The Clockwork Dungeon: An Inspector Ambrose Story (The Inspector Ambrose Mysteries Book 4)

by I H Laking

  A moment later, the lady was off the bed and rubbing her wrists in relief. They were raw from the time spent bound up.

  “My name is Adeline,” she said. “I serve this place; have for many years. I’ve been acquainted with Ethan for much of that time; with his comings and goings and such. He was here on one of his usual errands the other day when he brought that giant Mech with him.”

  “Pemberton?” asked Felicity.

  “Names aren’t helpful in this case.” Adeline waved her hand. “What matters is before I knew it, I’d been overpowered and thrown up here with barely enough water to keep me alive.” She looked back across the bed. “A terrible thing,” she muttered.

  “Did you always know Ethan was the Unseen Hand?” asked Ambrose, tiring of Adeline’s caginess.

  Adeline’s eyes flashed at the name.

  There’s a name you recognise.

  “Yes, that’s the name he’s known by around here, isn’t it?” she said. “I’ve known that for some time, but it wasn’t a problem, so long as he never stole anything from the house with him when he visited.” She shook her head. “How about you?” she asked. “How long have you known him by that name?”

  Ambrose looked to Percy. “Well, I realised soon after we met Ethan,” Percy said.

  But before he could extrapolate, something snapped in Adeline’s mood.

  “Yet you came to an isolated house outside the city with him.” She shook her head, placed her hands on her hips, and pointed to the door. “I have no time for fools, regardless,” she said. “I thank you for saving me from my predicament, but now you should go.”

  “What?!” Felicity expressed the group’s shock. “After we just set you free? Surely you need a doctor and help with-”

  Adeline raised her hand, cutting Felicity off. “Young lady,” she said, “you do not know what this house is. I am the keeper of this place, and I decide who may come and go.”

  “Aren’t you the housemaid? Didn’t you answer to the master of this house?” asked Percy innocently.

  Adeline smiled a little too sweetly. “There is no master, Detective. As for my occupation, I keep this house ready, as I must,” she said. “I’m unsure what lies Ethan told to get here, or for what purpose, but this place is my responsibility. You do not know what this house is,” she said to Percy, before looking to Felicity. Her eyes settled on Ambrose.

  “But you…” she said, “you know, don’t you?”

  The warm flush embraced Ambrose again. It was hard to admit what he knew in his gut; that the mansion wasn’t just a mansion. He met Adeline’s gaze but there were no words, only a quiet understanding.

  “Hello? Did someone order an urgent carriage?”

  The voice carried up from the entrance below. Adeline smiled once more.

  “Time to go,” she said, moving away from the bed, sweeping Felicity with her.

  “One question,” said Ambrose. “Surely you owe us that.”

  “One question,” said Adeline, wearily.

  “If you knew Ethan was a thief, why didn’t you stop him taking the fourth painting of the kingdom?”

  “What are you talking about?” Adeline cocked her head, her eyes darting around the room.

  “Nothing, I’m sure,” said Ambrose, pleased to get the answer he needed. “I think it’s time we returned to Traville once more.”

  As they made their way downstairs, Ambrose filled Adeline in on their experience in the dungeon. They reached the door before long, with Felicity and Percy leading the way. They paused just outside the door, and Ambrose felt Adeline’s hand gripping his arm. He turned back to find her face nearly touching his. She breathed in deeply, her dark eyes taking in Ambrose’s features.

  “You saw it, didn’t you?” she whispered.

  “What?” gulped Ambrose.

  “The waterfall. You looked through it, and you saw the city.”

  Ambrose’s mouth went dry. “What does it mean if I did?” he said.

  Adeline’s hands reached up and grabbed Ambrose's cheeks, and for the longest time he had no idea what was about to happen. But then her grim expression softened, and she smiled for the first time.

  “I see you are a man at peace with oddities. It is written in your eyes, Inspector.” Adeline let Ambrose go, and stepped back. “One day, I may invite you back here. Until then, stay away from these steps.”

  Ambrose paused, then turned to the others. There was seemingly nothing more to say. He longed to head back to where they had been; to see the window once more, and explore the house further. But he knew a thief awaited him in the city. The party turned on their heels, to the sound of shutting doors.

