. Do you know who I am?”

His big grey eyes, nearly glowing out against his grubby face, grew even bigger. “No, sir!”

“My name’s MacKenna. I am the greatest thief who ever lived,” I said quietly and seriously.

He laughed at that. Kid had some guts. “Aye, right!”

“You don’t believe me, do you? And why not?”

“’Cause I never heard of you, that’s why! Greatest thief who ever lived, my arse!”

“Aha, and there you go! Do you think that when I rob a house, the lord and lady go along saying, ‘Alas! We’ve been robbed blind by MacKenna!’ No! All their plunder is gone and in my hands, but for all they know, the whole lot was spirited away by ghosts! A great thief is one who is never discovered, not in any way. I don’t want to see shoddy thievery, right? Insult to the business, that is.”

The lad nodded. “Aye, aye! Can I keep the tuppence I nicked from you?”

“It’s a bit more than that I know, but yes, you can. Now be off with you. And if I catch you again I’ll give you to them coppers, just for being lousy at your job here.”

“Aye, sir!” The lad ran off, clutching the sixpence in his hand.

Blarney watched him over my shoulder, and mewed softly. “I don’t know what you mean, love. I was never anything like that whelp when I was a dipper. Smelled better, for one.” Blarney mewed. “Oh, you would say that. But, more importantly, I was a better thief. And you can’t deny that.”

She purred, and I laughed. “Why, thank you. I think so too.”

When I pushed the door of his shop open, old Cormac Kelly looked up from the watch he was examining and smiled wryly at me.

“Why, Tom MacKenna, I was starting to think you’d landed your sorry arse behind bars. Where’ve you been hiding away?”

“Oh, now, Cormac, I’m starting to think you give a damn....Actually, I’d wager all the goods I’ve brought you today that you thought I’d found a new pawnshop, where the broker don’t know paste from gem, so I could cheat him right properly, am I right?”

Cormac laughed. “Aye, Tom. You have it right, as ever. Now let me see what you got for me today.”

I grinned broadly at the old fellow, and let Blarney down to the floor, where she immediately trotted away from me.

“Maybe your cat will take care of my mouse problem,” Cormac said, watching her as she peered into the corner.

“She’s already onto them,” I promised him, taking a package from my pocket and tossing it onto the counter. “She’s had me flat cleared of mice ever since I moved in.”

“I thought I might get a cat,” he confided, beginning to unwrap the package. “Blarney ever had any kittens?”

A laugh burst out of me at that; Blarney’s indignation at that was just too much. “No, no. She’s always with me.”

“Now, this is something!” Cormac held a diamond ring to the sunlight streaming in from the window. “Top quality, this is. You have a good eye, laddie.”

“Yes, I know.” I picked up an opal brooch from the package and held it up. “What do you think of this? Hideous, isn’t it?”
Cormac took it from me, staring in awe at the fine work in the gold that surrounded the opal. “It’s beautiful. Do you know how many women would die to wear this?”

“Oh, I do know.” I took it from his hands, holding it gingerly between my thumb and forefinger. “This brooch was owned by a Russian countess in 1670. She was killed by her husband’s mistress, who took the brooch as her own. The mistress was killed a year later by her own daughter, who kept the brooch as her own. And the story goes on and on, woman killing woman and taking possession of this ugly brooch.”

“Is that a guess or did you do research on it?” Cormac questioned. His tone was serious, but I knew he was amused.

I smiled, and laid it down on the counter. “How much will you give me for it?”

The door behind Cormac banged open, and a gawky lass with a mess of wild red hair bounded in. “Grandda! Grandma says I burned the cabbage and I did not at all!”

Cormac smiled indulgently at his granddaughter. “Ah well, Kathleen, Grandma knows all about cooking and can tell when a cabbage is burned…”

“Judging by that awful smell wafting in from that door, it doesn’t take much of a cook to pick up on the fact that some cabbage has been thoroughly burned,” I said, holding my hand over my nose, and glancing at Blarney, who buried her nose in her paws.

