The Tailor Who Stitched the Truth for the King of the Underworld
I knew exactly how my body occupied space.
More importantly, I knew what I was wearing.
My coat was a custom piece I had designed and stitched myself from heavy, water-resistant melton wool.
It had deep, reinforced pockets, lined with silk taffeta to prevent tearing.
In the inner left lining, just below the armpit, I had sewn a small, hidden pocket for my travel notions.
Every tailor carries a basic kit.
In mine, I kept three heavy-duty steel T-pins, a small seam ripper, and a four-inch steel bodkin.
The bodkin was a thick, blunt needle used for threading elastic through casings.
It was made of tempered steel, strong enough to withstand significant pressure without bending.
I wiggled my fingers, testing the range of motion behind my back.
The handcuffs were tight, but the chain between them had about two inches of play.
If I arched my back and slid my left hand upward, I could just reach the edge of my coat’s inner seam.
The guard on the crate was still looking at his phone, his thumb flicking across the screen.
I began to work.