‘Only in that she doesn’t intend to use it any longer,’ Thomas reassured him. ‘She has the Lodge at Larkspur, and the Hall for entertaining, but she has confided in Lady Marshall that should she ever need to “Return to the stinking pit which is the capital”, she will stay at Delamere House. Lady Marshall suggested, unkindly I thought, that Lady Clearwater was unable to take the pace of the city anymore. Apparently, she was taken ill when at Bran Castle last winter, which is unsurprising as it’s very bleak, they say, but Archer doesn’t know that either. But, all that is by the by, just remind me to tell Archer, will you?’
James nodded, waiting for the rest of the story.
‘When her man returned from the Admiralty,’ Thomas resumed, ‘he brought news of the whereabouts of The Invisible. Lady Marshall, as you know, has fingers in just about everyone’s pies, including those baked up at the highest level. She has more cousins than Silas…’
‘Oi! Good Catholic family, mate.’ Silas winked as he passed Thomas some cheese squashed between two chunks of bread.
‘And, from her contact,’ Thomas said, taking the bread gratefully, ‘I learnt that the ship was decommissioned two years ago, just after Archer’s incident with his brother, the business with Harrington and all that. I don’t think that had anything to do with it, I think the ship was past its best. Besides, those old ironclads are being replaced with new steel-hulled vessels. The ship we wanted, Her Ladyship told me, was in dry dock in Chatham, and had been there for some time.’
‘But you got to see it?’
‘Hold your horse cart, Jimmy.’ Silas nudged him.
‘Yes, we did,’ Thomas sighed. ‘Eventually.’
‘You want me to?’ Silas asked, and Thomas understood, because he nodded and rested his head again, staring at the ceiling as he ate.
‘Right. So, Tommy got back, we got Fecks to drive us to Victoria and caught the first train as far as Dartford where there was a problem on the lines. So, we got a coach to Chatham and took a walk around the outside of the dockyard. Didn’t take long to find the right one.’
‘Four bloody hours,’ Thomas moaned. ‘It was getting dark by the time we’d seen how we might gain access.’
‘Yeah, alright, Tommy. You eat your lunch, mate.’ Silas tutted. ‘I left Tom in a pub while I made a few discreet enquiries…’
‘I dread to think.’
‘Cheers. Found a helpful chap who didn’t like to say no to a few quid, and learnt that The Invisible was more or less that. Invisible.’
James’ confusion caused Silas to grin.
‘If you were wondering why Quill has reared his ugly head right now,’ Silas went on, ‘...it’s because that ship doesn’t have much time left to live. It’s being broken up, and all that’s left of it now is the front end and what was the bridge. The hull, boilers, decks, the whole lot has gone, and it’s being left to rust out at pier seven. For another couple of quid and no questions asked, the bloke also told me that no-one from the harbour guards the pier after dark, ’cos there’s nothing there but scrap metal, and although that can bring in cash, it’s not easy to cut up and haul tons of iron without being noticed. I got a whole lecture about scrap metal, I can tell you. Still, I also got the information we needed.’ Another wink, this time accompanied by a touch to his nose. ‘Easy when you know how. So, a couple of pints later, Tommy and I went to take a squiz. Had to borrow a lantern or two…’
‘You stole them.’
‘And put them back after, Tommy. There was no way in, but that’s never stopped me, and I found a gate with a lock that wasn’t too much trouble…’
‘I stole lanterns and broke into a dockyard,’ Thomas moaned. ‘Who’d have thought it of me?’
‘Yeah, alright, Tom.’ James gripped his knee. ‘You’ve also set fire to a warehouse and crashed a train, so I shouldn’t worry. I’m proud of you.’
Thomas retook his hand, though remained gazing at the ceiling.
‘Was a bit of a scramble,’ Silas admitted. ‘But we got to what’s left of the ship, and the place was deserted, so it wasn’t difficult to reach the bridge.’
‘Not difficult?’ Thomas scoffed.
Silas laughed. ‘Well, a few ladders, across some girders…’
‘At least twenty feet above the ground.’
