Fire Catcher

Fire Catcher Read Free

Book: Fire Catcher Read Free
Author: C. S. Quinn
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stolen property for a fee. Not everyone in London welcomed his profession.
    ‘I thought you’d be taller,’ continued the coffee man. He frowned at Charlie’s brown eyes and dusty-blond hair through the fug. ‘I suppose I can see it. You have a certain poetry to your face. Despite the scar.’
    Charlie smiled in reply. In his youth a bucking horse had left him with a scarred lip, bent nose and permanent unease around riders. He turned away from the cauldron man and surveyed the coffee drinkers.
    Charlie spotted the card maker, a tidily bearded man with modest lace at his well-laundered cuffs. He was listening politely to a loud noble. Charlie began to make his way down the crowded table when another familiar face leapt out at him.
    Charlie squinted in disbelief. ‘Bitey?’
    The old man was a friend from the Bucket of Blood bare-knuckle tavern. Charlie couldn’t imagine what he was doing in a coffee house.
    Bitey grinned back a greeting, revealing the hand-carved wooden teeth which had earned him his nickname. His squat frame was armoured with its usual grime-toughened layers. Charlie’s gaze dropped, looking for Bitey’s pet pig, which had a tendency to ram the unwary at knee height.
    ‘Where’s Juniper?’ asked Charlie, failing to spot the animal among the legs of the seated drinkers.
    Bitey scratched the narrow portion of face between beard and eyebrow.
    ‘She swam away, Charlie,’ he said. ‘Up river. I took her for a dip in the Thames and she scented something on the wind. Lifted her head and took off west.’
    Charlie raised an eyebrow. ‘I didn’t know pigs could swim.’
    ‘They are not good swimmers, Charlie,’ agreed Bitey sagely. ‘But they can make a distance if they set their mind to it. And Juniper was always determined.’
    ‘What brings you to the coffee house?’ asked Charlie.
    ‘I hoped the alchemists could return my piggy,’ said Bitey. ‘The best minds gather here to talk. That which is lost shall be found. That’s their creed is it not? Besides,’ he added with another wood-filled grin, ‘coffee houses are a secret thing. They make a man feel dangerous.’ Bitey pulled his battered tricorn hat lower, making his fury of eyebrows and beard more pronounced.
    ‘They’re hard to find,’ conceded Charlie, remembering the grace and favour he’d deployed to track this one. ‘Upstairs rooms. Narrow staircases.’
    ‘Our Merry Monarch would shut them all down if he could,’ agreed Bitey. ‘He fears plots.’ The old man scratched his beard. ‘Civil War was years back,’ he said, ‘but there’s plenty men who’d have kept Cromwell’s Republic. ’Stead of bringing back a King with his jewels and whores.’
    Bitey adjusted his hat.
    ‘I heard about Maria,’ he said.
    ‘That was a long time ago now,’ said Charlie. ‘She left back in spring.’
    ‘You don’t think there’s a chance you’ll mend things?’ said Bitey.
    Charlie shook his head. ‘She wanted something I couldn’t give her.’
    ‘What was that?’
    ‘Peace of mind,’ said Charlie distractedly. He was looking towards the card maker.
    ‘Shame,’ said Bitey. ‘I liked her best of any of ’em.’
    Charlie’s gaze flicked again to the card maker, whose companion was now jabbing an enthusiastic finger at the heavens. The card maker looked up and noticed Charlie. His eyes went to the sack on Charlie’s shoulder and lit with hope.
    ‘Charlie Tuesday!’ he replied, raising his reedy voice with difficulty above the throng. ‘I expected to see you in my premises. How did you find me here?’
    ‘It wasn’t easy,’ admitted Charlie, moving closer. ‘Even for a thief taker.’
    The card maker was looking eagerly at the sack. With a heave, Charlie laid it on the floor.
    ‘Your missing print plates,’ he said, as the contents hit the wooden boards with a clang. The bag fell open, revealing an array of playing-card faces etched into brass.
    The card maker’s face split into a huge smile.
    ‘I can

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