Metaltown (33 page)

The momentum building inside of him slammed to a halt. A bribe. Hampton was going to bribe Colin to convince the Small Parts Charter to end the protest. Just like he'd done with Jed Schultz and the Brotherhood.

“Father, I've been to the factory, on the floor with the workers. You must listen,” said Lena.

Josef pulled an envelope out of his breast pocket and opened it. He laid out a stack of green an inch tall. Otto looked away, as if annoyed.

“That ought to cover your rent for a while, I'd say.”

Colin choked.

“And,” said the elder Hampton, “I'll arrange for Cherish to have a bed at the hospital in the River District by nightfall. She'll have a nurse as well, on call, to get whatever she needs.”

Colin couldn't take his eyes off of the cash. It was more than Jed had given him to take to the Wokowskis. More than he'd seen all in one place in his life. The empty paper envelope made a crinkling sound as Josef folded it.

“Consider it an act of patriotism,” the man said. “Your work supports the war effort, builds the tools our front lines need to defeat the enemy. To rebuild the Northern Federation.”

Lena made a sound between a cough and a choke, and was silenced by her father's appraising stare.

Colin could see the white sandy beaches and the cool, blue water of Rosie's Bay. The houses on stilts, the docks where you lay in the sun. It was just beyond his fingertips. Screw the hospital. With that much green he'd be able to get his Ma and Cherish, even Hayden, to the coast. They could leave everything and start fresh.

Josef lowered his voice. “Think about your future. Is this really all you wanted for yourself? To be trapped in Metaltown?”

“Colin,” Lena whispered.

“Stay out of this,” Otto hissed at her.

Colin's head snapped up. Otto Hampton. The rich boy who locked his sister in a closet. The rich family who thought they could buy themselves out of anything.

“No,” he said. “It may work with Schultz, but it won't work with me. Small Parts Charter wants change, and we won't work until we get it.” Inside of him, the image of Rosie's Bay grew darker and darker, until it disappeared completely.

Josef's eye twitched. Slowly, he gathered up the bills, and replaced them in his coat.

“Very well,” he said. “Otto, see that we have a third of the staff replaced by the end of the week.”

Colin gaped. “You're firing me for
not
taking a bribe?”

“
Firing
you?” mocked Hampton. “Did you really think that was the biggest consequence you'd face today? You halted production on what should have been a very profitable work week. You mercilessly attacked a foreman. You
held my daughter hostage.
”

“I was not held hostage!” shouted Lena. “I left because of you!”

Josef joined them standing. “Lena, the driver is waiting outside. Go and get in the car.”

“No.” She grabbed Colin's hand. He could feel her shaking. He felt sick thinking of what horrors might await her if she went with them.

And what would happen to him? What did Hampton mean,
consequence
? A man as powerful as Hampton could bypass jail. He could make Colin disappear and no one would ever know what had happened to him.

Josef breathed in slowly, then exhaled with a flare of his nostrils. “This meeting is over. I'm genuinely sorry we couldn't come to an agreement. I'm sure there'll be others who will jump at the opportunity I've offered today.”

He'd never intended to listen. And Colin, blindly optimistic, had cleared the building so the shells could go right back to work. The thought crossed his mind that Ty never would have been so trusting.

One of the policemen approached behind Lena. Colin jerked her out of his reach. Three more officers closed in behind them, and those at the door approached slowly, defusers in hand.

He looked at her one last time, hoping she knew he was sorry. He knew they wouldn't hurt her; they were here for him, and though his arms felt like lead, he detached her hand from his. He'd been in enough fights to know when you had a chance and when you were going to get beat, and today his odds didn't look good.

But that didn't mean he was going to lie down and take it.

With a burst of speed, he charged the nearest cop, who grunted in surprise and toppled backward onto the floor. A boot landed hard in Colin's gut, making the edges of his vision turn black. The air in his lungs expelled in one hard cough.

Then there was a searing pain in his shoulder. A million lightning bolts charged through him, sending him into convulsions. Somewhere far away he heard Lena scream his name. And then he heard nothing.

