Justin Stone and the Iris of the Madonna

[joegoda]

Standing on the badly paved road in front of 2232 NW Murphy, Justin turned to Jonathan and asked, "Any of this look familiar to you?"

Jonathan looked up and down the street at the closed shops and the open trash bins. "Yeah," he admitted. "A little." He pulled his woolen greatcoat tighter. The nights mist was not his friend. "It's not a place I'd want to be after dark."

He raised his electric lantern above his head and shook it at Justin. The little square brass box rattled a bit. It was another device patented and developed by the Stone Foundation. "And if you notice," he continued, "it's after dark."

"Then it is indeed a good thing you brought your lantern, isn't it?" Justin pulled a scrap of paper out of his pocket. "It's too bad you didn't create a portable heater to go along with it." He squinted at the paper, and then back up at the address. "This is the place, Jon."

"A portable heater..." Jonathan muttered. "Remind me to think about that later, all right? Something small. Something small enough to fit into your hand or pocket. Maybe a chemical reaction..."

"Please, Jonathan." Justin was peering into the window, which was caked with dirt and grime. "Come back to earth and the here and now." He was dressed in woolen gloves and greatcoat. On his head he wore a slouch hat, also black, that was pulled down to conceal his eyes. He held out his right hand behind him and said, "The lantern, please."

Jonathan passed the lantern to his brother and stood in the middle of the street with his arms wrapped around him. He wore a black derby, and he attempted to stuff as much of his red hair into it that would fit. His eyes flitted back and forth and he jumped at ever sound. "I don't see why we couldn't come back in the day light, Justin," he complained. "Things happen in the Hallows at night."

Justin straightened. "I can't see a damnable thing in there." He walked to the door and tried to open it. The knob rattled and turned but the door didn't open. "Perhaps you'd like to get out of the street, then?" He motioned to the door. "If you would."

Jonathan grimaced. "Just because I have a history, I have to do all the criminal activities." He opened his coat and reached into a pouch he carried on his belt. He pulled out a thin brass lozenge shape, unscrewed one end of it and extruded two small metal slivers from its interior. The slivers had a couple of flanges on one end, so that they looked like little metal flags. As he moved beside Justin, and stood directly in front of the door, he said, "Move that light over here, Justin. I've got to see what I'm doing."

Justin stood closer to his brother and moved the lamp so that the light shone on the lock. His head looked left and right, so that he could see either entrance to the darkened street. "Could you hurry just a tad, Jon. I don't want to be too conspicuous."

"Oh great," Jonathan said. "Now you worry about being conspicuous. It's not enough that we're breaking and entering a place that any sane person would avoid, but we're out here on a dark, cold night in the Hallows"

Justin squinted his eyes to gaze at something that moved at the end of the street. The something was a blocky shadow, which had detached itself from a darkened wall. "Less talky, more unlocky, please," he said.

Jonathan looked at the type of lock in the door and once he was satisfied, he nodded. "Won't be a minute. This is a Corbin lock, which is a pretty darn good lock. Seven levers, solid brass pins, steel springs." He looked over his shoulder at Justin. "Hard to pick without the right tools."

"Thank you for that information, Doctor Rat." Justin was looking casually down the cobbled street. "In case you need a bit of incentive for speed, there are three young men moving very quietly our way."

"Marvelous." Jonathan took the two slivers of metal, and slid them into two grooves on the outside of the lozenge. He pulled on a tiny knob on one end of the brass tube and the tube thinned, locking the slivers in place. He was now holding a key, which he inserted into the door and turned. "Huh," he muttered.

"More faster, please," Justin said. His voice didn't show any sort of nervousness, but the tightness of it caused Jonathan to bush his eyebrows together.

"One sec, Doctor Impatience." Jonathan pulled the key out, moved one of the tiny flags. "That should do it."

He reinserted the key, turned it, and was rewarded with a click. This time, when he turned the doorknob and pushed, the door opened easily. There was a tiny ding as the bell above the door rang.

"After you, my dear Justin." Jonathan flourished with a bow and Justin stepped across the threshold.

Jonathan caught sight of the three hooligans and they were indeed close. All three were tall or taller than Jonathan was, at least. They were dressed all in black, from their shapeless coats to the sack hats they each wore that covered their heads and faces. The way they moved indicated that they were each carrying something in their hands. Probably something that would hurt a lot. That was enough for him. He followed close on the heels of Justin and pulled the door closed behind him.

"I doubt that door is going to stop them if they really want us," he said, peering back through the thin shade.

"And I doubt," Justin added, "that they'll want to come in once they see the shotgun."

"What shotgun..." Jonathan turned and never finished his question.

"All right, you nogoodniks!" The voice was gruff and mean and full of old whiskey. "Get those hands up where I can see 'em and say your prayers."

"Oh." Jonathan followed Justin's example and raised his hands.