  Halfway down the steps to the house, Ambrose turned back as the sound of creaking hinges came from behind him.

  “I forgot to say thank you,” said Adeline with a grin.

  After an exchange of pleasantries, Ambrose, Felicity, and Percy found themselves heading down the steps one last time. The night was deep, and soon morning would be approaching. The cushioned carriage was comfortable enough to induce sleep, but Ambrose was still thrashing things out in his mind as they turned into the slums and up towards the centre of Traville.

  “So,” Ambrose asked Percy, “when exactly did you know Ethan wasn’t who he said he was?”

  “Almost immediately,” said Percy nonchalantly, looking up from his notebook.

  “What was the giveaway?”

  “Crawfish.”

  “You mean crayfish?”

  “Exactly. I’ve met many people from the South, and they all called crayfish by its local name - crawfish. When I corrected Ethan, he looked at me as if I was daft. I’ve yet to meet a southerner who doesn’t love their crawfish, Inspector.”

  “But how did you notice so quickly?” Ambrose tried to disguise his embarrassment at not having noticed anything amiss earlier.

  “Oh, it’s not your fault, Inspector,” said Percy. “Or Felicity’s fault, for that matter. This whole day was designed to distract you. To distract all of us, in fact. The mansion filled with curiosities, the dungeon and its puzzles; even the location of the house was a diversion. And those all those things would’ve worked on me as well, had it not been for that word this morning.”

  “Which sent you off to secure the sword.”

  “It did. And I set the Messenger Mech in place so in the event of our getting waylaid, I could get a detachment of officers to the Grand Rotunda to stop the Unseen Hand.”

  “Quite something. Really quite something. Well done, Percy.”

  Ambrose looked out the window as the Boer river passed by in a shiny blur. He had a sense of inadequacy that often came in moments like these, when he recognised his own limitations were filled in by people like his sister, with her tenacity and wit, or Percy, with his ever-present powers of observation.

  The peacefulness of the breaking dawn; the deserted streets - it was all Ambrose needed to calm himself after the evening’s events. Now they simply needed to return the sword and confront Ethan, who would have been arrested by now.

  “Who did you get to arrest Ethan?”

  The words had barely left Ambrose’s lips when the world flipped upside down.

  VIII

  With a resounding crack, the left front wheel of the carriage exploded in a shower of splinters. Timbers flew skyward as the carriage pivoted over onto its roof, throwing its occupants onto the road as it split in two, leaving Ambrose, Percy, and Felicity lying on the ground in a twisted heap. As the dust outside spewed up in a thick cloud, Ambrose found himself in a coughing fit, compounded by a searing pain in his left arm that crescendoed with every breath.

  “Inspector?!”

  “Quiet!” Ambrose whispered, his eyes darting around the murky surrounds. Silence reigned, save the clacking of the remaining carriage wheels as they came to a stop. A short distance away, Ambrose could make out shadows moving.

  “Go!” Percy hissed.

  He’s seen them too.

  Ambrose looked bac
k for the sword, but there was no time. He forced himself from the ground with his good arm as Percy frantically waved him away. Ambrose stumbled to the side, desperately searching for a place to hide as the figures in the dust inched closer. A pile of barrels beckoned from a side alley, and Ambrose made for them in an instant.

  Ambrose dove into cover, stifling a cry as he knocked his injured arm into one of the barrels. The useless limb hung loose at Ambrose’s side as he peeked back at the road.

  Ethan and Pritchard came into view as the dust dissipated. Ethan’s cheeky grin had given way to a scowl, and his impeccable dress standard was now absent, his previously immaculate clothes covered in a layer of filth and rent in several places. Ethan grabbed Percy from the ground, hauling him to his feet with little effort despite Percy’s size.

  As Pritchard leapt into the carriage, Ethan spun Percy around, placing a dagger to his neck and backing up so they faced away from the carriage wreckage. Ethan’s lips moved as he whispered into Percy’s ear. The detective didn’t flinch, breathing heavily and staring up at the growing daylight. Ambrose could see objects flying out of the carriage as Pritchard searched it, ignoring the unconscious driver who lay nearby. Crucially, there was no sign of Felicity or the Sword of Barnabas either. Behind Ethan and Percy, in the alleys that led into the slums, Ambrose could see faces lurking in the shadows; curious locals who knew better than to get involved with whatever had disturbed their morning repose.

