Destruction (Asylum for the Mechanically Insane Book 2)

by Sahara Kelly

  Looking west and squinting a little, James saw the forest, thick and shaded, with just one or two trees showing a red leaf here and there. No doubt about it, Harbury Hall kept itself tidy and attractive. Rather like its mistress, although not as flamboyant.

  He settled on the small stone bench conveniently placed on the rise, obviously another popular spot. He could imagine ladies setting up their easels here, their servants mixing paints and offering brushes and palettes covered with colors so that the view could be preserved for future generations.

  “Enjoying the view?”

  For one of the few times in his life, Inspector Burke jumped—and squawked in surprise as a tall shadow loomed over him. “Dear God, man. You just took five years off my life.”

  Fleet Captain Moreton laughed. “Not my intention. But you were so silent, so focused. I couldn’t resist.” He sat next to the other man, not waiting for an invitation. “So what has you so enraptured? The Hall? Lovely building, certainly. Not the topiary garden, I hope. It’s really rather poorly executed.”

  Burke nodded. “I was saying exactly that to a friend earlier. No, I’m just…”

  “Evaluating distances, mapping the terrain—sir, you would have made an excellent strategic officer on one of my airships.”

  “And you, sir, are far too observant. I’m a simple gentleman enjoying the afternoon.”

  “Right. So let’s drop the masquerade. You are here because…you have heard something?”

  James glanced at his companion. “I’m here because I have a nasty itch on the back of my neck. I’m here because there’s a savage and inhuman warlord at Harbury and beneath him there’s an unstable scientist who specializes in the newest explosives. I don’t like any of this and my neck’s been giving me fits.”

  “Well, my gut is saying pretty much the same thing. I don’t know the scientist, but the Indian is…well, he’s not anyone I’d care to meet in a dark alley. We’ve had a couple of conversations, and I can honestly say I have had warmer responses to cobras than I did to him. He makes my skin crawl. Trouble is, I’m about to relieve him of something I believe he values.”

  “You’re living dangerously.”

  “I’m used to it. And this is a treasure beyond price.”

  James nodded. “A woman.”

  “Well done, sir.” He smiled. “A very special woman. More than that, I cannot say at this time, but I hope to meet her here shortly. I should like to introduce you.”

  “I’d be honored.”

  “So why, exactly, are you here, other than being intrigued?”

  James sighed. “I don’t like unknowns so I initiated some inquiries about both our friends, Thukar Sahib and Ringwood. What I learned is most unsettling, and something is telling me that these two are connected.” He looked up at Del. “Is it possible that the Indian would want thonirium explosives?”

  Del blinked. “God. Yes, of course he would. Although most of the areas of engagement aren’t heavily fortified, or even possessed of some of our weaponry, they still fight like the devil. Even if it’s with forks and scythes.” He rubbed a hand over his face as he thought over the matter. “I would not want to see the mountain tribes possessed of those kinds of explosives.”

  “I agree.”

  “I believe we’re close to ending the war, Burke. I really do. There’s a lot going on behind the scenes that we’re not privy to, I know, but what I have heard is definitely slanted toward the positive. Thonirium finding its way to the local tribes, in any form at all, could set back negotiations and drag this damn conflict on for years.”

  “It’s a bloody mess, isn’t it? Never did like war. Too many lives lost for too little reason.” James’ mouth turned sour at the memories.

  “I hate to even think on it.” Del squared his shoulders. “Here I am, living in luxury, recuperating from an injury I didn’t even get on my ship. My men could be dying right now and I wouldn’t know.”

  “Easy, lad.” James touched the other man’s shoulder lightly. “If you, a Fleet Captain, are here, then there’s good reason.”

  Del touched his chest. “I only have one scar. It’s a good one, but I should have more, Burke. I should be missing arms or legs or eyes, not a bit of my insides that apparently I don’t need.” He frowned. “It’s damned frustrating, if you must know.”

