Qualifications

The man walks quickly down the dark street, slightly favoring his right leg, glancing from side to side as he goes. He wears a long black overcoat and a black hat that casts shadows across his face, like a curtain across a stage. There is a shifty look about him; he acts as if he doesn't want anyone to know he is there. Perhaps he doesn't, but in any case, no one stops to ask him.

Though he is in the middle of New York City, the street he walks on is not crowded. Pedestrians rarely walk the streets at this hour of the night, particularly in a neighborhood such as this. For this reason, the man encounters no one, save a few unsavory characters who give him odd looks, but quickly pass him by, and soon forget they ever saw him.

Shortly, the man ducks off the main road and into the deep shadow of a back alley. Here, the shadows of night cover him more deeply; with his black coat and hat, and his pale skin that glows in the dark like ivory, he seems almost to be a ghost, roving aimlessly through the streets as he did in life.

Quickly, so as not to be seen, the man turns the corner and hurries down the alley to the very end, where a tall figure in white looms, waiting for him.

"You're late," says the figure."I was starting to think you wouldn't show up."

"Now, has it ever been like me to go down on a promise?" the dark man asks, grinning in a teasing sort of way.

"Oh, many times, old friend," the tall figure says, laughing. He moves closer to reveal himself as a man, a good head taller than the other, with eyes black as the night around him and skin to match. There is an aura of power about him; anyone passing him in the street would think him a very wealthy gentleman, which indeed he was.

The dark man suddenly loses his humorous attitude. "That all depends, Jacob O'Rielly," he says coldly to the tall man. "On whether I consider you to be a friend."

"Well, what reason would you have not to?" Jacob O'Rielly asks, looking slightly confused.

The dark man scowls. "My wife left me for you, you sorry bastard," he says. "She heard all my stories about you and decided she'd rather be with someone else." His upper lip curls in what seems to be a scowl, but could be a smile. "Someone richer, stronger, more charming - and better looking, too!" He laughs once - a cold, hard laugh.

Jacob is shocked. "Rosalin was your wife?" He slaps a huge hand to his forehead. "Good Lord, that's impossible!"

The dark man leans against the wall of the alley and smiles grimly. "Ah, but it happened, Jacob, which just proves that nothing is ever impossible."

Jacob looks sympathetic. "I'm sorry, Carter," he says. "If I'd known, I would never have -"

Carter waves away his apology with one pale hand. "Doesn't matter. It's been three years, I'm over her." One hand clenches into a fist. "Actually, I kind of like being alone again. A right pain in the neck, she was. Feels good to be free again."

Jacob still looks uncertain. "If you're really sure -?"

"It's fine, really." Carter's voice is carefree, but his face betrays him. He sits cross-legged on the ground and motions for his friend to do the same. 'Here, sit and talk with me. That's what we came here to do."

"There's so much I want to ask you," Jacob says, sitting on the hard cement floor of the alleyway. "Where have you been all this time? What's been happening to you? And why were you so late coming here? Come to think of it, why did we have to meet here? We could've just met at my house. I would've been more comfortable if we had."

"Those," says Carter. "Are some interesting questions." He smiles deviously. "But where are my manners? You first. Tell me what's been happening to you these past three years."

"Three years," Jacob mutters incredulously. "Christ,has it really been that long?"

Carter just grins.

Over the next few hours, Jacob waxes eloquent about the many and varied events of his life. He talks of the stock market, the outrageous prices of the merchandise he stocks in his warehouses, the lawyer who recently attempted to con him out of all he owned, and so on. Carter just sits and listens, occasionally adding a comment where needed, and staring at his old friend in a calculating sort of way.

After a good two hours has gone by, when the moon has nearly reached its highest point in the sky, Jacob stops talking and stretches, yawning expansively.

"So, Carter," he says. "Now it's your turn."

  Carter stiffens and glances over at his friend. "What?"

"I answered all your questions, and now you have to answer mine," Jacob says with an air of excitement.

Carter raises an eyebrow. "You've got a lot of interesting questions," he says. "Are you sure you want me to answer them?"

"Of course I am."

Carter sighs, and leans back against a dirty brick wall. "Alright. But you asked for it."

