Cinders of the Conspiracy

Chapter 6

The First Lead.

The ledger was stretched out in front of Silas as he leaned over his beaten desk. His brow's deep furrows were accentuated by the yellow glow of the faint light from a hanging bulb. Sitting beside him, Eleanor stared at the page as though she were expecting it to provide answers.

Silas mumbled, tracing a column of numbers with a calloused finger, "There's a pattern here." "These payments are too consistent to be arbitrary."

Curiosity sparked Eleanor to lean closer. "What are they trying to say?"

Silas's mouth formed a thin line. Hartwell's and other smuggling activities depend on reliability. To keep things going, he is paying someone, someplace. Everyone has a cost, including ports, suppliers, and law enforcement.

Eleanor turned to look at the scribbled names. "Are you able to determine the destination of these payments?"

Silas acknowledged, "Not all of them." However, this one is connected to a speakeasy in the downtown area. I've seen it before, but the name is coded. A sloppy one at that. It's a front.

Eleanor scowled. "Do you suppose Hartwell visits there?"

Silas grinned, the first glimmer of laughter piercing his gloomy expression. "No chance. However, his henchmen may. And we'll be there to see it if they do.

Eleanor stood up straight, her resolve solidifying. "We go tonight after that."

Silas gave her a suspicious look as he looked at her. "My dear, this isn't a garden party. Strangers who ask questions are not treated with kindness in these places.

Eleanor raised her chin in defiance. "A few inebriated people didn't come this far to scare me away."

After examining her for a while, Silas nodded. "All right. However, keep your head down and let me speak.

The ledger was lying open as they got ready to depart, its mysterious contents serving as a clear reminder of the peril they were about to encounter.

A hefty wooden door concealed the speakeasy's entrance, which was tucked away beneath a plain structure. The door was guarded by a large man whose eyes narrowed as Silas and Eleanor walked up.

“Password?” The man snarled, his huge body in their way.

With practiced skill, Silas slid a folded bill into the man's hand. "Business."

With a groan, the guard moved aside to allow them to pass. The murmur of discussion and cigarette smoke filled the air within. In the corner, a jazz band performed, their sound a stark contrast to the murky activities taking place all around them.

Eleanor glanced around the room, observing the people. Women in shimmering dresses and guys in fitted suits mixed together, the tension hidden beneath their laughing.

Silas whispered, "Stay close," and ushered her to the bar.

As they got closer, the bartender, a wiry man with slicked-back hair, gave them a suspicious look. As he cleaned the counter, he inquired, "What will it be?"

Leaning forward, Silas answered, "Information."

The bartender grinned more firmly. "That is not an option."

Another bill was slid across the counter by Silas. "I'm trying to find someone who might come here. Hartwell.

The bartender's fingers froze, and his gaze shifted to Eleanor then back to Silas. "I haven't heard before."

Silas grinned and leaned forward. Yes, you haven't. But please let me know if you do remember anything.

After a moment of hesitation, the bartender nodded toward a table in the corner. "Try Big Al out for luck. He may have some information.

Silas turned and spoke softly to Eleanor. "Let's listen to Big Al's thoughts."

Big Al was enormous, with his girth overflowing the sides of the chair he was sitting in. He clasped a cigar between his teeth and watched with beady eyes as Silas and Eleanor approached.

"You lost?" he growled, his gravelly voice thick.

Sliding into the seat opposite him, Silas answered, "Looking for answers." Eleanor stood, her demeanor silent yet perceptive.

The smoke curled around Al's face as he smoked his cigar. "The answers are expensive. and difficulties.

With a harsh tone, Silas leaned forward. Then let's avoid the hassle. I need to know what Hartwell is up to, and his name came up.

Al chuckled in a low, threatening tone. "Hartwell? My friend, you're barking up the wrong tree. That dude is invincible.

Eleanor broke the tension with her voice. "Invisible does not equate to untouchable."

Al looked at her, his face becoming contemplative. "Wonderful one, isn't she?" The chair creaked under him as he leaned back. "All right. It has been reported that Hartwell is in possession of a large shipment that is entering the docks. That's all you'll receive and all I know.

Silas stood with his jaw clenched. "Thanks for the assistance."

“Do you believe him?” Eleanor muttered as they walked away.

Silas answered, "Not a word." "But it's a beginning."

As the night waited to engulf them, the speakeasy's doors shut behind them.

Although there were a lot of whispers and giggles in the dimly illuminated speakeasy, Silas's attention was focused on the man in the corner. He sat drinking a tumbler of golden liquid with a practiced disinterest. For a brief while, his piercing eyes darted to Silas and Eleanor, then returned to his drink.

Silas leaned casually toward Eleanor and whispered, "Don't look now." He spoke in a firm yet low voice. "We have company."

Eleanor tensed but fought the need to turn. "Who?"

"Leather coat, brown hat, corner table," Silas answered. His eyes pretended to be uninterested as his fingers moved down the lip of his drink. "He has been observing us ever since we entered."

Playing along, Eleanor forced a little laugh. "Do you believe that he is with Hartwell?"

"Maybe," Silas whispered. Or he can simply be a nothing. In any case, I dislike it.

The man's posture shouted attentiveness, but his actions were slow as he adjusted his hat. Silas saw a smirk twitch at the corner of the stranger's mouth, a tacit admission that the game was already underway.

"We must depart," Silas said to himself. He got up and placed some money on the table. "Informally."

Eleanor trailed behind him, walking steadily in spite of the knot in her gut that was getting bigger. She glanced over her shoulder as they got closer to the exit. With his hands in his pockets and a purposeful gait, the man stood up and followed them.

Silas whispered, tenderly holding her arm, "Stay close." As they stepped outside, the night air touched them, and the sounds of the city hummed softly. With all of his senses tuned in to the shadow that followed them, Silas's instincts pricked.

"He's on his way," Eleanor muttered.

"I understand," answered Silas somberly. "We'll see what he desires."

As they made their way through the alleys, the chilly air held on to them, and Silas moved at a steady yet quick pace. Behind them, a faint echo of footfall matched their own in perfect time. As he looked over the corner, Silas dragged Eleanor into a small passageway and pressed her up against the brick wall.

Silas whispered, "He's not even attempting to be subtle." The man's confident, leisurely walk made him a shadow against the lighting.

"What are we going to do?" Despite her best efforts, Eleanor's voice faltered.

With his palm grazing the handgun hidden under his coat, Silas answered, "We wait."

The dim glimmer of a streetlamp outlined the man's body as he came to a stop. He cocked his head slightly, as though he was thinking about what to do next. Then he spoke, much to Silas's amazement.

"You're in over your heads," the man yelled in a mockingly suave voice. "Leave now while you can."

With his revolver by his side but not yet raised, Silas moved into the open. "Why don't you say that up close?"

There was no humor in the man's laugh. "You've received a warning."

He turned and vanished into the darkness without saying another word, leaving a tense quiet in his wake.

Eleanor moved to stand next to Silas, her face displaying a mixture of dread and resolve. "Who was that?"

Someone who doesn't want us to delve any further, Silas said, his teeth clenched. His thoughts were racing as he turned back toward the street.

"Are we not going to stop?" With a gentle yet determined tone, Eleanor inquired.

With the weight of their mutual danger mirrored in his eyes, Silas looked her in the eye. "No," he replied. "No chance."

With every step they took, the threat of danger loomed larger in the darkness behind them.