by Amanda Quick
Emma gave up struggling. The rope that one of Ware’s men had used to secure her was stout and firmly knotted. She looked at Victoria.
“Is there any slack in your bonds, madam?”
“There is some give because that dreadful man left my gloves on when he tied my hands.” Victoria paused to twist against her restraints. “They are not so tight as to make my fingers go numb but I do not think that I can free myself.”
Emma surveyed their surroundings. Ware’s men had kept both women under guard in a room above a dingy shop until nightfall. Then they had driven them in an anonymous hackney to the docks. A short while ago they had finally been deposited and left alone on the second floor of an abandoned warehouse. Large crates and several barrels loomed in the shadows around Emma. Coils of thick rope sat on the floor like so many plump snakes. A layer of dust cloaked the lot. The grime on the windows was so thick it blotted up the fitful moonlight.
Emma was uncertain of the time but she knew that she and Victoria had been gone from the Exbridge mansion for several hours.
“I wonder why he brought us to the docks?” Emma mused as she inched her way closer to Victoria.
“Perhaps because he intends to sail as soon as he has the recipe in his hands. He appears to be convinced that Edison possesses it.”
“I cannot believe that Ware actually thinks Edison murdered Miranda in order to get his hands on some silly bit of occult lore.”
“It does raise the issue of who really did kill Miranda.” Victoria paused. “What on earth are you doing?”
“Trying to get behind you so that you can reach into the pockets beneath my skirt.”
“What have you got in your pockets?”
“The knife from your desk drawer is in one of them. We may be able to use it to cut through these ropes.”
“Astonishing,” Victoria said. “What in heaven’s name made you think to bring along a penknife?”
“The notion came to me when I heard Basil’s voice in the hall.”
“I wish ye’d sit yerself down,” One-Eared Harry said. “Yer makin’ me dizzy with all that prowlin’ back and forth. Yer like some great caged beast waitin’ to be fed. Here, ‘ave some ale. That’ll settle ye.”
Edison ignored him. He came to a halt at the narrow window and looked down into the pinched lane. He and Harry had been waiting in the small, dark room above the Red Demon for hours. One of Harry’s men had finally returned to the tavern with a useful rumor an hour ago.
Still, Edison had waited. The Strategy of Timing taught that the more impatient one was, the longer one should delay before making the attack. But he dared not hesitate too long. The message from Ware had been very specific. The recipe was to be left in the appointed alley on the other side of town within the hour. Ware would have men watching the location, which meant there would be few guards left to keep an eye on his prisoners.
“‘Ow many men d’ye think he’ll have with ‘im?” Harry asked conversationally.
“Only one or two at the most. He’s far too arrogant to concern himself with a couple of women.” Edison smiled grimly. “The fool will not have the good sense to realize what he is dealing with when it comes to Emma and my grandmother.”
“Difficult, are they?”
“You do not know the half of it. But that is one of the reasons we must get to them while Ware is distracted by his anticipation of acquiring the recipe. If we wait too long, Emma and Victoria are quite likely to take matters into their own hands.”
“I’m ready whenever ye say. The sooner the better, far as I’m concerned.”
Edison pulled his watch out of his pocket and flipped it open. “It’s time.”
“Thank the lord.” Harry banged down his mug and surged to his feet. “No offense, but I don’t think I could’ve stayed in the same room with ye for much longer. Yer startin’ to make me right edgy.”
Edison closed the watch and started toward the door. He took his pistols out of his greatcoat pockets to check them one last time. Both were loaded. The powder was dry.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Emma felt the last strands of the rope part. Euphoria gripped her briefly.
“You did it, madam. I am free.”
“Thank heavens. I thought I would never get through those bonds.”
Emma stretched her arms cautiously. Then she rubbed them briskly. She was stiff and sore from having been confined for so long, but she could manage. She turned quickly and picked up the knife.
“I’ll have you out of these ropes in a moment.”
“No doubt,” Victoria said dryly. “But have you given any thought to what we should do after that? The only way out of this room is back down the stairs. Ware and his men will be waiting for us.”
“There is another way out.” Emma sawed the small blade across the thick strands. “The window.”
“You intend to climb down to the street?”
“There is a great quantity of rope lying about on the floor. We can use it to descend to the pavement.”
“I am not at all certain that I can manage such a feat. But even if we both succeed in escaping, we are in one of the most dangerous sections of London. Two women wandering around the docks at night could well meet with an extremely nasty fate.”
“Have you any other suggestions?”
“No,” Victoria said. “But there is one thing—”
“Yes?”
“My grandson is well known around these parts,” Victoria said quietly. “He does a great deal of business here.”
“Yes, of course.” Emma’s spirits lifted immediately. “We shall invoke his name if we are accosted. And the name of his friend One-Eared Harry too.”
Victoria gave a long-suffering sigh. “What can Edison be thinking of to associate himself with men who bear names such as One-Eared Harry? If only I had taken that boy into my care all those years ago. Tell me the truth, Emma. Do you think I would have ruined him the way I ruined Wesley?”
