The Mapmaker's Apprentice (Glass and Steele Book 2)

by C. J. Archer

  "None taken," I said. "I have no wish to be involved anyway. It's not my place."

  My answer seemed to please both Miss Glass and Willie, but not Matt. "Prove to me that you can come to an agreement on a housekeeper without a third party's interference," he told them. "Otherwise, I'll hire the next woman who walks in off the street. Is that clear?"

  "Quite," his aunt said.

  Willie merely grunted, which was as good as an agreement in her language.

  Matt excused himself, only to have Willie run after him as he departed. She probably wanted to ask him how our inquiries at the bank fared. We'd decided to keep Matt's health problems from his aunt. Her mind could be somewhat fickle, occasionally slipping into madness, and we didn't wish to alarm her. Nor did we want to try to explain how a watch could rejuvenate him, albeit temporarily. But that meant we couldn't openly discuss our search for Chronos around her. As far as she was aware, I was employed partly as her companion, and partly to assist Matt in running his business affairs while he visited London—a visit she was convinced would never end. We'd given up trying to tell her that he would return to America one day. She refused to believe it.

  In truth, I didn't like thinking about that day either. What would become of me then, and Miss Glass, too? Not to mention I'd grown rather fond of my new American friends.

  Matt rested in his rooms for the rest of the morning then we all ate lunch together in the dining room. Miss Glass no longer commented on the presence of Duke and Cyclops at meal times. She'd given up calling them staff, too, and seemed to accept them as members of the household, equal in status to myself and Willie although not to herself and Matt. In her mind, she and her nephew were placed in an elevated position through their birth and God's will. Poor Willie butted up against the English class system every day, calling it unfair and archaic, sometimes in Miss Glass's presence. She would learn, eventually, that it was a centuries-old system too ingrained to change over the course of a few weeks.

  The arrival of a visitor after lunch surprised us all. It was our first since capturing the American outlaw known as the Dark Rider a week ago. Not even Miss Glass's brother or sister-in-law had called. Miss Glass had refused to have any friends over for tea until we installed proper staff befitting a townhouse belonging to Mr. Matthew Glass. Police Commissioner Munro's arrival saw her fretting over how and where to receive him, until Matthew suggested they retreat to his study. Going by Munro's quick agreement and stiff chin, it wasn't a social call.

  "After you, India," Matt said to me.

  I gave him a blank look. "You want me to join you?"

  He flicked an apologetic gaze at Munro, standing at the foot of the staircase, and stepped closer to whisper to me. "You are my assistant."

  "I thought I was more Miss Glass's companion than your assistant."

  "I would like your presence."

  I led the way up the stairs, Willie's glare stabbing me in the back. No doubt she wanted to know why I received special privileges. So did I.

  "I have a task for you, Mr. Glass," the commissioner said as he sat.

  Matt sat behind his desk while I pulled up a chair beside it and waited for him to pass me a piece of paper and pencil. He did not. He merely rocked back in his chair and waited for Munro to go on.

  Munro stroked his white moustache with his thumb and finger and looked lost for words. In my brief encounter with him, after my run-in with the Dark Rider outside Scotland Yard, he'd shown himself to be direct and never short of an opinion. Something must be amiss.

  "What's the task you have for me?" Matt prompted him.

  "My…friend's son has gone missing."

  Matt sat forward. "I see."

  Munro's face sagged. The moustache drooped over his downturned mouth, and his eyes became moist. He must be very close to the boy and his parents to be so concerned. "He's a brilliant cartographer. He produces exquisitely fine maps and globes, with pinpoint accuracy. Here." He pulled out a rolled leaf of thick parchment from his inside breast pocket and handed it to Matt.

  Matt spread it out on the desk. It was a map of central London, drawn in exquisite colored detail. Even the smallest lane was rendered and named in writing so tiny as to need a magnifier to read it. Ships crowded the docks, their ropes blackened with tar so glossy it shone, their cargo piled on the jetties in perfect miniature. The water of the Thames and the occasional window appeared to reflect the sunlight, and I could distinguish between brick, stone and wooden buildings. It was a work of art.

