“Sure,” she said. “But that isn’t the truth.”
“If you were starving wouldn’t you tell people that though?”
Amanda thought for a moment. He had a point. “I guess I would.”
“Same thing,” he said. “You do what you have to in order to survive. Which is why Micajah here and I are starting a detective school.”
Amanda stared at him. The detective school was founded as a ruse to get people to part with their money? She hoped Simon wasn’t watching. This would devastate the detectives.
“A what?” she said.
“A school to train people to be detectives. It’s an up and coming profession. We want to get in on the ground floor.”
“A legitimate school?”
“Absolutely,” said Splunk. “Well sort of.”
“What do you mean ‘sort of’?” she said.
“Let’s put it this way,” said Earful. “We’ll train them. We’re just not sure the things we teach them will work.”
“Why not?” said Amanda.
“They, uh, haven’t been tried in context,” said Earful.
“But they’ve been proven in some other way?” she said.
“Not exactly proven,” said Earful. “Documented. Not the same thing.”
He had to be referring to the secrets he’d stolen from the Triunfo Indians. Yes, they’d been documented but no, the Indians didn’t use them for detecting. Earful really was despicable. However, if she called him on his dishonesty or influenced the timeline in any way, reality as she knew it might disappear. She couldn’t risk that.
“Let’s not worry about the details,” said Splunk, slurping his tea and smacking his lips. “We want you to help us. We can make you rich. And as an extra added incentive we will help you find your young man. Micajah tells me he’s disappeared. How does that sound? Truth is, your fellow might be useful too. I hear he’s very tall. What do you say?”
How could she refuse an offer like that? She could get the pair to reveal valuable information and they’d help her find Nick.
“I’m in,” she said.
Micajah Splunk did a little dance. “I knew we could count on her. Didn’t I say we could count on Amanda, Lovelace?”
Earful studied Amanda. “That you did, dear friend. That you did.”
Amanda was glad to see them so happy. In a couple of years things wouldn’t be going at all well for this pair. She knew from her history of detectives classes that soon the two men would have a mammoth fight and never speak again, and that Moriarty would murder Earful. But she couldn’t dwell on sad things. She had to keep them believing in her character and find Nick.
“A toast!” said Splunk. He danced over to one of Earful’s cupboards and produced a bottle of brandy. “Where’s them glasses?”
“I broke the last one,” said Earful. “We’ll have to use the teacups.”
“Never mind,” said Splunk.
He uncorked the bottle and poured a splash of brandy into Amanda’s cup, then split the rest between himself and Earful. Amanda had never drunk brandy before. She wasn’t sure if she should. But there was so little in the cup—just a thimbleful—that she figured it wouldn’t hurt. She took a sip. The kick hit her right between the eyes.
“Mmm,” she said, trying not to show how much the brandy stung. “Good.”
“The best other people’s money can buy,” Splunk joked.
“You didn’t,” said Amanda.
“‘Course I did,” said Earful. “It’s expensive stuff. Where would I get the funds to buy something like this?”
She winced inside. Nick picking pockets in order to survive was one thing. Stealing liquor—and little cakes and who knew what else—just for fun was another. What a way to live.
“Now, Amanda,” said Earful. “I want us to get started right away. So I’m going to tell you our strategy.” He glanced at Splunk, who nodded. “We figure things this way. You can found a school easy. You just lease a building, hire a few geezers to teach the classes, and throw open your doors. But how do you get students?”
Splunk coughed.
“I mean how do you get paying students?” said Earful.
“Marketing?” she said.
“Excuse me?” said Earful. “We’ll worry about how we’re going to feed them later.”
“No, I meant—” Forget it. Obviously the word “marketing” wasn’t used in the same way in 1890.
“I’ll tell you,” Earful went on. “The way to get students is to give the school cachet. Do you know what cachet is?”
She nodded.
“Good,” he said. “The way Micajah and I are going to give the Legatum Continuatum Enduring School for Detectives—do you like it? I think it has a nice ring to it.”
Amanda nodded.
“The way we’re going to give Legatum cachet is to catch Professor Moriarty. Establish our credibility. Paint ourselves as experts. Then people will flock to us from all over. You know who Moriarty is, right? Micajah says you mentioned him.”
Amanda was dumbfounded. Earful and Splunk were planning to capture James Moriarty in order to give their school credibility? And they wanted her to help them? Yikes.
“Yes, I know who he is,” she said. “But how are you going to catch him?”
Earful rubbed his hands together. He had lovely long, slender fingers—perfect for picking pockets. “We have a plan. Don’t we, Micajah?”
“That we do,” said Splunk. “You’ll like it.”
“We know where he hides out,” Earful said conspiratorially.
“You do?” said Amanda. If that were true they must be good detectives. Moriarty’s elusiveness was legendary.
“Yep,” said Earful. “And we’re going to go there tonight.”
That was something. Amanda hoped Simon was watching.
“I suggest we leave at once,” said Earful.
