“Stop right there,” said a voice behind them. “Here they are, boys!”
Tigg plunged his hand into his pocket and thumbed on the lightning pistol. Jake’s right arm was immobile now, so Tigg leaned over to breathe into his ear, “Not a word, mate,” and pulled the humming pistol from his pocket. Behind the cover of her skirts, he slipped it into Gloria’s hand.
A swift intake of breath told him she understood. There was no time to show her how to operate it—he could only hope a girl raised by a munitions manufacturer would know a trigger from a teacup.
“Now then, who have we here?” the voice said. “Let’s have some light, then.”
This was a nightmare. Someone was firing propelled bullets—
Suddenly, Tigg realized what Gloria’s panic about acid meant. The bullets. Propelled bullets containing acid that would burn away the evidence once they entered the body. “Jake—Lady, he was shot with a Meriwether-Astor bullet. The kind we saw in the Canadas, when he tried to assassinate the count.”
“You see?” Gloria yelped. “Can you blame me for trying to run away?”
By now they were surrounded. Several men held up moonglobes, and in their light he could see they were dressed in tweed walking costumes. But their eyes were not the eyes of men interested in spotting meadowlarks and plovers. They were the eyes of mercenaries, hardened in battle, and prepared to do whatever it took to accomplish their goal.
Gloria had tugged Jake’s jacket off his shoulder. “Let me see. There might still be time.”
“Step away from him, young lady,” the ringleader snapped.
Gloria told him what he might do with that suggestion, and when his eyes widened in shock, she pulled Jake’s shirt aside, revealing his bare shoulder. “Oh, thank God.”
Someone with a moonglobe moved in out of sheer curiosity, and Tigg could see that while the shoulder was torn and bleeding, the bullet had not lodged in the flesh. It seemed to have passed through his sleeve, if the size of the hole was any indication, and the tiny, sharp propellers had done some damage on their way past.
Gloria heaved a huge breath and attempted to restore him to rights. “It did not break. The arm is cut, but no acid was released. Oh, thank heaven, Jake.”
Jake appeared much more startled by her concern than he did by the evidence of his close escape. “Thank you, miss,” he mumbled, and shrugged his clothes back into place, clearly embarrassed at her seeing even an inch of bare skin.
“What’s this now? Acid?” The leader of the walkers was clearly a little slow on the uptake. “Never mind. Miss Meriwether-Astor, I presume?”
“No,” she snapped. “My name is Madeleine Aster, and I am a guest of Captain Hayes at Haybourne House.”
“Really,” he drawled. “And I suppose you and your friends are merely out for a walk?”
“We were taking a midnight flight in our touring balloon,” Andrew said with such dignity that Tigg might even have believed him if his heart hadn’t been pounding so hard. “I and my fiancée and Miss Aster.”
The leader’s gaze narrowed on the Lady. “And who might you be besides this gentleman’s fiancée?”
“I should think that when you are sent to collect someone, you might at least be able to identify her correctly,” she said in what was quite possibly the worst attempt at a Colonial accent Tigg had ever heard. There was no mistaking its tone of frigid offense, however. “I am Gloria Meriwether-Astor.”
Andrew’s hand convulsed on her sleeve, but there was no help for it now. It was a mad idea, but it was done now and the Lady must play it out, for good or ill.
“This is Captain Hayes. And since what brings you all here en masse is undoubtedly Papa’s hearing of our engagement, then I suppose I must assume our elopement is off?”
“Cl—Gloria, no,” Andrew managed.
She patted his arm. “I knew he would never permit it. For you are penniless, and he believes you to be a scurrilous fortune hunter.”
“All right, all right. Enough,” snapped the ringleader. “Our instructions are to bring the young lady to her father, so I suppose you’ll have to come, too, Captain Hayes, and explain yourself to him. Don’t envy you that one bit.”
“And what of my friends?” Claire asked, tilting her nose in the air. “Miss Aster’s driver has been injured. Their vehicle is at the farmhouse, there.” She nodded toward the river. “I suggest you allow them to take him to the nearest doctor, or at the very least, to ask for assistance of the farmer’s wife.”
