“You’ve been spying on me,” Crane said incredulously. “You contemptible prick.”
“Don’t touch me! I can ruin him, and I will, if you lay a finger on me.”
“The hell you will. You’re terrified of him. That’s why you’ve brought this horseshit to me. If you tried this on Stephen, he’d mince you into dog food, you hopeless fucking flit.” Crane spat out the last word, the worst insult he knew to offer a practitioner, with all the contempt he could muster.
Colour rushed to Rackham’s cheeks, and for a second, Crane thought he would lash out, and braced himself, but Rackham kept control with a visible effort.
“I know what you’re doing.” His voice trembled with anger. “Well, it won’t work. If you attack me, I’m allowed to defend myself. And I’m not going to touch you with power until then, whatever you call me. So your little boy friend can’t touch me. Justiciars have to obey mundane law too, you know, and sodomy is a crime, so I can say what I want and he can’t stop me, and if you want me to keep quiet, you’d better give me my money.”
“It’s not your money. It’s mine. And I’d rather spend all of it on lawyers than give you a penny. Now get out of my sight.”
Rackham’s eyes were wild. “I’ll go to the Council. I’ll report Day. I’ll tell the police. They arrested that baronet just last month, they’ll arrest you too. They won’t care about your family name or your title.”
“Nor do I,” said Crane. “So I suggest you go practise your extortion on somebody who gives a monkey’s balls for what you have to say. Get out. And give my regards to Merrick when you see him.”
“Merrick?”
“You know. Merrick. My manservant.”
“Why would I see Merrick?” said Rackham blankly.
“Well, perhaps you won’t. But some night soon, in a dark alley, or near a nice deep ditch, or in the back room of some opium den, I expect he’ll see you. In fact, I’m sure of it. Now fuck off, and shut the door behind you.”
Rackham had gone a liverish colour, as well he might—Crane’s henchman had been notorious in even the darkest back ways of Shanghai. He tried to say something; Crane hand-waved irritably and went back to his desk. After a few seconds Rackham managed, “You’ve got three days to change your mind. You give me my money by Friday, or I go to the Council and the police. And if I see Merrick, I’ll, I’ll…”
“You’ll soil your trousers and beg for mercy.” Crane picked up a bill and turned his attention to it. “But don’t worry. I’ll tell him to make sure you don’t see him coming.”
Rackham muttered something and stormed out. Crane waited a few seconds, heard the door slam, took a very deep breath.
He had never been blackmailed before. He had been expelled from three schools and thrown out of the country at the age of seventeen for his unlawful tastes, but that had been part of his war against his father, and he had fought it openly. And since then he had lived in China, where the laws of man and God were sublimely uninterested in who he shared his bed with. Eight months back in England hadn’t instilled the constant sense of fear and persecution and terror of exposure that might have led him to bow to Rackham’s demands.
He had considered the problem before he returned to England, of course, and had determined before his ship even reached Portsmouth that, if he ever faced arrest, he would bribe anyone necessary, post bail and be on the next ship back to China. It would be effortless, he would feel no shame in running, and frankly, he would be glad to go home.
That had been before Stephen. Irresistible, astonishing, intriguing, fiercely independent Stephen, with his implacable sense of justice, and so very many enemies.
He could not, in conscience, run and leave Stephen alone. He had a responsibility there.
Crane frowned, considering how bad this might be. Stephen was wary and cautious, as most men’s men were in this country, but he had said he wasn’t at risk. He had said that he preferred, like any sensible man, to avoid trouble, but the Practitioners’ Council turned a blind eye to nonmagical peccadilloes and eccentric private lives that hurt nobody. He had said he could use his powers to prevent any difficulty with mundane law.
Unfortunately, as Crane was well aware, Stephen was a fluent and unrepentant liar. He would have lied about danger to himself with no compunction, and Rackham clearly felt he had enough to serve as a serious threat.
Stephen needed to know about this, and quickly.