‘And over what remains of the decks, blah, blah, but we found the bridge easy enough.’
‘It’s the only part of the ship still intact,’ Thomas added. ‘There would have been no other option but to leave Archer’s message there.’
‘Which is what we did before sneaking out again to find a place for the night.’
‘And that’s where it went wrong?’
‘Aye, Jimmy. Quill must have been watching. There were so many shadows, so many places to hide, it was impossible to see who might have been hiding, but I got this feeling, you know? I was proved right when this rozzer appeared out of nowhere and nicked us. The rest you know.’
‘Apart from how kind Silas was to me,’ Thomas said, lowering his head and gazing at the Irishman. ‘Anything I have done to upset or deride you, I humbly take back and replace with apologies. Had you not been there and so supportive, Silas, I don’t know how I would have managed.’
‘Hey…’ Silas took his hand. ‘We’re on the same crew, Tommy. I’m not educated like you and Jimmy, I don’t know half of what you know about Archer or the way of life we live, I just make it up as I go along, but you… You always know what’s the right thing to do. Without you there holding me back, I’d probably have belted the bobby, done a runner, and got myself five years. So, it goes both ways. All ways, Jimmy, with you impersonating Creswell and getting us off. I’ve got some fecking excellent mates.’ He gripped Thomas’ hand tighter. ‘And that’s what we are, Tom if you’ll allow it.’
Thomas squeezed his fingers before letting go. ‘I would be very honoured.’
‘That’s all good to hear,’ James interrupted. ‘Because we have a decision to make, and we’ll have to work together. Since his telegram directing us to The Invisible, there’s been no more contact from Archer apart from one. He wanted Fecker and Mrs Norwood at Charing Cross at half eleven this morning. That’s all I know.’
‘Which means we do what?’ Thomas rubbed his face and smelt his fingers. ‘Whatever it is, I am not doing it until I have taken a bath and changed my clothes. They need burning.’
‘Bit drastic,’ Silas grimaced. ‘What you’re wearing would have lasted me a year in the East End. Go on, Jimmy, what do you know?’
‘It’s more what I suspect,’ James admitted. ‘I’ll tell you, and then we can decide if we follow Archer to Derbyshire.’
‘Derbyshire,’ Silas said, without a second thought.
‘What do you think are his intentions?’ Thomas was more circumspect.
‘Okay.’ James referred to his notes. ‘We can safely assume that Quill, or someone working for him, saw you in the dockyard and dropped you in it. A diversion to get two of Archer’s allies out of the way. But he will now know Archer’s intentions, his counter demand if you like. Quill would have been prepared for him in Chatham, but now he has to think fast while on the hoof. This was Archer’s ploy to keep him on the wrong foot, and it’s worked.’
‘And he will be none too pleased about it,’ Thomas said. ‘Making him doubly dangerous.’
‘Agreed. We don’t know what was in the letter Archer received from Quill, presumably something to do with the brother, because Archer rushed straight off to the Netherlands as soon as he read it. But, we do know that he intends to return…’ James looked at his watch. ‘Actually, he would have met Fecker some time ago. The note left in Chatham basically says, “If you want me, come and get me”, and he’ll be at Crosstown Mine at sunset tonight expecting Quill. Now, my instinct tells me that Archer is prepared for a final confron
tation, and as we know that Quill wants him dead, that fight is sure to happen. The question is, do we stand down? Or, do we head straight up to Derbyshire and intervene?’
‘Aye. And kill Quill before he gets to Archer.’ Silas was adamant.
‘I don’t think Archer intends to kill him,’ James said, surprising the others.
‘Explain,’ was Thomas succinct reply.
‘The painting, “Artful Deception.”’ James turned to a page in his notes and showed them a rough sketch. ‘This is a rubbish drawing,’ he said, ‘but it’s a vague outline of what I remember. Two brothers fighting over the ownership of the mine. The story says that one killed the other, but as the murdered brother was staggering about with a sword through his chest, he managed to pull them both into the mineshaft. They both died. That scribble there is the ghost of their father running in horror, but the real horror is the mine was not the father’s to leave them, so they wouldn’t have got anything anyway, and they died in vain. See?’
