The Armored Doctor (Curiosity Chronicles Book 2)

by Ava Morgan

  Catherine’s captor picked up a lamp and led the way. Perry nudged Abigail onward. She and Catherine walked between the two men. They climbed the small flight of rickety stairs, with its protruding floorboards. On the second floor, the man leading took them through the first door on the right.

  They were deposited in what must have previously been the dry room to rid feed grains of moisture before they were bagged. Large and spacious, with shelving and generous window panels on both sides and in the back that were once meant to let in the sun, the room was now bare. A cold wind blew in from the glassless panes. Abigail looked down and saw piles of old burlap feed sacks and rubbish lining the side of the building before spilling into the alley. Instead of cheerful light, the windows let in the red-orange glow from the factory coal fires. Smoke drifted towards central and west London.. Abigail prayed this wouldn’t be her and Catherine’s final view of home.

  “Think you can keep an eye on ‘em?” Catherine’s captor asked Perry, once he set the lamp down.

  Perry nodded. “Better’n lookin’ at you and the boys downstairs.” He lowered his eyes upon Abigail and Catherine. “Much better.”

  Abigail and her sister backed near the windows and stayed there.

  “Tim didn’t say you could touch ‘em. Best leave ‘em as is for now. Wouldn’t want them to clam up ‘cause you got their skirts wrinkled.” The man with the crushed tophat went towards the door and proceeded to close it behind him.

  “Don’t worry, Silas. I’ll be on me best behavior with these upstandin’ ladies.” Perry puckered his lips at Abigail and Catherine.

  Abigail fought off another reflex to vomit. She felt the draft from the windows. They were only on the second floor. If she and Catherine could climb out, then they could make an escape through the alley. The drop was somewhat sizeable, but the piles of feed sacks and rubbish would break their fall. The only other way out was back down the stairs where the spies were gathered.

  They had to attempt escape through the window. But first, Perry had to be convinced that their intentions were to remain in the room. He watched them from the door.

  Abigail counted one minute and then took a seat on the hard wooden floor. She motioned for Catherine to do the same. Her sister gave her a quizzical look, but obeyed.

  “Good to see you makin’ yourselves comfortable.” Perry chuckled from the doorway. His posture relaxed instantly in what Abigail perceived was his assumption that they had accepted their captivity. She continued to wait.

  Two minutes. Three. Abigail listened to the factory noises surrounding the block. Four minutes. She heard the murmurs and occasional outbursts of swearing or laughter coming from downstairs. Five.

  Catherine shifted closer to her as a cold breeze swept through the window again. Six. Perry dug into his pocket and came out with an envelope. He pulled something from its contents and stuck it into his mouth.

  Seven minutes. Abigail spoke. “My sister and I have need of the water closet.”

  “There ain’t no indoor privy here.” Perry chewed.

  “What are we to do, then?”

  He shrugged. “Lift up your skirts right where you sit for all I care.”

  Catherine gasped with indignation, but Abigail hoped Perry would say that. She imitated her sister’s horror. “Sir, we are respectable, civilized ladies. Surely you cannot expect us to tend to our relief in such a way.”

  Perry found a round container on a shelf. He launched a stream of tobacco juice inside before setting it in the middle of the floor. “Use that.”

  Abigail pretended as though she would approach it. Then she stopped midway. “Again, sir, we are respectable. Would you allow us a few minutes of privacy?”

  He looked disappointed. Abigail remained waiting. She raised her chin to a haughty angle for more effect. Finally, he nodded. “Five minutes. But I’m comin’ back in as soon as the time’s up. I’ll be on the other side of this door.”

  The door opened, he slipped out, and closed it behind him. Abigail waited until she heard it fully shut against the frame.

  She tiptoed back to Catherine and whispered, “Out the window. Now.”

  Chapter 18

  “Climb out the window?” Catherine whispered back, astounded. She took view of the distance down and violently shook her head. “It’s too high.”

  “Come on. You first.” Abigail sat her down upon the ledge.

  “Why me first?” She swung one leg over and cringed.