Although his eyes were firmly locked onto the muzzle of the shotgun, he couldn't help but notice that the hands that were holding the shotgun were long and thin, like a skeleton. Those hands were attached to long skinny arms and connected to a man who had no legs. The man was hanging by his left arm from a hook in the ceiling while he held the shotgun with the other hand. The gun's stock was clamped firmly next to the man's chest by his upper arm and from the steadiness of the weapon, it was apparent that this was not the first time the legless man had handled it.

"Who the hell are ya, and what the hell are you doing in my shop." The face saying the words was pinched and narrow, with thin lips. Eyes blinked slowly between large round glasses. "Come on, come on." He waved the narrow muzzle at the two men. "I don't have to even wait, you know. I could shoot you right where you stand." The old man hacked up some phlegm and spit on to the floor.

"Um," Jonathan began. "Is that a LeFever or a Browning?"

"What?" Owl eyes blinking furiously, the man repeated, "What?"

Jonathan tried to smile. "I was just curious if that shotgun was a a LeFever or a Browning. I'm something of a... mechanic. I was just wondering."

The man, who was, of course the shopkeeper, adjusted the weapon. "Well, ain't you the smarty pants, especially for someone who's about to die. It's a Lefever. Why?"

"Like I said," Jonathan shrugged. "I just wanted to know."

Justin turned his head to look at his adopted brother, and raised an eyebrow. "Do you really feel that this is the proper time to ask something like that?"

"Hey, I was just curious," Jonathan replied with a bit of a bite. He made a quick movement with his eyes. "No harm in asking is there?"

Justin gave a brief and curt nod. "No, I suppose not. I understand completely."

Jonathan turned back to the shopkeeper and said, "Sir, we don't mean any harm. This is Justin Stone and I'm Jonathan Ratzenmueler."

The shopkeeper cackled, which ended in a hacking cough and another bit of phlegm on the floor. "Justin Stone? Justin... Stone? That's a good one, that is."

Justin took a step forward, keeping his hands over his head. He moved slightly to his right as he stepped forward, but it was enough to hide the left side of Jonathan, who had dropped his left arm and reached into a pocket on the inside of his coat. He pulled from the pocket a short and thick wrench.

"Now, Justin," he called out, diving to his left and tossing the wrench at the same time. Justin closed the shutter on the lamp as soon as Jonathan said 'Now' and dove to his right.

The wrench spun upwards and struck the underside of the shotgun which blasted away with both barrels. The sound was deafening as it roared through the small space and the blast took out a two foot circle of the ceiling.

The old man was cursing and twisting from his left handed hook. "Damn your eyes!" was the least of his curses. He turned and started to swing away in the dark.

Justin reached out with his cane and caught the shopkeeper by the arm with it, arresting the man's movements. "Hold on there, fellow!" Justin held the man by his cane until he could reach out and take a hold of him with his hand.

"And that," Jonathan said, getting up and dusting himself off, "is why I wanted to know if it was a LeFever. Browning has developed the repeating shotgun, able to reload another shell after having been fired. LeFever, though a marvelous manufacture of weaponry, is still stuck on the the ejection mechanism."

Ignoring Jonathan, Justin was holding the shopkeeper by his waist. The old man was still cursing and twisting and trying to bite Justin.

"Hold on, I said!" With a jerk, Justin pulled the shopkeeper from his hook and dropped him onto the floor. The old man lay limply where he fell, wheezing harshly. Justin sat down next to him and patted his chest. "You'll be all right, old fellow. You just got the breath knocked out of you."

"If you get off of me," the shopkeeper wheezed, "I'll show you who's gonna get the what knocked out of them." He rolled over onto his belly and lifted himself upright with his hands. Still wheezing and very much out of breath he said, "You took advantage of me when I was at my weakest, you did." He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a cigarette, lit it and sat there on his haunches, puffing away.

"Hey!" Jonathan came over and joined Justin and the old shopkeeper. "You pulled a shotgun on us."

"And you broke into my shop, you young snot."

"We were about to be attacked!"

"You picked my lock!"

"..." Jonathan looked over at Justin, perplexed. "I got nothin'" He took off his hat and ran his hand through his bush of red hair.

"Say..." The shopkeeper stared at Jonathan, his cigarette hanging useless from his bloodless lips. "Say... I know you!" He pointed an accusing finger at Jonathan. "I know you!"

"Huh?" Jonathan flinched backwards. "I don't think I ever saw you before tonight."

"Mebbe not, mebbe not." The shopkeeper said, starting to get his breath back. "But I seen you before. You're the one they called the Rat, aren't you?" A wet sounding chuckle emerged from his throat. "Heh heh. The Haglin Rat, they called you. I remember."

Jonathan's face got as red as his hair. "That was a long, long time ago, old man. I don't do that any more."

"Yeah, so I heard." Taking the cigarette from where it had adhered to his lips, the shopkeeper took a long drag from it and blew the smoke out in a large blue cloud. "You hooked up with that high mucky muck Stone family, didn't you?"

His eyes blinked quickly a couple of times and his head swiveled back and forth between the two men. "Holy moley! You are Justin Stone!"

Justin gingerly waved the smog of cigarette smoke away from his head and coughed gently. "Yes, that would be me."