The pain that lay beneath the simple question wrung Emma’s heart. She chose her words with the same care she would have used to handle a fragile blossom.
“My grandmother was a very wise woman. She told me once that parents can take neither all of the blame nor all of the glory for how their offspring turn out. In the end, she said, all of us must take responsibility for ourselves.”
“Edison did that very well, did he not?”
“Yes,” Emma said. “He did.”
The thud of footsteps on the stairs came just as Emma finished cutting through the ties that bound Victoria.
“There is someone coming,” Victoria whispered. “He will likely check our bonds and see that we are free.”
Emma turned on her heel and scooped up the heavy stool upon which she had been recently perched. “Stay where you are, madam. If he opens the door, try to distract him for a moment.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Have no fear. I am really very good at this sort of thing, although I am more accustomed to using a bedwarmer than a stool.”
She hurried across the room, her soft kid shoes making only the slightest patter on the heavily timbered floor. She reached the door just as the footsteps halted on the other side. Taking a deep breath, she raised the stool high over her head and waited.
The door opened abruptly. A candle flared.
Victoria spoke sharply from out of the shadows, her voice as imperious as though she berated a servant. “It is about time you got here. I trust you have brought us something to eat. We have been without food or water for hours.”
“Be bloody glad you’re still alive.” The man stalked into the room and raised the candle. “Where the devil is the other one?”
Emma slammed the stool down onto his head with all her might. The villain did not even cry out. He simply fell to the floor with a heavy thump. The candle flew from his hand and rolled in the dust.
“Emma, the candle.” Victoria started forward.
“I’ve got it.” E
mma picked up the taper and blew out the flame. “We must hurry now. Someone will come looking for him.”
“Yes.” Victoria had seized a coil of rope and was already dragging it to the window. “But I do not know if I can manage to climb down a length of rope.”
“We shall tie some knots in it. Our gloves will protect our hands. We are only one floor above the ground, Victoria. We can do it. I will go first so that if you slip I can help break your fall.”
“Very well.” Victoria jerked open the window and tossed out one end of the rope. “We can but try. I see no one down below. I suppose that is a good sign.”
“A very good sign,” Emma said. “I was afraid Ware might have posted more guards.”
She tied two large knots in the heavy rope, but she dared not take the time to fashion more. She secured one end of the rope around a heavy barrel.
When she was ready, she hoisted her skirts, swung one leg over the windowsill, gripped the rope in both of her gloved hands, and prepared to descend into the narrow street. It struck her that the lane below appeared much farther away than one would have expected.
“Be careful, my dear,” Victoria whispered urgently.
“Yes,” Edison said quietly from somewhere above Emma’s head. “Be very careful. I have not gone to all this trouble just to have you break your ankle at this point in the game.”
Emma barely managed to stifle a small shriek of surprise. She looked up swiftly. There was nothing overhead except the night sky. Then she realized that there was a shadow dangling just above her.
“My God. Edison.”
“Hush. Go back inside. There’s no point doing this the hard way if we can avoid it.”
“Yes, of course.”
Emma scrambled back off the windowsill and turned to watch him follow. If she had not known he was there, it would have been impossible to see him, she thought. Garbed entirely in black, he was only a dark shape against the night. The length of rope he had used to lower himself from the roof dangled in the opening behind him.
Emma rushed toward him and threw her arms around his waist. “It’s about time you got here, sir.”
“Sorry for the delay. It could not be avoided.” He hugged her briefly.
Victoria gazed at him in astonishment. “How did you find us?”
“It’s a long story. Suffice it to say that one of the least practical aspects of Vanza is that if one has studied the Strategies and then stepped back outside the Circle, one can generally predict what another student of the arts is likely to do. Ware assumed that I would conclude this was the last neighborhood in London he would select for a hiding place.”
Emma frowned. “I would have thought that Ware would have anticipated the possibility that you would second-guess him.”
“Just to be on the safe side,” Edison said dryly, “I put out the word that I was willing to pay a good deal of blunt for information regarding his whereabouts or the whereabouts of his henchmen. Nothing speaks as loudly as money in this section of the city.”
“Yes, of course. Very shrewd, sir, if I may say so.”
“Thank you.” Edison looked at the man lying on the floor in a patch of moonlight. “I see you have been up to your old tricks, Emma.”
“Victoria and I made a good team.” Emma glanced toward the door.
“I am awfully glad to see you, Edison, but we really should be getting out of here.”
“I agree. But I think it would be easier for all of us to depart by the stairs, rather than by ropes.” Edison crossed the floor to the door. “Wait here. I will only be a moment.”
“Edison, you mustn’t,” Emma said.
“It’s all right,” Edison said. “Ware is, at the moment, a victim of the Strategy of Distraction. He is unable to concentrate on everything at once. From what I was able to discern earlier, he kept only two men here with him. You ladies have taken excellent care of one of them. My friend Harry and I dealt with the other earlier. The rest of Ware’s henchmen are on the other side of the city, waiting for me.”
“Nevertheless,” Victoria whispered urgently, “Ware himself is downstairs and he’s got a pistol. You’ll run straight into him.”
