Girl in Disguise

Three of us would go. Pinkerton and I debated endlessly on whether I would be one of them. He insisted it would be too difficult to explain why another woman was there and that we didn’t know enough about any of Belle’s friends to give me a cover identity that would hold up. I argued the opposite—a girlfriend, even an anonymous one, was far easier to explain than a second bodyguard. The truth was, even if I had to let Hattie take the lead, I couldn’t bear the thought of waiting back at the office, not knowing. I had to be there. So in the end, it was me, the ersatz Belle, and a disguised Taylor, looking every inch the enforcer.

As we rode in the carriage toward the warehouse, I saw every possible outcome in my mind. The poor girl Carlotta already dead, Hattie’s deceit revealed, a hail of bullets and blood. Or Hattie triumphant, ordering around gangsters as if she’d been born to it, making a map of the room in her mind and neatly reproducing it on a desk at the police station, leading to a flawless rescue. Anything might happen. Nothing might happen. The worst part was that it was out of my control.

We arrived outside the warehouse, and Taylor preceded us, rapping the back of his knuckles against the door and grunting, “Open up.”

There was a shuffling, some murmuring, and the unmistakable sound of more than one gun being cocked. A low voice said, “Yeah?”

Hattie took charge, her tone demanding. “Look here. Daddy sent me to check after the girl’s welfare. You can let me in, or I can go home and tell him you’d rather he come to see things for himself. All right?”

The bolt slid, and we were inside.

As all operations do, it went perfectly right up to the moment it began to go wrong. The goons let us in, and our Belle checked on the girl, ordering the delivery of a glass of water. Taylor and I kept our mouths shut, scouting the premises with occasional, furtive glances, counting the number of men and noting their positions.

The girl was willowy and dark and worse for wear—the hem of her dress was thick with dirt, and her hair had collapsed into loose, haphazard loops. She stared at us with wild eyes, not sure whether we were saviors, executioners, or just momentary apparitions. Still, she seemed mostly unharmed. I had just let myself relax and be thankful we would be able to report her healthy when I heard Hattie’s voice say, “All right, we’ll be taking her with us, then.”

My head went light, my chest hollow.

A goon stammered, “Miss Belle, I don’t think—”

“Daddy doesn’t pay you to think. We give her back in this condition, you think her father’s going to thank us? He’s going to take every missing eyelash out of our hides. Your hides. I’m taking her home for a bath. She can put on one of my dresses afterward. I’ll have her back in two hours. That way, she tells a nice story about how well we treated her, and everyone wins.”

“Miss Belle—”

“I’m not taking no for an answer,” she said, her small fists firmly on her hips, and unbelievably, the one in front of the door stepped aside.

Three of us had gone in. Four came out.

Once we were in the carriage, the girl said, “Listen, I know my father will pay the ransom. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Oh, don’t you trouble yourself about that,” Hattie said. “I’m not Belle, even. I’m—”

“Beg pardon, first things first,” I interrupted. “Did they hurt you, Carlotta?”

She looked down before answering, and my throat tightened. But she said, “No. They shouted. And they clowned, I guess. Telling each other they’d knock me around a bit if Papa didn’t pay up right away.”

“But they didn’t.”

“No.”

“You’re safe now,” I said. “We’re with the third precinct. Matter of fact, we’re headed to headquarters right now.” I gestured to Taylor. “Can you make sure the driver knows the fastest way?”

He nodded, and I knew he understood me. We couldn’t possibly take this girl to the Pinkerton offices. I had to think on my feet, faster than I ever had. Hattie’s impulse had put us all in grave danger. I’d only have one chance to get us out.

The girl flung herself onto me, her arms around my neck, with force sufficient to free a grunt from my belly. She draped herself on me and cried, “Thank you, thank you, I’m so glad, thank you.”

To her credit, once Hattie heard me assert that we were police officers, she didn’t contradict me. Her reckoning would have to wait.

The plan had been for the three of us to report directly to the station if we had news. Pinkerton was waiting for us there. Words could not do justice to the look on his face when we walked in with Carlotta holding Hattie’s hand as if they’d gone to finishing school together. We said as little as possible and left the girl there, as we should have done back at the warehouse.

Out in the street, I breathed a sigh of relief, then immediately wheeled on Hattie.

“Well, that went well,” she said.

I wanted to slap the smile off her beautiful face. My fist was already clenched, and it took all my force of will to keep it from flying up.

“Hattie,” I said. “What in Hades were you thinking?”

“We wanted her out, right?”

“Yes, but bringing her with us, that wasn’t the plan. The plan was to report back. That’s it. That’s all.”

She lifted her chin. “I improved on the plan! We had the chance to get her out ourselves, without waiting for the police, who could have botched it anyway. This way, I knew she’d be safe.”

“Do you understand what could have happened? If you’d told her we’re Pinkertons?”

“I don’t know, we might get some credit for a job well done?”

“Not exactly. Her father knows how to keep his mouth shut, but we don’t know if she does. If she told anyone the Pinkertons got her out, word would spread. Someone else tells someone else. Eventually, the people who kidnapped her would find out it was us. And what do you think they’d do then? Send a fruit basket?”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh!” I shouted. “And Steel Tom would know there was a Pinkerton agent impersonating his daughter. What happens if he goes looking for that girl?”

She’d gotten paler and paler with every word, and at the end, she was white as vellum. “I’m so sorry, Kate.”

“Mrs. Warne.”

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Warne. Chief. I didn’t realize.”

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