  “You have a family to return to.”

  Catherine looked back at her with tenderness. “You’re also my family.”

  Abigail reached out to steady her sister as she began to position herself for the drop. “We’ll both leave here safely. I promise.” A veil of tears blurred her vision. “But you’re getting out of this storehouse first.”

  #

  Jacob and Hammond waited in the alley behind the abandoned storehouse for the Secretary to return from surveying the front.

  “Do you think this is where the spy ring is located?” Hammond asked. “They could just be vagrants inside.”

  Jacob felt the weight of the armored waistcoat against his chest. He tugged his coat sleeve down to conceal the gauntlet gun that he strapped on before they left the armored carriage a few blocks behind. “An old jarvey was alongside the curb. It matched the landlady’s description of the one that took Abigail and Catherine.”

  Hammond groaned. “I pray the ladies are in there, and those men haven’t touched them.”

  “Yes, I’ve prayed, too. And now I’m going to pass the ammunition.” Jacob handed him one of the two revolvers he tucked in his belt. “Courtesy of the Secretary’s weapons store from the carriage.”

  Hammond’s eyes widened, clearly unused to being around or seeing so many firearms. “But I already took a pocket pistol from there.”

  “You’re going to need a bigger weapon than that if there are more than three men inside that storehouse.”

  Hammond took hold of the revolver just as the Secretary returned from his reconnaissance.

  “Did you see the women?” Jacob and Hammond asked, almost in unison.

  “No, but I counted eleven men,” the Secretary said, returning his six-shot pistol to the holster beneath his jacket. “There could be more upstairs. We have to wait for the COIC agents now.”

  “I’m not waiting any longer,” Jacob said. “There’s no telling how far or near your agents are.”

  “You can’t just waltz up in there alone, Doctor. I obtained your service record. I know you lost your right leg fighting the French in India.”

  “I wasn’t planning on waltzing, but that is an ironic choice of words,” Jacob remarked.

  “I meant no offense, but you need to consider that there are three of us and so many more of those spies inside that storehouse.”

  Hammond looked down at Jacob’s feet. “You lost your leg? That means, you’re wearing an artificial one?”

  Jacob met his stare of incredulity. “Yes, Hammond.”

  “But how are you not...er, you don’t make heavy use of your walking stick.”

  “I made a new construction that enables me to depend less upon it. Forgive me if I don’t explain more, but we do have two women still in need of rescue.”

  “I didn’t see them on the first floor,” said the Secretary.

  Jacob raised his eyes to the second floor of the storehouse. “There. Do you see that light from that large window?”

  Hammond craned his neck. “I think I see movement. Good heavens. Someone’s coming out on the ledge.”

  Jacob looked again. He saw a woman sit down on the ledge and dangle one foot over. She did the same with the other. Her skirt and petticoats fanned about as she dropped into the darkness below.

  Hammond raced down the alley, followed by the Secretary and Jacob. Jacob’s blood ran cold as he considered the drop from that height. If that woman didn’t have anything to break her fall, she could easily have suffered a broken spine. He prayed he wou
ld not see what he expected.

  “It’s Catherine.” Hammond tore through the feed sacks and moldy rubbish to get to his wife, who had landed on her side.

  Jacob climbed over the refuse, using his walking stick to move objects out of his path. He reached Abigail’s sister just as Hammond put his arm under her neck.

  “Are you alright, Catherine?” Hammond asked. He supported her as she wobbled to her feet.

  “Abigail’s still on the second floor,” she cried, pointing upward.

  Jacob saw Abigail through the second floor window. She grabbed onto the ledge and started to swing her leg over. Her eyes were on him the entire time. “Hurry, we’ll catch you,” he said.

  Something made Abigail’s head turn towards the room. She cried out just as a large man seized her and pulled her off the ledge. Jacob saw his face and scraggly beard.

  “I’m going in to get her.” Jacob turned past the Secretary and moved fast around the building’s corner.

  “Wait, I’m right behind you.”

  Ignoring the Secretary’s shouts, he proceeded towards the front of the storehouse.