Kathleen swiveled suddenly in my direction, green eyes wide, her freckles standing out against her white skin. “Oh! Thomas MacKenna! I had no idea you were here.”

She flounced out from behind the counter, fluttering her eyelashes at me ridiculously. “Good morning, Thomas.”

“Morning, Kathleen. Is there something wrong with your eyes?”

“Nothing at all, Thomas. You’re very easy on the eyes.”

Even Cormac winced at that, and Blarney slipped under a cabinet, leaving me to the mercy of Kathleen Kelly.

She was tall for a young lass, only fifteen or so and she was as tall as I was. Which was, admittedly, not so very tall, but still. Her dress barely covered her knees, and she wore black stockings over her gangly legs. Looks-wise, she was not quite ugly, but she wasn’t what anyone would describe as beautiful or anything.

“Oooie!” She picked up the opal brooch, and held it to her chest. “What do you think, Thomas?”

“It looks lovely, Kathy,” Cormac said, trying to distract her.

“I think it does fit you,” I said, smiling slightly. “Maybe you could wear it and show it off to your friends. I bet they’d love it. Kind of thing the lasses kill for.”

She tittered in response, and Cormac frowned.

“You look real well today, Thomas,” she said, stumbling a bit as she flounced closer.

“Thank you.”

She glanced down at my arm and gasped in horror. “Oh, Thomas! What happened to your arm??”

I looked down at the half-healed gash on my forearm. “Caught it on a fence. Not too bad.”

“Oh, it looks just awful!” She clutched at my arm. “Doesn’t it hurt, Thomas?”

“Well, you are squeezing it, so aye, I’d have to say, it really does.”

“I’m sorry!” She dropped my arm, then added, “You have such nice arms. And hands.”

“Er, well, thank you. I guess.” I turned back to Cormac. “Did you see the earrings in there? Sapphire and silver. Matching necklace too. I got lucky.”

“Oh, Thomas!” Kathleen squealed, pulling off my cap. “Looky here!”

I turned back to her, and reached for the cap. “Give it here, Kathleen!”

She giggled irritatingly and ruffled my hair. “Your hair’s so curly and soft, Thomas!”

“Kathleen!” I gasped, drawing back.

She giggled even more, and stepped back, waving the cap at me. “If you want it, you have to come and get it, Thomas!”

“Kathleen, would you please!”

She danced out of my reach, and accidentally backed into a wooden stand where a necklace was carefully placed. The stand fell with a crash, and Kathleen fell with a yelp. Cormac groaned as both he and I rushed to the scene.

“Kathy, are you all right?”

“Damn it, the necklace is broken!” I shouted, gathering up the large pearls that made up the antique necklace.

Cormac, who had been pulling his dazed granddaughter to her feet, let her go. She fell back down with a thump, but Cormac was now holding some pearls in his hand. “This is sixteenth-century jewelry, Kathleen,” he said slowly. “I haggled with Tom over this for a full hour.”

“I didn’t mean to!” she whined. “I tripped over something! Like a rat or something!”

“What’s all this ruckus?” Shauna Kelly bustled into the shop from the door behind the counter, a smoking pipe in her hand. “Kathleen, what did you do here?”

“I tripped on a rat!” she cried.

“We have rats?” Shauna asked Cormac, who just held up the pearls sadly, and dully informed her that it was sixteenth century jewelry.

“Give it to me,” I said shortly, taking the bits of necklace, and laying them out on the counter. I could hear the murmurs of the conversation between Kathleen and Shauna, but I was focused on the necklace. I could easily picture how it had looked when I had sold it to Cormac. The fine strings of pearls, looping gracefully from the clasp, from which hung a heart-shaped intricately decorated gold charm…The image was clear in my mind’s eye.

I arranged the pearls in the proper order, then passed my hand over them. I felt a slight tug in the palm of my hand, as the necklace came together, then jumped into my hand. I held it up; the rosy pearls were warm to the touch.

“You fixed it!” Cormac leaped up and took it from me. “Tom, you’re an amazing lad!”

“Thank you, Cormac. It wasn’t too broken. It’s a bit of a lucky necklace.”