The ringleader looked a little put-upon at this wrinkle in his plans. But before he could reply yea or nay, there was a commotion in the woods—swearing—and in the next moment a barrel-shaped figure burst from between two fir trees and stomped into the circle of light cast by the moonglobes.
“Great balls of fire, Gloria!” Gerald Meriwether-Astor shouted. “What in the name of Zeus are you thinking?”
22
Claire gasped and clutched Andrew’s arm. Gently, he lifted it and laid it across her shoulders, where subsequently she felt a tiny tug as he released one of the fastenings that held the lightning rifle in place. A moment later there was another tug as he slid the switch forward and the rifle began to hum. She did her best to play the helpless damsel while inside, she rejoiced in having a man by her side who not only recognized her capabilities, but meant her to use them.
Gloria had frozen in place, but as one man, Jake and Tigg stepped protectively in front of her to block the fuming progress of her father, who, it seemed, would like nothing better than to haul off and backhand her.
“Gloria?” one of the men murmured. “Oo’s ’e talking to, then?”
“Well, girl? Out of my way, blackamoor. I want an answer from my daughter.”
Tigg stared him down—literally, for the man was at least six inches shorter. “I am Lieutenant Thomas Terwilliger of Her Majesty’s Air Corps, and I’ll thank you to address me that way. I am not moving until I am certain this young lady will come to no harm.”
Gerald swore with such imagination that Claire apprehended exactly where Gloria’s repertoire had come from. But none of it moved Tigg an inch. He merely folded his arms, alongside Jake, whose left hand had moved to rest casually on the haft of the Texican blade at his hip. His right hand, considering the injury to his shoulder, lay casually in the pocket of his flight jacket.
“This is your daughter?” The ringleader of the vultures gave Claire a look that could have seared a side of bacon, to which she returned a sunny smile.
“Of course it is, you dolt,” he snapped. “I don’t know what game you’re playing now, missy, but the jig is up. You’re coming with me and we’re going home, pronto.”
Instead of meekly admitting that the jig was indeed up and going with her father, Gloria’s chin took on an obstinate firmness that eerily reflected that of her parent. “No, I’m not, Dad.”
“What?”
“You have to get out of England immediately. We don’t have time to argue. They’ll be here any moment.”
“Who will?”
“Barnaby Hayes, Dad, and the government men staying at his house.”
“I’m not afraid of that bounder! I don’t care how many men he’s got with him—he deserves to be shot on sight for aspiring to my daughter.”
“He doesn’t aspire to me, you fool,” she snapped, losing her patience in a rush. “He suggested I write that letter to get you to come here. It’s a trap, Dad, and you’ve sprung it. They’re agents of the Walsingham Office and I was their bait!”
Claire imagined this was likely the first time Gerald Meriwether-Astor had ever been struck dumb by anything his daughter said. He stared at her, his mouth working as though he were chewing tobacco. “I don’t believe it.”
She threw up her hands and slipped through Tigg’s and Jake’s protective shield. “Believe it or don’t, but it’s true. Didn’t you see them firing on our touring balloon? Claire and Andrew were trying to rescue me, and all your stupid henchmen have done is sl
owed us down—and injured Jake!” She gripped that young man’s wrist, and he winced. “I know what you’ve done. I know about the convicts in Venice. How you supplied the weapons and ships for the French invasion. About the attempt to shoot down the Prince of Wales. I know it all, and I’ll tell you right now, if this is the man you’ve become, then I wash my hands of you.”
The ringleader stiffened in shock, and around them, men began to mutter among themselves.
“Shut up!” Gerald snapped over his shoulder. To Gloria, he said, “None of that is your business, except to spend the money those deals made.”
“I’m not spending that money. It’s blood money. Not that it will make any difference to you, but I’m leaving this place with my friends and making my own way from here. I doubt I will ever see you again.”
“Nonsense, missy. Hatch, Corling, take her and bring her along.”
