An Agent for Victoria

by Kate Marie Clark

  The lanterns from the cargo ship lit the dock like fireflies. The last time Mav had seen fireflies was shortly before the fall of the Reno Gang and the loss of his brother. His brother, like Sophie, couldn’t be bothered to consider a different path—despite the urgings of a younger sibling.

  Mav had replayed the events of that day, over and over again. What if Judd hadn’t ever met Eloise Nielsen? What if Mav had been able to persuade Judd to leave on an earlier train? What if Mav had taken the bullet instead of Judd? What if the Reno Gang had never been captured? What if…

  What if Mav had never become an agent…never met Victoria?

  His hands balled into fists. As horrible as losing Judd was, Mav couldn’t bear to think of the alternative—his life in continued crime and guilt, his life without the Pinkerton Agency, his life without anything honest or good.

  “Larsen.” Sophie was stopped along the dock, impatiently motioning for him to join her. “As soon as Alastair gets here…” She sighed and shook her head. “He’s never late. Perhaps his assignment took longer than originally planned.”

  “Assignment?” Mav quickened his stride.

  She laughed. “My brother is a sensitive fool, especially when it comes to that woman, Miss MacGregor. At least that was the name she claimed.” She pulled the hood of her cloak over her face. “I don’t deal with those that would betray me, but my brother? Not a thread of tolerance.”

  Mav froze. Victoria had boarded a train to Denver; he’d born his heart and begged the woman. Victoria wasn’t as heartless nor foolish as to disregard his words. “You mean she went with him?”

  “I saw her get in the carriage myself, Larsen. Such women are as easy to dispose of as they are to conjure. San Francisco has a plethora of power-seeking, money-hungry women.” Sophie exhaled and pointed at the street in the distance. “At last Alastair is here.”

  Alastair had already exited the carriage by the time Mav spotted him in the darkness. Alastair’s stride was long and fast, his thin legs bending and straightening like a toy soldier Mav had once seen back east—mechanical and ever ready to be the obedient servant. Mav’s stomach twisted, wringing itself out and around itself. Would Alastair truly do something to Victoria, given the chance? Mav wasn’t even convinced that Victoria hadn’t left as instructed. There had to be a mistake.

  “Why so long?” Sophie asked her brother. “You’ve left me waiting on the dock for half an hour.”

  Alastair’s face contorted, as if he’d just been punched in the gut. “That task was more difficult than I’d anticipated.”

  Sophie sucked in her lower lip. “But you did complete it?”

  His face fell to the ground, and his shoulders slumped forward, but he nodded.

  “The first few are always the most difficult. I’m sorry to make you be the one, but I couldn’t have you blame me forever more.”

  Alastair folded his arms. “I understand, Sophie. I thought she was different.”

  Mav unintentionally huffed. When Alastair and his sister looked at him, he swallowed. “You mean you killed Miss MacGregor?”

  Alastair winced.

  “Generally, that’s the definition. I prefer to use ‘disposed of’ instead.” Sophie chuckled. “Really, Larsen—you sound so unexperienced.”

  Mav stumbled backward. Victoria couldn’t be dead; he didn’t feel like she was gone, and though that was the epitome of romance and nonsense, Mav was sure his heart would have stopped had Victoria been dead. “He’s bluffing.”

  Sophie was silent for a long moment before she scowled. “And how would you know? Alastair would not lie to me.”

  Mav closed his eyes and turned to the glistening black water. Was this emptiness filling his stomach actually shock, or was he only sensing the emptiness of Alastair’s claim? Mav hadn’t ever had emotions play into his intuition, and the inability to discern the truth frightened him. He felt helpless and very much in the dark—figuratively and, in this case, literally.

  Sophie swatted at Mav’s arm. “Are you well, Larsen? You seem out of sorts. Were you that attached to the woman?” When Mav said nothing, she gathered her skirts. “We’ve a shipment to attend to. Shall we?”

  Alastair nodded. He looked calmer than when he’d first arrived, like a weight had been lifted off of his narrow shoulders.