  “I can imagine. And yet once the war is over, we’ll all be at loose ends. I know I was when I retired. But one acclimates. Truly. You will too. Especially with this treasure you’re planning on acquiring.”

  It was a good gambit because it replaced the other man’s frown with a warm smile. “She really is rather wonderful. I just wish it hadn’t taken me so many years to find that out.”

  James pulled out his pocket watch. “It’s nearly four. I believe Professor Ringwood will be walking this way soon. I have no idea why. And that intrigues me.”

  “Interesting.” Del lifted an eyebrow. “I was told, via a private note, that my lady friend would be in the topiary garden at that time and could possibly meet with me if she was unaccompanied.”

  “Hmm.”

  Del reached in his pocket and pulled out a miniature contraption that he proceeded to unfold into a small pair of field glasses. He peered through them at the topiaries and gardens beyond.

  James hid a grin. “I see you like the latest inventions too.”

  “What? Oh this? Standard equipment on the bridge, these days. I stole mine when I…wait…someone’s coming.”

  Chapter 13

  Vivienne wanted to laugh and dance and sing and run to find Del. Her spirits were light as the birds circling lazily over the trees as the afternoon drew on.

  She hadn’t had to deal with Kerala at all since he’d been otherwise occupied. So she’d indulged herself in a spate of letter writing, followed by an hour’s pleasurable relaxation in the library with a good book. The Harburys knew how to keep their guests happy, without a doubt.

  She’d been left in peace, the double doors open to the sunshine, and a tea tray brought in at just the right time. As it neared four, she regretfully closed the book and hoped she might have chance to finish it sometime in the not too distant future.

  It was a love story. Ironic, really, since she felt she was just beginning her own. Thoughts of her night with Del waltzed back into her mind, although they’d not been far away from her since she’d left his room. Her brief breakfast with Kerala notwithstanding, she felt a profound inner glow, the likes of which she’d never experienced before.

  This time with Del was different. They were both adults, grown, each knowing what their bodies could do to and with each other. Their youthful attraction hadn’t faded, but deepened, changing into something that they both recognized but were afraid to name.

  It was time to see him and tell him the truth. She loved him now every bit as much as she’d loved him then. More so, perhaps, since travelling in darkness made the light seem so much brighter when one finally emerged to see it.

  “Madam.”

  The rough voice from behind her stayed her steps as she crossed the terrace and she turned to see Kerala’s manservant.

  “A gift from the Sahib, madam. He will be walking in the topiary gardens at four and asks that you meet him there.”

  “I remember, Abu. He mentioned it earlier. Yes, I will meet him there.” She instantly slipped into her icy persona, accepting the small package with an acknowledging tilt of her head. “Thank you for bringing me this gift. Kerala honors me.”

  “He is great man. It is honor to be with him.” Abu bowed, his considerable bulk making a menacing shadow on the pale flagstones. “He wish you to wear this gift.” He gestured at the small box.

  “Then I will, of course, do as he wishes. Thank you for telling me.”

  At that, Abu bowed once more and left. Vivienne sighed her relief as he vanished into Harbury through an open set of French doors. The man made her nervous, no two ways about it. He might act subservient, but there was something in his eyes that
frightened her. Something not unlike a snake watching its prey.

  She moved to a stone bench and seated herself, looking at the package. Jewelry probably, since it was about the right size. And God only knew what it would be like, since she and Kerala had vastly different tastes.

  There were times when she had no choice but to wear the ornate and heavy pieces he deemed appropriate, but most often she wore her small gold and pearl pendant, deeming it sufficient ornamentation.

  She was wearing it now and a sudden shudder of distaste for whatever was in that box made her hesitate. If she opened it, she knew she’d be honor bound to wear it. That was just the kind of woman she was.

  However, if she didn’t open it yet, she could enjoy a little more time unencumbered by the symbolic manacles of her captor, no matter how valuable they were.