Cormac raised an eyebrow at me. “Lucky? You sure? No one has killed over it?”

“Not one. It was passed down from mother to daughter for generations.”

“Until you stole it, of course, Tom, my lad.”

I spread my hands out. “Well, what can I say, Cormac?”

“Tom,” Shauna said, at my side.

I turned to her. She was taller than me, with a serious face and sharp green eyes. She looked more serious than ever, with one hand on Kathleen’s shoulder. The lass looked mournful; she must’ve gotten a bit of a scolding from Shauna. I didn’t envy her any. Shauna scared even me some of the times.

“Kathleen has something to say,” she said meaningfully.

“I’m sorry,” Kathleen muttered, her face red all the way to her hairline. “Here’s your cap back.”

I took it back. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry about me lassie here. We’ve been keeping her cooped up inside for a few weeks, until we were sure the lice was all gone. She’s gotten a bit restless. She’s not always such a goose. Do you ken?”

“Aye…”

“Good. Come on then,” Shauna said, tugging at Kathleen’s arm. “Cabbage is waiting.”

I almost felt bad for Kathleen, who looked absolutely mortified, as she slumped back inside with Shauna. I followed Cormac back to the counter, where we fell into our usual friendly haggling. After some time, as he was counting out my money, Cormac said, “I’m sorry about Kathleen. She’s a bit out of control. Her mam was the same way.”

I made some noise of assent. I wasn’t going to tell Cormac straight out what I thought of his granddaughter, unless he asked me.

“What do you think of Kathleen?”

“Huh?”

“Well…” Cormac’s dark blue eyes met mine steadily. “I know she’s a bit silly. But she’s still a young lass. In a year or so, she’ll be different. She’ll fill out some more and she’ll behave more like a lady. She is a pretty girl. Not the most beautiful, I suppose. But she’s a fine Irish lass.”

“What’re you getting at, Cormac?” I asked cautiously.

“What I mean to say is…Tom, I’m an old man. It won’t be too long before me time is come and I go. I’m leaving this place to Kathleen, as she’s my only family. But she’s only a lass, and this shop needs a good man in charge. And for all your faults, Tom, I know you’re a good man. You’re a good thief too. But you can’t do it forever.”

I laughed. “Why not?”

“Have you ever seen an old thief? Tom, you’re fast now, and strong, but one day you’ll get slow and weak, and you won’t be able to do the things you do now. You need to make provision for that. You’d make a good pawnbroker, Tom. You know what’s valuable and what’s not. Kathleen couldn’t tell paste from a gem. She’d just pay pounds for whatever catches her eye. But together you could handle this business.”

“Are you suggesting…”

“Tom, you’re a good Irish lad…A thief maybe, and you drink too much, but at least you’re not English. And you’re not the handsomest, maybe, but you look well, even if you aren’t so tall. But you’re smart, and that’s what’s important. And you’re Catholic. Which is near important as being an Irishman. What I mean to say, if you ken, is that I would be proud to—someday—call you grandson-in-law.” He looked expectantly at me, waiting for a response.

There was an awkward pause, during which I stared intently at the large sum of money between Cormac and me, as if it might help me in some way. Blarney bumped her head against my leg, amused, and not offering any help except to remind me that telling Cormac I simply wasn’t the marrying sort wouldn’t be the wisest idea.

“Well, that’s all real nice of you, Cormac,” I said. “But I’m only nineteen, you ken? I’m still practically a wee laddie. I’m not ready for marriage.”

“Oh, of course not. I mean, in the future. Five years or so.”

“Oh, aye, aye, we can see then. That’s the future. Five years. Aye, aye.” I had a feeling I was beginning to babble.

Cormac was apparently satisfied with my response, because he changed the subject. “You’ve been doing a lot of warehouse jobs this week?”

“Aye, with Gallagher and O’Leary.”

“Those two?” Cormac made a face. “Not the most trustworthy. Even if they may be your childhood friends. Didn’t they leave you for dead that time when you were all wee lads?”