He plunked down his cup with a flourish, and Amanda could see a change come over him. His eyes were bright and his skin flushed. She didn’t know if it was from the brandy, the tea, the mood, or something else, but she did know that he was relishing whatever was about to happen. He opened the door, ushered her and Splunk out, and doused the light.
“Where are we going?” she said as they headed for St. James’s Park Station.
“Silvertown,” said Earful gleefully.
Silvertown? That was where the Moriartys’ sugar factory had been located. What a coincidence.
“Is that where he lives?” she said.
“In a way,” said Earful. “He spends all his time there.”
“So we’re going to his house,” she said.
“Nope,” said Splunk.
Amanda was beginning to get a funny feeling. Surely they weren’t headed for the very same factory.
But when they arrived at Silvertown after a tube and cab ride she knew. The factory was exactly where they were going. Could that mean it had been in the Moriarty family all this time?
“Please tell me where we’re going,” she said just to be sure. “I’m so curious.”
“Sugar factory,” said Splunk. “He owns it.”
“Simon,” she thought. “Are you getting this? Wow.”
“How do you know?” she said.
Earful got a manic look in his eye. “We tailed him.”
“You did?” she said. “How did you find him to do that?”
“Trade secrets,” said Earful.
“Oh, tell her,” said Splunk.
“Logic,” said Earful. “We worked backwards from the crimes he’s committed. A criminal always returns to the scene of his crimes. We watched the scenes and noted all the faces that turned up. The same man visited several of ‘em. It had to be him. Next time that happened we followed him.”
Wow, they were smart. What a great idea. Maybe Earful really was a good detective.
“Very impressive,” she said.
“Stick with us and you’ll learn techniques like that,” said Splunk. “We got tons of ‘em.”
“I’m excited,” she said. And she was.
It was much easier getting inside the factory in 1890 than it had been when Amanda had breached it by herself. No electronic locks requiring knowledge of medieval music, for one thing. No alarms or any modern security technology either. It was so easy she wondered how Lestrade had let Moriarty elude him all this time.
Everything was going smoothly and then all of a sudden in the middle of the sugary floor she had a vision. It was the worst she’d ever had, so terrible that she’d never tell anyone what it was as long as she lived. It knocked her for a loop, sent her screaming and running through the factory until she collapsed outside the door of the room where Nick had almost killed her father. The last thing she saw before everything went black was Earful’s handsome face looking down at her.
When she woke the three of them—she, Earful, and Splunk—were tied up in that awful room, and two ugly men were standing there chewing gum and laughing at them. The vision was gone but her memories were so vivid and disturbing that she began to cry.
“Shut up,” Earful hissed. “See what you’ve done.”
Amanda cried harder.
“It ain’t her fault,” said Splunk.
“Sure it is,” said Earful.
“Quiet,” said one of the men. He had five o’clock shadow and was about eleven feet tall. Earful gave her a dirty look. He had been so nice before and she’d ruined everything. She wanted to die.
“I’m sorry,” she sniffled.
“What did I just say?” said the criminal. “Be quiet or I’ll make you.”
She regarded him from under her wet lashes. He was a brute of a man and she wasn’t about to cross him. But she would have to get them out of there, come what may. She was simply not going to go through this again.
“Where’s Moriarty?” said Earful.
“Out,” said the second man, an equally tall, unkempt sort, except that he had a full beard instead of stubble.
“We want to speak with him,” said Earful.
“Why?” said the first man suspiciously.
“We have something he’ll want,” said Earful.
“He don’t need no little girls,” said the man.
“Not her, you idiot,” said Earful. “We have information.”
“Not that,” said Splunk.
Earful gave him a look. “It’s the only way.”
Splunk seemed to seethe. Amanda wondered what information Earful was referring to.
“He’ll be back toward dawn,” said the second man. “Get a good night’s sleep. You’re going to need it.”
He laughed and sat down to wait.
How were they going to get out of this, Amanda wondered. Simon? It was her best bet. What might happen to Earful and Splunk in that case she didn’t know. Whether she was changing the timeline she didn’t know either. What she did know was that the situation was desperate and it was her fault. That meant it was up to her to fix it.
She eyed the two crooks. There was no way she and the detectives were going to overpower them unless they took them by surprise. And the only way to do that was to slip out of their bonds without the guards noticing. She pulled at the ropes around her wrist and ankles and remembered a time when Blixus had her at a similar disadvantage. But then she’d managed to get away when he left her alone. Could she get the two men to leave the room? Perhaps.
Another possibility was bribery. If she could make an attractive enough deal with them they might let her and her new friends go. But what kind of deal could she make? She had nothing to offer, and everything Earful and Splunk had they’d hoard, she was sure of it.
That left the possibility of someone barging in and rescuing them or some other freak occurrence, like an earthquake or a fire. The last time she’d been to the factory she’d managed to burn Blixus with a lighter but she didn’t have access to anything like that and as far as she could tell, either did any of the men.
Think, Amanda, think. What else could she do? She pulled at the ropes but all that did was hurt. They were too tight and she knew she was stuck unless someone untied them for her.