  "It's lovely." I skimmed my fingers over the lines and was surprised to note that some felt raised. How had he achieved such an effect?

  "It's all accurate," Munro said again with a hint of pride.

  "You want me to find him? Isn't that a task for one of your detective inspectors?"

  "They've tried. I've tried. He just…disappeared. That's why I need you." His face no longer looked long or his eyes sad. He was once again the formidable, proud police commissioner. "You told me that your specialty is infiltrating criminal gangs, pretending to be one of them as you moved within their ring. I telegraphed my counterpart in California and confirmed this with him. He told me you have brought down several dangerous gangs from within, often single handedly. He called you fearless, determined, and without equal. You, sir, are precisely the man I need. My inspectors are good men, but I need someone better than good. I need a competent and intelligent man, someone who can think quickly and act accordingly. I believe you're the only man who can help me find my…find Daniel."

  I turned to Matt, aware that my eyes were huge and my mouth ajar. I couldn't help but stare at him. I knew he'd brought down outlaw gangs in America, including that of his own grandfather, but the praise from his employer was excessive. He didn't so much as blush.

  "Clearly you have some notion of who is responsible for your friend's son's disappearance," Matt said. "What group is it you'd like me to infiltrate?"

  "The Mapmakers' Guild. There's something odd going on there, and I'd like you to get to the bottom of it." He leaned forward, and once again his countenance changed from commanding to concerned. "Find my boy, Mr. Glass. Find Daniel."

  Chapter 2

  "Your boy?" Matt asked.

  The commissioner stretched his neck out of his crisp white collar and a flush infused his cheeks above his whiskers. He pulled out a small photograph of a youth from his pocket. The young man's intelligent, direct eyes peered at the camera from beneath a mop of fair hair. He was slender, unlike his robust father, but the firmness of his mouth mirrored Munro's.

  "His full name is Daniel Munro Gibbons," the commissioner said.

  The boy must have been born out of wedlock, taking his father's name as his middle name but not his last. I wondered if Mrs. Munro knew.

  "He's nineteen years of age, blond hair, blue eyes." The commissioner spoke matter-of-factly, as if he were briefing his men on a stranger's disappearance. It would seem he didn't know how to react, oscillating between indifference and concern, spanning the range of emotions in between. "He's clever but naive. He lives with his mother and maternal grandfather, and he went to a good school. His grandfather was a mapmaker, and the boy showed an aptitude for cartography from a young age. He began his apprenticeship with the Mapmakers' Guild's master a little over a month ago. Three days ago, he left his master's shop at the end of the day and set off for home. He didn't arrive." The hand that held the photograph shook.

  "May I keep this?" Matt asked, reaching for the picture. "And the map, too?"

  Munro hesitated, then gave a curt nod. "There's more. That night, as the entire family was out searching for him, making inquiries of his friends, there was a burglary at the house. The only things stolen were Daniel's maps. He'd made them over the years and kept them in a box under his bed."

  "Nothing else?"

  "Nothing. The following day, there was another break-in, again while the family was out searching. They took nothing but left the house in a mess."

  "They were
looking for a particular map, perhaps. One that wasn't in the box under the bed. " Matt studied Daniel's map in front of him. "This one?"

  "I don't know. Daniel asked me to take care of it a week ago. He didn't tell me why or who'd commissioned it, and I wasn't interested enough to ask." He cleared his throat. "I wish I had. It might be important information."

  I picked up the map again and traced the line of the river's bank with my fingertips. It felt slightly raised, yet a closer inspection showed that it was simply a flat drawing.

  "His mother is beside herself with worry." The commissioner swallowed heavily. "Find him, Glass. Even if you learn the worst, just find Daniel."

  "I'll do my best." Matt reached into his top drawer and pulled out a notepad and pencil, which he slid across the desk to me. He turned Daniel's map to face Munro. "Is the route he usually took between work and home on here?"

  "The shop is here, at Burlington Arcade." Munro pointed to the arcade at the edge of the map. "Daniel walked to Victoria Station and got off the train at Hammersmith." Neither were on the map.

  "Did he have friends?" Matt asked.

