The Kidnapper's Accomplice (Glass and Steele Book 10)

by C. J. Archer

  I glanced up and only had time to picture the carpet swerving to miss the large trunk. But instead of a smooth glide around it, the rug tipped. We all tumbled off and landed on the ground.

  The grass cushioned my landing, but Willie’s foot kicked my head and my vision momentarily blurred. When it cleared, I could see Willie sitting up and Fabian rolling over with a groan. Matt was already on his feet and approaching me. Nobody seemed too injured, thank God.

  Matt knelt beside me, frowning and pale. He pushed back my hair and touched my temple. “You’re bleeding.” He removed his handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the cut.

  I threw my arms around him and cried with relief. His arms circled me and held tight. He buried his face in my neck and drew in a shuddery breath.

  “Wooweee!” Willie cried. “That was incredible! I can’t wait to do it again.”

  I pulled away to glare at her. “Don’t expect to fly home. I am never ever doing that again. If mankind was meant to fly we’d have wings.”

  Fabian picked himself up and dusted off his trousers, but he couldn’t remove the patch of mud on his thigh. He gave up and approached us instead. He looked grave.

  “Thank you, Glass. You saved my life.” He shook Matt’s hand, and Matt nodded back, and that was the end of that.

  “The rug landed in mud,” Willie said from where she stood over the crumpled structure. “Come and help me untie the rods and roll it up.”

  “Leave it,” Matt said. “We have to get to Brighton.”

  We trudged through the paddock as quickly as the damp grass would allow, avoiding the cows and their deposits. The main thoroughfare into Brighton was busy but no carriages stopped for us. I could hardly blame them. Grass stains and dirt covered our clothes, we were all hatless, and if my hair looked anything like Willie’s, the birds could mistake it for a nest.

  Another carriage drove past at speed, ignoring Matt’s appeals to stop. “There was only one occupant,” he grumbled. “It had room for all of us.”

  I checked my watch. “Twenty-eight minutes until two.”

  Another carriage approached. “Leave this to me,” Willie said, clapping Matt on the shoulder. She stepped into the middle of the road.

  “Willie!” I cried. “It’ll run you over!”

  She put up her hands as if warding it off.

  “That’s not going to help. Move back!”

  “Willie,” Matt snapped. “Get off the road.”

  She planted her feet apart. “It’ll stop.”

  The carriage hurtled toward her. The coachman shouted something but I couldn’t hear him over the rumble of wheels. Willie shouted back. “Give us a ride into Brighton!”

  The coachman pulled hard on the reins and the four horses responded. Even so, it took them several feet before they came to a complete stop, right in front of Willie. She stroked the nose of one. It snorted back at her.

  “What in the devil’s name are you doing?” the driver shouted.

  “We’re sorry for the inconvenience,” I said as sweetly as possible. “But it’s imperative we get to Brighton station in the next twenty-five minutes.”

  “Imperative?”

  “It’s a life and death situation.”

  The driver grunted. “It always is.” He patted the seat beside him. “I’ve only got room for one.”

  “We all have to go,” Matt said.

  “I can’t fit you all. Coach is full.”

  “I can pay you.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I can’t take money for a seat I don’t have. So go on, who’ll it be?”

  I gathered up my skirts.

  “No, India,” Matt said. “We’ll wait for the next one.”

  “And if there’s no space on that one? I have to do this, Matt. It has to be me.”

  He thumped the side of the carriage with his palm.

  I climbed up the ladder to the coachman’s seat and settled beside him. “It’ll be all right. All I have to do is show up on time.”

  “And then what? Do as they say? I don’t think that’s wise.”

  “Isn’t that what we were going to do anyway if the police didn’t catch them?”

  He pressed his lips together.

  “Matt?”

  The coach rolled off, forcing Matt to step back.

  I swiveled to see him. He stood there, flanked by Willie and Fabian, his head bowed. I sat forward again and stared ahead at the city of Brighton.

