Chapter 2: The Guard

The last marked crate took four men to move.

Severin and Crowe took the near end. The other two loaders took the far end. The man with the club walked beside them without touching the box. Pike went ahead with the manifest and checked the chalk rectangle again.

"Easy," he said.

Crowe blew air through his teeth. "Let’s just get this bloody thing over with."

"Just keep it level."

Pike ignored the look Crowe gave him.

They carried it into warehouse three and lowered it beside the others. Twelve dark crates now sat inside the chalk lines with gaps between them, chains and iron bands catching the warehouse lamps. Nothing about the arrangement made more sense than it had ten minutes earlier.

Severin straightened carefully. His back had begun sending complaints up into his shoulders.

The guard shut the warehouse door behind them.

"That’s it?" one of the loaders asked.

"Yes. For that wagon."

The man looked toward the platform. "What? I’ve been here since three."

"Then leave."

He did not need telling twice.

The other loader followed him out, rubbing both hands together as he headed for the hiring window. Crowe stayed long enough to look at Pike, waiting for the bad news.

Pike gave it to him. "Still got three wagons on the west siding. Same extra rate if you stay until they’re clear."

Crowe laughed once. "Fuck this. I’m out."

"Go ahead. Clock out."

"Gladly."

He started away, then stopped beside Severin. "You coming?"

Severin looked through the open doors toward the west siding. Three wagons meant another hour, maybe two if Pike found something else that had urgently needed doing since morning.

"How much left on the extra?"

Pike named the rate.

Crowe stared at Severin. "Don’t even think about it."

"I need the money."

"You sure? You’ve been here all day."

"Yeah. Don’t have much choice."

Crowe shook his head. "One day you’ll find a job too stupid even for you."

Severin laughed. "Hope it pays well, at least."

Crowe gave Pike a final dirty look and walked toward the gate.

Spud had said much the same thing before leaving: Don’t take the night work if Pike offers it.

Severin watched Crowe go until the steam from a shunting engine swallowed him near the office lamps.

Then he turned toward the west siding and spent the next hour on work ordinary enough to make the marked crates feel foolish.

They unloaded machine parts packed in grease and sacks of flour with split seams. Last came two wooden wardrobes that should have been broken apart before anyone tried getting them down a freight ramp. One temporary man came back after hearing about the extra rate. Another lasted twenty minutes before Pike told him to leave for dropping a case of bottled tonic.

The north platform lamps went dark first. Then the hiring window closed. A clerk carried the pay box across to the office with both hands under his coat, accompanied by a yard watchman who kept one palm on his belt. The tea seller outside the gate packed his kettle and cups into a barrow and disappeared down the road.

By then, Severin noticed every man who left. By the time the final west siding wagon was empty, the iron roof held more darkness than smoke. The locomotive that had filled the yard with coughing and hissing earlier had gone. Without it, he could hear a loose sign tapping somewhere beyond warehouse two and wheels clattering over a distant crossing.

Pike checked the last line on his sheet. "Done."

Severin peeled off his right glove. The skin across two knuckles had split where the glove had rubbed it raw. He flexed the fingers and put the glove back on. He started toward the hiring window before remembering it was closed.

"Office," Pike said.

Severin followed.

The pay clerk had already gone. Pike counted the late money himself from a small lockbox on his desk, checking each amount against the ledger. Severin watched coins move from one stack to another.

Pike pushed his pay across, and Severin counted the coins.

"That’s short."

"No, it isn’t."

"Don’t bullshit me. You counted the first extension, not the last hour."

Pike stared at the ledger, then at him.

Severin waited.

Pike muttered something and added the missing copper coins.

"Thought so."

"Spare me."

Severin slid the coins into his trouser pocket.

Pike kept the lockbox open and waited for the footsteps outside to pass before lowering his voice.

"You want more?"

Severin looked at the box. "How much?"

Pike reached into a separate compartment and set two silver coins on the desk.

Severin picked one up. Real silver, worn smooth at the edges. He turned it once between finger and thumb before setting it back.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Stay at warehouse three."

"For what?"

"Guard the marked cargo until morning."

Severin looked at the silver. "Why does it need guarding?"

"The guard leaves at eleven. Instructions say it isn’t to be left unattended until collection."

"Collection by who?"

"Not your concern."

"Sounds like my concern if I’m standing beside it."

Pike glanced toward the door again. "Sit outside the warehouse until the morning shift comes in. Nobody enters. Nothing gets moved. Don’t open the crates or disturb the seals."

"Sounds easy enough. You expecting thieves?"

"No. Those crates are too heavy to walk off with."

"You sure about that?"

"No."

At least that sounded true. Severin looked at the two silver again. They would replace the ruined gloves and put a proper patch on his boots. He might even stop counting every meal for a while. He had spent worse nights for less.

"What are they?"

Pike leaned back in his chair.

"The crates."

"I know what you meant."

"Then answer."

Pike rubbed one thumb along the edge of the lockbox. "I know what the handling sheet says. Leave space between them and keep them upright. Don’t roll them or use hooks, and keep them away from heat. That’s all."

"You don’t know what’s inside?"

"No. And I don’t care."

Severin believed the first part more than the second.

"Who paid for the extra guard?"

Pike looked at him. "Do you want the silver or not?"

"Yes."

"Then take them and keep your mouth shut."

Pike closed the lockbox without offering an explanation. Severin pocketed the two silver anyway.

Outside, the man with the club waited by warehouse three, his coat buttoned to the throat.

"Him?" he asked Pike.

"Hale stays."

The guard looked Severin over. "Don’t let anyone in."

Severin gave him a mock salute. "Yes, sir."

The man did not smile as he handed the warehouse key to Pike instead of Severin.

"If the seal on the side door is broken in the morning, it’s your name on the sheet."

Severin looked at the narrow paper strip pasted across the door frame. He had not noticed it earlier.

"What if it breaks itself?"

The guard started walking.

"Then you’re unlucky."

Pike waited until the man was halfway across the yard before giving Severin the key.

"You don’t need this unless there’s a fire. There’s a watchman at the front gate, and another makes the south fence every hour. If you see anyone where they shouldn’t be, shout first."

"And then?"

"Try not to be an idiot."

Severin chuckled. "A bit late for that."

Pike’s mouth twitched once. He turned toward the office.

He left Severin a hooded lantern and a wooden chair from the warehouse office.

By eleven, warehouse three was all he had left to watch.

Severin sat with the chair tipped back against the brick wall beside the door. The two silver were in one pocket, his folding knife in the other. He had carried the knife for years, mostly for cutting twine or food, and had never considered it much of a weapon.

The last temporary workers passed through the gate in pairs. A clerk left ten minutes later. Pike remained in the office long enough to finish his books, then crossed the yard with his coat on and stopped beside Severin.

"Morning crew starts at five. Try not to fall asleep."

Severin nodded.

He listened until Pike’s steps faded past the gate.

The yard never went completely silent. Metal settled with small clicks beyond the warehouses while wind worried loose roofing. A signal bell rang far down the line and was answered once.

Without men shouting across the platforms, more of the railway carried over the fence.

Severin got up and walked once around the building. The side door seal was intact, and the rear windows were too high to reach from the ground and barred besides. A drainpipe rattled on the far wall when the wind caught it.

He returned to the chair. Through a gap beneath the warehouse door, a thin line of lamplight lay across the stones. The marked crates sat on the other side.

Severin put his boots on the lowest rung of the chair and pulled his coat tighter. He settled in to earn the stupidest two silver Blackhaven had offered him all week.