Everyone but Racetrack nodded, although he discovered himself to be silently in agreement with Jim. It was true, after all: you have to eat to live. Besides, what harm would come of sitting in with these guys in order to track down Toby? Racetrack was convinced that he was doing it all for Madeline.
"Now, on to business," Jim stated, taking hold of the brim of his bowler and pulling his hat down slowly. "Ashley and Eli, you two are teamed. Nate and Joe, you two are teamed. I'm going alone."
"Who we got?" Eli asked impatiently.
"Hold on there, I'm gettin' to it," Jim answered, pulling a folded piece of paper from his breast pocket. "Eli, you two got an old croney by the name of Walter Dell. Rich fella. Here's the address." Jim tore off part of the paper and handed it to Ashley, who silently read it and handed it to Eli.
Jim talked as he tore off the second address and handed it to Racetrack. Race read, "18th Street, the red brick tenement, 13B". Why does that sound familiar? Race thought, but shook it off. "Now," Jim said, "Nate knows who this is, so he can fill you in later, Joe. Let's just say it's a former friend who knows too much."
Race nodded, but his uneasy feeling was growing. Ashley looked to Jim. "Who you got tonight?"
"Big-shot. Pulitzer's the name," Jim answered proudly.
Racetrack's eyes widened. "What?!"
"You heard me," Jim answered. "Ain't figuring on backing out, are ya?"
"N-no, it's just that...it's...Pulitzer!" Race felt helpless. Sure, Pulitzer had cheated the newsies, caused them to go on strike, and caused many of them to attain criminal records, but none of the newsies had ever wanted to kill him. It was a healthy dislike on both sides of the fence.
Race shook off his panic and took a deep breath. Jim stared him down. "Joe, you gotta realize that you're dealing with a group of very dangerous people. One wrong move, one wrong word, one wrong breath - " Jim paused for effect " - will get you killed."
Race drew a shaky breath and nodded. Nate nudged him with his elbow. "Remember, DiMarco, this is a job you gotta be tough for. Can't have no conscience."
"Don't worry, all beginners think like you," Ashley said. "After the first few hits it's like slicing butter with a hot knife."
"Well put, Ashley," Jim said, nodding in the young man's direction. He stood and addressed the group. "Good luck on your jobs tonight."
With that, Jim turned and exited the pub, leaving the other four young men sitting around the table. Eli and Ashley got up and left after a moment, leaving Nate and Race sitting there.
"So who is it?" Race asked Nate.
Nate looked at Race. "You'll find out. We meet on Delancey Street tonight and walk up to 18th. Got it?"
Race nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I got it."
Nate stood to leave. "See ya then. Eight-thirty. Don't be late."
Racetrack watched Nate exit the pub. He sat at the now empty table, staring at his hands. All he wanted to do was find Toby. If this is what it takes to track 'im down, I guess I gotta stay in. I'm doing it for Maddie. For Maddie. Sighing, Race stood and left the pub, walking up street and down alley until he was back at the lodging house on Duane Street. He climbed the stairs and entered through the front door, passing Kloppman and heading toward the attic stairs.
"She ain't up there, Higgins," Kloppman called to him.
Race turned around and walked over to Kloppman's desk. "Where is she?"
"Upstairs playin' poker with the boys," the old man answered with a twinkle in his eye.
"Oh, all right," Race muttered, running up the stairs to the bunkroom.
Madeline was sitting on a bunk, glaring down at her cards. "Bad hand, Maddie?" Race asked her as he took a seat beside her. "Y'know, you oughta develop a poker face."
Madeline ignored Race and announced, "Fold," as she lay her cards in a stack face-down on the floor in the center of the circle she and several of the boys had made for their "table". Also playing were Snitch, Skittery, Boots, and Mush.
"Deal me in," Race said.
Skittery looked up at him. "We got enough."
"I don't believe this," Race muttered. "Since when did you start blowin' me off, huh?"
No answer came from the five as they continued their game. "Two pair," Skittery announced as he laid his cards out. Both Snitch and Boots folded. Mush grinned. "Full House."
Skittery made a face. Mush held out his hands. "C'mon, fork it over, all-a ya."
Sighing, the losers dug into their pockets and came out with handfuls of marbles. They each rolled them at Mush. "You've broke us all, Mush!" Snitch exclaimed, pretending to cry.
Boots laughed at him and stood up. "Well, I'm gone. Anybody wanna come get somethin' to eat?"
"I'm with you," Snitch answered, following him out of the bunkroom.
Mush and Skittery sat still, looking up at Race and Madeline, who were ignoring each other. As he stood up, Skittery said, "I think that you two need to talk. C'mon, Mush, help me with that thing."
"Thing? Thing - ohhhh that thing!" Mush exclaimed, hurriedly following Skittery out of the bunkroom.
Racetrack and Madeline sat in stony silence for a moment. Finally, she spoke up. "I know who you've been with, Race, and I know what you're getting yourself into."
Race was taken aback. "What are you talkin' about, Maddie?"
"Don't play dumb with me, Racetrack Higgins!" Madeline exclaimed, standing quickly. "You know exactly what I'm talking about! You've been off with Jim and Nate."
"I've been lookin' for Toby!" Race exclaimed, standing. "I thought by being near them I might have a higher chance of findin' him."
"Yes, I'm sure that's what you thought at first," Madeline said, "but now they've spun you into their web. They have and you know it!"
"Maddie, I - "
"Please don't do this to me, Race!" Madeline exclaimed, stepping close to him and taking his face in her hands. "Don't do this to yourself."
Racetrack averted his eyes to the ground. "I have to find him, Maddie. For you. I'm doing this for you."
Madeline shook her head in defeat and let go of his face. She turned and left the bunkroom without another word.
Later that night, Racetrack left the lodging house and headed toward Delancey Street. Madeline watched from the attic window as he sauntered down Duane Street. With a heavy heart, she slowly stood and climbed down the attic stairs. She silently walked over to Kloppman's desk, where he was scribbling furiously into a ledger. Madeline cleared her throat. "Mr. Kloppman?"
The old man looked up. "What can I do fer ye, Maddie?"
Her voice wavering, Madeline asked, "Mr. Kloppman, do you have a gun?"
Kloppman's brow furrowed. "Now, why are ye askin' me that?"
"Please, something terrible is going to happen. Just bring me the gun!" Madeline exclaimed frantically.
Kloppman disappeared for a moment and then came back brandishing a pistol. "I don't even know why I'm givin' this to ye."
"You'll understand soon," she answered, taking it from him and concealing it in her skirt. "Thank you."
With that, Madeline disappeared out the door and headed down the street in the direction that Racetrack had taken.