‘No,’ Thomas said. ‘It’s a plausible story, and I see the connection with Archer and Crispin, but I see no further than that, unless you are suggesting that Quill is the father, which is impossible as he is Archer’s age, or that Quill wants them both dead. If that’s the case, what does Quill gain from all this? I thought he was after the Clearwater fortune.’
‘All points which have run through my head these past two sleepless nights,’ James agreed. ‘The only thing I can come up with is unthinkable.’
‘Sorry to be pedantic,’ Thomas yawned, accepting an apple from Silas. ‘But if you have thought of something, it is clearly not unthinkable.’
‘Yeah, very funny, Tom,’ James smiled before his mirth evaporated. ‘I learnt about the deception from Mr Marks.’
‘Deception?’
‘Yes, Silas. The father. The mine wasn’t his to leave his sons. He knew that, and they obviously didn’t, so the father let them fight it out, knowing it was for nothing.’
‘Bastard.’
‘Quite. But think of this and remember, I can’t prove anything. Why would the father of the story want to treat his sons that way?’
‘Because, he’s a bastard like I said.’
‘Like Archer’s father was to him,’ Thomas whispered. ‘Jimmy, you think the painting represents Archer, Crispin and the late viscount?’
‘I don’t,’ James shook his head. ‘But, Archer might. I reckon the running man in the painting represents the father, who, before he died, had told the lie about ownership to test the brothers’ reaction. He wanted to see which one loved him the most, or something, and when they both went over the edge, he was left with neither. Archer, on the other hand, sees the father figure as Quill. Someone who has put up a game of deception for his own sport, like the father did. He sees the brothers as himself and Crispin, of course, and he saw in the painting a way to finally outdo Quill, and literally, send him screaming having lost everything.’
Two blank faces caught in mid-chew told James he needed to explain himself more simply.
‘If Archer dies, Quill gets it all through Crispin. If Crispin dies, Quill still has Archer and the possibility of finding a way to get to the fortune. But if both brothers die, Quill is left with nothing, except torment for his failure and the horror that all his efforts have been in vain.’
‘You are assuming that no-one kills Quill,’ Thomas pointed out. ‘If Quill dies, everyone’s happy. If we go up to the mine, there will be four against one.’
‘Six, actually,’ James corrected. ‘You’re forgetting Danylo, and as Archer asked for Fecker this morning, we can assume he is taking him too. Quill, as far as we know, may only have Smith. And then there will be Archer’s brother as well. Crispin must die along with Archer.’
‘You really think Archer would stab his brother through the heart and then jump into a mineshaft, just so Quill wouldn’t get their money?’ Thomas was understandably sceptical. ‘If that happened, one of Archer’s distant cousins would inherit, and Quill could continue his mad games elsewhere. It doesn’t make sense.’
‘Which is what I thought,’ James said. ‘Until Mr Marks let sip some information that got me thinking.’
‘Which was?’ Thomas asked, putting his apple aside.
James glanced at Silas who was listening intently and frowning.
‘Marks told me Archer had been in a strange mood when he returned from Kingsclere. Said he’d never seen the viscount like it. Marks also said Archer left instruction that should anything happen to him, Silas had his power of attorney. In other words, Silas, you get to decide everything. You can’t do anything about the title, but every other aspect of Archer’s life, wealth and property, falls to you.’
‘Fecking hell.’
‘But there would be a will,’ Thomas pointed out.
‘There is. I saw it on the desk, but that’s not the point.’ James took a deep breath and shrugged. ‘It just made me think that Archer was covering himself should things go wrong. But now you know what I’ve been trying to work out, we still need to decide what we do.’
No decision was necessary. With Archer’s life in danger, none of them was prepared to stand back and do nothing. The viscount’s motives might have been unclear, but his intention to fight Quill was obvious, and his lover, butler, and valet refused to let him do that alone.