"Now, my first question," Jacob says, getting straight down to business. "Where have you been all this time?"

"Same place I've always been," Carter replies. "In a scuzzy little apartment downtown."

Jacob frowns. "But I've tried to contact you. All my letters got sent back. I even went to your apartment, but the landlord said you didn't live there anymore."

Carter's eyes dart nervously around the alleyway before he answers. "Crazy landlord. Won't accept anything that's from me or for me. He hates me." He laughs. "And he'd be a fool not to!"

Jacob still does not look convinced, but he lets the subject drop. "What's been happening to you?"

"Not much to tell. The night of our argument, I came home to an empty house. The only thing of Rosalin's left was a note saying where she'd gone. After that, I just stayed where I was, wallowing in my own self-pity and trying to scrape a living. Simple as that."

Jacob seems frustrated that he is not getting a decent answer out of Carter. Desperately, he asks "But why did we meet here? Why not at my house or a restaurant somewhere?"

Carter freezes, then turns to stare directly at Jacob. For a while he says nothing, and his eyes are unfocused, as if he is debating withing himself on whether or not it is worth telling him. Finally, he seems to shrug inwardly and refocuses on Jacob. "Now here's where it gets personal," he says, shifting into a more comfortable position. "I wanted to meet here because...... well, I'd rather not be seen."

Jacob seems confused. "Why?"

"I haven't been popular with certain people lately, and it would be extremely unfortunate if they were to see me. So, I had to come some place out of the way."

"Was being so late a safety precaution too?" Jacob asks, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling that Carter isn't telling him everything.

Carter half-smiles. "Nope. It worked to my advantage, though. The people who were looking for me were down her a few hours ago. If I'd come then, they would've had me. No, I was late because -" he pauses, trying to find the right way to word his explanation. "- because I had some loose ends to tie up."

Jacob raises an eyebrow. "Such as?"

Carter sighs. "To tell you the truth, Jacob, I've been having some financial problems."

"Financial problems?"

"I'm stark broke, Jacob."

Jacob's eyes widen. "Now there's some news! How come?"

Carter shrugs. "Bills don't pay themselves, and money just ain't as powerful as it used to be. I open my wallet one day, and all I got was dust and some dead flies. Which brings me to my tardiness issue. I was late because I was trying to - er - solve the problem.

Jacob suddenly becomes suspicious. "How do you mean?"

Carter laughs. "How many questions you gonna ask me?" He smiles another crooked smile. "I went to my own personal bank. I had to take some money out of an account."

Jacob is confused. "But I thought you said you didn't have any -" Then the blood drains from his face. "It wasn't your money, was it?"

Carter laughs rocking back on his heels. "Nope!"

Jacob clutches at the bricks behind him to keep from toppling backwards. "You- you robbed a bank?"

"Not exactly. Me and a group of thugs broke into a  house down on Park Street."

Jacob is shocked. "Park Street? My street? You broke into a house on my street? When?"

"About two hours ago."

"But how -" Jacob splutters. "What did you -"

Carter shrugs. "Climbed over the surrounding fence, sneak in a back door, lock the butler in the closet, make sure the maids keep their mouths shut, and grab everything we could get our hands on.

"Who's house was it? Do you know?"

Carter's eyes glitter as he glances around the alleyway, looking anywhere but at Jacob. "No idea. We waited 'till he left tonight, then snuck in. He was a big man, though. Pretty tall."

Jacob frowns thinking. So far as he knows, he is the tallest man in his street. But it could have been old Matthew Brown at Number 4. Or maybe -

"In case you haven't already guessed, the 'people I'd rather not meet' happen to be the police," Carter goes on, his eyes bright with excitement. "One of the maids ratted us out, and this hasn't been our first raid. Still, we managed to get away before they showed up." His eyes take on a wistful expression. "The place was loaded, Jacob. There was a solid gold cigar stand in there worth more than I used to make in a year! We took as much as we could." He laughs harshly. "We robbed that guy blind!"

Jacob isn't shocked anymore. He stands up quickly, towering over Carter, his face like a thundercloud.

