Shadows in the White City by Robert W. Walker Page A

Doctor—”
    â€œPut it out of your mind, Carmichael, and I never want to see an inkling of it, not a whisper of it in that rag you call a newspaper.”
    â€œ Ahhh …yes, of course, the bane of every reporter’s existence, ‘No one knows nothing.’”
    â€œAnd if we are friends of Ransom, let’s keep it that way.” Dr. Fenger laughed heartily. Carmichael, after a hesitation, began laughing with the good doctor.
    Â 
    For the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, the time period Ransom allowed to dispatch Waldo Denton, he’d designated himself the avenging wind that would rid the city of the ghost of Campaneua. He’d do it for his murdered partner, Griff, his murdered mistress, Merielle, the farm boy who wanted to be an architect, the young woman, Miss Mandor, to whom Philo had lost his heart, the officious bean counter, Trelaine, the already forgotten by public and press earliest victims, two defenseless women, and one unborn child.
    But before this monster crushed the life of the other monster, Alastair Ransom would know why…why? He wanted to know what forged this collision, this coming together of forces bent on destruction, this seemingly inevitable, unalterable fate?
    This he must know.
    Must know if my instincts and what Griff and Gabby had uncovered is true or not.
    The same instincts tore at him with talons of a great beast. He must know if it were true that this horror and death were all somehow his fault. He had to know if Godhad meant for it to be all laid at his doorstep for past indiscretions.
    Even so, Waldo Denton would not spend a day in jail, or in an asylum. Nor would Denton face a quick and painless execution. Not if Ransom’s justice rained down on him.
    In Ransom’s time and in his court, with him as judge, jury, and executioner. People would know, but he’d leave no evidence, not even Denton’s body. It was good that people would know. Men like Muldoon, Kohler, Kehoe, Carmichael, the mob bosses, the Tong leaders, the Irish thugs, all the rats inhabiting Ransom’s city would know to fear him—to fear his idea of retribution.
    Denton hadn’t the brains to fear him.
    Had no idea what Alastair Ransom was capable of.
    Alastair had only one fear of his own remaining: that, in his vengeance and what he perceived his duty, he’d leave Jane and Gabby and men like Philo also fearful of him.
    â€œOne hell of a price to pay for peace and payback,” he muttered to himself. In the exchange, for loving and protecting Jane and Gabby, he’d teach them fear as well.
    Others would wait and see.
    Wait and see—and expect to read about it in tomorrow’s Tribune or Herald.

CHAPTER 6
    Alastair awaited the arrival of the hansom cab as it was due any moment now at the Chicago River wharf. Alastair knew who would alight from the cab and precisely what would happen when Chicago fire investigator Harry Stratemeyer climbed from that coach. All had been timed, but already the timing was off.
    Harry Stratemeyer and Investigator Alastair Ransom had shared many a drink and brawl, and were usually on one another’s side. Alastair had asked Harry for a favor earlier in the day, saying, “I need to take some garbage out, Harry.”
    â€œGarbage? And how far out are you talking?”
    â€œThe deep.”
    â€œAhhh…I see.”
    â€œAnd I don’t own a boat.”
    â€œIt’s been too long since we last cranked up the old fire boat.”
    â€œYou’re a good man, Harry.”
    â€œI consider it my duty—anything to heave out the stench.” Harry had seen firsthand and close up the results of Denton’s kill-spree.
    Ransom now saw the cab turn onto Randolph and approachthe wharf, where he remained in deep shadow in a recessed warehouse doorway. It was not far from here that young Campaneua’s cursed father had died amid the flames during that botched interrogation years ago. Now it