  Munro gave me two names, which I wrote down. "My men have already spoken to them. They didn't see Daniel that day. The last time they saw him, he mentioned being troubled by something at work but wouldn't tell them what. I spoke to his employer myself, but he claimed Daniel was his usual self and nothing was amiss."

  "Did you believe him?"

  "I think he's lying. I think he knows what happened to Daniel but won't tell me. That's why I need you, Glass. I need inside information on the guild and on Jeremiah Duffield."

  "I'll see what I can do. I have other commitments—"

  "No!" The commissioner slammed his palm down on the desk, causing me to jump. Matt didn't so much as flinch. "Set aside everything else, and give all your time to finding Daniel."

  Matt nodded. He was agreeing?

  "That won't be possible," I cut in. "Mr. Glass's other commitments are of vital importance."

  "As important as finding my son?"

  I leveled my gaze with his. "Yes."

  Matt put up his hands. "I have six days before I can do anything on the other matter," he said to me. "I can spend that time searching for Daniel."

  "Good." Munro stood.

  "There are other things you can be doing in those six days," I said. There were several watchmakers' factories still to visit, and inquiries to make. We wouldn't be idle.

  "He's nineteen, India," Matt said quietly. "I have to help if I can."

  "Quite," Munro said with gruff finality. "Thank you, Glass. You'll be rewarded handsomely, of course."

  Matt simply lifted a hand in dismissal. "If you learn anything that might be important, send word to me here."

  "How do you plan to go about becoming part of the guild?" he asked as Matt walked him to the door.

  "Yes," I chimed in. "How, when you have no mapmaking skills?"

  "I'm yet to plan all the details."

  I followed them down the stairs and saw Munro out to his waiting coach. We'd hardly closed the front door when the entire household descended upon us, including Matt's aunt. She wasn't interested in Munro, however, but in Willie.

  "You talk to her, Matthew," she said crisply. "I'm at the end of my tether."

  "I offered India's assistance," he began, only to be interrupted by Miss Glass.

  "Not that. That!" She waved a hand at the pipe drooping from the corner of Willie's mouth. "It's filthy."

  Willie managed to grin while clenching her teeth around the pipe. "It ain't so bad. Good for the lungs." She breathed deeply, only to end up coughing.

  Duke snorted. "I agree with Miss Glass."

  "Nobody asked your opinion," Willie said, choking out the words along with a cloud of smoke. "Besides, you smoke one sometimes."

  "But I ain't a woman."

  She rolled her eyes.

  "I wouldn't want a man blowing filthy smoke in my drawing room either," Miss Glass said. "If you insist on continuing with the disgusting habit, take it outside."

  "Or into the smoking room," Matt added before Willie pointed out that the drawing room, or any other part of the house, didn't belong to his aunt.

  Miss Glass looked horrified. "The smoking room is for men!"

  "I hardly think it makes a difference where Willie's concerned."

  "What will our staff think?"

  "We don't have any staff. When we do get some, they'll have to put up with it, just like we do." Matt glared at Willie.

  "I'm going," she muttered. "After you tell us what Munro wanted."

  "Gladly." Matt sounded tired, and I couldn't blame him. I grew tired listening to his aunt and cousin bickering too. "His son has gone missing. He wants me to find him."

  "Missing?" Miss Glass echoed. "Poor Agatha. Poor dear, Agatha. Her husband missing again."

  We all looked at her. Miss Glass's madness hadn't appeared for a week, and I'd begun to suspect we'd imagined the previous episodes. This new rambling proved we had not.

  "I'll take her to her rooms," Willie said, handing the pipe to Cyclops. "Duke, fetch her maid." With surprising gentleness, she steered Miss Glass toward the stairs while Duke headed to the door leading to the service rooms below the house.

  Matt watched them leave with a small dent between his brows.

  "Polly will see that she's comfortable," I assured him.

  He nodded and rubbed his forehead.

  "Didn't you get enough rest earlier?" Cyclops asked.

  "I'm fine," Matt said. "We need to discuss a plan for finding the lad."