  Matt’s plan for the two PM meeting must have been different to mine. Had he been going to tell me at the last moment so I couldn’t argue with him? What had he intended to do anyway? Keep me from arriving at the station and capture Mr. Bunn and Amelia instead of giving into their demands? But how? If they were watching from afar, we’d never find them.

  Negotiate. It’s what Matt was good at. It was also the only course open to us if the police didn’t find them before two PM.

  “Why do you want to go to the station?” the driver asked. “London line’s closed on account of the derailment.”

  “I’m meeting some people, but I must get there as soon as possible.”

  “It’s on the way to my final destination. We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  That gave me almost ten minutes before the deadline. It wasn’t a lot of time but it was enough. After a discussion with the driver, who was born and bred in Brighton, I realized there was no place where Bunn and Amelia could hide yet look over the station platforms and avoid the police. The entire Brighton constabulary should be out looking for them now, thanks to Brockwell’s telegram. The only way Bunn and Amelia could see me was if they stood on the platform themselves. Giving someone else instructions to do so and report on my appearance wouldn’t work, as any number of women could be standing there, and I wasn’t distinctive enough that a second-hand account would leave no doubts. According to the coachman, platform four serviced the London line so it should be deserted, but I still didn’t think they’d rely on someone else to identify me.

  That meant they had to show up themselves. They must be in disguise. It was how they had avoided detection in London, and managed to slip away to Brighton, and it must be how they planned to be on the platform to see me in person without being seen by the police.

  Fifteen minutes later I thanked the driver and stepped down to the pavement. The grand station was not the bustling center it ought to be. Two constables wandered past. They looked me over and dismissed me instantly. I didn’t look like the description they’d been given of Amelia. I considered telling them who I was, but I decided against it. It changed nothing, and I realized we’d been foolishly relying too heavily on a police force not trained to deal with magician criminals. Amelia could still detonate the bomb even if they captured her. They’d have to render her speechless, and I doubted they were willing to go to such drastic lengths on my suggestion.

  The station master stood on the forecourt by the entrance, whistling as he rocked back on his heels. He spotted me approaching and tugged on the brim of his cap in greeting. “Sorry, ma’am, there’s been a derailment on the London line,” he said. “Only trains along the coast are operating today.”

  “I’m actually only here to meet my friends on platform four.”

  “That services the Main line to London. It’s empty.”

  “May I go in and wait for them?”

  He frowned. “Don’t you want to wait here?”

  “I have to be on that platform. It’s a surprise, you see. We’re playing a game where we each give one another clues to seek out the other. They follow the trail of clues from one place to the next, until they reach the final destination where I’m waiting. Today, the final destination is here. I must be on the platform or it doesn’t count as a win.”

  “Sounds amusing,” he said, smiling. “Very well, go on through.”

  “Thank you. Oh, and one other thing. Don’t tell my friends I’m already here. It’s important they think they read the clue incorrectly and don’t realize they’re
about to win. It’s all part of the game, you see. Promise you won’t tell.”

  He saluted. “I promise.”

  “Not even a wink or a smile or any kind of hint whatsoever. I have money riding on this, so I don’t want them knowing I’m here. Understand?”

  He looked me up and down and wrinkled his nose. “You’re gambling?”

  “Only between very good friends,” I told him with what I hoped was a charming smile.

  His nose returned to its usual state which I took to mean I’d passed his prudery assessment—but only just. I extracted another promise from him that he wouldn’t tell anyone I was there, even if they asked him directly, and went through the gate.

  Platform number four was deserted. I hurried along it, scanning the vicinity. All was quiet, empty. There weren’t even any guards. A train arrived at another platform that must service the coastal lines.

  I took another look around before ducking into the waiting room. I removed my watch from my reticule and checked the time. Three minutes. I closed the cover but didn’t put it away. I might need a weapon.

  I wished I’d asked for Willie’s gun.

