The Iscariot Sanction Read Online Free Page A

about him—a ringleader. Lillian headed straight for him.
    Laughs died on the lips of the three hangers-on as Lillian stepped through their circle and drove a fist into the nose of the quiet man, who staggered backwards yelping. The thug with the bad teeth put a hand on Lillian, and almost lost it as she twisted him around so violently everyone nearby heard his wrist crack. She spun him about, slamming his face into the brick wall, before turning her back on the others and marching straight to the leader once more. Arthur knew she was trusting him to protect her back. He drew his pistol, and stepped between Lillian and the three thugs, who froze and eyed him warily. Behind them, Arthur saw that Lillian’s antics had caused quite a stir in the street, and the two policemen were already struggling to maintain order. He glanced over his shoulder to see how Lillian fared.
    The ringleader growled, ‘I’ll kill you, you filthy—’
    Lillian kicked the man’s crotch so viciously that he could not complete his insult. He dropped to one knee, but Lillian dragged him up by his throat and pushed him to the wall, before drawing a long, silver pin from her hat, and placing its gleaming point to the man’s eye.
    ‘You… you can’t…’
    ‘Can’t what? Torture you? Beat you? Tell me, is that because I’m the law, or because I’m a woman?’ The needle pricked at the sagging flesh beneath the man’s left eye, and he took on an aspect of panic, swallowing hard. ‘I assure you, you are wrong on both counts.’
    ‘Whatever you’re doing, Lillian, do it quickly,’ Arthur warned. He was standing beside her now, and the three men at the end of the alley were reluctant to leave their boss. Arthur doubted very much that they were unarmed.
    ‘Molly Goodheart,’ Lillian said. ‘One of yours?’
    ‘Never ’eard of her,’ the man said.
    Quick as a flash, Lillian pulled the sharpened hairpin away from the man’s eye, and pushed it through his earlobe, yanking him away from the wall, leading him at a stoop almost like a farmer leading a prize bull.
    ‘Molly Goodheart,’ she said again. ‘Who knew her? Who was her cash-carrier? Speak up, or the next time your friends see you, you shall be missing a few vital parts.’
    The man screamed with pain and impotent rage. One of his accomplices moved forwards, but Sir Arthur waved the gun at him and he backed away again.
    ‘All right, all right. I swear it weren’t me. But I saw her. I saw her the night she went missin’; saw her get into a cab with a gent.’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘I dunno, some nob.’
    With each question, Lillian tugged up and down on the hairpin. Arthur winced at the man’s shrill cries.
    ‘The cabbie, then. Local man?’ Lillian asked.
    ‘Dresden,’ the man gasped. ‘Jeremiah Dresden, off Butcher Row. That’s all I know, woman—leave me be!’
    Lillian withdrew the pin and pushed the man away. ‘There, that wasn’t so difficult, was it? Sir Arthur, would you mind awfully checking if this man is telling the truth.’
    She stepped forward and took the gun from Arthur, keeping an eye on the shifty trio. Arthur cracked his fingers and stepped towards the cowed leader, one hand outstretched, the other held to his temple.
    The thug backed away as a look of dim comprehension crossed his features. Arthur feigned a look of intense concentration, half-closed his eyes, and moved forward slowly, until his hand almost touched the man’s forehead.
    ‘Mercy, no!’ he shouted. ‘You’re one o’ them! I swear I’m tellin’ the truth. I swear! Ain’t no need to scramble me brains.’
    Arthur opened his eyes. ‘No?’ His skills at telepathy were almost non-existent, but the thugs were not to know that.
    The man shook his head and sunk to his knees. ‘You already made me a grass; don’t go doin’ that ungodly stuff to me.’
    ‘Very well,’ said Arthur, haughtily. ‘But I have your measure now, sir. I could find you anywhere, blindfold in the dark. And I’ll be