‘Da, because I have trust for you. But you don’t ask.’
Archer had no defence against the truth. ‘Thank you for telling me now,’ he said. ‘And if I have ever done anything to displease you, or if I ever do, you must tell me. And, contrary to what you say, Mr Kolisnychenko, I do trust you.’
‘Okay.’
It was a dismissive reply and rankled Archer somewhat, but he let it pass.
‘Perhaps you should try and sleep,’ he said. ‘I know I…’
Fecker dropped to his stomach, pulling Archer with him and clamping a hand over his mouth. With the other, he dimmed the lantern.
‘They come,’ he said and pointed towards the sea. ‘Boat.’
Archer was released and cautiously peeked above the rock line while Fecker resumed his place at the scope.
At first, Archer couldn’t see what he was looking for, but as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he noticed a tiny dot of light beyond the lighthouse. It came closer, bringing with it the sound rowing.
‘They mean to moor at the rock,’ he said. ‘How many aboard?’
‘Two men,’ Fecker whispered. The boat was two hundred feet away, and they wouldn’t be heard, but there was no telling if there were other men ashore, perhaps they had a man on the hillside. ‘And two… Da. Two girls.’
Fecker passed the scope to Archer who focused it on the boat. It was hard to see the details, but when the moon broke through, he made out one tall man and one shorter and fatter. In the keel lay two wriggling bundles curled together.
‘Quill has outdone his own evil,’ Archer hissed.
Anger seeped into his bloodstream, pushing his pulse and tensing his muscles. His pistol was beside him, but the men were too far distant, the night too dark.
He looked to the causeway, but it was still submerged.
‘We wait,’ Fecker said, and Archer agreed. ‘Watch where they go.’
It took the men some time to successfully moor and tether the rowing boat to the rock, there was no manmade structure, and the tall man slipped on several occasions as the other tried to steady the craft. They made a poor job of it, suggesting to Archer that they were no sailors. Perhaps, if he was lucky, they wouldn’t be good bodyguards either.
He watched in silence, grateful for Fecker pressed against him. It wasn’t the body heat, simply the body and the man who inhabited it. His mind drifted to the horrific parts of Fecker’s story, and he pictured the ruined farmstead. The stone he took was the only memento of his past, and owning nothing else except his grandfather’s knife, had given it to Silas to show him how fiercely he was loved.
‘Look.’
Archer’s concentration had drifted. It was the late hour, past one o’clock, he guessed. He was tired and stiff, but when Fecker nudged him, and he looked where his companion indicated, he felt a surge of hope.
The fatter man passed one of the girls out of the boat, and she climbed onto the rocks unaided. They were, it seemed, unharmed. The taller man took the lantern and the girl’s hands and led her over the rocks to the base of the tower. Here, they came to the darkest shadow that was the doorway, but thanks to the man’s lantern, Archer was able to catch a glimpse of what lay within. A circular, stone chamber with a vertical shaft through the centre. A metal cylinder that caught the lamp and reflected like steel. It fell from the light as the girl was led to the right and down, the lantern fading as they descended.
‘They’re taking them to the basement,’ Archer said.
‘There!’ Fecker nudged him a second time.
The light had briefly dimmed to nothing, but was now visible lower down and further right as if there was a window in the bedrock. There, it stayed.
The unsettled breeze delivered a distant whiney from the horses, and Archer cursed. He had hoped the animals would be too exhausted to be restless and decided to see to them once he knew what was happening at Long Light.
The fatter man was now leading the other girl in the same way, his lantern lighting her from the front, and Archer was able to see her hands were tied. The pair followed the same path, the fat man pulling her, and they descended to the same place where, as before, the lamp remained static.
‘I think we know where they are keeping them,’ Archer said.
‘Da. I fucking useless.’
‘Pardon?’
‘If I swim, we go now before they ready. In, down, throats, go.’
‘Quill will not be far away,’ Archer whispered.