  So she stood, shook out her skirts, and tucked the box into the pocket concealed within the seams. She would take a few moments when she got to the gardens to take it out and then make a fuss over it if Kerala were there.

  She hoped he wasn’t, though. His meetings had run late, which was why she’d sent a brief note to Del. A meeting might be risky, but life itself was a risk. What was one more? She just wanted to see him, link her arm through his and stroll in the sunshine. That was all.

  She smiled at herself as she stepped down over the flagstone stairs to the lawn beneath and headed toward the shrubbery. The day was still perfect, with fluffy white clouds dotting the sky, the sun sinking lower toward the horizon, and the façade of Harbury Hall beginning to glow like fire as the first rays touched the aged walls.

  It was a lovely place, she realized. Elegant, well constructed and well maintained.

  At that moment a harsh scream broke the tranquility and she looked around her in dismay. There… a figure…heading away from the house a man was running, his shirt loose, his hair flying. And two men were chasing him. She wasn’t sure who was screaming, but she had a pretty good idea that the man in the loose shirt was her host, Lord Harbury.

  His gait was fast but awkward and that gave him away.

  Vivienne resumed her walk and didn’t look any further. It was only polite. His household and behavior was his business, not hers. She was a mere guest. Actually, the fact she was being treated like a guest was somewhat unusual. She pulled her skirt to one side, avoiding an errant rose bush.

  Women in her position, mistresses, were not customarily accorded much in the way of politeness, let alone the welcome she’d received here at Harbury. She was grateful, of course, but part of her wondered why Lady Harbury should be so pleasant to women of her ilk.

  Still, it was said that a true aristocrat was as charming to the boot boy as he was to the Queen. Perhaps Alwynne Harbury was a true aristocrat. Or perhaps it was much simpler than a matter of rank or title.

  Perhaps Alwynne Harbury was lonely.

  *~~*~~*

  Approaching the topiary garden from a different route, Professor Ringwood nevertheless shared Vivienne’s euphoria, although he didn’t realize it. And it wasn’t because he’d had a passionately magnificent night of incredible sex, either.

  No, the good professor was cheerful and had a bounce in his walk because he was on his way to watch a damn foreigner disintegrate. Not a soul would know that he, Merrill Ringwood, would be the cause. That was the sweetest thing of all.

  He could be shocked, horrified and astounded—indeed he’d practiced all three expressions in front of his mirror sometime earlier. He’d gasp and clutch at his heart and moan in utter devastation, after diving to the ground and crying out. Loudly. He’d thought about practicing that but decided it might occasion too much attention.

  Against his hip was a small comforting little thump, each step swung his coat pocket and tapped the detonation unit against him. It wasn’t dangerous until the right sequence of tiny buttons was pressed, sending out the signal to his beloved thonirium.

  In fact, he wasn’t sure if he loved the detonator more than the explosive itself, but after some inner debate, he’d realized both were synergistically linked. Neither would be anything without the other.

  And neither would exist at all without him. He giggled at the thought, wondering if mothers of newborns felt this way about their particular creations. Of course, they’d had help, whereas he, Merrill Ringwood, had done the impossible all on his own. It was sort of like a virgin birth.

  Yes.

  He paused for a moment, stunned by the momentous epiphany. He had created a miracle all alone. All by himself. Just as the Lord had created the world in seven days.

  Of course it wasn’t the world he’d created but… Thoughts seethed through his brain, heating it to fever levels. He’d created something that would destroy the world. It had taken more than seven days, but still.

  It was godlike, this achievement of his. He moved onward but with a greater sense of dignity, of awareness. He walked firmly, back straight, shoulders squared, chin raised. He was special, a man who had done what no other had been able to.

  Others would aspire to his abilities, but fail. He was quite confident of that. And as time progressed and his astounding discoveries and inventions became public knowledge, there would be a great upwelling of adoration and praise…the Queen would knight him. Or maybe more. He’d be venerated, worshipped even.

