Chapter 21: Interference

Saturday.

Fagin chose this particular time for a reason.

Today was a rest day according to the rules, so the apprentices living nearby had all gone home.

Alna never went to the factory on Saturday afternoons; instead, she would sit by the Thames River until evening, then, having caught plenty of fish, she’d drive the carriage to the factory to bring extra meals for the children staying overnight.

Of course, at least today, she was not alone on the carriage.

Since Nancy had said that about two or three people would accompany Sikes, and out of concern for Alna’s safety, Watson and Holmes also took guns and sat on the carriage, evenly distributed on both sides.

“I’ve been saying this for a long time, Holmes,” Watson whispered, clutching the frame of the carriage with a pale face as they sped along, “we should have called a carriage over! I’m willing to pay for it!”

Holmes, however, his eyes shining with excitement from the speed, held himself firmly, “My dear Watson, you must understand that hiring an outside carriage would be too obvious and easily noticed.”

“But riding in my carriage is different,” Alna chimed in, accelerating again, “They can’t see anything!”

“My future is equally invisible,” Watson said despairingly, “I just hope we don’t—ah—end our lives in the carriage prematurely.”

At this breakneck speed, Alna drove the carriage to the back of the factory.

She stopped the carriage, discreetly positioned Watson and Holmes behind several crates near the canteen, then took the bucket and headed to the kitchen.

Nancy, wearing an apron, was chatting with Mrs. Laura as she skillfully peeled potatoes and placed them in a basin.

Seeing Alna arrive, Nancy wiped her hands and took the bucket of fish. “Today’s catch?”

“Yes,” Alna said, “Nancy said she’d help with the meal today. Thank you for your hard work, Mrs. Laura, you can go home now.”

She had specially granted Mrs. Laura leave today to avoid unnecessary trouble for innocent parties in this situation.

Mrs. Laura nodded, sorted the vegetables neatly, and left the factory carrying her bag.

Once the food was prepared and set on the table, Nancy, under the watchful eyes of several children, took out a bottle of spiced wine.

“Oh, Mr. Isaacs,” she also produced a glass with a cracked rim, blinking playfully, “this is a thank-you for all the fish lately. We rarely get such treats, at least not before you arrived.”

Though Alna knew Nancy’s words were part of the act, she still felt a warm glow inside.

“Really? For me?” she smiled and took the glass, sniffing it.

As Nancy had warned earlier, the wine smelled sour and bitter; even if Oliver had disguised poison as honey within, it wouldn’t tempt anyone to take a sip.

Leaning her lips closer to the glass, Alna caught from the corner of her eye Nancy’s tense face, as if she wanted to snatch the glass back, while Oliver’s knuckles whitened gripping the table, and Dodge tensed beside him.

Quickly, she poured the wine into her backpack, then slammed the empty glass down on the table with a thud.

Though the whole act was fake, everyone in the room was suspicious, so no one dared to speak out.

“Let’s go,” Dodge said, pulling Oliver toward the door, “Fagin’s just outside.”

He glanced at Nancy, signaling her to leave quickly, and she nodded.

The two groups moved separately, but outside, Fagin encountered another problem.

Seeing the nine men following Sikes, Fagin’s old face lost its usual kindness.

“Bill,” he said with effort, “didn’t we agree you’d only bring two or three men to cover for emergencies… why did you bring so many?”

A young man, even if somewhat capable and a decent fighter, wouldn’t need to bring nine grown men to deal with him.

This number was enough to spark a full-on gang war!

Bill Sikes looked grim.

“Those guys heard about this and insisted on coming,” he said quietly with venom, “I didn’t bring them.”

The pie was only so big; if others got a bigger slice, they’d get less.

Bill Sikes certainly understood this simple logic.

“Oh, well then—you should have persuaded them!” Fagin said anxiously, sneaking a glance at the standing men, “Otherwise, our share won’t even be worth a single pocket watch!”

“They saw this fool swagger into the gold shop,” Sikes said, “sold a big haul of gold and pearls. His clothes alone are worth a hundred pounds. The brooch, fifty.”

He snorted, “And these guys don’t like him.”

Fagin gasped, “You mean…”

“This guy is far richer and far dumber than we thought,” Sikes said, “It’s no surprise that rats outside our circle have caught the scent of blood.”

He sneered, “If you want to tell them to back off, go ahead, Fagin. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Fagin fell silent.

His eyes darted shrewdly, “You take them to find Isaacs. Me and the kids will start moving the goods.”

His meaning was clear: he’d handle the safe, and the rest he and his little rats wouldn’t touch.