"Carter Mc'Kenn," he growls in a low dangerous voice. "Never, in all the years I've known you, would I have ever expected you to stoop so low as to become a criminal!"

Carter just laughs and shakes his head, not at all intimidated by this sudden outburst. "Don't you ever learn, Jacob? I told you: nothing's impossible!"

This reply takes the wind out of Jacob's sails. Feeling dazed, he sits down, muttering "Impossible, impossible..."

"Nothing's impossible, Jacob," Carter continues, grinning. "People only think something's impossible because they're too narrow-minded to see the possibility. For instance, people say we can't fly to the moon. They say it's impossible. Ha!" He rocks back on his heels again. "But ol' Carter knows different, you see," he says, tapping the side of his nose in a knowing sort of way. "He knows man'll walk on the moon someday." He stares at the moon for a while, looking thoughtful, as if he can already see someone up there.

Then realizing how high the moon is in the sky, Carter springs to his feet in one fluid movement. "Almost midnight. I'd better be going. Have be off Long Island before daybreak."

Jacob rises too, joints cracking from being stuck in the same position so long.

"It's been nice talking to you, Jacob," Carter says to the huge, tall man standing in front of him. "But now I have to get going. Goodbye." And with that, Carter turns to leave.

"Wait!"

At the very edge of the alleyway, Carter stops and turns around. "Yeah?"

Jacob is still in the alleyway, covered in shadow. He looks concerned. "For three years I've had no idea where you were or whether you were alright," he says. "Will I ever see you again, old friend?"

Carter, standing at the mouth of the alley, looks back at the man he has known for so long, an old friend whom he is sure he will never see again. With half his face bathed in moonlight, and the other half shrouded in shadow, it seems there are two sides of him: Light and dark, good and evil, night and day.

Then he grins, and the smile is enough to frighten the Devil himself.

"Maybe," he says. "If you're lucky." He turns the corner and is gone.

  Jacob stands in that alleyway for a long time, thinking over all that has happened. It seems almost impossible to believe that his old friend could have stooped to so low a level! He has yet to find out just how low.

  After several minutes, Jacob manages to gather himself and step out of the alley. Some shady souls still hang about, and they try to approach him, but a hard look in their direction quickly sends them scurrying the other way. It is a long way from here to his home, but Jacob has his thoughts to keep him company. Rosalin, Carter's wife?! And Carter, forced to resort to theivery! Although, he thinks to himself, Carter didn't sound as though he regretted his actions. In fact, he seemed downright proud of what he'd done. Jacob remembers the wild glint in his eye, and the glee in his voice as he described the heist, and has to supress a shudder. His friend had changed.

  Jacob turns down Park Street in a daze, barely taking in his surroundings. He only starts to pay attention whe he notices flashing lights and the sound of raised voices. Startled, Jacob looks up to see the street crowded with police cars, police officers, hysterical maids, and curious bystanders. And they're all standing in front of his house.

  With a feeling of terror slowly rising in his gut, Jacob hurries toward the nearest officer.
  "Excuse me," he says as calmly as he can manage. "What exactly is going on?"

  The officer's eues widen. "Mr. O'Rielly! There you are! We were wondering -"

  "Just tell me what's happened."

  Before the officer can reply, one of the maids spots him and rushes over. "Oh, Mr. O'Rielly! It's awful!" she gushes. "Those gorillas of men, and that - that scoundrel!"

  "Mary, what's the matter?" Jacob asks.

  Mary takes a deep breath. "The house was robbed, sir. Every last piece of good value, taken."

  Jacob's chest has suddenly become very tight. He finds it difficult to breathe.

  "He shut Mr. Frerson in the hall closet," Mary continues. "And he turned a gun on us and said that - that if we made but one litte noise, he'd make sure it was thing we ever did!" Mary breaks down in tears and cannot continue.

  The officer clears his throat. "We found this on the dining room table," he says, handing Jacob a small piece of paper. "Can you make any sense of it?"

Jacob takes the piece of paper from the officer. He reads it, but he aldready knew what it would say even before the officer had given it to him. It's a confirmation of success - proof that revenge has been taken.

            Jacob,
        No hard feelings, old friend. No hard feelings at all.
                          - Carter