“My name is Gloria, not missy, and I tell you, I won’t go.”
“Hatch!” Gerald whirled to find that his team of burly men tasked with rounding up one slender young woman had backed away into the trees, leaving them under the eave of the forest, where it opened on the slope. “Corling, what is the matter with you! Obey my order at once!”
“That were you,” said a voice behind one of the moonglobes, “what engineered the French invasion? You?”
“What of it, you dolt?”
“I didn’t know I was signing up with a bloody Bourbon lover when I took this job,” someone else said.
“Me either. Shot down the Prince o’ Wales? That’s treason, that is. What’s next, ’er Majesty?”
“The Californias, actually,” Gloria said.
“I don’t care about no Californias,” Hatch said, branches cracking under his boots as he took another step back. “But I ain’t havin’ it noised about that I’m a Bourbon lover. I’d never get a drink in these parts ever again.”
“My cousin died on the beach during the invasion,” came another voice, injured, with a foreign accent. “I’ve a mind to knock you down and take what’s in your pockets for his widow!”
Beside Gloria, Tigg stiffened, and his head swiveled sharply as he sought the source of the voice in the dark.
“Hold,” Hatch told whoever it was. “No time. We’ll leave ’im for Her Majesty’s men and a fine justice that will be. Come on, lads, we still got time to scarper—they’ve half a mile to cover.”
And just like that, the moonglobes winked out and the vultures faded into the trees until nothing could be heard but the sound of cracking branches. Then silence. A few snowflakes drifted down, as if the commotion had shaken them out of the clouds.
“How dare you? I paid you!” Gerald shouted after them.
In the distance, Claire heard the sound of an answering shout, but it meant nothing. For a dark shape stepped clear of the trees holding a heavy, double-bored pressure rifle.
Tigg sucked in a breath. “No,” he said, the word sounding almost like a moan. “Oh, no.”
“Nice to see you again, boy,” the man said pleasantly. “And your friend, too.”
Jake swore under his breath, and his hand jerked on his knife.
“Try it, and I promise you I will no longer be playing cat and mouse.”
“Where did you get that gun?” Gloria said sharply.
“It’s one of ours,” Gerald said at once. “The Astor fifty-five caliber with the—”
“I know what it is, Dad,” Gloria said impatiently. “What I want to know is whether this man is, as I suspect, the one who fired at me through the drawing-room window the other night.”
“Know your ordnance, do you?” the man inquired. “That’s refreshing in a lady. Pity you don’t play the piano as well. All of you, step back.”
“Who are you?” Gerald demanded. “If you’re the only loyal one of that miscreant crew who just deserted me, I’ll pay double your price and we’ll be off.”
“I don’t work for you. Step back, away from the young lady. Now. I have as many cartridges as I need to deal with all of you, but I prefer to keep things clean.” The double bores of the Astor .55-calibre did not move from between Gloria’s eyes.
“I say again, who are you and what have you got to do with my daughter?” Gerald shouted.
“His name is Thomas Terwilliger,” Tigg said, “and he’s an assassin for the Famiglia Rosa in Venice.”
The man’s eyes glinted above the bores of the rifle. “Quick on the uptake, aren’t you, boy? Wish I could take credit for that, but I suppose I can’t.”
“You both have the same name?” Gloria asked. Then her eyes widened as well. “Tigg, you can’t mean this is—”
“Looks like we’ll both be disowning our fathers tonight,” Tigg said, his steady gaze never leaving that of his parent. “Unless they intend to make better choices than the ones we’ve seen up to now.”
“If you know what I am, you also know why I’m here,” Terwilliger said. “Stand out of the way and you won’t get hurt.”
“But why?” Tigg demanded, doing no such thing. Instead, he stepped in front of Gloria. “What has Gloria ever done to you—or the Family, for that matter?”
“Gloria? Don’t know a Gloria. My medallion is for Alice Chalmers. Now step back. I won’t ask you again. You’ll get the first barrel, and I’m not in a temper to miss.”
