Secrets 03 - Shattered Secrets

by Lana Williams

  “Better yet,” Ashbury added, “he needs to seize those moments with both hands and hold on. As you once told me, Weston, ‘life as we know it can change at any given moment’.”

  “So true. How clever of me.”

  “Yes, well, when I want advice from either of you, rest assured I’ll ask for it.” Lucas scowled as he glanced outside.

  Weston chuckled. “That will be a cold day in hell, will it not?”

  Ashbury laughed as well.

  Lucas could only shake his head. Luckily for him, the carriage drew to a halt.

  Ashbury immediately sobered. “We’ll continue the rest of the way on foot. We don’t want to alert them to our presence until necessary.”

  The carriage door flew open.

  Lucas’s heart leapt to his throat at the sight of a frantic Tiago. “What is it?”

  “Lady Berkmond. She’s gone.”

  Lucas’s blood froze. “Gone where?”

  “The cook said she left out the kitchen door, following the maid, Ingrid.”

  Panic swelled deep inside Lucas, choking him.

  “Fran, the maid, was with the girls, but they were worried about your lady, so I searched for her. When I came back to tell you what I’d discovered, the carriage had just left. I followed you on horseback.”

  “Who’s Ingrid and why does that worry us?” Weston asked.

  “We suspect Ingrid is working with Simmons and the professor,” Tiago explained.

  A street urchin appeared at Tiago’s elbow. “Excuse me, my lords.”

  “James?” Ashbury said. “What is it?”

  “We’ve been watching the warehouse for a bit like ye ordered, and they just left. One of the other lads is followin’ them to see where they go.”

  “Good work,” Weston said as he tossed him a coin.

  “I couldn’t help but overhear what yer man here said.” James nodded toward Tiago as he nimbly pocketed the coin. “There was a woman who hitched a ride on the back of the cab those three took. Could that have been the lady ye’re lookin’ fer?”

  Disbelief shot through Lucas. Surely his wife couldn’t possibly be riding through the streets of London poised on the back of a cab like some street urchin.

  Ashbury and Weston both turned to stare at Lucas as shocked as he was.

  “Dear God.” Lucas shook his head. He’d never been so frightened in all his life.

  “And I thought my wife was a risk taker.” Ashbury slapped him on the shoulder. “Who knew kind and gentle Moira would do such a thing?”

  Weston raised his brows. “The lamb hides a lion, eh? She must love you very much to do such a thing.”

  Lucas could hardly process Weston’s words. Was that truly why she’d done such a thing? For him? Guilt shot through him. She deserved so much more than he. “What am I to do with her?”

  “Love her in return.” Ashbury smiled. “But let us find her first.”

  “As long as she holds tight, she should be fine,” James offered. “I’ve done it many a time.”

  Ashbury gave him a long look.

  The boy shrugged with a grin. “When ye’re in a hurry, it makes for a fine method of transportation. Long as ye don’t get caught, of course.”

  “Which way did the hansom cab go?” Lucas asked. He could not possibly sit here and wait until the lad returned.

  James pointed down the street. Lucas shared a look with his friends. “Where could they be going?”

  Ashbury shook his head. “There are no other warehouses we know of, nor do we know where the professor lives.”

  “Where else could they go?” Weston asked.

  “The science and technology committee meeting,” Lucas said, as Weston’s words from the previous day struck him.

  “Yes,” Weston said. “That makes perfect sense. The professor would want to be there. He could go as Tysdale’s guest.”

  Lucas turned to Tiago. “Can you wait here with James for the other lad in case we’re wrong?”

  Within moments, the carriage was off. Lucas could hardly breathe with the tight band around his chest as visions of Moira in the hands of the professor filled his mind. He had to find a way to save her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Moira breathed a sigh of relief when the hansom cab at last drew to a halt. The ride had lasted far longer than she’d expected. But when she glanced around to see where they were, her relief was short lived.

  Parliament?

