Magyar opened the door. His boss, a man named Solow, was leaning back in his chair, a look of blissful satisfaction on his face.
"Boss, Robert still won't talk."
Solow just laughed. "Tomorrow, I want you and Carter to take ten men and go get his daughter. Bring her here. We'll line up a dozen of the boys and take turns with her, right in front of him. We'll see how tough he is then."
"And the Sinclair girl?" Magyar asked.
"Don't hurt her," Solow said, a cruel smirk on his face. "Just scare her a little. With ten guns pointed at her, she'll probably piss herself. Hahaha."
"What if she has guards?"
"The guards don't matter. Just don't kill them on the spot."
"I know what to do, boss," Magyar said, and left the room.
New York in this era was home to over fifty gangs, but the most powerful, by far, was the Whyos. They had risen from the ashes of the infamous Dead Rabbits and, under the leadership of Mike, had come to dominate the city's entire underworld. They were more violent, more ruthless than any gang that had come before them.
They were so brazen that they even had a public price list for their services:
Punching: $2
Black Eye: $4
Broken Nose and Jaw: $10
Ear Chewed Off: $15
Broken Arm or Leg: $19
Shot in the Leg: $20
Stabbing: $25
Murder: $100 and up.
Henry had spent the night studying the black market files on the two largest gangs. The sheer volume of their crimes was staggering. And behind them both, he saw the shadow of Tammany Hall.
I hope they're smart enough to stay out of my way tomorrow, he thought as he put the files away.
At nine o'clock the next morning, Henry's Brougham carriage arrived at the Sinclair estate.
He stepped out and waited. A moment later, Alice came running out to meet him. She was wearing a white, lace-trimmed gown, and she looked elegant, pure, and breathtakingly beautiful.
As the carriage made its way toward the Sinclair farmstead, Henry noticed the look of nervous anticipation on her face. "Just say what you need to say," he said with a smile. "Pretend the thugs are nothing more than wooden puppets."
She gave his knee a playful pat. "You're not allowed to make fun of me."
"I wouldn't dream of it," he said, his expression turning serious. "Your word is my command today. I will do everything in my power to make it so."
A sweet smile spread across her face. "Thank you, Henry. I don't know what I would have done without you. You've certainly gotten much better with words. You're quite the charmer now."
He saw the playful trap behind her smile. "Is that so?" he said, his own expression one of perfect innocence. "I'm simply stating the facts. I'm glad you like it."
The carriage arrived at the farmstead twenty minutes later. A young woman in a black-and-white striped dress came out to meet them.
"Good morning, Alice."
"Good morning, Rachel," Alice said happily. "This is Henry Bruce, my childhood friend. Henry, this is my best friend from school, Rachel Murphy."
Henry smiled. The woman looked exactly like the actress Rachel Weisz from The Mummy. Is fate playing a joke on me? he wondered.
"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Murphy."
"You as well, Mr. Bruce," she said with a slight curtsy.
The two young women sat on one side of the carriage, whispering to each other, planning their strategy. Henry sat opposite them, enjoying the view of the two "English Roses."
As they spoke, Rachel's eyes kept darting toward Henry. When Alice told her he was their only protection, a look of deep unease crossed her face. He was tall, to be sure, but he looked like a pampered gentleman, not a fighter. He wasn't even armed. What could one man do against a gang of ruthless thugs?
Alice noticed her friend's anxiety. "Don't worry," she whispered with a smile. "He is Henry. That Henry."
Rachel just stared at her, confused. I know his name is Henry. So what?
"You haven't been reading the New York Sun for the past three days, have you?" Alice said. "Don't worry. If Henry says it will be alright, it will be alright."
The carriage was already slowing down. Rachel pushed her doubts aside, her heart beginning to pound with a mixture of fear and anticipation.
The carriage stopped in front of a four-story apartment building. Three thuggish-looking young men were loitering by the entrance, a sealed carriage waiting at the curb.