Not Less Than Gods by Kage Baker

Bells loomed out of the haze at last, uninviting premises with windows smoked very nearly opaque. Stepping across the threshold, Ludbridge blinked as his eyes sought to adjust to the gloom. Lamps burned sullenly along the wall behind the bar, affording only enough light to make out that the place was tiny and shabby. Not by any means enough light for Ludbridge to have spotted the half-brick that came sailing out of the shadows, and it had broken his nose but for Bell-Fairfax snatching it out of midair.
    Ludbridge caught a glimpse of some three or four grinning shadows, coming forward with clubs in their fists, before he was grabbed and dragged backward through the door by Bell-Fairfax. “I’ve led us into a trap—,” Bell-Fairfax muttered in disgust. Ludbridge, who did not need to be told so much, took to his heels down Church Street, with Bell-Fairfax following closely. They rounded the corner onto Brick Lane and kept running, back toward Whitechapel Road.
    “I think your mate Bob was waiting for you,” Ludbridge said, panting as he ran.
    “He wasn’t in there,” said Bell-Fairfax.
    “How the devil could you tell?”
    “They were all older men, and taller,” said Bell-Fairfax, slowing his pace. He looked over his shoulder and, satisfied that they were notpursued, stopped to let Ludbridge catch his breath. As they walked briskly on, he added: “My fault, sir. Clearly, this was the one who knew to look for me. I ought to have been more circumspect.”
    “I’d say so, yes,” said Ludbridge.
    They came into Whitechapel Road once more and headed back toward Aldgate. “And shall you give it up for a bad job, and slink back to Whitehall defeated?” Ludbridge inquired jovially.
    “No, sir,” said Bell-Fairfax. “I will get him.”
    “Really? When your quarry has clearly put the word out against you? ‘Here, mates, keep your eyes open for a gent what’s all of seven feet tall if he’s an inch, likely to come asking for me’? I should expect half the East End is aware of you now,” said Ludbridge. “You’ll be lucky if those chaps from Spitalfields haven’t decided to—”
    He became aware that Bell-Fairfax had stiffened beside him, halting for a split second as they made their way through the crowds along the high street. He glanced over to follow his companion’s cold fixed stare, and saw that Bell-Fairfax was watching a slight figure some few yards ahead of them. A young man, nattily dressed, sauntered along the pavement. From time to time he veered close to another pedestrian, jostling each gentleman or lady as though by accident, generally absolving himself with a polite murmur and a tip of the hat. It required very sharp eyes indeed (and Ludbridge had them, in daylight) to note the handkerchiefs, watches and other oddments that leaped from the jostled parties to the jostler, apparently without the agency of human fingers.
    Bell-Fairfax moved forward swiftly, closing the gap until he walked a mere yard behind his quarry. He worked his way through the crowd to one side as he paced the dapper gentleman, to view him sidelong. His hand slid into his own pocket. He fell back, edged to the right, and moved in once more. Ludbridge caught the flash of the pink label as it was drawn forth, and then, with a feather-touch, Bell-Fairfax had set it on the dapper gentleman’s back. Bell-Fairfax then dodged forward, between his quarry and a well-dressed woman toward whom his quarry had been sidling, and thrust her roughly to one side.
    “Mind your feet, can’t you?” he snarled at his quarry, and tipped his hat to the lady. “Very sorry, ma’am.”
    The woman, recovering herself, moved off on a new trajectory through the crowd. The dapper gentleman looked indignant; he turned around, spotted Ludbridge, and at once his expression changed to one of chagrin. He shrugged and vanished in the throng as though he had been a wisp of fog.
    Bell-Fairfax, meanwhile, sidestepped back to join Ludbridge. He was