She wished Ivy were there. She’d know what to do. Not that she wanted her friend to be in a terrible situation like this except—wait a minute. Ivy had been the one to crack the musical lock on the twenty-first century sugar factory. What if she, Amanda, helped the thugs install that very same lock in the first place?
It was crazy. There was no such thing as electronics in this day and age. But that didn’t mean a musical lock was out of the question. Amanda had studied all kinds of exotic fasteners when she was trying to get into the compartments in the secrets trove, and she’d come across a strictly mechanical version that worked sonically. She could offer their captors a mind-boggling new lock of her own design that opened only when a certain note or chord was played or sung. She could even make it work with the devil’s interval. How amazing would that be? Such a contraption might appeal to these uglies and when she got free she could just tell the police how to open it. It was brilliant—if they went for it.
“I’d like to make a deal,” she said.
“Shut up, girlie,” said the stubbly guy.
“You’ll like it.”
He eyed her, got up, and stood right in front of her, leering. “I knew you’d come to your senses.”
“Not that,” she said. “I’ve got a disease you wouldn’t like.”
Earful’s left eyebrow went up.
“I want to offer you a trade. I have something you will find valuable. It’s yours in exchange for our freedom.”
“Bah,” said the second guy. “You ain’t got nothin’ we want.”
“I do,” said Amanda. “I can show you how to build a lock that no one can crack but you. You can install it all over the factory. You’ll be completely safe.”
The first man smiled and flexed his biceps. “We’re already safe.”
“Do you like music?” she said, and began to sing one of her favorite Ivy songs.
“What’s that?” said beard guy. She kept singing. “That ain’t half bad.”
She stopped. “I can make you a lock that opens when you sing that song.”
Both men stared. “Go on,” said stubble guy.
“It’s true,” said Earful, catching on. “It’s my own secret design and it works very well.”
The man glanced at his partner, who shrugged. “Moriarty would kill us,” he said.
“Moriarty would love the lock and he’d never have to know where it came from,” said Amanda with a wink.
Stubble guy looked at beard guy. “She’s right. He doesn’t know we got ‘em. We could let ‘em go before he gets back.”
Yes! Amanda thought. Thank you, Ivy.
“I don’t know,” said beard guy. “It seems like a gimmick.”
“You could manufacture the locks and sell them,” said Amanda. “You’d make a fortune. How much does Moriarty pay you?”
The men looked at each other again. “Manufacture them, you say?” said beard guy.
“Yes,” said Amanda. “Each one could work with a different piece of music. All custom made for the client. You’d be rich.”
“Show us,” said stubble guy.
“First you need to commit,” said Amanda. She glanced at Earful. “And sign a nondisclosure agreement.” Earful smiled. Splunk’s jaw dropped.
“A what?” said stubble guy.
“A document in which you promise not to reveal the secret of the device,” said Amanda.
“You’re making this up,” said beard guy.
“I swear I’m not,” she said. “Think about it. A normal lock works by setting the tumblers a certain way. It unlocks when those tumblers are moved with a key. Sound waves move things too. Sound can move metal just as easily as a key can.”
The men looked at each other. “Like the other day when that loud noise knocked the bin off the catwalk,” said beard guy.
“Exactly,” said Amanda. “The bin moved because of
the sound. It shook first, didn’t it?”
The men nodded.
“That was the vibration from the noise. The lock works the same way except that the sound is specific. Each tone or combination of tones works on it in its own way.”
“Sounds logical,” said stubble guy.
“It is,” said Amanda. “Give me a piece of paper and I’ll draw a schematic for you.”
“They need to sign the nondisclosure first,” said Earful.
“Aw, what does it matter?” said stubble guy. “A signature don’t mean nothin’. Here, write it up. We’ll sign it.”
Splunk was looking at Amanda in wonder. Stubble guy handed Earful a piece of paper and a pen and Earful wrote up the agreement.
“There you go,” he said, handing the agreement to the two men. “Sign on the dotted lines.”
Each man in turn took the pen and made an X. “Excellent,” said Earful. “Amanda?”
Amanda took another piece of paper and the pen and sketched out what she’d seen when she conducted her research, or at least a facsimile thereof. She was pretty sure it would work, although there wasn’t time to prove it.
“What if this don’t work?” said stubble guy.
“It will,” she said. “But if you have trouble, take the concept to an engineer and he’ll design it for you. Now that you know how it works you’ve got everything you need.”
Stubble guy took the paper, turned to beard guy, and beamed. Then the two of them untied Amanda and her new friends and they ran out of the factory.
“What the hell was that?” said Splunk when they’d got out of there.
“Are your parents alive?” she said.
“Me mum is,” he said.
“Then you don’t know,” she replied.
“Don’t know what?” said Splunk.
“How orphans can be resourceful,” she said.
Earful burst into laughter. “Who are you, Amanda Lester?”
She winked at him. “Just a girl, Lovelace. Just a girl.”
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Me and My Shadow
Amanda Lester and the Black Shadow Terror Page 25