by Bonnie Dee
Dash reached a rough break in the subterranean corridor which led to interconnected sub-basements sprawling below blocks of buildings. The rooms had been used for various purposes throughout history--storage of il egal goods, a place to hide from invaders or the law, fortified quarters where smugglers and thieves could shelter. Most recently the Warren had become a neighborhood where the disenfranchised dwel ed. One could traverse the breadth of the city without ever leaving the dank underground. For some, that was the safest way to travel.
Dash stepped through the break in the wal into a labyrinth no city planner had ever had a hand in. He was careful to shield his captive's head from the ragged edge of stone.
His boot heels crunched over rubble as he carried her to the room in which he intended to hold her while their negotiations played out. He laid her on a raised pal et, which would keep her body off the damp stone floor, then closed the door behind him and set the miner's hat with its glowing lamp on the ground. He also pul ed out the truncheon he wore beneath his jacket. Of course, he didn't intend to hit the woman with it, but she needed to see he was prepared to use force to restrain her. Maybe a pistol would've been an even greater incentive for her to listen to him, but the heavy black club looked dangerous enough.
After that there was nothing to do but wait for the scientist to wake up.
Dash squatted on his heels, his arms resting on his bent knees, and watched her slowly return to consciousness. Her hair had almost completely come loose from its pins and lay fanned around her face like a halo. The light caught in the red strands and made it glow--the only bright thing in this dark room. Beneath her blue coat, she wore a white blouse and navy skirt, basic, no-nonsense, nothing flowery or pastel.
Dash wondered how this wealthy young wel -bred woman had dared flout convention to become a scientist rather than a wife and mother. Even in this age of progress it was considered unusual for a woman to dedicate herself to pursuits outside the home. Yet Victoria Waters had become a preeminent scientist.
Her invention of a natural-looking casing to hold the mechanical structure of the automatons might have been the prime reason the creations had been so easily accepted into society. Because they looked familiar, it was easier for people to tolerate having them around.
The woman's eyelids moved, her lashes flickered and her eyes opened. One blink. Two. And then she gazed at him with eyes bluer than the sky. Her lips parted and a smal gasp escaped her.
"Oh!"
His grip on the truncheon tightened. He forced himself to relax so it dangled negligently from his hand, a silent threat to keep her from leaping up or trying to run. Please God, may she not start screaming or sobbing. He wasn't prepared to deal with a hysterical woman and didn't want to either brandish the truncheon or restrain her.
"Who are you?" she croaked hoarsely then swal owed as if her throat was dry. She ran her tongue over her lips.
Dash swal owed his own nervous tension before he replied.
"Victoria Waters, you are being held accountable for your part in destroying the lives of thousands by creating mechanical devices to take their employment. For your actions you wil be judged."
Out loud the words he'd careful y chosen sounded melodramatic, pompous and a little insane.
What path, Dash? Is this really the way to accomplish your mission? Think, boy, think! Brownlow's voice, his constant companion, whispered insidiously inside his head.
Miss Waters's eyes widened. "You must be a member of the Brotherhood. I've heard about you."
Chapter Two
A flicker of surprise passed over her captor's face at her recognition of his affiliation. "If you know about the Brotherhood, you might understand why you're here."
Victoria's head felt as thick and wool y as if she had a cold. The sweetish smel of chloroform stil lingered in her nose. Drugged, her brain informed her. Drugged, kidnapped and possibly murdered next! The dank mildew stench of the room where she lay quickly supplanted the drug with an earthier odor. She glanced around the dimly lit space and at the closed door. Her heart thundered so she was afraid she might pass out again as she returned her gaze to her captor.
The man squatting beside her had a thick club in his hand and eyes like burning coals. Dark brows knit into a single dramatic line of disapproval above them. The expression on his gaunt, angular face was fierce. He appeared to be the kind of zealot who would die--or kil --for his cause. Victoria had read a bit about the Brotherhood, although the papers relegated news of the organization's ral ies and marches to the inside pages. Evidently the protestors were tired of being ignored and this was some attempt to bring attention to their cause in a more sinister way.