 

29

TY

Bakerstown was quiet at night. The kind of quiet that snuck into the back of Ty's head and planted ideas about people following her, watching with their alley-cat eyes. She didn't like the place anyway, especially after the last time she'd been here with Colin. The streets were unfamiliar. The overhead streetlamps too bright and accusing.

At least the last time she was here she hadn't been alone.

She kept her head down and hustled past the park and the closed deli to Fifth Street, then turned left. The bottoms of her boots scraped over the sidewalk, an unavoidable giveaway of her location.

Her knife hand was sweating.

Shima had been right. If she stopped fighting, she'd start hurting, and that scared her more than dying out here alone.

For the hundredth time that day, Colin came to mind. His blue eyes, hot with fury. His words:
get out.
Her heart, if she had one, felt like it was being mashed over a grater.

A figure stepped out from the dark parking garage. He was lanky, with a mess of black dreads and a green pullover that clung to the lean muscles of his shoulders. She recognized him immediately from their last encounter.

He stayed quiet as she approached, but it was clear from the way he glanced to the side that more of his friends were hidden just out of sight.

“I want to see McNulty,” she said as confidently as she could. She showed him her knife. “I'm not going to ask twice.”

He started to laugh. “She-man the Metalhead. I thought I smelled you crossing the tracks. Looks like someone got a workout fixing up your face.”

His friends filtered out of the garage's entrance, making a circle around her. She tracked them with her good eye. Brainless muscle. McNulty's crew. Her lips peeled back, the knife out before her. Her bad eye put her at a disadvantage. Screwed up her balance and hid half the playing field. She'd latched her belt so tightly it made it difficult to breathe, but she wasn't taking any chances that someone might try to rip it off.

“Tell me where he is or I'm going to stick one of you,” she said.

They all laughed, bringing the heat to her skin. She hated having her back exposed. If Colin were here …

Stop.
If Colin hadn't kicked her out, she wouldn't be here.

“Why should we take you to McNulty?” asked the boy with tight curls—the one who was bent about being taken out of school. “You trying out to be a working girl?”

“She's too ugly to put on the books,” replied Dreads. “She'd have to pay them to take their pants off!”

More laughter.

She lunged at Dreads, catching the collar of his shirt and twisting it around his neck. Her knife point pressed into his jugular, and when he swallowed, the metal tip broke through his skin.

Five other blades were pointed into her back.

“No one's laughing now,” she observed. Rings of white surrounded the boy's irises. The shallow breaths made his damp chest shudder.

“Let him go, Metalhead,” said Schoolboy. “Or we'll cut you open.”

“Not before your friend chokes on my knife,” she answered. “Anyone want to see if I'm lying?”

Try me,
she thought. She had nothing left to lose.

Silence.

Dreads motioned for the others to stand down. “What do you want with McNulty?”

“I have a proposition for him. And information he wants to hear.” Her grip relaxed on his shirt.

The boy hesitated, looking for a weakness, but her gaze didn't falter.

“Fine,” he said. “Let's go. Hands off the Metalhead, got that?” he told the others.

Dreads led the way, while the others walked behind her. Ty kept her knife ready, just in case one of them decided to try to take her down, but her hands were shaking now.

They reached the apartments where she and Colin had met the Wokowskis. Below them was a dingy bar with an old-fashioned carved wooden sign hanging from a wrought-iron hanger. The Cat's Tale.

Dreads trudged down the concrete steps, peering suspiciously back over his shoulder at her before banging on the door with a heavy fist. A moment later a thin line of light sliced through the peephole and a pair of beady eyes assessed them from within. The door pulled inward, and Ty was bathed in a muted yellow light.

The smell hit her first. Cigar smoke and too much perfume. She followed Dreads tentatively, gauging her surroundings, learning quickly that the only accessible exit was the door just behind her. Raucous laughter, both male and female, bounced off the walls. Most of it came from a felt-topped poker table in the center of the room, where half a dozen men played cards and tilted back shots of corn whiskey.