The leader of the five newcomers grinned.

“Of course, sir,” he said in a coarse voice, “and thank you for finding this excellent opportunity.”

Luckily, Fagin and his crew had been smart enough to infiltrate the factory first, get the tough factory owner drunk and drugged until he was out cold.

Otherwise, where else could they find an opportunity to clear their shame and make a fortune?

*

Alna, left in the room, lay motionless against the table, lazily closing her eyes to rest and regain some strength.

She really should have eaten something earlier!

Acting was somewhat fun, especially seeing others jump at every surprise, so she’d forgotten about eating.

But no rush; she hadn’t forgotten to eat during fishing and still had more than half her stamina left.

Meanwhile, Holmes and Watson hid behind crates, listening intently to the sounds outside.

After a while, Holmes frowned, signaled, then crouched down, pressing his ear to the floor to listen attentively.

Someone was definitely approaching—boots lightly tapping on the ground, low voices exchanging words.

But the number didn’t match expectations. Too many, not matching Nancy’s count.

…Had Sikes changed plans at the last minute?

He counted silently.

Eight, nine, ten. Ten men, more than double the original number.

In the suffocating darkness, sensing something was wrong, Watson squeezed next to Holmes.

He could feel his friend’s nerves taut as a stretched spring and quietly asked, “…Holmes?”

“Ten,” Holmes whispered, giving a cold, humorless smile, silently grateful they all had guns today.

Watson’s eyes widened in the dark.

“Ten?” His lips silently mouthed, and his hand reached for the revolver at his waist.

Holmes shook his head gently.

No gunshots yet.

Think fast, think!

The footsteps grew louder.

*

With his mind racing, Holmes glanced at the shaky shelf by the wall.

Serving as a temporary storeroom and canteen, it held a pile of lamp oil and old newspapers.

The old papers were likely collected by Alna, with the children helping to dry them.

The lamp oil, supposedly bargained for cheap by her, was planned for the children’s use at night—Holmes had no doubt it would last forever, but now it was their only lifeline.

He whispered in Watson’s ear, “When I move, light those.”

Watson gripped his arm harder.

“Are you mad?” he whispered back.

That would burn the entire factory down.

But before they could act, Alna propped up her head from the table and sat up.

She rested her chin on her hand, looking toward the door, as if sensing the approaching crowd, now holding a steel pipe she had somehow acquired.

Holmes and Watson exchanged a glance, holding back their move, waiting for Alna’s next action.

Alna had already seen on the map ten red dots closing in—the enemies.

She wasn’t panic-stricken; after all, she had brought enough food today. Though she lacked a weapon that could deal instant massive damage, the steel pipe was durable and could deliver a few good blows.

The door was pushed open with a bang.

Ten men surged in like a tide, led by an unfamiliar man with a scar across his face, another man standing shoulder to shoulder beside him, followed by burly men wielding knives and clubs.

They froze when they saw Alna awake. The leader stopped first and exchanged a glance with the man beside him.

The gang lieutenant next to Sikes went pale.

“Damn it, Sikes,” he instinctively tightened his grip on his knife and whirled sharply toward him, “Didn’t you say he was unconscious?”

Sikes didn’t answer but cursed the fool silently.

Why else would the plan go wrong?

Was this a robbery or a dance party where everyone jumps on tables praising the queen?

“Care to introduce yourselves?” Alna interrupted.

“Since you asked, I’ll make it clear for you. Bill Sikes,” Sikes gave a thumbs-up pointing at himself, growling, “You’re that Isaacs, aren’t you? The fool who thinks he can break ribs without paying.”

Alna let his words slide, then touched her chin, scrutinizing the familiar man beside Sikes.

He looked familiar—somewhere she had seen him—but she couldn’t recall clearly.

Sikes didn’t want to give the factory owner time to react.

He stepped forward, darkly, “Where’s Nancy? Did she betray you? Or Oliver? I knew those two were unreliable. I’ll skin them alive for betraying me…”

Alna filtered out the chatter from the unfamiliar NPC and instead focused on the familiar one, staring so intently that the man broke out in cold sweat and began to tremble.

His familiar fearful expression triggered a spark of recognition in her.

“Aren’t you the one who kindly gave me a large sum of money last week?” she exclaimed.

He was one of the group of five or six who tried to attack her but was robbed by her, begging for mercy and fleeing hastily afterward, touched by her gratitude.

Alna rejoiced, “So it’s you!”

She hadn’t properly thanked him last time, and now he came with a large group to bring money to the factory. She didn’t know what to say!

With a deft twist of her wrist, she brandished the steel pipe and charged forward.