"What do you want?" She meant to sound cool and col ected, but her voice quavered.
"Justice. You wil not be harmed," he assured her. "This is not a crime but a political statement."
Oddly enough, she believed he was sincere. She exhaled a pent breath as she accepted the knowledge that she was not in the clutches of the Southwark Slasher or some rapist--merely a zealous anarchist.
Her fear was eclipsed by sudden anger. She sat up and her head pounded. Rubbing her temple, she noticed her hat was missing and her hair had come loose from its pins.
"Oh, kidnapping most certainly is a crime, and taking me wil not help but hurt your cause. What do you hope to achieve by such a violent act?"
The stranger stood and restlessly strode across the floor. "No one cares about the plight of the poor or wil speak for them. No one has listened to our cries for justice so we'l demand it. Your kidnapping wil be newsworthy. Our terms wil be simple--equal representation on the Commission for Animatronic Affairs."
"That's al you want? Then for heaven's sake why don't you request it through appropriate channels?"
He stopped pacing and stared down at her with a scathing glare.
"Don't you think we tried? This is the method of last resort."
"Kidnapping? That is resourceful." She couldn't keep the scorn from her voice even though she knew she was in no position to chal enge this man. She'd never suffered fools wel and stil struggled to hold her tongue and temper when dealing with them.
He thrust an accusatory finger at her. "A rich woman like you has no idea how difficult it is to negotiate from a position of powerlessness. Not a single person in the Brotherhood has any political sway. We might as wel be screaming into the wind."
Victoria pressed a hand to her chest, too incensed to even make a pretense of politeness. "How dare you assume I don't understand? I most certainly do know what it's like to try to push my way into a world where I'm not welcome. Do you imagine it was easy for a female scientist to get anyone to take her ideas seriously?"
He folded his arms but continued to scowl at her. "I wish they hadn't listened. You've taken lives that were already hard enough and made them hel ish."
The vitriol in his voice slashed her like the crack of a whip. "Me, sir? What have I done?"
"How many hundreds are out of work because of you? No.
Thousands as this plague spreads across the land. You, madam, gave flesh to the automatons, but did you ever once consider what would happen to the workers your creations displaced? There's little enough the uneducated lower classes can do. Menial labor, factory jobs, serving positions are now mostly fil ed by automatons."
He dropped down to squat before her once more. Victoria tried to imagine him sitting in an armchair in a drawing room. A picture of this rough-looking man in a house like hers wouldn't come into focus. Yet, despite his Cockney accent, he spoke as if he'd read a library ful of political treatises. He'd clearly been educated somehow. Her curiosity was piqued but so was her outrage.
"Yes, I did consider it and stil do. I realize that laborers have suffered a loss of employment. When I became involved in this project, my intent was not to undermine the working class but to replace them in dangerous occupations." Her temper rose as she remembered her mission today and realized he'd effectively ruined any chance she had
of being heard by the Commission.
She was far more than a little late for her appointment now.
Victoria rose on trembling legs. Her head spun but she was determined not to faint as it was her turn to look down on her captor with a furious frown. "You are a fool, sir. You've no idea what you've done. When you so ruthlessly kidnapped me, I was on my way to speak to the Commission for Animatronic Affairs. I was going to suggest guidelines for the use of mechanical workers and ways to help the dispossessed."
"What sort of guidelines?" As he stood and faced her, he reached inside his jacket and tucked away the truncheon.
"There are no easy answers. What's created cannot be uncreated. Progress and industrialization wil always cause change and change brings difficulties to society. But I believe education is the key. Laborers must be trained for more skil ed and technical jobs. There wil always be work a mere machine can't do." Victoria offered some of the speech she'd prepared to deliver that day.
