Hell's Ten

This is Part 3 in a series! Parts 1 and 2 are up here: Part 1 Kace, Part 2 Ethel

Marko woke up with a raging headache. Groggily he rolled off the narrow couch where he lay and passed a hand over his face. Too much again last night. Too much to drink, too many games of dice, too much fun. Through the curtain that separated him from the front room, he could hear talking and laughter, although it was now early in the morning. Voices slurred, heavy with drink, and he could hear bartenders ordering customers out when they got too rowdy. He stumbled over to the washbasin in the corner, groaning as he fumbled for the tap.

The curtain was pushed aside and Tobias’s reflection appeared in the mirror as he entered.

Marko straightened his teal-colored tie and splashed water on his face before turning. “What time is it?”

“Four in the morning. You’ve been black-out drunk since I got here.”

Marko shook his hair out of his face and smoothed his wrinkled clothes. “I’m surprised. You’re not usually out so late. How long have you been here?”

“I came a bit past midnight. I had—business, on the docks.”

Marko looked around and found his teal and gold coat thrown carelessly over the couch. He pulled it on and instantly felt a bit more like himself. His colorful appearance seemed strangely out of place in the drab room, especially next to Tobias’s gray coat and trousers. “Did the business go well?”

His friend sobered. “Not really. There were cops hanging around the docks all night and I couldn’t make the deal I wanted. We were hoping to do well tonight.”

“Better luck next time,” Marko said, clapping Tobias sympathetically on the shoulder and pushing aside the curtain. “Maybe a drink will make things better?” He steered him to the bar and slapped down some coins. The pub was fairly empty now, and the hubbub of last night had died down.

The barkeeper looked up inquiringly. “Not again.” He almost laughed at Marko’s reappearance.

“It’s not for me,” Marko assured him. “Get my friend here a drink.”

The man was glad to comply. Marko was lavishly wasteful with his money; in fact, had he come every night, the pub could have run on his patronage alone.

Tobias took a newspaper from his pocket as he picked up his glass, and placed the paper on the bar. “Look at that.”

Marko pulled it toward himself and scanned the headline before him. Smuggling Ring May Have Dangerous Socialist Ties. He shrugged. “Someone concludes something of the sort every week. It’s nothing new, Toby.”

But his friend shook his head. “They’re hunting for people all over the city. The docks are just crawling with cops and they wait at the factory doors every day when workers leave. That’s what made my business fall through tonight. We couldn’t make the trade we wanted without being noticed.”

“Then do it tomorrow.”

“I can’t. Rafi sold to someone else.”

“Rafi?” Marko’s eyebrows shot up. “Your deal was with him? For what goods?”

Tobias looked around to be sure they were alone before muttering, “A hundred gats. Military grade rifles.”

Marko stared in surprise. “What in the--What are you planning?”

“Nothing. But we want to be prepared. If they come after us, we’re not going down without a fight.”

“You’re taking this a bit far,” Marko cautioned. “It’s not worth getting yourself killed for.”

“As if you would know.” Toby’s voice was bitter. “You’ve never worked a day in your life. But there are men out there who work twelve hours a day and still can’t feed their families. Children are starving, people dying in the streets. But I suppose you wouldn't know about that.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Marko quickly tried to placate his friend. “I’m just saying—”

“Never mind. It’s my business, not yours.” An uncomfortable silence settled between them...

Stay tuned for Part 4!