  The men inside began moving as they heard shouts from upstairs and outside. Jacob aimed his right arm at one of the broken windows of the first room and flicked a switch under his wrist. A smoke capsule launched through the window and landed on the floor inside.

  Curses and calls for evacuation ensued as the smoke flared. Jacob pulled his revolver and fired off two warning shots. Six of the men scrambled out immediately. The Secretary came up with his pistol and cornered them, ordering them to get on the ground.

  “I’ve got these,” he shouted. “Go inside before that smoke gets too high.”

  Jacob climbed the stairs into the house. He pushed past a seventh man that blocked the entrance, hitting him in the gut with his walking stick when the man attempted to fight, and shoved him out of the way.

  The remaining members of the spy ring scrambled for their bearings in the thick veil of smoke. Their outlines remained barely visible. Jacob saw the flight of stairs on the right and moved there.

  The smoke continued to rise, heavy and opaque against the light of the lanterns. He heard Abigail shout again as he ascended, climbing two steps at a time. Pain shot up through his right thigh, but he kept going.

  Perry and Abigail struggled with each other in the doorway of a large room. Perry had trouble keeping hold of her. Abigail kicked, thrashed, and scratched at the man. He let go of her with one hand and reached into his pocket.

  Jacob fired the revolver.

  Blood sprayed from Perry’s face as he fell away from Abigail. His sudden weight gone, she teetered before correcting herself. Then she saw Jacob and ran towards him.

  Perry was still alive. He shuffled in a blind crawl, moaning, but still moving. Jacob saw him fumble for the kerosene lantern in the room. Perry clawed for the handle and, as the last of his life fled, scrabbled to toss it at Jacob in the hallway.

  Jacob pushed Abigail against the wall and sheltered her as the lantern shot past him and over the stair rail. Glass shattered. Flames broke out instantly on the old, dry wood in the middle of the first floor. Jacob looked to Perry again and saw the man fall back, still.

  Jacob dropped his walking stick and pocketed his revolver in order to pull off his jacket. He threw it over Abigail’s head. “Move downstairs and out the house.” He took her hand to lead. Just as he turned, he heard gunfire and felt a strong hit in the chest.

  Abigail screamed as he fell to the floor. His revolver clattered somewhere on the ground. He saw Abigail’s distressed face over him before her gaze turned towards the stairs. Jacob fought to move.

  “Look, it’s Crutch come back.” Tim reached the top of the stairs, carrying Abigail’s retractable pistol in his right hand. The cuff, too small for his wrist, dangled in mid-air. “I owe you one in return for that nick in the shoulder.” He shoved Abigail aside.

  Jacob struggled to get air back into his lungs. The combined smoke from his deterrent capsule and the flames of the thrown lantern sucked at the remaining oxygen in the storehouse. Abigail was already choking. He put his hand over the dent in the waistcoat where the bullet struck. It remained lodged there.

  Tim pulled the trigger of the pocket pistol again. A click resounded.

  Jacob tried to reach around for his revolver before Tim realized that Abigail’s pistol was out of bullets. But Tim rushed at him, using the metal cuff of the weapon to beat his face, his arm.

  “You’re a freak of nature,” he said, as he continued his assault.

  Jacob drew his gauntleted arm inward and delivered a punch to Tim’s ribs.

  The man doubled over as the wind got knocked out of him. Jacob crawled to his left knee and pushed himself off the floor.

  Tim spat blood. “You’re just half a man.” A knife appeared in his hand. “Weak with that metal leg.”

  “I prefer to see it as a strength.” Jacob lifted his right leg in a kick.

  Tim slashed with the knife. The knife ripped through the fabric of Jacob’s pant leg but only slid against the metal body of his mechanical limb beneath. The momentum of Jacob’s kick continued, uninterrupted. His foot caught Tim under the chin. The man’s neck snapped back as he went flying down the stairs. His body landed with a heavy thud.