He cocked his head and stared at her as if she was a slow student who'd given the wrong answer. "Your solution is better education? In the meantime, what wil the current generation of unskil ed laborers do to put food on the table? Their families are hungry now--today. They need work now. When the government doesn't offer alternative jobs nor any sort of aid program, people turn to crime just to get by. And these days arrests are fol owed by immediate deportation or hanging. Did you know that? No. Of course not, it's a dirty secret that is kept out of the papers."
He leaned forward as if he would teach her the facts by sheer force of wil . His blazing eyes seared hers. "This government means to clear the slums and redesign the city to their standard.
No poverty or crime, no dirt, no mess, no lowlife people who don't fit the new world."
Victoria didn't know how to respond to his extreme claim. "And your kidnapping me wil change al this?" She raised a brow, trying to maintain a pose of calm in the face of his frustrated rage.
"We're not asking the impossible, not demanding automatons be completely discontinued. As you say, some serve useful functions. Al we ask for is to be heard by the Commission."
Victoria heard the raw plea in his gruff voice and, despite her anger, was moved. The man was crazy, no doubt, but his intentions weren't evil. What he wanted was very close to what she'd been trying to win from the Commission--a little care for the common man.
She slowly nodded. "Your desire for representation sounds reasonable. I appreciate what you're saying." Her father had been a diplomat and she'd learned wel from listening to him how to handle difficult people. When she was able to curb her tongue, she could be quite a diplomat herself. The first rule in negotiation was to let the other person know he had been heard. "I understand you want to help people. Your goal is admirable, but I'm not certain you're going about it in an appropriate manner.
However, I am in a position to help you if you'l let me go."
He stalked toward her and she took an involuntary step back as he stopped right in front of her. "Do not patronize me, Miss Waters. I've thought about this plan for some time. I know the risk to myself and the Brotherhood. I haven't undertaken this lightly."
"No, of course not," she soothed, although her heart was in her throat. "I'm merely tel ing you I am not your enemy. I agree with what you suggest and can present your request for representation without a taint of violence attached. No one need ever know about this kidnapping. I can help you."
Her body trembled as he stood so close, so ful of energy and passion for his cause. The odd thing was that she didn't real y fear this stranger despite the violence he had visited upon her.
He hadn't real y hurt her at al , other than the residual headache from the chloroform. What she felt wasn't fear but something else, something she'd never felt before, a sort of heat that surged through her when she tilted her face to meet his eyes. Something inside her answered "yes" to a question that hadn't been asked.
What in heaven's name did that mean?
Her captor gazed at her and a flicker of confusion rippled across his eyes, as if someone had thrown a pebble into his smooth, deep pool of conviction. Then his gaze dropped from Victoria's eyes to her mouth. Her stomach flipped in response.
"I..." He stepped quickly back from her. "I must go tel the others you're here now. We wil discuss your proposal to aid us."
"Wait," she said as he turned to leave. "You have me at a disadvantage, sir. You appear to know everything about me, but I don't even know your name. I understand if you don't wish to give your true one, but I must cal you something."
He looked at her and paused before answering. "Cal me Dash.
I'm not hiding my identity."
"That's your name?"
A smile flashed across his mouth like quicksilver and his Cockney accent grew broader as the topic moved from political to personal. "It's al the name I ever 'ad. The coppers might know it, though they've never seen me face."
"But I have," Victoria said. "That's unusual for kidnappers who intend to let their victims go. You promised not to hurt me, Mr.
Dash. Can I trust you?"
"I told you I don't intend you any harm. Taking you is a means to an end. When our goal is accomplished, you'l be returned safely home." His frown now appeared to be one of concern rather than anger. How was it possible for a pair of eyebrows to express so much?
Fear stil lingered in her despite his promises. If he perceived her as a danger to him or his people, he might yet change his mind about keeping her alive. "How can I trust you?"