  Though she’d only seen the building from a distance, there was no denying its three towers and distinctive Gothic spires. The cab rocked gently, bringing her back to her precarious position. She stepped off the support as a shriek rent the air.

  Moira glanced up to see Ingrid’s horrified expression through the tiny window in the back of the cab. Moira’s stomach dropped as she glanced about, trying to determine where she could hide.

  “What have we here?” Simmons asked as he rounded the cab.

  She spun, ready to run in the opposite direction, when Simmons grabbed her arm.

  “What’s yer hurry?” He chuckled. “Look who decided to join us, Uncle.”

  “How interesting,” Professor Grisby said as he limped forward, cane in hand. The hood of his cloak covered much of his face, but Moira could see long brown sideburns that looked quite unnatural. He wore dark glasses to hide his eyes. Despite the attempt to conceal his face, long, puckered scars were visible, crisscrossing his skin. As though sensing her regard, he tugged at the hood, drawing it farther over his face.

  “Ingrid, explain yourself. You’re obviously not being careful,” the professor reprimanded her.

  “It’s hardly my fault she’s here,” Ingrid said as she came to stand between the two men.

  Simmons raised his brow. “She sure didn’t follow me to the warehouse so it has to be yer fault.”

  Ingrid huffed as she glared at Moira. “She needs to be taught to mind her own business.”

  “Where is your husband?” the professor asked as he glanced about.

  “Home,” Moira replied. She swallowed the lump in her throat at the thought of Lucas, realizing just how foolhardy she’d been to follow Ingrid on her own.

  “What do ye want to do with her?” Simmons asked.

  “For now, she’ll have to come with us. While she could be of use for tomorrow’s plan, her presence is not a necessity. Shoot her if she draws any unwanted attention.” The professor’s words sent chills down her back.

  “I don’t know what your plans are. I can do no harm. Release me,” Moira argued.

  “What fun would that be?” Ingrid asked as a knowing smile came over her thin lips.

  Moira clenched her fist in response, shocked at the urge to strike the maid. Luckily for Ingrid, Simmons had a firm hold on her.

  “Come along,” he told her with a painful squeeze on her arm. “Don’t make me get out my gun so soon.” He tapped his pocket where Moira could clearly see the outline of a pistol.

  Her hope to break free withered away.

  As they approached the building, three men joined them, greeting Simmons. Moira thought she recognized one from the museum and realized they were the men who served as the professor’s guards. They wouldn’t be of any help to her. The group entered a side door of the grand building, revealing a long hallway.

  “To your left, Vincent,” the professor ordered.

  The hall had numerous doors, all of them closed with not a soul in sight. At the professor’s direction, they stopped before one about half way down the hall.

  With his hand poised to knock, he glanced at her. “Lady Berkmond, you will remain silent once we enter this room else we will be forced to take drastic action. Am I clear?” he rasped.

  A sharp jab in her side had her glancing down to see that Simmons now held the pistol. She nodded numbly, fear overwhelming her. What had she gotten herself into? More importantly, how was she going to escape? She tried to swallow back her fear so she might keep her wits about her.

  The professo
r rapped sharply on the door. A murmur of voices from inside the chamber was barely discernible. They waited several minutes. The gun never wavered from her side.

  At last the door opened to reveal a tall man near Lucas’s age, perhaps younger. He nodded at the professor. “Excellent.” He frowned when his gaze caught on Moira. “Who’s this?”

  “No one of importance. She will not distract us from our purpose.”

  The man was obviously displeased but opened the door wide. Over a dozen men were in the large chamber, some seated, some standing, all debating each other rather heatedly. Only one or two glanced at the new arrivals.

  The professor and the guards followed behind the man, leaving Simmons, Moira and Ingrid to trail along. Simmons gestured for Moira to take a seat in one of the rows of chairs toward the back of the large wood-paneled room.

  Simmons whispered to Ingrid who nodded, sat in the row directly behind Moira, and retrieved a gun from her handbag. She leaned forward in her chair to whisper in Moira’s ear, “Simmons says if you move, I am to shoot you.”