  Pritchard popped his head out of the carriage. Looking to Ethan, he shook his head.

  Ethan’s demeanour descended further.

  “WHERE IS IT?”

  His scream rose above the gentle murmur of the gathering crowd, who now fell quiet.

  “Felicity, Ambrose! You don’t know what you’re doing! You’ve had your fun, but the evening’s entertainment is through. It’s time to hand over the sword and be done with it.”

  Silence. Pritchard surveyed the rooftops as he hopped out of the cabin to join Ethan.

  Ethan’s throat was tight as he starting shouting again. “This isn’t a joke, Inspector! I hope you realise how grave this situation is.”

  “I work for powerful people! They don’t tolerate failure, lateness, or excuses! I have never failed them, and I don’t intend to now.” Ethan’s tone was growing more strained, and he prodded his blade at Percy’s neck, drawing a trickle of blood as the detective winced. “Don’t think I won’t hurt your partner!” Ethan said, “I will end his life right here if I have to! I will not let my employers down!” Ethan’s eyes ran from alley to rooftop, betraying his desperation.

  And at that moment it occurred to Ambrose that Ethan was no longer a master thief; he was simply an errand boy for powerful people, and he had just failed to deliver. Ambrose’s eyes took in the scene from the crack between the barrels, and he knew.

  It’s time.

  “That’s enough, Ethan.” Ambrose stepped out onto the street, clutching his arm.

  “No, Ambrose.” Ethan inclined his head towards Ambrose, all the while maintaining the pressure on Percy’s neck. “It’s not enough. Give me the sword, and I’ll let your partner get away. I might even consider not telling my employers about what an utter nuisance you've become.” He dug the knife a little deeper, so its point disappeared in the layer of fat that encircled Percy’s immense neck. Pritchard cautiously approached Ambrose, holding his own dagger out towards the injured inspector.

  “Point me in the direction of the sword, if you please,” said Ethan. “It’s over.”

  “Well, you and I can agree on one thing for certain.” Ambrose, eyed the dagger Pritchard was waving in his face.

  “And that is?”

  “It’s over.”

  With a sickening smack, Felicity swung the broad side of the Sword of Barnabas into the back of Ethan’s head, jolting him forward at the same time Percy heaved his weight backwards. As Ethan’s forehead met the back of Percy’s skull, he dropped his knife, narrowly missing Percy’s foot. Ethan collapsed flat on his back as the weight of Detective Percy Portland pinned him down.

  Distracted by the outburst, Pritchard let out a muted “oof” as Ambrose laid his right shoulder into his chest. He sprawled on the ground, scrambling to get up.

  “Hi!” Ambrose heard his sister’s cry as she threw the Sword of Barnabas in a gentle arc towards him. It had barely hit the dirt before Ambrose grabbed it, levelling the blade at Pritchard’s chest.

  “And that, I believe, is that,” Ambrose said with a smile as Pritchard dropped his knife.

  “Please,” wheezed Ethan from underneath Percy, “please, you can’t do this.”

  “We didn’t do this, Ethan.” Felicity crouched down and eyeballed the distraught thief. “You’re the one who started this whole business; we’re finishing it for you.”

  “You don’t understand. They’ll kill me. All of this hubbub for a stupid sword? It doesn’t matter. Felicity, they’ll have my life for this.”

  “Oh, such drama!” Felicity looked up towards the city, where a group of people in red Citizens Protection Force jackets could be seen running from the gates to the crash scene. “I’m afraid this is the end for us, Ethan. Do let your employers know it wasn’t your fault, hmm?”

  “Good thing he never saw you in the alleyway,” said Ambrose as Felicity joined him. “When did you learn to move so stealthily?”

  “Oh, you know. Just something I picked up.” Felicity gave Ambrose a smile, and together they watched as the faces and features of the approaching officers come into view. At the front of the group, Ambrose noted one particular person with interest.

  “The commissioner’s coming, Percy.”