  I sat on one of the bench seats and checked my watch again, and again. Finally, at exactly two PM, I stepped out of the waiting room. An elderly couple entered through the gate ahead and spotted me at the same moment I saw them.

  They approached, their gaits slow, their backs bent. No police followed them, but the station master poked his head around the gate and tugged on his cap brim. The couple didn’t see.

  I waited and clutched my watch tighter.

  “Nice disguises,” I said when they were within hearing distance.

  “You made it,” Mr. Bunn said with a large dose of relief. “Thank God. We thought with the derailment…” His gaze shifted to Amelia at his side.

  “Did you consider that I couldn’t get here on time?” I asked.

  “You’re resourceful,” Amelia said with a lift of one shoulder. “And a powerful magician. I knew you’d find a way to get here.”

  Beside her, Mr. Bunn pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed his forehead. It was a cold day but the thick gray wig and false beard as well as the extra layers of clothing to bulk up his frame must be making him hot. That and the anxiety of being associated with someone like Amelia Moreton, a dangerous madwoman with the ability to blow up her homemade bombs from a distance.

  He was the weak link I needed to exploit.

  But I didn’t want either of them knowing that I knew that. I focused on Amelia. “Please don’t force me to do this. Think of the consequences.”

  “Are you alone?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “How did you get here?”

  “With great difficulty.”

  She waited.

  “We’re not here to talk about transport,” I said. “You’re here to get me to agree to do something I don’t want to do, and I’m here to talk you out of it, so let’s just get on with it, shall we?”

  “You won’t talk me out of detonating the bombs unless you agree to combine your magic with Mr. Bunn’s.” She held my gaze with the confidence of a poker player with a strong hand. The only way I could win with my weaker one was to bluff.

  “Your father has been arrested for producing bombs illegally,” I told her.

  Her brows rose but the shock showed only on Mr. Bunn’s face, not hers. “Illegal bombs!” He stared at her. “Did you know about that?”

  “Of course,” she said.

  He stared harder. “Who did he make the bombs for?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where do you think illegal bombs go?” I asked him. “Not to British armed forces, that’s for certain.”

  “Dear God, that’s terrible.”

  “It’s business,” Amelia said. “Just like this is business. Your business, to be precise. I’m doing this for you, don’t forget.”

  He rubbed his forehead.

  “The police discovered the bombs while searching your father’s factory for you two,” I told them. “You’re responsible for his arrest.”

  Her lips twitched, but not with a smile. “He made his own bed.”

  “Your mother is distraught. She needs you now, but you’re not there to help her through this difficult time. Indeed, she knows what you’ve done and are threatening to do. You’re making it even harder for her. She’s not coping.”

  “My brother is there. He’s very capable in a crisis. Artless but capable. They’ll get through this as well as what’s to come.”

  “What do you think is to come?”

  “The rise of magicians. With your magic mixed with others, magicians will make superior products that last forever. It won’t be long before our businesses flourish, our fortunes increase, and we can use our money to influence guilds and governments. They’ll be forced to favor us in policies and give us freedom from persecution. We won’t have the fear of imprisonment—or worse—hanging over our heads. It’s how the world works, Mrs. Glass. Money means power and influence. And to get money, we need you.”

  “That’s an ambitious plan.”

  “It will take a few years, but we’ve got time.”

  “No, no,” Mr. Bunn said to me. “It’s just my leather you’ll be using your magic with. Perhaps one day you’ll change your mind and combine your magic with others’, but Amelia and I agreed to stop with my leather. Didn’t we, Amelia?”

  She did not answer. Mr. Bunn was naive if he thought she would stop with his request. Or perhaps he was desperately hopeful.

  “You won’t get away with this,” I said. “You can’t run forever. The police will catch you eventually.”

  “With my magical power, I don’t need to run,” she said. “I’ll simply threaten to detonate a bomb when the authorities get too close, perhaps even go through with it if they don’t take me seriously. They’ll soon learn we’re serious and will stay away.

