Sam Marlowe's Arc

Chapter 2 of 14

The docks stank of fish and diesel. Sam had a name he'd overheard here three days ago, nothing more. He walked the piers and listened. Dockhands shrugged when he asked. A fog rolled in off the water and swallowed the streetlamps. He was chasing a shadow, and the night was slipping away. Then he saw the shop. A window full of little ships and painted harbors. Inside sat a model of a rusted German submarine on a tiny dock, its shoreline fading into cotton mist. A brass plate read Fogbound Harbor. Sam remembered the name now. Not a man. A place. A slip down at the far end. He found the slip. A boat rocked against the pilings. On the deck stood a shark-faced man in a pea coat and rubber waders. A hook curved where his right hand should be. He gutted a fish with the hook and flicked the guts into the water. This was Captain Finn Blackwater. The name from the docks. "You're the detective," Blackwater said. His teeth were rows of white needles. "Word travels. Every hood in the city's been down here sniffing." Sam kept his hands loose. "I'm looking for the relic." Blackwater laughed, wet and sharp. "So is everyone. It's cursed, that thing. Bosses killing bosses over it." He drove the hook into the deck rail and left it there. "I had it. I want it gone. Give me a reason it should be you." "I'm the only one not trying to shoot you for it," Sam said. The captain studied him a long moment. Then his black eyes flicked past Sam's shoulder. His grin fell. Sam turned. A huge purple shape came down the pier. Black pinstriped suit, loud tie, two-tone shoes catching the dock lights. Knuckles Malone. Fresh cuts crossed his face from the street fight. He'd survived it, and he'd tracked Sam here. "Detective," Knuckles said. His voice ground like gravel. "You cost me a bad night." He drew the big pistol from under his coat. Blackwater moved fast. He kicked a rope free, and the boat drifted from the pilings. "Not on my dock," he growled. He yanked the hook from the rail. Sam dropped behind a stack of crates. Knuckles fired. The shot splintered wood by Sam's ear. The ogre lunged onto the boat, and it tipped hard under his weight. Blackwater swung the hook and caught Knuckles across the arm. The pistol splashed into the black water. The two crashed together on the pitching deck. Sam saw his chance. He grabbed the mooring line and hauled the boat tight to the pier. "The relic," Sam shouted. "Where?" Blackwater, pinned under the ogre's fist, spat blood. "Hidden. Cannery. North end. Take it and go!" Knuckles roared and drove Blackwater down. Sam let go of the line. The boat swung out into the fog, both men still fighting. Sam ran. He had his lead now. But Knuckles knew where it pointed, and one of them would reach the cannery first.