  “He never catches me looking my best.” Percy wiped his mat of dust-ridden hair to one side.

  “Ambrose! Percy! What in the blazes is all this?”

  Commissioner Caldwell’s voice bellowed out over the growing crowd that had made its way into the street to inspect the accident and look for anything worth pilfering.

  Now there’s a man who’s rarely happy.

  Ambrose suppressed a grimace as best he could and forced a smile in the direction of the enormous Commissioner Caldwell. A barrel-chested monster he was, as tall as Ambrose with twice the girth and a voice that could rouse the dead.

  “Look at this. Just look at it, would you?” The commissioner pushed through a knot of people and hrumpfed loudly as he came to a halt. “You’ve got a deal of explaining to do, Ambrose!” he declared. “And you too, Portland! There I am, fast asleep on a perfectly fine evening when I’m awakened by a 765 Messenger Mech beating down my door, shouting “THE SWORD OF BARNABAS IS IN DANGER! THE UNSEEN HAND HAS INVADED TRAVILLE! PERCY PORTLAND REQUESTS IMMEDIATE ASSISTANCE!” over and over so loud that half the street woke up!”

  “After I assure the neighbours and my terrified children that there’s no imminent invasion from an invisible force, I find myself sprinting to the Grand Rotunda with half a garrison, only to find the display case for the Sword of Barnabas empty. I figure the Unseen Hand can’t have taken the sword - not without leaving the trademark glove in the treasure’s place - and now I’m searching for a mysterious thief in the deep recesses of the Grand Rotunda when I hear a report of a serious accident near the city gates. So to top it all off, I end up pounding down the hill at this ludicrously early hour to find two of my most esteemed detectives clearly still out from the previous evening in their best tuxedos, smack in the middle of the slums, obstructing the road with a major carriage crash, and-”

  Commissioner Caldwell stopped his pacing and turned to eyeball Percy.

  “… are you sitting on someone, Portland?”

  “Ah, yes sir.” Percy gulped.

  “In the middle of the street? A detective of the Citizens Protection Force, pinning another human being into the filth collectively gathered from decades of passing animals, Mechs, and humans?”

  “I, well, you see sir…”

  Commissioner Caldwell crouched down so his nose was level
with Percy’s. “This had better be the most fascinating answer I’ve ever heard, or you’ll be wishing you took up a career as a fishmonger by the time I’m through with you,” he snarled.

  “Are you always this ignorant?”

  An intense shade of red shot through the commissioner’s face. He rocked up off his haunches to face the owner of the voice that had dared to interrupt him mid-rant.

  It was Felicity.

  “These detectives almost died hurrying back to make sure you didn’t have to deal with the Unseen Hand ever again,” Felicity said. “If you can’t see what’s happening here, then I’d say it’s time to get yourself some spectacles, commissioner. You’ve just been given the greatest thief in all the empire on a silver platter.” She looked down at Ethan. “Well, an earthen platter, at least.”

  “… I mean all that with the deepest respect, of course.” Felicity gave a little curtsey, then proceeded to flop down on an overturned barrel, not waiting for a response.

  At that moment, a curious thing happened. A look of recognition swept over the commissioner as he looked from the carriage, to Ethan, to Ambrose, and finally to the sword Ambrose was holding.

  And then Commissioner Caldwell, a man no one had dared question for any of his thirty-four years serving in the Citizens Protection Force, said a word he never uttered, not even at home, not even in solitude when only his thoughts kept him company.

  “Sorry.”

  Ambrose and Percy exchanged looks during the proceeding lull, each equally unsure how to proceed.

  “Not a bother!” Felicity jumped up off the barrel, her usual breeziness returning. “We’re all tired, commissioner; let’s not get ourselves in a twist. I believe you’ve got what Percy hauled you out of bed for: the Unseen Hand, and the priceless artefact he was seeking.” Felicity gestured towards Ambrose.

  “Remarkable.” The commissioner stroked his chin momentarily, then gestured to the detectives that accompanied him. “Take these prisoners back to Central Station for processing. And would somebody please relieve Inspector Ambrose of the Sword of Barnabas and return it to the Grand Rotunda?”