  The three of them walked closer to the cargo ship, but Mav’s legs were heavy as lead. The gaping hole in his chest was beginning to fill but with something dark and thick and disturbingly violent. His hands involuntarily closed into fists, and his throat burned like a fire. If Victoria was gone, Mav would make sure Sophie and Alastair never saw the light of day again. Forget the police—he’d see the case was finished once and for all.

  He surveyed the dock—not another soul in sight except for the wagons, and in Mav’s experience, drivers were easily paid off. He reached into his pocket and grasped the revolver. He had six bullets, and he was fairly sure he’d only need one for Sophie. He’d use the rest on Alastair—the man that had ruined Mav’s chance at happiness.

  He took out the gun, slowing his pace enough to aim. The sound of horse hooves behind him almost startled him, but he cocked the gun and steadied his hand.

  “Larsen,” Sophie said, without looking at him. “Keep up. I’ve just been telling Alastair about this shipment—diamonds from South America. I’ve purchased a pound, which is more than enough to secure the future of the emporium.” She paused to catch her breath. “So you see, the transfer will be painless, much different than the others that require boxes and boxes to be hauled.”

  Her words, so casual and business-minded, only furthered Mav’s resolve. How could a person, criminal or not, remain so unaffected after ordering the disposal of another human being? He shifted his weight, and his hand shook. Emotion glistened across his eyes; was he any different? Here he stood, aimed to kill. He wasn’t any better than Sophie and her lowlife brother. Mav had almost pulled the trigger, ruled by his own sense of moral authority and mission.

  “What are you doing?” Sophie was frozen in place. She’d turned around and glared at Mav. “Put the gun down.”

  His breath hitched. “I thought I saw someone at the end of the dock, by the beach.” His lie was weak, but he’d recovered in worse. He squinted in the other direction, and to his surprise, he actually saw a dark figure behind a tree. “There,” he said, pointing.

  The figure moved, bolting to another tree. The shape ballooned at the bottom. Either an animal…or a woman. Mav flinched. The movement looked strangely familiar.

  Alastair reached for his pistol, but his suit pocket was empty. “My pistol…”

  Sophie snickered. “Did you forget it in the woods, after disposing of Miss MacGregor?”

  Mav’s anger flared once more, and he was sorely tempted to finish what he’d almost attempted. Victoria’s face sprung to mind. Heat flooded his chest.

  Alastair shrugged. “Larsen only saw an animal.”

  Sophie hung her head in silence. Then she held out her hand. “The gun, Larsen. I’m not convinced you were simply looking out for yourself or us. Your barrel was pointed at my brain.”

  Mav swallowed. He couldn’t think; conflicting emotions tore at him. Anger, pain, doubt, confusion, conscience, indecision…He hardly knew which one to trust. He didn’t feel like Victoria was gone—not really—but the idea conjured uncontrollable anger.

  “Larsen?” She held her hand closer. “The gun?”

  He dropped it into her palm, immediately regretting the decision.

  She surveyed the instrument, rolling it over in her hand. Then she cocked the gun and aimed it at Mav. “Who is watching from the beach, Larsen?”

  His brows knit together. “I don’t know. Like I said, I was confused too.”

  “An animal, Sophie. Leave Larsen alone. Let’s get to the shipment.” Alastair nudged her shoulder. “You’re as jumpy as a rabbit. Seems you forgot how to handle shipments.”

  Her light eyes hardened, like water turning to ice, and
she drew in a shallow breath. “Retrieve the diamonds, Alastair, and I’ll stand watch of Larsen. I don’t trust him. Afterward, we’ll dispose of him too.”

  Mav’s jaw clenched. He glanced to the water below. It was an easy jump, but her aim was set.

  “Don’t think about jumping.” Sophie narrowed her eyes. “I won’t miss, and swimming with a hole in your chest is near impossible.”

  He exhaled. How had he gotten himself into this mess? He’d never lost a case, let alone left his life in the hands of another. He considered knocking the gun from her hand, but she wasn’t in his reach. He tested her by taking a step.

  She flinched. “Back, Larsen.”

  A single shot rang out from the direction of the beach.

  Mav and Sophie turned, just in time to see the dark figure from the trees dash across the street. A horse whinnied.