"Because you don't know exactly where you are, Miss Waters. I wil make sure you never do. You wouldn't be able to lead the beaks down here even if you wanted to. You're a bargaining tool, but you are also here to bear witness to the conditions many in this city endure. I want you to tel what you see to the press."
Then you should've kidnapped a newspaperman. "Why did you choose me?" she asked. "You know I worked on the external casing for the automatons. There are more important members of the team than I, such as Dr. Ian Hatchett who designed the functioning systems."
He shrugged. "You were the easiest target. Besides, society is much more likely to be moved by the plight of a woman in peril than a man."
"I see." She'd fought through barriers her entire life by entering a profession at al , let alone one reserved exclusively for males.
Once more her gender betrayed her, making her the weak one, the easy mark for anarchists.
The man's face returned to its customary frown. His lips tightened before he spoke. "I'm sorry this action was necessary."
"It's not necessary, sir. I've told you, I wil cooperate. There's no need to keep me a prisoner here." She gestured at the wal s around them. "Let me meet the members of your organization.
We can come to an amicable solution, I'm certain."
His frown gave way to a bemused smile. "You are quite unexpected, Miss Waters. I feel as if I'd girded for battle only to find the war's been cal ed off and the enemy has asked me to sit down to tea."
It was her turn to take a few metaphorical steps toward him, giving him a direct stare and trying to convince him of her honest intentions. "You can trust me, Mr. Dash. I never lie. I promise to hear out your plan and report whatever you wish to the Commission without ever mentioning this unfortunate kidnapping attempt."
"Attempt?" One eyebrow rose and his smile widened. Deep grooves marked the corners of his mouth and Victoria could see laugh lines hidden beneath al those frowns. Perhaps he wasn't always so serious. "I think you've been wel kidnapped. I've the strained back from carrying you to prove it."
"I believe it no longer counts as kidnapping if the victim agrees to be here of her own volition," she countered and returned his smile, rather alarmed at the ease with which they slipped into light banter as if she were truly a guest rather than a captive. Her headache had dissipated along with the wrenching fear she'd felt when she'd first awakened. Not to say she wasn't stil anxious, but Victoria felt remarkably relaxed for someon
e who'd been drugged and dragged off a railway platform.
She held out her hand. "Please al ow me to formal y introduce myself. Miss Victoria Waters."
He stared at her hand for a moment before grasping it and giving it a firm pump. "Dash. Pleased to meet you."
"How did you come by such an unusual name?" she asked, partly to put him at ease with casual conversation thereby continuing to defuse the situation, but also from curiosity.
"I was christened 'Grab 'n' dash' by my mates when I was a tyke for my skil in nicking things. The name stuck and was shortened to Dash."
Victoria wanted to push for more. He must have a real name, given him by parents. But she'd read about the horrors of the worst of the London slums. She understood there were orphaned homeless children who ran in packs like animals, surviving their short, hard lives by any means possible. It was quite possible Dash real y was the only name he'd ever known.
Besides, right now al she could think about was the warmth of his hand lingering on hers long after he'd let go of her. For several moments, they stood staring at each other, then he looked away.
"I must leave you here while I go talk to the others."
"Please don't." Victoria reached out and clutched his coat sleeve.
"I have a fear of enclosed spaces. And I'd like to state my case.
I'm certain I can convince them I'm not their enemy."
"No doubt you can," Dash said dryly. "You've quite the silver tongue. You should be a politician."
"As a woman, I think I've broken enough barriers simply by entering the scientific field. I'l leave politicking for others. I'm quite content in my laboratory."
"What are you inventing now? A replacement for the Prime Minister, I hope."
"I'm continuing my work with polymer materials actual y. Since they've been so tough and resilient as hair and skin for the automatons, I'm exploring what other applications they might be useful for. Perhaps as material for clothing that wears longer. I'm even considering a way the synthetic material could be used to replace skin on burn victims."