“Aye, there was that time. And they’d do it again. And I’d do the same for them. I don’t trust them as far as I can throw them.”

“And you couldn’t throw O’Leary very far,” Cormac said, grinning.

“Aye,” I laughed, “it’s the truth. But I need them on that kind of job. I don’t do much heavy-lifting.” I looked down at my arms, which were not as impressive as others’. “I’m the brains on those jobs. I don’t like it all that much, but it’s money.”

“Aye, money. Speaking of money, I think you have a bit coming your way soon.” He reached under the counter and brought out a letter that he held out to me.

I took it. “‘MacKenna’,” I read. “Is it a job?”

“I assume so. I didn’t read it. It came near two weeks ago, and I was waiting to see you so I could give it to you. I’ve been keeping it in here, so Kathy wouldn’t get her hands on it. I mean, she can’t really read, but she’s right nosy. And the missus can be that way too; she isn’t happy unless she knows all that goes on. I would’ve had it sent to you, but I don’t know your address.”

“Safer that way,” I murmured, taking the pearl-handled letter opener Cormac handed me and slitting the letter open. “It’s a job. Very thorough; the writer cut words from the newspaper and uses them instead of his own writing.” I came to the end of the letter and gasped. “The date he names to meet is today!”

“Today? Can you make it?”

“He wants to meet in the afternoon. At London Zoo.”

“The zoo?”

“Aye, aye. I can make it easily. But I came close to missing it. To think I was planning to come here tomorrow instead!”

“You’d better head off. Bring me back any goods from the job once you do it.”

“Aye, sir.” I pulled my cap onto my head, and took the roll of paper that contained my money and tucked it inside my shirt. I lifted Blarney to my shoulder, and shook Cormac’s hand. “I’ll see you soon then.”

“Aye, soon, lad.” As I was heading out the door, he called, “Five years, aye, Tom?”

“Aye, aye, we’ll see,” I said hurriedly, leaving the shop.

I had only been to the London Zoo a handful of times. Blarney didn’t think much of it, and I couldn’t say I cared much for it either. It smelled awful, and it was often filled with squalling kids in their best outfits, who dribbled ice cream down their fronts and wanted to stick their hands in the animal cages.

But when I neared the gates, there were even larger crowds than usual. There was no man taking tickets out front, and I pushed past some people to get inside. I thought it could be a protest, or a rally, those were the popular thing, making statements and all. Were the zoo workers on strike?

Blarney screeched suddenly in my ear, from her perch on my shoulders, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Damn it, Blarney! What—”

Then I saw the baboon perched on the lamppost above us, utterly focused on the lump of ice cream he held in his long hand. “Blimey! It’s a bloody monkey!”

It seemed the entire zoo was in complete and total chaos. Half the people seemed to be running to the gates, while the other half were staring in awe at the countless animals crawling all over the place. I walked slowly through the zoo, stepping over the turtle making its slow way to the gate, and tipping my hat to the family of chimpanzees going for a stroll.

In a strange way, it was as if the separate worlds of human and of animal had collided, both free to roam the same area.

“It’s a bit of a pleasant sight, don’t you think, me lovely?” I murmured to Blarney, who mewed agreeably.

“I would have to agree, Mr. MacKenna,” said a deep accented voice from behind me.

Blarney clambered to my head, and I turned about. “Who are you?” I barked as I stepped back, my hand reaching for the shiv in me pocket instinctively.

“I apologize if I have frightened you, Mr. MacKenna,” he said, bowing his head.

“I’m not ‘frightened’,” I snapped. “Just startled. And stop doing that.”

“Stop doing what, Mr. MacKenna?”

“Saying my bloody name!” I glanced around, but no one paid any mind, unless you counted the gorilla who was sitting calmly in the road, observing the general chaos around him. “Are you the bloke who sent me that letter made up of words clipped from the paper?”

“Yes.” He held a large hand out for me to shake. “I have heard good talk of your services. They say you are a good thief.”

“I’m actually the best,” I said, shaking his hand, and smiling slightly.

