The Prospect of Whitby was a small almost hole in the wall tavern that claimed to be the oldest riverside pub in London. Given that there were several other âoldestâ pubs within walking distance, Regina wasnât inclined to believe that claim. However, that wasnât the reason she was currently seated in one of the back booths, with a double whiskey in front of her, a crackling fire to the side; and a heavily armed bodyguard at a nearby table. Although the whiskey was excellent, Jameson, aged about 18 years, smooth but it still carried the proper burn.
Regina pulled a hand rolled cigaret from a monogramed case out of a jacket pocket. It was expensive, engraved with her initials. A gift from an old friend, one who had helped her get to where she was today. Such people should be remembered. Lighting the cigaret with a brief hiss of a match, taking a deep drag and holding it before blowing out a cloud of fragrant smoke. Flicking the ash off the end, she returned her attention to the woman sitting across from her in the booth, one Sonya Michell.
âSo, the latest shipments have been distributed?â
Sonya inclined her head. âYes. Mr. Hardin has made sure the armaments have been distributed, supplies are stockpiled and distribution of the usual items is on schedule.â
Regina nodded. âGood. We want to keep the confidence of our network, make sure that we keep any deals that weâve made.â She took another drag, looking over a series of reports that Sonya called up on her tablet. Their voices were nearly drowned out by the music coming from the main bar, Flogging Molly if she wasnât mistaken, along with the loud laughter of the people keeping the people behind the bar hopping. And from the window behind her and to the side she could hear the sound of the river Thames and the boats working their way up and down. As earlier mentioned, The Prospect had an appeal that had nothing to do with itâs tourist attraction and everything to do with itâs location.
There were of course other reasons she frequented the pub. In years past, it was a haven for smugglers and various other villains, which meant it had a number of . . . secrets. And she was quite good friends with the owner. What more did one need to consider when choosing a place to get ready for a meeting of her most powerful rivals?
There was a brisk step coming toward her booth, the lack of response from Lance meant that it was Shamus. He was on the short list of trusted people; The Prospect was one of her safe houses. There was a thunk as he slid a basket of pub fries and another drink towards her.
âDouble, shaken with two ice cubes and a splash of water to get things started.â
Regina smiled up at her friend. âAye Shamus, you always know what I need.â
Shamus cocked a hip and leaned against the side of the booth.
âYou look like your planning something, Reggie. Whatâs going on?â
Regina sighed and leaned back. âYou know that peace that the Lockwood guy has been enforcing for the past decade or so? The time of the original truce is up soon. So heâs calling a summit to try and lay down the law as to whatâs going to happen next. So we need to figure out what weâre going to be doing next.â
âI say that we take special precautions to make sure that no one takes the river from you.â Shamusâs soft brogue carried a note of threat.
Regina grinned. âThatâs why I like you, you always know where to focus your attention and whatâs really important. But Iâve been reenforcing everything thatâs truly important to me for a while now.â
Shamus nodded. âYou want me to be following you to the meeting then?â
Regina thought for a moment and shrugged. âItâs not going to be much more than a cock waving fest, but you can. Nothingâs going to happen there, not with Lockwoodâs goons out in full force. But it might be good to know whatâs happening outside. Up to you really.â
âAye, I think I can get a few of the boys along then. Theyâve been itching to be out and about for a while now.â
Regina snorted as she took one last drag and stubbed the cigaret out. âJust donât be the first to start something. Lockwoodâs got to look strong, so heâs going to come down on the first troublemaker like the wrath of God itself. And Iâd hate for that to be you, old friend.â
âReggie, you seem to forget who my boys are.â Shamus looked wounded. âIâll be sure to ask for forgiveness from the Father at the end of the night.â
âIf you make it that far,â Regina wasnât buying it. âGodâs pardon does nothing for a bullet hole, remember that. Except to make it a bit easier to get through the pearly gates.â
At that Shamus nodded and returned to the bar, leaning over and speaking softly to the guy behind it. The other man nodded and turned around, grabbing a three foot long slightly curved staff off the wall, handing it to his boss; who then turned and headed into the back room. After about ten minutes he came back, sans stick. With a gleam in his eye, he grinned at Regina and announced, âItâs all taken care of, we can go whenever youâre ready. Should I be changing though?â he gestured at his current attire, worn jeans and a t shirt. Regina eyed her own extremely casual cloths and rolled her eyes.
âWhy bother? Everyone else will be prancing about in their fanciest threads. If we dress up for them, they might start to think we give a damn about what they think of us.â With that she signaled to Lance, giving him a moment to get in front of her as she headed out. Shamus followed, grabbing a hat and over shirt from behind the bar as he went.
Regina headed out the door, flanked by Sonya and Shamus, nodding the the regulars who saluted her with their drinks as she went by. Waiting as Lance scanned the street outside, she glanced down at herself and smiled a bit. There was no doubt that everyone else would be dressed to the nines; while she herself was a bit more casual. A pair of neat black slacks, emerald silk shirt and long black trench coat. She didnât believe in luxury purely for itâs own sake; but it was ok to have the nicer things in life. The ride out to the Black was uneventful, mostly because her people were quite good at their jobs. Like most things in her life, she didnât care about appearance, but rather quality. Getting out of the car at the restaurant, she nodded politely at the man holding the door open for her. Looking over her shoulder, she could see Shamus pulling up to the curb in his truck, stepping out and leaning against it with what she could only describe as a shit eating grin. She smiled back and tipped off a small salute, knowing that if anyone started trouble out on the street, Shamus and whatever the hell he had stashed in that truck of his would end it.
Regina had to fight down a smile as she went down the hall to the meeting room, a bottle tucked under one arm. It was lined with heavily armed guards, all of them staring stoically ahead.
âGentlemen.â she nodded at them as well. No need to be rude without reason. Lance entered the room ahead of her, scanning quickly and automatically evaluating the people already there for threats. Regina simply placed her bottle on the table and slid it down towards Gabriel. She nodded at the other heads of gangs already at the table and sat down towards the middle, Sonya sliding in next to her and Lance taking up a position behind her.
âA good aged double distilled Calvados. Got it in with my last shipment, thought you might like it.â