  Jacob bit back pain as the top of his leg absorbed the impact from striking Tim. He limped to Abigail and drew her up. Her face was covered with the sooty film that rose from the floor below and began to cover the walls of the storehouse. She coughed and gasped.

  “My eyes are burning.” Her lids were squeezed shut as tears streaked gray down her face.

  “Hold onto me. We’re going downstairs.” He pulled his jacket over her again as he held her firmly to his side. She stumbled on the broken floorboards as the wood began to heat and warp beneath them. Jacob could feel his right leg buckle as he tried to steady his balance and keep her from falling at the same time.

  The heat from the flames blasted on his right side, hotter than the fires started from the mortar rounds that injured him permanently. He kept Abigail to his left as he descended the stairs with her, step by step. He heard the explosions again, heard the screams of the dying in the camp.

  But I’m not in Madras anymore. I’m in London. And I have to get Abigail to safety. He fought his rising panic as the flames chased him, lapped at his heels and reached for the flesh at his neck.

  The flames burned near the front door. Jacob kept Abigail along the opposite wall and shielded her as they stepped past and outside, away from the storehouse.

  The bracing night air was like a balm that cut through the sting of smoke burning his lungs. Abigail gulped in deep breaths beside him in the street. Shouts were all around them. Jacob rubbed his eyes and saw the additional COIC agents swarming in around the ten men that escaped from the burning storehouse.

  He saw the Secretary’s armored carriage a safe distance away, with its driver and Hammond tending to Abigail’s sister.

  “Where’s Catherine?” Abigail blinked through her tears. “Did she make it away from the building?”

  “She’s in the carriage over there. She’s safe. You’re safe.” Jacob spoke soothingly as Abigail began to shake, her pent fear finally showing itself in full force. He held her as the emotions racked through her body.

  “I knew that you’d find the gang. That you’d seek the truth for yourself. I didn’t steal from you.” Her words spilled one after the other in quick succession.

  “I never once believed you did. But it’s all over now. The men have been caught. Broussard’s spy ring is defused. Your name is cleared.”

  She continued crying. Whether it was from the smoke still in her eyes, tears of relief, or a combination of both, Jacob could not pinpoint. But her breathing began to return to normal and her tremors slowed. She looked up at him through wet auburn lashes. Though the smoke dirtied her face, it did nothing to sully the gentle green eyes that took hold of him.

  “I’m so
sorry I hurt you by believing those rumors.”

  “Abigail, you already apologized. I’m sorry for not telling you more when I should have.”

  “I’m here with you. Don’t shut me out.”

  “I won’t. Not now. Not ever again.” He kissed her until her trembling stopped for good.

  Epilogue

  June, 1838

  “Catherine, help me with this side button.”

  Abigail stood before the full-length mirror of her sister’s boudoir as she tried to fasten her wedding dress. She twisted as Catherine’s reflection came up behind her in the mirror. “I can’t seem to get a hold of the fastenings for these sleeves.”

  “Those sleeves are the peak of ladies fashion.” Catherine straightened a seam at Abigail’s shoulder. A smile crossed her face. “You look so lovely. I cannot believe my little sister is finally getting married.”

  “You don’t have to stress that word.”

  “Married?” Her sister teased.

  “You know which one. We’d better hurry. Everyone’s at the church. I’m sure Hammond and the children are waiting restlessly.”

  Catherine started to help her button the dress. “Actually, Phillip and Winnie have been behaving very well since we decided to reinstate their tutor. I guess just because the academy offered an expensive education didn’t make it the most suitable for them.”

  “Your children didn’t like being away from you and Hammond.”

  “Speaking of my husband, I must admit that I haven’t been able to keep myself too far away from him, either, these past few months. Ever since he heroically came to my rescue after I dropped from the window of that storehouse, well, let’s just say getting to work early each morning is no longer his pressing priority.”

  “Catherine.” Abigail looked down at her white satin slippers, mortified. “That’s a bit much.”

  “Oh, honestly, sister. You can pretend to be so prim when you want to, but don’t forget, I’ve seen you and Jacob kiss before. And if that’s any indication of what he has planned for you tonight—”