  She reminded me of Willie. Arrogant and stubborn; an independent-minded woman in a man’s world, and impossible to reason with. I was quite good at managing Willie now, but I wasn’t at all sure I could manage Amelia. Willie had a good heart beneath the bravado. Amelia’s was as cold as ice, through and through.

  “You expect magicians to support your cause if you use those methods?” I said. “I know I wouldn’t.”

  “They don’t have to support my methods, just reap the rewards. I got the idea from the Fenians, a few years ago, and have been thinking about it ever since. Not all of the Irish agreed with their tactics, but the outcome would benefit all. What they did—what I am doing—is a selfless act.”

  “Selfless! It’s the opposite. You’re motivated by greed and power.”

  “I’m motivated by freedom. Freedom of expression and to be who we are, openly. You wouldn’t understand, Mrs. Glass. You already have wealth and privilege. You don’t need your magic to survive in business, like most of us.”

  There was no point arguing with her. People like her believed what they wanted to believe, saw only what they wanted to see. Those beliefs had become more robust over the years since their inception and their heaviness pushed common sense so far down that it couldn’t rise, couldn’t breathe. If she’d used her intelligence and conviction to find a less dangerous way, she might have brought about the changes she wanted.

  But this violent method was only going to create deeper divisions that would take longer to heal. Harmony between magicians and the artless was delicately balanced. A nudge could tip it in either direction. A shove, such as Amelia’s bombings, would see the harmony smashed altogether.

  “Will you do it?” Mr. Bunn asked me. “Will you use your spell to extend my magic?”

  “Is that what you want?” I asked.

  “Of course.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  His gaze slid to his companion.

  “I detonate the first bomb,” Amelia said. “And if you still don’t agree, I detonate a second and a third.”

  “Then y
ou give me no choice.”

  Amelia’s eyes gleamed.

  Mr. Bunn looked relieved. “Thank you, Mrs. Glass. You won’t regret it. I’ll see that I make the most of this opportunity.”

  “And after I’ve extended Mr. Bunn’s leather?” I asked Amelia. “What then?”

  “That’s all.” Mr. Bunn swallowed.

  I didn’t let my gaze waver from Amelia. She merely smiled back with a slick smile that chilled me to the bone. She wouldn’t stop with Mr. Bunn’s leather, but he still hadn’t fully realized it.

  “Come with us without causing a commotion,” she said. “If you alert anyone that you are being held captive, I will hurt them.” She pulled her hand out of her coat pocket to reveal a small knife. “Not you,” she added. “You’re far too valuable to hurt. But I suspect you don’t want the injury or death of another on your conscience. Indeed, it’s what I’ve been counting on all along.”

  I nodded quickly, giving up on the notion of bluffing my way to victory. I’d never been very good at poker. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mr. Bunn’s anxious look. He hadn’t known about the knife.

  “Where’s your husband?” he asked as I walked between them along the platform. “He’d better not be hiding somewhere, ready to ambush us. Amelia will use that knife, you know.”

  “I know,” I said. “He remained behind.”

  “He let you come to Brighton on your own?”

  “I left without telling him. I knew he wouldn’t agree to me doing this so I had to sneak away.”

  I surreptitiously scanned the area, hoping he, Willie and Fabian hadn’t arrived yet. It was a stroke of good luck that they’d not been able to come with me. Ambushing Amelia and Bunn was precisely something they’d do. They couldn’t be far away, however. It was only a matter of time before they stopped another coach heading to Brighton.

  The station master touched the brim of his hat as we passed him on the forecourt. “Enjoy the rest of your day,” he said cheerfully.

  I nodded back. Amelia and Mr. Bunn kept their faces averted. They wore gray wigs and padded clothing, but their skin was unmarked by the ravages of time, a certain giveaway they were in disguise.

  Instead of leaving the station, they steered me toward platforms one and two.