Page 1 of The Ambiguous Enigma of the Hunted Lady
Chapter 1
The August wind blew through London, forcing its way round corners and down cobbled corridors. Dark clouds filled the skies as the day came to an end, bowling into each other with gusto. From those twisting shapes came the irregular, forcible splatter of rain, crudely and absentmindedly discarded by the storm.
The citizens of London, wise as they were to the August weather, took shelter in their homes, penny houses, workplaces, and hideaways. Taking advantage of the storm, the adventurous few remained against the gale ever ready to seize whatever wealth they could find.
Leah Benson tried to hide the scar on her face. She adjusted her borrowed cap and lowered her head. The wind sliced through the thin gentleman’s coat she wore – drenched as it was – and chilled her to the bone. Her clothes were matted with sweat at the neck and on her collarbone; she crouched, panting, letting the torrent of water surge down around her in the alleyway.
Too close, she bit her lip and staggered to stand against one of the dirty brick walls. The windowsills and garden boxes above her gave some shelter from the pelting rain, but not enough.I was far too careless.They nearly had me.
In an abrupt instant – as it often seemed to happen – the storm gave way. A strange sense of quiet befell Leah as the pounding of raindrops on flagstones ceased, replaced only by the hard whistle of the wind and the dribble of gutter spouts. Then her serenity was rudely interrupted.
“Snatch her, boys!” Leah heard Nash’s slurred words coming around the corner, and she sprinted for the alley.
Taunting screams and hollering came from behind her. The grubby pack of foxed pickpockets was made up of street urchins and ruffians belonging to her old crew. Leaping and bounding like wild dogs, they charged after her, waving looped belts and slick knives.
She’d been found, despite her greatest efforts. The men gave chase as she weaved through the alleyways, ducking under clotheslines and hurtling over low fences. The stench of sewage and toxic waste in the air thickened as she drew near the river, but she didn't much mind it. She had spent more than enough time in the bad parts of town to become acclimated to the stench of an urban industrial city.
Leah tucked a lock of hair into her ragged cap and pushed over a wagon of rubble to divert her chasers. The barrels bounced and bashed against the street, causing her pursuers to scramble. One went down howling over his toe, but the others pressed on, tossing only a few insults his way.
Nash laughed when he jumped over the wreckage, avoiding the diversion with an ease that spoke to his years as a runner. As one of Riphook’s most trusted anglers, he held the loyalty of almost every thief in England, or at least, those that mattered.
Nothing happened in the underground without Riphook hearing about it and having a say so. To act without Riphook's permission was on a bad day a death sentence and on a good one a beating. The world of London crime was his to lord over, and he had become very efficient at doing so.
As a child, Leah had been taught how to move quickly through the city. The key was to be smarter. In that jungle of side streets and courtyards, one had to know every route in order to survive.
Riphook had trained her to fight, thieve, and hide with the best of them. There was a time when they had been the only real family she’d ever known. Thick as thieves the saying went, and none knew it better than she. It was these criminals who had fed her, clothed her, and looked out for her. It was those same criminals that now chased her through the streets with knives and rotten teeth.
Everyone knew Riphook was building an empire. He started by recruiting gypsies, then rogues and pickpockets, and eventually anyone who was looking to make a bit of coin, and didn't mind a bit of dirt. Now it seemed every hired blade and sneak thief in town was in Riphook's pocket, and that was the way he liked it.
But Leah knew Riphook was afraid. He was a paranoid man who ruled with an iron fist, and the larger his power became the cagier he behaved.
Riphook was changing London. He was turning it into the town he wanted, not the one he had taken through lies, corruption, and violence. With that change came disappearances. It was a normal cycle, but at its height, it was pure madness.
Beneath those brewing storms, Leah had resolved to leave the life behind. At least in London, at any rate. Things were becoming tense at all times; danger lurked beneath every overlooked overcoat.
It had been three months since her friend Teller had disappeared. He was a fence – a damn good one too – but he did some side business outside of Riphook's influence, working with sailors from the West Indies. Leah ran some of her high-end scores through Teller, rather than Riphook, largely because Teller scared her far less than the other.
For a time, this was all well enough. Riphook still got some money from Teller from the street rackets, and things seemed to progress unhindered. But then Riphook took over the Smithfield Market, and soon after, he wanted the ports.
People started to go missing. At first only a few of Teller's anglers and one of Riphook's. Everyone knew what had happened to them. They even teased one another about who the murderers had been.
Then one of Teller’s go-betweens was found dead in a lodging house, cut up bad. The war was as good as over. Leah had tried to calm Teller down, to convince him to pay Riphook whatever he wanted, and end the violence. Teller hadn't listened, and soon enough, he was missing as well.
Leah knew it was time for her to leave. For the past two months, she had been preparing. She had found a captain willing to take her across the channel unregistered. His confidence came with a price and had left her with near to nothing in her purse.
Realizing she would be as good as dead in France without money, and cursing herself for spending so much on bribery, Leah had set out in the storm. She had that afternoon to make one last score that would carry her to a new life.
Leah had disguised herself as a man. It was easier this way, both for her safety and for maintaining a low profile. A woman on her own, out and about, now that was something to look at. A slim man with his face tucked into his collar on the other hand, was not. It was not difficult to fool the rich folk of London; it was something that she practiced regularly. She set out to bilk an unsuspecting gent in a desperate attempt to leave the city; however, it was the scar that gave her away. It was a reminder of the past she ran from, but the fate she could never escape. No doubt they were looking to snag her to gain some proper loot; Riphook had put quite the bounty on her head.
Leah faked a right turn and headed toward the event at the Assembly Rooms taking place down by King Street. She dodged a particularly nasty tackle as she changed course, sending a thug crashing into a cobbler with his covered cart. The man had no time to protest before the wave of hoodlums washed over him, hollering all the while.
One of Nash’s men hurled something large at her, and she heard it crack across the brick wall beside her. Leah hit the ground and rolled to the right, beneath the wheels of a covered carriage, and sprang up on the other side.
“She's over there!” Nash shouted, waving his hands wildly. “On her, boys! On her there!”
Leah sprang forward and splashed through puddles of questionable liquid as she retreated into the shadows. It began to rain again, and the rhythmic pattering worked to drown out their screaming.
“There!”