The sound of his horse had disturbed him. He was reminded of the envelopes on his desk and how he had sensed Quill’s presence before he opened the letter, knowing it was going to bring trouble. The wind ruffled his hair, but brought no other sound than the rustle of grass and now, the waves on the shore as they lapped contentedly as if the sea had no cares. It would have been a tranquil, midwinter scene were it not for the knowledge that two innocent girls were held tied and bound in a dungeon.
‘It is all my fault,’ Archer whispered, suffering a pang of unexpected despair.
‘Yours?’
‘It’s me that Quill wants. He needs his revenge, but I shall have mine on him. Those poor girls.’
‘You find love,’ Fecker said. ‘What he does is not your fault. But revenge will be ours.’
‘You are right again, my friend,’ Archer said. ‘I should have said…’
A thump on his back, hands on his shoulder, someone was over him in the blink of an eye. Archer was knocked forwards and pulled onto his back. Blinded by a man’s body, he heard Fecker grunt and swear.
His hand was struggling to free the pistol when Fecker hissed, ‘Don’t.’
The tone left no room for argument, and when Archer was released, he understood why.
Twenty
Winded, Archer gasped for breath as Fecker helped him to his feet and, disorientated, he stared at the intruder in disbelief. He was in the wrong place, his presence didn’t make sense, and Archer’s first thought was that he had bumped his head and was having visions.
‘James?’
‘I’m really sorry about that, Sir. I was trying to be quiet, but I slipped.’
‘Down.’ Fecker pulled them both below the level of the rocks.
‘What the hell…?’ Archer was unable to comprehend his footman’s unexpected appearance. ‘Why are you here? How are you here?’
‘How is a story as long as the journey,’ James said. ‘Cab, train, cab, a private special and a horse, but I’ll tell you about it on the way. You have to come with me, Sir, and you have to come now.’
‘Come where?’
‘Quiet!’ Fecker shushed them with a wave of his hand, peering towards the lighthouse. ‘One has come to see.’ He ducked and pressed a finger to his lips, listening, before returning cautiously to the spyglass. ‘Is okay,’ he said. ‘Back inside.’
‘Sir,’ James continued. ‘There isn’t even time for me to explain. We must ride to Llanwyth. You have a train waiting. It will take us to the city.’ He pulled a pocket watch from his coat and tipped it towards the lantern. ‘We have forty minutes to get there, enough time if we leave now.’
‘Leave?’
‘They won’t delay it longer. Come on.’
‘No, wait a minute, James.’ Archer’s confusion was transforming into annoyance. ‘I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what you are about. How did you find us?’
‘Pure bloody luck if you ask me’, James said. ‘And the lantern. Clear as day from up there. But, Sir, I will explain everything when we are moving. This is a diversion. The real attack is happening right now back in the city.’
‘The girls are here, James. We have seen them. Quill will be nearby. We are going in at five o’clock.’
James glanced at Fecker and then back to Archer. ‘Fecks wil
l have to do it alone,’ he said.
‘What? Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘A life might depend on it, Sir.’
‘Their lives depend on us, Mr Wright. Now kindly stop pulling at my coattails. As you’re here, you can be of use…’
James grabbed his lapels and pulled him close with surprising force. ‘Silas’ life might depend on it,’ he hissed. ‘His freedom definitely does, and this has got nothing to do with Quill.’
‘Banyak? What happen?’
‘Another time, Fecks,’ James said. ‘Sir, please. The train is waiting, but right now, you can’t be here.’
‘Banyak hurt?’
‘No, Fecks, but he is in trouble.’ James let Archer go and peeked over the rock line to the lighthouse. ‘Can you do alone?’
‘Da. They are idiots.’
‘He can’t go in there on his own.’ Archer tugged James back into a crouch. ‘I demand you tell me what you’re playing at.’ He was angry now. ‘Why aren’t you at Larkspur with Silas?’
‘If you don’t come right now, Sir, Silas will never see Larkspur.’
‘That’s ludicrous.’ He gasped. ‘You’re wearing my overcoat!’
‘And your suit.’