Arriving at Clearwater House that afternoon, James was not surprised to learn that Archer had headed north as soon as he had collected Fecker.
‘His Lordship was also met by the theatrical young man who makes the clothes,’ Mrs Norwood said as she helped Thomas from his jacket.
‘And did he have his brother with him?’ James was hurriedly hanging his overcoat.
‘Yes,’ the housekeeper replied. ‘I only got a glimpse of a mask. He was wearing a hood, I am pleased to say.’
‘Did Jake bring His Lordship any weapons?’
‘Weapons, Mr Wright? I didn’t see any. He had a suitcase, but didn’t open it in the carriage. What would he want weapons for?’
‘Hunting,’ Thomas interrupted. ‘Now, please will you make up a travelling basket, as we will be away within the hour and on the move at supper time.’
‘Yes, of course,’ the housekeeper said, bewildered. ‘Should I be concerned, Mr Payne?’
‘No, not at all, but we must make the four thirty from St Pancras.’
‘I see.’ Mrs Norwood looked at each of them in turn, thinking. ‘In that case, you run and change, I will make up a basket and then ready the trap for four o’clock. I will drop you at the station and say no more about any of this.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Norwood.’ James rushed for the stairs.
‘But!’
He stopped in his tracks, turning as Silas nearly crashed into him.
‘But, what?’
‘But, when it’s over, you explain to me what you have been up to. I like to think you can trust me, gentlemen.’
‘We do,’ Thomas replied. ‘We will explain as soon as we get back. For now, though, please hurry.’
Once through the baize door and with Mrs Norwood out of earshot, James stopped the others and beckoned them close.
‘Silas, how do we do this?’
‘We should wear black,’ Silas warned as they huddled by the staircase. ‘I guess this mine is out in the open, so we need a map of the area. Can you find one, Tom?’
Thomas nodded.
‘We might need lanterns as well, and has Archer got any pistols?’
‘Pistols?’
‘Aye, Tommy. If I think Archer is going to kill himself, I’m putting a bullet between Quill’s eyes, so he doesn’t have to. Don’t know why we don’t just do that anyway.’
‘I will see what I can find,’ Thomas said, without hesitation. ‘His Lordship keeps his firearms in th
e wine cellar. Anything else?’
‘Yeah,’ Silas said. ‘Why the wine cellar?’
‘Talk on the move.’ James started up the stairs. ‘Change and be ready in thirty minutes.’
They made the last through train with minutes to spare, and settled as best they could into a second-class compartment. There, they studied a map of Crosstown Mine and the surrounding countryside, and plotted their next moves. As far as James could see, only two things mattered; to find Archer before Quill did, so they would be armed and ready; and persuade Archer to stay safe with his brother while his crew took on Quill, an easy task with five young men against one who was hunched and injured.
However, what they weren’t prepared for, and what they had overlooked, was Dorjan Dragoi, the assassin they knew as Smith.
Twenty-Three
Buxton station was not as large or as busy as Dorjan would have liked, and few people alighted from the train. Clearwater and his party were among those that did, and the assassin waited until the last possible moment, before leaping from the rear carriage and scuttling to the shadow of the footbridge, where he pressed himself against the smoke-tainted walls, watching as Clearwater spoke with the stationmaster.
The pretender was directed to the opposite platform, and Dorjan slunk further into the welcome darkness of the tunnel as Clearwater approached the bridge, his brother on one arm and the imposing coachman on Crispin’s other side. The imposter was brazen, to say the least.
‘Yes, he is an invalid,’ Clearwater told a curious couple descending the steps. ‘But medicated, madam. There’s no need to shy away.’
‘Where we go now?’
The Russian accent told Dorgan exactly who had spoken, and he pictured the man who had nearly pulled him from his horse that night in Cornwall. The coward, Clearwater, was using him as a bodyguard.
‘There’s a connection to Sheldon in five minutes,’ Clearwater said. ‘After that, we ride.’
Artful Deception (The Clearwater Mysteries Book 6) Page 26