The bouncer stopped Ty with a heavy hand on her bicep. Automatically she jerked out of his grasp, only to find a pistol pointed at her chest. The breath choked off in her throat. The man's mouth was set in a firm line. A scar hooked around his cheek from his right eye, like a falling teardrop.

“I'll take the shank, and any other piece you might have on you,” he said gruffly.

McNulty was here. If she wanted to see him, it would have to be on his terms.

She handed over her knife, and pulled another from her boot. When he patted her down, her forehead broke out in a cold sweat. The moment his hands were gone, she backed away, then made for the table.

Dreads shoved in front of her. “Either you want to die, or your head really is filled with metal.”

She ground her teeth and let him take the lead. The card players lapsed into silence as they approached. The yellow lamplight cast a circular glow, and she stayed just beyond its reach in the shadows.

Across the table through the thick smoke, a man settled back in his chair. His hair may have been red once, but now it was a dull orange, tinged with white around his ears. A smattering of black freckles covered his cheeks, and his eyes were green, like the color of his clan. There was a hooker on his lap, a girl not much older than Ty, skimpily clad in a lacework bodice. McNulty lowered his hand of cards and tapped her on the lower back with one monstrous hand. She stumbled away, a sloppy smile on her face.

Dreads cleared his throat.

“One of Schultz's Metalheads is here to see you, sir,” he said. “She says she's got information.”

“I'm not working for Schultz,” Ty said quickly, fingers flexing over her trousers.

McNulty cocked one brow, chewing on the end of his cigar. He was perhaps the only man in the Cat's Tale not wearing green. His gray button-up spread across his ample midsection.

“She was here just last week on Jed's pass,” Dreads pointed out.

“Well, that was last week,” snapped Ty. “I got nothing to do with slick Jed Schultz
this
week.”

“Why are you here then?” asked McNulty. He had a strange lilting accent, one she'd never heard before. His eyes drifted over her bandaged face.

Ty glanced behind her to the others, who were crowding too close for comfort. “Jed Schultz is taking bribes from Hampton. They're thick as thieves, those two.”

McNulty smirked, one gold front tooth winking at her. “And?”

Ty shifted. “And the workers who pay their dues to the Brotherhood aren't going to like that when they find out.”

“A heart-wrenching story to say the least,” McNulty said, tapping his cigar on the edge of a brass ashtray. “What does this have to do with me?” His gaze returned to the hand of cards, and he riffled through them, pulling the last two to the front.

Keep fighting.
“Everybody knows you used to rule Metaltown. Word is that Jed Schultz kicked you across the beltway, and that you were too yellow to ever come back.”

McNulty's jaw twitched. He placed his cards back down.

“Watch your mouth, kid,” said the old man to his right. He was bald on top, with a thin hedging of gray at his temples. Dreads took a deliberate step away from her.

“I'm just saying what I heard,” said Ty. She'd gotten to him, she could tell. The air between them thinned, like a ratchet had pulled it tighter.

“The story's changed some in the telling,” said McNulty.

Ty shrugged, trying to look like she didn't care. “All I know is the Small Parts factory refused to join the Brotherhood this week, and won't go back to work until Hampton makes some changes. Once the other factory workers see we can do it, they'll do it too, and that puts slick Schultz in quite a bind, if you know what I'm saying.”

Schultz's words, as he'd said them to Hayden at the Brotherhood office, replayed in her mind:
Every other factory in town will have to stop production until we find replacements. This town will shut down.
Metaltown depended on the factories. The factories all depended on each other—they all built parts of the same weapon. The charter needed to show the other workers they weren't afraid of the Brotherhood, and to do that the Small Parts press wasn't enough. They needed muscle.

McNulty tapped his cards on the table. “Schultz is just Hampton's lapdog without his Brotherhood.”

“That's right,” said Ty. And none of them were anything without the workers.

“Hmm…” McNulty scratched his thumb over his chin. “If he loses his workers, the McNulty clan can take back Metaltown.”