“I’m not Alice Chalmers!” Gloria shouted. “I only wish I were, being courted by Ian Hollys and having a dadburned future to look forward to! I’m Gloria Meriwether-Astor.”
The business end of the double barrel dipped an inch, the only indication of the assassin’s surprise.
“You’ve got the wrong girl, mate, and the right one is on the other side of the world, running cargo out of the Royal Kingdom of Spain and the Californias,” Tigg said.
How clever and brave he was! Claire could hardly breathe, the tension was so thick in the air. No one dared move, for the first to aim a lightning pistol would be the first to ensure Gloria’s instant death.
“I don’t believe you. How many girls of her description and acquaintance can be in this part of England?” Terwilliger lifted the barrel once more. “The Ministry of Justice was very specific. My … client … is a blond Colonial named Alice Chalmers, seen in the company of Captain Ian Hollys, whom she set free illegally from his lawful imprisonment. I am here to administer justice on their behalf. But if you force me to it, and obstruct the Doge’s justice, I cannot answer for the consequences.”
He did have them mixed up, Claire thought in despair. Herself, Alice, and poor Gloria, who of them all was the least guilty of any crime.
Gloria made a sound as her eyes rolled up in her head, and her knees buckled. As she fell forward between Jake and Tigg, a sizzle of lightning arced past the assassin, who had already begun to move in reaction to his target’s fall.
The blast of the pressure rifle sounded like Gabriel’s last trump, and a tree behind them cracked, split, and toppled. The reverberation rattled Claire from heels to skull, but it did not stop her from whipping the lightning rifle over her shoulder and taking aim at Terwilliger.
But she could not pin him down. Moving like a dancer, he aimed at Gloria’s recumbent form. His finger slid into the second trigger guard, and pulled.
“Gloria!” screamed Gerald Meriwether-Astor, and flung himself across his daughter’s unconscious body.
The bullet caught him full amidships, and he screamed again as the force of it flipped him over her, straight into the legs of Jake and Tigg, who went over backward under the weight of his body.
Lightning arced into the trees as Jake attempted a shot as he fell. A tree branch the size of a human being crashed down, and Andrew grabbed Claire, swinging her out of the way.
When she regained her feet, the rifle cradled in both arms, she sighted down the barrel and swung it in the direction of her last sight of the assassin.
The slope lay empty.
Snowflakes landed silently on the ground—as silent as the man who had vanished in
to the night.
In the distance, she heard the shouts of Her Majesty’s men.
23
Being grounded had never sat well with Alice. Being grounded while waiting for other people to pull off a rescue was making her plumb crazy. “There must be something we can do, Ian, besides sitting here biting our nails.”
“I am not biting my nails.” Indeed—they were in the crew’s quarters on Swan, and he was knotting a rope ladder for the fuselage. It wasn’t difficult work, merely time-consuming, and she ought to be helping him.
If she could bring herself to sit still for two minutes together.
“We should take her up,” she suggested. “Just a fast sail over to Haybourne House. They might need us.”
“We all agreed that the safest place for you is here.” He laid the long grid of the ladder along the deck and considered its length, then, satisfied, turned to her. “In fact, I suggest we remove to the house, which is more defensible.”
“More defensible than a military-grade airship?” Her eyebrows rose in disbelief.
“The gondola may deflect a bullet, but the fuselage will not—and Swan’s crew are quartered in the fuselage.”
“You don’t have to tell me the layout of my own ship.”
“I am simply pointing out that while Swan is nearly unbeatable in the air, on the ground I would rather rely on the greater safety that granite and brick provide. In fact, why don’t we go up into the tower? At least there we might be able to see their return.”
As suggestions went, it wasn’t much, but maybe all the steps up into the tower would take the edge off the nervous energy burning her up inside.
They crossed the park on the gravel walks, Alice’s shoulder bumping his from time to time, and she wondered if he had forgotten all about the things he had said in the landau a few days before. Yes, he’d said they’d discuss this—this thing between them once everything was over and Gloria was safe, but still …
Alice sighed. Everything seemed to be conspiring to teach her patience.
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