  Moira turned to glare at Ingrid, noting with dismay how comfortable she seemed wielding the small pistol. Moira could only nod in response despite the blasted smile on the maid’s face.

  The professor sat several rows in front of her with the guards nearby. Simmons remained near the door, his gun hidden from view. From what Moira could hear, the men in the room discussed weapons and England’s place in the world. These must be members of the House of Lords, she decided, based on their well-cut suits and the topic of conversation. Moira could only guess the professor had something to do with all of it, but what?

  As Moira glanced around, she noted three large items positioned about the room draped in dark fabric. She’d heard enough of what Lucas and his friends had discussed to guess that those were the electromagnetic machines.

  Oh, dear God.

  A sick feeling sank into the pit of her stomach. What did the professor intend to do? How could she possibly do anything to stop him when she had a gun pointed at her? She needed Lucas now more than ever.

  *

  “The prime minister is scheduled to be at that meeting.” Weston shook his head. “If Professor Grisby and Tysdale can somehow convince the lords this is the proper path for England and the professor has the weapon to support their plan…”

  “The committee’s approval would likely mean approval from the entire House of Lords,” Ashbury said.

  “Christ.” Lucas shook his head. “We need to determine a way to stop them.” Yet the only thing he could think about was Moira. Not knowing whether she was all right or not was making him crazed.

  “But how? Until we know exactly what we’re up against, planning is nearly impossible,” Weston said.

  Lucas couldn’t focus on a plan. All he could do was stare out the window, searching for Moira. He held the fleeting hope she’d realized the recklessness of her endeavor and had the sense to step off the hackney when it stopped.

  Much to his disappointment, he didn’t catch sight of her.

  At last the carriage pulled to a halt. Weston was familiar enough with Parliament to know the general area the meeting would be held, and they hurried into an entrance in that vicinity. A passerby directed them to the room, and they quickly found it.

  “Ready?” Weston asked, his hand on the knob.

  Lucas nodded, attempting to stay calm when he wanted nothing more than to kick in the door and search for Moira.

  Weston quietly opened the door and glanced inside.

  Over his shoulder, Lucas saw perhaps a dozen lords seated in the large room, the meeting in progress. But he didn’t see Moira.

  Tysdale was speaking, which kept most of the men from noticing their arrival. From what little Lucas heard, it was a speech similar to the one he’d given in the House of Lords. He glanced around the room as Weston opened the door wider. His breath caught at the sight of Moira seated in the back, alive and well, but her aura was as dark as night.

  His heart stopped as he studied her, but there was no denying her impending death.

  Her green eyes went wide as she looked at him, yet she made no move to come to him. When he started toward her, she shook her head then nodded to the side.

  Her gesture brought his attention to the woman sitting behind her, the maid they’d suspected of spying on them. She had to somehow be threatening Moira, causing her dark aura.

  “Thank goodness Moira is all right,” Weston said, but when Lucas shook his head, both his friends realized what he saw.

  “No rash moves then,” Ashbury whispered. “We’ll proceed with caution. There’s the professor.” He tipped his head to where Grisby sat a short distance from where Moira was, closer to the group of men.

  The professor stiffened at the sight of them. His lips forming a thin line of disapproval. Three of his guards sat near him.

  Tysdale’s loud, booming voice echoed in the chamber.

  “You must admit the man has a certain charisma,” Weston whispered.

  “Why is it the crazed ones so often do?” Ashbury asked.

  “Even Gladstone seems enthralled.” Lucas glanced at the prime minister who sat in the very front. He appeared older than Lucas had expected. Perhaps his years of service had aged him.

  Tysdale gestured toward the professor. “Allow me to introduce Professor Joseph Grisby, a scientist and former professor at Cambridge.”

  As the professor moved to stand near Tysdale, Lucas felt a jab in the back and turned to see Simmons had stepped out from behind the open door, a gun in his hand. Lucas realized immediately that Moira had been trying to warn him about Simmons with her nod, not the maid.