To tell the truth, if I want to be completely honest here, he was a scarily big bloke. My head barely reached his chest, and he appeared to be the sort that could snap my arm in half with one hand and a flick of his massive wrist. He had that kind of noble, aristocrat look; not the watery delicacy of features of one of these English nobles, but the strength of some ancient family. His eyes were pure black, as was his long hair, which was pulled back in a ponytail down his back, the jet black of it interrupted by an almost unnatural silver streak. His mustache was clipped and small, but easily forgotten once you noticed the scars. It was these scars that I had first noticed. There was one on either side of his mouth, stretching in jagged lines up his cheeks; it looked eerily like a long twisted smile. He was dressed in black; a black coat down to his knees though it was still only early September, with the collar turned up.

He stood out, that was for sure, this German aristocrat.

It surprised me when he said, “Very clever work. Now you may give me back my ring that you stole while we shook hands.”

I laughed, and Blarney purred amusedly. “You noticed then? Ah well, I’m still the best.”

“I am sure. It is not your fault I am particularly observant.” He took his heavy silver ring back and slipped it onto his finger. “I have kept my eyes on you for some time, Mr. MacKenna. You do live up to your reputation.”

“Reputation for what?” I raised an eyebrow. “Being an obnoxious bastard? Or being the best thief in this whole damn world?”

“And you have explored the world to prove this?” he asked. For a moment, I thought he was making a joke, but then I realized he was totally serious.

“Explored? I’m not the sail-to-new-lands sort of Irishman. I’ve just ended up here in London, and so I make meself useful by lightening the pockets of the English.” I shook my head. “So do you always question so thoroughly every bloke you want to hire?”

“How else would I know to trust you?” He smiled, pushing the scars further up his face like an unsettling leer. “I am not fool enough to trust everyone. But you are right, perhaps. I have been watching you and I know much about you already.”

“Watching me?” I laughed, though I didn’t much like the sound of that. “I don’t do much worth watching. Unless you mean breakin’ the law.”

“I know you are eighteen years old,” he said.

“Nineteen,” I corrected him.

“Oh? Nineteen. Yes, well, you are very young and at first when I know of this, I think ‘This boy is too young’, but then I find out more of you, and I learn that maybe you are just the man for the job.”

“Depends on the payout. That’s all I give a damn about.”

“Shall we get to business?” The German placed a hand on my shoulder, and steered me forward. “Let us walk and appreciate this distraction I have created so we might be paid no mind.”

“You set the animals free for me, eh?” I shrugged his heavy hand off. “I’m touched.”

“I am a great lover of the animal kingdom,” he said, his eyes on Blarney. “I like this place, this London Zoo, because I take great pleasure in seeing these amazing animals. But it weighs on my heart, their captivity. That they cannot be free to roam as they should, it makes me unhappy. Today they are free. Tomorrow, of course, your police and these zoo workers will put them away again. But for today I have given them a breath of freedom. Some of them, they have never been free. All their lives, many of these animals, they live in captivity, in these cages made by men.”

“Oh, aye, it breaks me heart, truly it does,” I said, glancing off to the side where a duck waddled past, a brilliantly red feather boa draped around its neck.

“Do not be sarcastic, Mr. MacKenna. How would you like to live in captivity?”

“Ah, that depends. In a human zoo, do you think they’d allow much drinking?”

The German cocked his head to the side. “Be serious, Mr. MacKenna.”

“Did you think I was joking? Hell, no. I don’t joke about drinking. I’m very serious about me drinking.”

He looked unsure as to whether or not he should laugh, so I changed the subject. “So you know my name, aye? You giving me yours?”

“You may call me ‘K’.” His face turned somber, and he lowered his voice. “I have heard you only work alone. Is this true, Mr. MacKenna?”

“Aye. Unless the object is a large one.” I held out my hands. “I’m not much good for heavy lifting.”

“Ah, this is good. You are quick, however.”

“I have to be,” I said, affronted. “Wouldn’t be a free man now if I weren’t.”