Archer’s head was spinning. James was meant to be in Cornwall, not on the Welsh coast in the middle of the night two-hundred-and-fifty miles from home.
‘This is too much,’ he said. ‘You will explain yourself, Sir, or find yourself without employment.’
The words came directly from his father’s mouth, and he hated himself for adopting the man’s attitude, but sometimes, servants had to be put in their place. He expected contrition, but what came next changed his view of James Wright forever.
‘To be honest, Archer,’ James said, dropping his footman’s voice. ‘I don’t give a tinker’s fuck for my position right now.’ The words were spat, his face a mess of twisted shadows. ‘But I’d give anything to save yours, and that’s exactly what I intend to do. Silas is in Bow Street nick. He’s in court in seven hours, the journey will take us six. If we leave now, he’s got a chance, but not without you. If you don’t come with me, I’m going to go back to the train, back to the city, and I’ll do what I can for my mate, but it ain’t going to do no good, and he’ll be in Newgate by nightfall. Probably dead within a week. You can stay here and rescue his sisters, or you can come with me and save Silas. It’s up to you. Sack me for trying to help my mate if you want, but do it once we’ve got Silas freed. If we can get him freed. Choice is yours. What d’you want to do?’
There was so much to take in that Archer couldn’t process the information, let alone understand it. His mind reached for answers, but found only excuses.
‘I can’t. The girls…’ he stammered. ‘We’re here to save them.’
‘Fecker will do that.’
‘He can’t do it alone.’
‘He can fight off Russians, he can walk across a continent, he can survive six years on the streets of fucking Greychurch for Christ’s sake. Are you coming?’
‘Go, man,’ Fecker said, pushing Archer from behind. ‘Banyak need you.’
‘You need me.’
‘Nyet.’
Fecker shoved him towards James, who tried to help Archer to his feet. He struggled free.
‘No,’ he insisted. ‘You don’t understand.’
‘I understand alright.’ James’ words were forced through clenched teeth, rude and vicious. ‘Always got to be you in charge, yeah? Well, right now, you ain’t. We are. Trust Fecks help them and let me help you. Otherwise, your lover’s life ain’t going to be worth living.’
‘Help Banyak.’ Fecker pulled Archer to his feet.
‘He’ll be fine, Fecks,’ James said. ‘Lady Marshall got him the best barrister, and the charges are false.’
‘Talk later,’ Fecker said, glancing back to the lighthouse. ‘Jimmy I trust.’
‘Cheers.’ James turned to Archer while digging into his coat. ‘I know who’s done this, Archer, and I know how we can stop it and get them done for it at the same time, but it can’t be done without you.’ He pressed a wad of notes into Fecker’s hand. ‘Take this,’ he said. ‘Get to Larkspur. Message home when you’re all safe.’
‘Da.’
The footman and the coachman shook hands firmly.
Archer’s world was spinning. He was standing in the middle of a river, and it was flowing around his feet intent on washing him away, the level was rising, and no-one had explained how to cope. His job was to lead, his mission was to rescue the sisters, but his servants were ganging up on him and stripping him of his authority. James knew things he didn’t. Why hadn’t he told him before? Why was there no message? Why was James again yanking at his coat and swearing?
‘Last chance,’ his footman warned.
He wasn’t his footman, not out here on the hillside. There was no uniform, no etiquette, no respect for his title. These men, these employees, were dictating what he should do, and Archer was unable to let them. It was not how things were done.
‘Unhand me, Sir,’ he blustered. ‘You have gone too far.’
‘You want to see too far?’ James growled. ‘Try this.’
Archer was aware of a whooshing sound, his teeth rattled and then… Nothing.
Fecker was carrying the viscount to his horse when he came round and started struggling. Hanging over the Ukrainian’s shoulder, he thumped his back, but Fecker took no notice. James was ahead untethering Archer’s horse, a dimmed lantern hanging from his own.
‘Is he awake?’