  “What the devil, Larsen? You have brought someone!” Sophie’s face, always so assured and composed, cracked into a panic-stricken grimace. She stepped closer. “Call them off. Straight away, or I’ll shoot.”

  Mav nodded. He hadn’t expected the police this soon. He waved his hands in the air and shouted. “Hold your fire.”

  Another minute of silence, and Alastair ran down the dock. He reached Mav and his sister, leaning to catch his breath. “What’s happened?”

  “Larsen’s tried to ruin us,” Sophie said, shaking her head. “We leave now. You’ve the diamonds?”

  “In my pocket.” Alastair looked at Mav carefully. “Let’s take the boat, Sophie. There’s an extra paddle boat near the beach.”

  She shook her head frantically. “No. The coach. We’ll head to the wake. Larsen will have them hold their fire, or he dies right here, right now.”

  “As opposed to somewhere else, in an hour?” Mav didn’t even bother guessing what ‘the wake’ was.

  She sniggered. “Something like that.” She had Mav turn around. She placed the gun into his back and commanded him to walk.

  They reached the carriage in a few minutes, and Sophie ushered Mav in.

  He groaned. Why hadn’t he shot her when he was given the chance?

  11

  “Alastair, now!” Sophie yelled from the side of the carriage.

  Alastair was bent over, in the act of tying his shoe.

  Victoria held her breath, clutching the trunk of the tree. She’d almost made a catastrophic mistake by screaming when she saw Sophie point the gun at Mav. Even now, Victoria’s chest rose and fell much too frequently. Thank goodness she’d had the idea to steal Alastair’s pistol. Scaring Sophie had bought her more time. Time to contact the police, time to form some sort of plan.

  The carriage rolled down the street, and the horses broke into a gallop. Victoria hadn’t a clue where they were headed. She leaned her head against the tree. What would Archie have done? All the stories he’d told her, all the files she’d read, the secrets Marianne had shared…Adrenaline pulsed through Victoria’s veins. Images and words sprang across her mind.

  When the carriage was out of sight, Victoria ran across the dock. She studied the ship, pulling out her notepad from a skirt pocket. She copied the markings, the name, a general sketch of the ship. No detail was too small. She returned to the beach, where the road met the sandy grass. A lone lantern shone.

  At least there were tracks from the carriage wheels. She could follow them for as long as they lasted. Looping back to the trees, Victoria loosed the horse and mounted. She had to get to Mav. She wouldn’t allow Mav to die, and she wouldn’t allow the case to slip through their fingers.

  She reached the trail, just as three officers atop horses cleared the trees from twenty feet away. Victoria recognized their rounded hats and badges. “Officers,” she said, lifting her hands. “Are you here at the request of Agent Mav Jones?”

  The tallest, a man with a pointed mustache, nodded. “Officer Conley as your service. Are you his partner?”

  She exhaled. “Yes, partner and wife. My husband is in trouble. Mrs. Kemp and Mav had an exchange, and I’m afraid his cover has been blown. She directed him to the carriage by gunpoint. I’ve no idea where they’re headed.”

  The officers stopped their horses a few feet away from her.

  The shortest one, a man no taller than Victoria, dismounted and bent down. “Is there a reason why there’s writing in the sand?”

  She placed a hand against her chest. Alastair. She slid down the side of her horse. “Perhaps. Alastair Kinley—”

  “Sophie’s brother? We’ve suspected him all along.” Officer Conley wiped his brow. “Proving is difficult, and some of the men on the force seem to be convinced Mrs. Kemp is the least of our worries here in San Francisco.”

  Victoria shook her head. “No, you see—Alastair’s the person that hired the Pinkerton Agency to solve the case.”

  The shorter one stood, scrunching his bushy brows over his small eyes. “That don’t make any sense. If he wanted Sophie found out, he could have turned her in himself.”

  “I haven’t the time to explain,” Victoria said, looking down at the words written in the sand.

  2 mi N, trees, red. Alastair’s signature cigar laid next to the last word.

  “Well, two miles north, gentlemen.”