“Yes, yes. This object you must take—It is small, so small it can be hidden within the fist of a woman. When you take it, you must take it, and leave. You must be fast, very fast. Do not let anyone stop you.” The German bent his head, and met my eyes with an intense stare. “I also hope that you shall not try to keep this object for yourself.”

I smirked. “That depends, ‘K’. What is it?”

“I cannot tell you,” he said, drawing back. He seemed wary now, uncomfortable. Well, it was no wonder. It was a warm day and here this bloke was, wearing a bloody coat so black it seemed to suck color out of everything around it.

“Well, I can’t go stealing this thing without knowing what it is,” I said tersely. I was beginning to guess that this bloke wasn’t used to arranging robberies. Rare for a blue-blood, but maybe the rich were different in Germany. That’d be a joke.

“I have a picture,” he said, reaching into his pocket, and pulling out a thick square of paper.

I took it from him and studied it, as I was apparently meant to do. I turned it clockwise. “Which way does it go?”

The German turned it in my hands. “That way. Will you be able to recognize it?”

“It’s a box. A rounded box…What’s it made of?”

“It is wood. Dark wood. With that etched into the top.” He pointed at the lid of the box in the sketch, and I peered closer.

“It’s a heart. With three sticks in it…Or are those fishing poles?”

The German straightened up, and puffed up a bit, like a bird. “Swords,” he said, apparently offended. “It was I who drew this picture.”

I felt Blarney shift her position; her sudden apprehension clouded her mind, and chilled me. I handed the German his picture, no longer wanting to be near it.

“You do not need it?” he questioned, his severe black brows shooting up. He did not take it back.

“I have a fair memory,” I assured him.

“The address is on the opposite side,” he said, watching me intently.

I turned it about. “Nobility.”

“Yes,” he said slowly. “Is that a problem?”

“Stealing from under the noses of some rich sods? No, it’s a pleasure.” I handed him the paper. “Take it back. It’s badly drawn.”

“I am not an artist,” he admitted.

“Didn’t need to tell me that, ‘K’. I saw it well enough.” I took off my cap and ran a hand over my hair. I felt uncomfortable still from the sketch. Something about that bit with the heart and swords bothered me…and it wasn’t just that it was badly rendered. I could still feel Blarney’s apprehension, but I couldn’t understand why she felt it so strongly.

“I need this object by tomorrow,” the German said, all matter-of-fact.

“Tomorrow? Blimey! You’re joking, right?”

It was obvious he wasn’t, and even more obvious that he had never hired someone to carry out a crime for him before. “I’m booked all week!” I told him, shaking my head. “Not a chance can I fit this in. I have to check out the place, make plans, and all that first. Next Thursday’s the closest I can get.”

“I will not be in England by next week,” he said. “I need it this week. This Thursday. You must have it to me by then. It is of the greatest importance.”

“Maybe you don’t understand English,” I said roughly, “but I’m booked all week. I’m sure it’s important to you, but that don’t change the fact that it’s considerably less important to me. I don’t do this thievery for the joy of helping out my fellow man. I’m in this for money. And I lose money if I skip out on a big job this week just to steal your box. I don’t care if this sodding box is the key to saving the world or whether you want to give it to your mistress before her birthday—It doesn’t matter to me. We either do this next week, or you can forget it.”

The German nodded. “How much money do you want?”

I named the first price that came to mind—It was twice what I normally asked for. But here was to assuming he knew little about my business.

“I will double that,” he said, without a moment’s hesitation. These blue-bloods, it’s like they’re made of money; they just toss it out by the bucketful. Not that I’m complaining. “Pay you half now.” He handed me a thick roll of notes, not even bothering to check if it was too large an amount.

I weighed it in my hand, keeping my face and voice casual. “Come to think of it, I think I can fit this job in Friday. You won’t be getting it till Saturday though.”

“No sooner?”

“Don’t even start,” I said, in a bit of a friendly way, tucking the notes into my cap, and pulling it back on my head. “I’m doing you a favor here. You’ll be in London still, if you want your box. We can meet on midday, this Saturday, back here.”

