the smuggler’s bible

Barraclough

“He’s a friend of the chief.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to like running his errands. Half the misfits in the shelter broke their backs working in his factories. What’d they get for it?”

“So, he’s a louse. A stocking full of coal isn’t so bad against a few million in the bank.”

Barraclough sighs wearily. “What’s he got anyway? Anything to it?”

“Bells ringing all night and an apparation swearing an end to his wickedness.” Pontchartrain flips through her notes. “Also a naughty list of enemies with motive that’d make Kringle retire.”

“Lucky us,” Barraclough says. “An easy one.”