‘Da, Jimmy. Hey!’ Fecker spoke from his throat, keeping his voice low. ‘No struggle.’ Reaching the horse, he put Archer down and examined his face. ‘You live,’ he said. ‘Mount up.’
Archer was dazed, but James’ right hook had knocked sense into him. He obeyed silently, and for a second, Fecker felt sorry for him. He was an idiot at times, but at least he tried.
He lifted the viscount onto his saddle. ‘You can ride?’ he asked, squinting through the gloom to make sure the man understood.
‘What?’
James had mounted and brought his horse alongside. ‘Their lives are in your hands, Fecks,’ he said. ‘Let me worry about him and Silas.’
‘I don’t worry, Jimmy,’ Fecker said, pressing the reins between Archer’s trembling fingers. ‘You are good homosex-man.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment, mate. Remember, Larkspur, near Bodmin, Cornwall. Will you find it?’
‘Da.’
‘Archer?’ James gripped the viscount’s shoulder, and the touch brought him to his senses. ‘Sorry I had to do that,’ he said. ‘But I ain’t sorry for doing it. Can you ride?’
‘Ride? Of course.’
‘Follow my light and be careful,’ James instructed. ‘Once we’re over the hill, it’s not difficult. Good luck, Andrej.’
‘Ha!’ Fecker said. He didn’t need luck. He knew exactly what he was up against, and it wasn’t going to be hard. ‘You go to Banyak. I want him back.’
‘We all do, mate.’ James set off at a trot.
Fecker slapped the viscount’s mount, and it followed, its rider unsteady in the saddle at first, but as he watched them gather speed through the moonlight, his master righted himself, and by the time they became one with the night, he was in control — of his horse at least.
‘Man’s an idiot,’ Fecker mumbled as he made his way back to the ridge. ‘Idiot with heart.’
The viscount’s heart was so big he couldn’t always command it, he concluded as he settled in to watch and wait for the tide. It was large enough to encompass Silas and when he wasn’t stuck up his own arse, it had room for others.
Fecker didn’t doubt that the man loved Banyak. He knew it to be true as soon as the two met, and he
had proved it every day since. Money, comfort, care, he provided all those things, but they were the only way he knew how to show his love.
Archer had never trusted Fecker. He only thought he did, but all Fecker did was follow orders as best as he could, and Archer assumed it was the Ukrainian way of acceptance.
‘Da. Man’s an idiot,’ he said again and checked the lighthouse.
The tide turned two hours later when Fecker was wondering why Silas was in gaol. He had done his best not to let the worrying thought disturb his concentration, but it crept towards him through the silence until a strange sound floated in on the breeze. It came from the rock, a grinding noise that reminded him of a mill when it turned into the wind. Metal and wood laboured together in short bursts. The sound stopped, but came again a few seconds later. He aimed the scope on the building and his eyes adjusted. The lanterns gave a feeble glow from beneath the stairs, but with the moon now shining on the front of the tower, he could see beyond the black void of the doorway.
A column rose through the otherwise empty chamber, dissecting the scene down the middle, and the grating sound came when it turned. Looking at what was left of the roof, he made out other pieces of machinery and, as the column rotated, so they moved. Putting the spyglass aside, he noticed that the sound only came after the waves broke on the shore. It happened when they were drawn back as the tide dragged them seaward, and he concluded that there was a mechanism beneath the tower that caught the seawater and used its force to turn the machine.
‘Clever,’ he said and checked on the causeway.
It was now partially visible. Although not completely free of water, the depth was minimal, and he could easily walk across. It was ten yards, he calculated, not far and there was no door to break through. The stairs must be stable, else the kidnappers would have had difficulty, and the room they were in was down and to the right.
He took off his coat and draped it carefully over a rock. Archer had bought him that after the business with the train up north. It replaced the one Fecker had stolen from a sailor years before. He had been fond of that coat and was wearing it when he met Silas and was never without it. It was lost now, sunk in a river, and the new one reminded him of Archer’s kindness. The man wasn’t so bad, he just needed to be loved too much.
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