“I suppose I have no choice but to accept these terms,” he agreed. “I thank you for your time, Mr. MacKenna.”

“Aye, aye.” I turned away from him, and began to walk away.

“Wait, Mr. MacKenna,” he called after me. “You said you did not care what I wanted this object for or why. So tell me: If I had said I wanted this object to destroy this world—What would you have said?”

I stopped, and laughed. “I’d have asked you to quadruple the price. I’d need to buy a new flat if mine was destroyed.”

He said nothing, and I looked over my shoulder to see his reaction, but he was gone, and there was just the road, a black snake slithering across it.

The stairs up to my flat were long and narrow, with no railing, just the cracked stained walls. I’d seen some of my neighbors take falls down them before, and the memories kept me cautious. Blarney bounded ahead of me.

“You look even more eager than I do, lovely,” I said to her. “Home sweet home, here we come.”

“Tom MacKenna!”

I started, and nearly tripped on the stairs. “Mrs. Walker. I thought you were dead by now. Or at least burst a blood vessel berating me last week.”

“I thought you owed me rent, you pathetic sod,” said the woman standing on the landing, in front of the door to my flat. “Where is it?”

“The rent?” I reached the top of the stairs, and walked slowly over to her. She had her beefy arms crossed, and I had to admit her arms were a hell of a lot more impressive than me own.

When I first met Mrs. Walker, I didn’t even know she was the missus; she looks like she could be a man wearing a dress. She’s thickset, with a heavy hard face, beady eyes, a mustache, and a wart on her nose. There is no Mr. Walker, but I’ve never asked why. Either he died or he up and left. Whichever he chose to do, I don’t blame him. Not only is Mrs. Walker not much of a looker, she ain’t really the most pleasant.

She called me by my name only upon greeting, so it’d be clear who she was talking to, but during the rest of a conversation, she tended to address me as “you sod” or some other choice word.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” She pointed a sausage-like finger into my face, and I instinctively drew back from it. “All of you damn Irish pigs are the same. Cheats, liars, and thieves. Every last whoreson of you. I’m a goddamn honest woman, and I’m good enough to give you, out of the kindness of my heart, a decent flat, while most of your good-for-nothing kin are holing up in the streets. Where’s my money then, boy?”

“Money?” I frowned, and stroked my chin thoughtfully. “Money? As in pence? I have a sixpence here…” I rummaged in my pocket, and produced a sixpence. “Oh, it’s filthy…I’m sorry, Mrs. Walker. Let’s see what I can do for that…” I spit on the coin, and rubbed it in my hands. “There you go.” I dropped it in her hand, and she recoiled. “Is that enough?”

“No,” she said flatly, deflating slightly. I was getting through that chink in the armor.

I looked properly crestfallen. “But…Mrs. Walker…I don’t have anything else. I barely have enough money to get food. Look at me arms here!” I proffered an arm to her. “Feel it! Skin and bones, I am.”

She did feel it, maybe a bit too eagerly, and it was all I could do not to snatch me arm back and run down the stairs screaming bloody murder.

“You could use a bit of food,” she admitted. “But you’re not all skin and bones. There’s some muscle there.”

Was she salivating? I looked away. “That’s all soon to be gone. I’m wasting away. It’s like me own personal potato famine. It’s a tragedy.” I glanced at her. Judging by her face, it was working. I had her eating out of my hand, as they say.

“Do you want more money?” I asked, suddenly. “I have a shilling hidden under one of the floorboards in me flat.”

She dropped my arm, and re-crossed her own thick pair. “Well, I suppose if the sixpence is almost all that you have…Forget it. I won’t be responsible for the starvation of a dirt-poor sod like you.”

“Mrs. Walker, you are too kind! You’re like…” I cast around for some reference. “You’re like the St. Mary Magdalene.”

She looked understandably confused. “What?” She clearly wasn’t sure what I meant.