  Officer Conley nodded. “Let’s ride.”

  The four of them sprinted up the path, following the tracks until the road turned into sand and the moon ducked behind a cloud; seeing in the darkness was near impossible. Trees were sprouting all around them, and Victoria failed to understand how they’d ever find Mav.

  “Best slow,” Officer Conley said. His horse panted, and the officer dismounted. “We’ve travelled at least two miles. Let’s tie the horses and continue on foot.”

  “Gladly.” Victoria followed suit. Riding in her dress was beyond uncomfortable. She’d had to split the hem on one side to account for riding split saddle, though standing, after a night full of horseback riding, wasn’t much easier. Her legs tingled and wobbled, but she secured her horse to a nearby tree.

  Waves crashed against the beach, spraying them as they walked. If it hadn’t been for the circumstances, Victoria would have relished in such beauty—starlight reflected across the water, cool air rushing across her cheek, sand beneath her feet.

  “What do you suppose ‘red’ meant?” the shorter officer asked. When no one answered, he shrugged. “Shall we split, two and two?”

  Officer Conley nodded. “I’ll go with Mrs. Jones.”

  The other two men turned to scout the direction they’d just come from.

  Officer Conley gestured for Victoria to lead the way. “How did we miss the shipment?”

  “Sophie and Mav had some confrontation. I’m not exactly sure what it was about, but Mav pulled a gun on her.”

  Officer Conley’s brows lifted, and he pressed his top teeth against his bottom lip. “Never bodes well with Sophie to threaten. She don’t back down. Your partner had a lot of nerve. Don’t they teach agents the way of criminals?”

  Victoria smiled. Mav certainly had nerve. “Agent Jones doesn’t take to conforming to rules. He’s his own guide when it comes to detective work. Whatever passed between them…I’m sure he had a good reason for breaking his cover. He’s one of the best.”

  “Spoken like a loving wife,” Officer Conley whispered.

  “For the duration of the case.” Victoria squinted in the darkness. She was sorely tired of trying to reconcile her feelings with the reality—her marriage would be annulled once they were no longer partners.

  Officer Conley held a finger to his lips, pointing ahead at the road’s bend. “Carriage,” he mouthed.

  They came upon the carriage quietly, but found the means abandoned, except for the driver. Officer Conley pulled his pistol out and knocked the man out with a single strike.

  “They can’t be far,” Officer Conley said.

  Victoria continued in silence. Spoken like a loving wife. Officer Conley’s words ran through her mind once more. She wished things were th
at simple between Mav and her. Their kiss that morning was a drop from heaven. Just remembering it brought a blush to her cheeks.

  Victoria had recognized something in Mav that she still could not name. Whether it was his decisiveness and ambition, or his free thinking and fearlessness—she was certain she loved him. She was foolish to love such a man—one that had played her emotions so easily and well—but her heart wasn’t persuaded by reason.

  The path drifted into nothing more than shells and grass. Victoria’s feet relaxed against the softness, finally free from the cramping of the sandy road. A faint light emanated through the trees. Victoria leaned against a tree to catch her breath. Fabric fluttered across her fingers, and she pulled a gentleman’s handkerchief from the bark. “Officer.”

  He leaned over her, staring at the fabric. “Is that—”

  “Red.”

  His lips clamped shut, and they threaded through the trees as silent as possible.

  The building—which looked to be a makeshift home or storage shed—faced the beach. The wooden slats across the exterior were cracked, and light peeked between the boards. Victoria could hear voices now. She peeked inside the lone window to see Sophie’s back, hovered over the table. She was counting something—diamonds.

  “You told him that was final payment?” Sophie asked. “Rolland can be difficult.”

  Alastair nodded. He pointed a gun at Mav. “Course. I took care of him.”

  Mav was sitting on a chair. He looked as bored as he had when Victoria had stumbled upon him in Archie’s office weeks ago; his legs were propped against a stack of saddles, his arms rested against the back of the chair, and his hands cradled his head. His lazy gaze didn’t fool Victoria, however. She could feel a pointed anger emanating from his expression. He was playing another part, and she was sure he had concocted something dangerous.