  As was his right, by God. He would finally be able to accomplish a long-held goal and rid this beautiful planet of the ugliness that lurked in its darkest corners. Those inferior beings who dared emulate the lives of those who deserved the sunshine.

  They would be obliterated without a trace.

  “Yessss.” He yelled out the word in an exhalation of ecstasy, startling a flock of birds from a nearby tree.

  The flapping sound and movement of their wings, dark against the sunlit sky, recalled Ringwood to his surroundings. He drew in a breath of air and blew it out through pursed lips, finding control once more.

  He remembered his task, the pleasure which was about to be his. This would be his prologue to his grand purge, and oh how lovely it would be. No more evil forces masquerading as simple native peoples, biding their time, waiting for the moment when they would take over the world.

  His hands clenched into fists, but again he drew in that cleansing breath, blowing out the hostility and breathing in tranquility.

  Twice, three times he repeated the breaths, just like the doctor had told him to on that one occasion when his mother had taken him to a specialist. How he’d hated that man. And how he’d loathed the Indian nanny who had betrayed him.

  But that was all done now. All behind him.

  In front of him lay the exquisite gardens of Harbury Hall, to be followed shortly by a most satisfying demonstration of his truly godlike power. And after that? Well, fame, fortune, a meteoric rise in his status—and perhaps even the perfect wife.

  One who would be…yes. Just like her.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Stanton-Foley. Your beauty is the only thing that could outshine the loveliness of these gardens and this perfect day.”

  Vivienne, whose thoughts had all revolved around Del, not the perfection of the day, blinked. Then recovered herself. “You are most kind, sir. It is indeed a delightful day. More than that I cannot agree to, since were I to do so I would be most immodest.” She laughed lightly.

  He joined in, a hearty chuckle. “Indeed, ma’am. Well said. Well said.” He extended his arm. “I am destined for the topiary. Would you care to accompany me?”

  She hesitated. “I am told that Thakur Sahib may be there. He’s not always best pleased to see another in attendance.” She kept her tone well modulated, but her meaning was quite clear.

  “Oh you needn’t worry about that my dear.” Ringwood took her hand, placed it around his arm and patted it paternally. “He and I are good friends. Business partners in a way. We both share the same goal.”

  “I see,” she responded noncommittally.

  He steered her toward the topiary, and kept up an unusually a
nimated conversation. She noted that he was perspiring; beads of sweat were dappling his brow and darkening the roots of his carrot-ginger hair.

  It was pleasantly warm, but she wouldn’t have described the temperature as hot, by any means. However, given the Professor’s coloring, that pale skin, the red hair and the freckles, she imagined he was a little more sensitive to heat than most people, and thought no more about it, especially since she had just caught a glimpse of Kerala in the distance.

  “Oh, there he is.”

  Ringwood had seen him as well. He waved and then cupped his hands to his mouth. “Stay there, Thukar Sahib. That’s perfect.”

  Vivienne wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but since Ringwood had stopped, she stopped too.

  It was a good moment to turn slightly to one side and quickly open the small box in her pocket. She hoped it wasn’t anything difficult to put on, since she planned on making sure Kerala observed her wearing his gift. Deftly she slid her fingers through the paper and lifted the lid of the box, feeling something jeweled slip into the palm of her hand.

  Ringwood was waving at Kerala, motioning him to one side. She caught his movements in her peripheral vision, but was more focused on carefully tugging the bauble free of her pocket.

  It was a brooch, quite pretty, a bit on the large side for her. But not as bad as it could have been. Quickly she pinned it onto her gown so that some of it was hidden by the frill of lace edging her modest neckline.

  There. Now he would know she had his gift, she would have once again fulfilled her duties as his mistress and he would have no cause for complaint. If she and Del could come up with a convenient way to destroy him, then she could finally begin to live again. Knowing she’d never angered him would be a very small positive against the negative of having killed him, but sometimes, one had to do what one had to do.