  "And a plan for finding Chronos," I added. "We're not giving up on that in favor of this new assignment."

  "Aye." Cyclops managed to instill more menace with his one good eye than most people did with two. Matt, however, seemed unaffected by it.

  Willie returned and we convened in the library to discuss Munro's visit.

  "So how're you supposed to go about finding the missing boy, then?" Willie asked.

  "He's not a boy," I said. "He's nineteen and was—is—apprenticed to Jeremiah Duffield, the master of the Mapmakers' Guild."

  "Must be good, then," Duke said, sprawled in the deep armchair with his feet angled toward the fireplace.

  "He is." Matt produced Daniel's map and spread it on the table. "He made this."

  Willie swore softly. Duke's eyes widened as he pored over it, while Cyclops pointed out places of note.

  "Touch it," I said. "Some of it feels raised."

  They each touched roads, buildings, the river, tracing the outlines with their fingertips as I had done.

  "He's an artist," Cyclops said. "A genius."

  "How'd he do that?" Duke asked, wonder in his voice.

  "He turned it over and pressed hard from the back," Willie said. "The back would be the same map, but reversed."

  "Except he hasn't." Matt picked up the map and held it flat at eye level then flipped it over. It was unmarked.

  Nobody had an answer. The map's creation was a mystery.

  Matt rolled it up and set it aside.

  "My question still stands," Willie said, stretching her legs in front of her and crossing them at the ankles. "How're you going to find him if the police couldn't?"

  "Munro wants me to infiltrate the guild and see what I can learn from the inside," Matt said.

  "How? You can't draw maps."

  "He could try," Duke said. "He ain't a bad doodler."

  "Trying ain't going to get him into the guild," Cyclops said with a roll of his eye.

  "I'll need another way in," Matt said. "Guilds require servants, the members have customers, friends, wives."

  "You wouldn't make a good wife," Duke said, fighting back a grin. "You ain't obedient enough."

  "Obedient?" Willie snorted. "No wonder you ain't married."

  Duke crossed his arms and gave her a smug smile.

  "I'll get a job as a servant," Matt said.

  "What if they're not hiring?" I a
sked.

  "They'll be hiring after I pay one of the servants to disappear."

  Cyclops shook his head. "I'll be the servant. You look and sound like a gentleman."

  "I can act like a servant if necessary."

  "Why don't you be the customer," I said. "Cyclops can be a servant, and I'll befriend Mr. Duffield's wife, if he's married."

  Matt nodded. "A three-pronged attack. I like it."

  "What about Willie and me?" Duke asked.

  "You're both needed here. Too many of us will set alarm bells ringing."

  Duke sat back with a grumble, but Willie seemed unconcerned. "What if the guild has nothing to do with his disappearance?" she asked. "What if it were a simple robbery as he walked home, but something went wrong and he got killed? Maybe he had enemies. His father definitely would, a man in his position."

  "Munro is convinced that it's linked to the guild. He also seems to think Daniel's still alive."

  "That could simply be a matter of hope." I shuddered as an icy shiver trickled down my spine. "I do hope he's right and Daniel hasn't met a terrible fate."

  "The question is," Cyclops said, "why would someone kidnap him?"

  That was a good question, and one that had so many potential answers that it was impossible to speculate without knowing more. I picked up Daniel's map and studied it again. It truly was beautiful, yet also functional. Whatever technique he'd used to raise some of the lines hadn't left a mark. As I ran my fingers over them again, I felt a faint sensation, a slight warming, so light as to be hardly discernable. I closed my eyes and focused all my attention on the map. My fingertips warmed again, but barely. If I moved my fingers off the raised lines, the sensation stopped.

  "What is it?" Matt's voice sounded close behind me. I hadn't heard him approach.

  I opened my eyes to see him leaning over my shoulder, his face a little above me. I handed the map to him. "Touch the lines." He did as asked, even closing his eyes as I had done. "Do you feel anything?"

  "Such as?"

  I touched his hand and his eyes sprang open. His gaze locked with mine in a brief, fierce moment before I broke the connection. "Close your eyes again," I said. I guided his finger to the raised lines. "Do you feel anything?"