A brisk wind had whipped up dancing, swirling, through the courtyard. It grabbed the young woman's scarf and twisted it toward the sky. With a quick hand, she grasped it just as it came loose from her neck.

From under a nearby lamppost, a shadow detached from the pole and began to stroll toward her.

The young woman shivered.

Though she didn't notice any specific dangers, she had never ventured into that particular area of town after dark. Sure, some of the speakeasies in the downtown hotels and under the streets shared clientele with the pubs in that quarter, but the bought-off cops offered enough security downtown to avert any serious danger.

So close to the Morans' hole, the young woman felt expose to a level of dishabille that she had never experience in the more refined society to which she was accustomed.

The shadow spoke. "Thanks for coming to see me tonight, Miss O'Connell. I admit. Your phone call intrigued me."

"Yes," came the high silky tone of Miss O'Connell. "I must admit I am surprised at the..." she glanced around at the crooked shutters and broken windows that littered several of the nearby buildings. "...the character of your chosen meeting place. To tell you the truth, Mr. McReynolds, I thought we would meet somewhere downtown."

"It's Carson. Please," the man intoned as he stepped toward the light at the perimeter of the lamp. "And Miss O'Connell, you can understand the sensitivity of the information that you are offering us. If something happens and this conversation is traced back to us, then my brother's campaign might be adversely affected."

"If something happens?" Miss O'Connell begged.

"I mean," Carson offered appeasingly, "that if someone overheard us, then the information you're going to tell me about might fall into unscrupulous hands. In isolation such as this," he motioned to the empty street, "we don't need to worry about eavesdroppers."

"Fine," Miss O'Connell agreed. "Ask me what you want to know."

"First, follow me," he insisted, and though Miss O'Connell still didn't feel entirely secure, she thought his offer seemed less concerning than the idea of traversing the abandoned street alone again. He ushered her through the door of one of the best maintained buildings on the street. Though the furnishings and wallpaper seemed from a recent but previous decade, the house was clean. Candles flickered in the entry rather than electric light.

"I know it's a little provincial," Carson explained, "but we have less trouble staying off the map this way."

"Of course," Miss O'Connell agreed, her silky tone finally regaining some of its usual confidence. She pulled off her scarf and hat revealing a shimmering shock of copper-colored hair. Carson smiled at the beautiful young woman. If only he were young again, he would offer her the chance to latch onto a powerful man, a desire obvious in her bearing and countenance. His mum would have loved the young woman's flaming tresses.

"Now," Carson pressed the thought down under a call to business. "What exactly is it that you have to offer me?"

A feline smile curved the blood-colored lips of the avaricious young woman.