I wasn’t so sure either, but I continued anyway, pulling together random information into some sort of combination. “Jesus’…landlady. You see, he couldn’t give her too much money, being that he didn’t have a big-paying job—rather like myself. But when he gave her, er, tuppence she told him it was more than enough. Because he had given her all the money he had. All her other tenants gave the proper rent amount out of the hundred thousand pounds they had, but even if it was less in amount, it was more in intent…”

She was beginning to understand apparently; she was nodding and looking pleased. “Of course. I know the story. Just forgot it a bit.”

“Aye, of course.”

She uncrossed her arms. “I’d best be going. You should get a better-paying job, you useless sod. Taking care of those poor urchins at that orphanage may get you a high seat in heaven, but it ain’t getting you through life. Mark my words.”

“They have been marked,” I said seriously. “Good-bye, Mrs. Walker.”

She harrumphed, and went off down the stairs. Once I had shut the door of my flat, I turned to Blarney, who was reproachfully eyeing me, and flashed her a grin. “I think I might get a few extra years in Purgatory for botching that story. But Mrs. Walker liked it.”

Blarney mewed, her tail high in the air, and pounced delicately onto my cot by the window.

“Oh you think so? I’ll have you know I’m highly religious. Didn’t I go to a Mass last week? Tell me I didn’t.” I sat beside her, and winked at her. “Aye, well that’s true. I don’t take care of poor urchins at orphanages. But I did teach that little pickpocket a valuable lesson today. God notices these things, love.

“Besides,” I said, giving her a stern look, “you shouldn’t talk; you tripped Kathleen Kelly and nearly destroyed an antique necklace.”

Blarney mewed proudly, informing me that she wasn’t sorry at all and that Kathleen fully deserved it.

“Well, amen to that. She’s the most tiresome lassie I know. Though it may be true that I don’t know too many. Ach, one’s more than enough. Couldn’t take anymore without tossing meself headfirst into the Thames.”

I got to my feet and fetched the whiskey bottle placed on a crate on the bare floor. Blarney watched me intently, her light blue eyes mirror images of my own.

“All in all, aye, an unpleasant day, lovely. You didn’t like the zoo?” She hissed, and I laughed, as I uncorked the bottle and took a swig. “I agree. It was too much. I half-expected to find a pig in my bed. I saw more animals today than I ever cared to.”

Blarney stretched out on my bed, and I laughed. “Ah, I see, you just want to relax. You look comfortable; should I be getting you a glass of warm milk now?”

I sat down next to her, bottle in hand. “I intend to spend the rest of this fine day getting thoroughly drunk. Then I can sleep it off till night. Do you like the sound of that, love?”

Blarney was amused, as ever. She jumped lightly to floor and mewed.

“You want to hear me play, you say. I can do that in a moment.” I took another swig. “You know, do you think I could ever be drunk like O’Leary gets? I don’t think I’ve staggered since I was a lad of…” I thought for a moment. “Fifteen? Do you think we’re getting old, Blarney?”

She remarked that I was the one looking old, and she was as sprightly as ever. She nudged my leg with her head, reminding me to play for her.

“You’re the only one I play for.” I took the old case from its spot, propped up against the wall, and unpacked my fiddle. It was my most prized possession, namely because it was the only object I owned that was in any way important or useful.

“Of course you’re more important to me than this old fiddle,” I said to Blarney, laughing, as I tuned the instrument. “Are you really that easily jealous?”

She just angled her head to the side, watching me, as I tossed off some more whiskey. “I’m going to! Impatient…”

I lifted the fiddle up and placed it between my neck and shoulder, my eyes still locked with Blarney’s, and drew the bow across the strings, sending out a long mournful sound.

“Do you hear that?” I asked Blarney, my voice soft. “Too mournful. Always too mournful. Am I incapable of making up a happy tune? I can play every tune I hear. I can make up a tune. But I can’t seem to make up anything that doesn’t sound miserable.”

Blarney mewed, and I grinned wryly. “Don’t be rude, love.”

I played a tune from my childhood, a merry tune that skipped and danced all on its own, as I sat on my small cot, in a one-room flat with a slanted ceiling, feeling warm and pleasant from the whiskey, and life was not sweet, but it was enough.

Cover | Cast of Characters | Next