  “This day is full of surprises,” Simmons whispered. “Close the door behind you.”

  Rage filled Lucas as he faced the man who’d murdered his brother. He clenched his fist as the wish to pummel Simmons shot through him. But Moira’s dark aura gave him pause. He couldn’t risk doing anything that might make that omen come true. He promised himself Simmons would soon receive his due.

  “Stay right where ye are,” Simmons ordered. “I find it concernin’ that ye send yer lady to find us.”

  “Your friend, Mikey, was quite helpful in sharing your whereabouts,” Ashbury shared. “Release the lady. She has nothing to do with this.”

  “Mikey? Damn me,” Simmons muttered, obviously surprised. “Doesn’t matter. Neither ye nor the lady are goin’ anywhere. And don’t even think about interruptin’ the professor.”

  Lucas scowled. “You only have two shots with that gun and there are three of us.”

  Simmons rocked back on his heels, a smile on his face. “I’m not the only one with a gun.” He looked over to where Moira and the maid sat. “I believe the odds are on my side.”

  Lucas nearly growled in frustration. Weston and Ashbury seemed to understand the situation for neither made a move to disarm Simmons. Another glance showed Moira still had a dark aura, which held Lucas firmly in place for now.

  “Good afternoon, my lords.” Professor Grisby now had the floor. He pulled back his hood to reveal a dark wig and matching mutton chops. His shaded spectacles further hid his appearance but scars were still visible. He leaned heavily on his cane as he stood beside Tysdale.

  The raspy hiss of his voice was difficult to hear and the room quieted in response. “It is my pleasure to share with you a weapon from the future. One that will bring the Empire to her full glory.”

  His guards rose to stand beside three large draped objects in the room. At the professor’s nod, the men removed the cloths. A murmur went through the audience.

  Lucas stared in surprise. “Those look familiar.”

  “Indeed,” Weston agreed.

  The devices were tall and circular with vacuumed glass cylinders. Copper wire was coiled in the center with transducers on either end. While larger than the ones that had nearly killed them all that night long ago in the lab, it didn’t appear as though the professor had changed much else in th
e design.

  Lucas looked at the professor who now held a switch connected by wires to the devices.

  “What is that?” Ashbury asked as he pointed to a large box beside one of the devices.

  Simmons leaned closer. “Ice. Keeps it cool.” He seemed quite pleased he knew more than they did.

  “It is my pleasure,” the professor continued, “to share with you the weapon that will soon be installed on all of our navy’s ships.”

  He flipped the switch he held and a whirring sound filled the air, steadily growing louder. Then blue light sparked in first one device then another and finally the third. A spark traveled between the three devices as the hiss of electricity permeated the room.

  The hair on Lucas’s arms rose in response. The lords sat up, turning to each other in alarm.

  Though tempted to try to pull the wires from the devices, Lucas resisted. Between the gun pointed at Moira and the chance of getting shocked from the wires, he had to find some other way to stop this madness.

  Weston leaned closer. “Surely the lords will refuse to consider such a weapon and send him on his way.”

  But the look on Tysdale’s face gave Lucas pause. The confidence in his expression made Lucas concerned that this was only the beginning of the terrible demonstration.

  The professor handed the switch to Tysdale and lifted a large two-pronged metal object connected to the devices with cables. Electricity flashed between the prongs as though anxious to escape. “This can shoot an electrified bolt at any object, resulting in significant damage.”

  Grisby aimed the gun at the corner of the room and pulled the trigger. A pulsating visible line of electricity shot out, striking the wall, leaving a hole large enough for a man to walk through.

  “I say—” one of the lords exclaimed in protest as many others joined in, rising to their feet in alarm.

  The professor turned to look at them, the pronged device swinging in their direction. Lucas had to assume he did it deliberately, for the lords sat down again as the professor smiled.

  “As you can see, this has the ability to disable an enemy’s ships instantly,” the professor said. He took the switch from Tysdale and eased the lever back, decreasing the noise and light emitted by the devices.