“Think of it as him running straight into me.” Edison opened the door and glided out into the hall.
Emma looked at Victoria. “He really is the most difficult employer I’ve had in my entire career. I probably should have made him write my reference before I let him go downstairs.”
He had never put all of his trust in the Strategies, Edison thought, but he had to admit that there was some value in the Strategy of Timing, if only because of the element of surprise.
He removed his pistol from his belt and stepped out of the darkened hall. He went to the doorway of the lantern-lit room that served as an office. Basil paced the floor inside. A pistol dangled loosely in his hand.
“I regret that I have kept you waiting, Ware,” Edison said.
Basil jerked violently and spun around. His mouth worked furiously when he saw Edison.
“Damn you, Stokes.” He raised the pistol and pointed it at Edison. “Damn your bloody eyes.”
He pulled the trigger without a second’s hesitation. The explosion was thunderous in the small room.
Edison was already moving. He slipped to the side of the doorway and listened to the ball crash into the wall behind him. Then he moved swiftly back into the opening. Ware was at the desk, seizing the second pistol that lay there. Edison was obliged to shift position again. Ware’s second ball shattered wood somewhere in the darkness.
“Where are my men?” Basil raised his voice in a commanding scream. “He’s here, you fools.”
A faint tremor went through the wooden floor beneath Edison’s feet.
“Bloody hell.”
Too late he realized that he and Harry had miscalculated. Ware had kept a third villain to guard his back.
Edison dropped to the floor but not quickly enough. There was a flash of light from the dark space behind the stairwell. He felt the fire slice across his ribs as cleanly as a knife blade.
“Kill him,” Ware yelled. “Make sure he is dead.”
Edison turned onto his back and fired at the hulking figure who loomed in the shadows. The man jerked and reeled back against the staircase. His pistol crashed to the floor. The wooden floor shuddered again. Edison realized that Ware was coming up from behind in the best tradition of the Strategy of Surprise.
The appropriate response, according to the teachings, was to roll to the side and use the opportunity to regain one’s feet. Instead, Edison twisted once more, ignoring the pain that lanced through him. He grabbed Ware’s booted foot as it arced through the air toward his head. He yanked violently, wrenching the boot and the ankle inside with all of his strength. Ware yelled, toppled backward, and went down hard. Edison surged to his feet and started toward his prey. Basil had already struggled to his knees. He glanced past Edison, eyes narrowing.
“Shoot, you idiot,” he shouted. “Do it now.”
It was an old trick. Perhaps the oldest of all. But a disturbing sensation tingled down Edison’s spine. He did not bother to turn his head to see if there actually was someone with a pistol behind him. He threw himself to the side and rolled swiftly behind a post. Fresh pain ripped through his wound. He clawed at the second pistol in his pocket.
The wounded villain had lurched back to his feet. He had a pistol in his fist. It roared out of the darkness.
Edison got the second pistol out of his coat but he saw at once that there was no need to fire it. The gun fell from the villain’s hand. He clutched at the wound in his shoulder and stared at Edison. He blinked his eyes several times.
“Now look what ye went and made me do. Ye moved, ye bloody bastard. Now I’ll never get me pay.”
He toppled headlong onto the floor. Edison pulled himself to his feet with the aid of the post. He looked at Basil, who was lying facedown in a pool of blood. The bullet that had been intended for Edison had struck him in t
he chest.
“Edison, are you all right?” Emma flew down the stairs in a swirl of skirts.
Victoria was right behind her. “Good Lord, there were shots. Is Ware dead?”
Emma ran toward him. “I thought you said everything was under control.”
Edison put his hand to his side. “I made one slight miscalculation. However, the mistake has been rectified.”
“Dear God, Edison.” The soft, anguished cry came from Victoria. He saw that she was staring at him, her hand at her throat.
“You’re bleeding.” Emma stopped in front of him. Her eyes were huge.
Her shocked exclamation reminded him of the fire in his side. He looked down. The lantern light from the office gleamed on the damp spot that stained his black shirt. He realized that he was feeling numb. He fought the light-headed sensation with every ounce of willpower at his command.
“I’ll be all right. It’s just a crease. I think. Go outside and call Harry. He’s waiting for my signal.”
“I’ll fetch him.” Victoria gave Edison a fearful look as she hurried toward the door. “Edison, there is so much blood—”
“Go find Harry, Grandmother,” he said very steadily.
Victoria fled.
“Sit down, Edison.” Emma lifted her muslin skirts and started to tear a strip from her petticoats.
“I told you, I’m all right,” he muttered.
“I said, sit down.” She came toward him with a grimly determined expression.
He sank down onto the second-from-the-bottom step. He was amazed at how weary he suddenly felt. “I suppose you’re worried that I might not survive to write that damned reference for you.”
“It’s not that, sir.” She gently peeled aside his torn shirt to reveal the wound. “It’s that I have my professional standards to maintain. In the course of my career I have had some unfortunate situations arise, but I have never yet lost an employer. I do not intend to begin with you.”