The Cog Chronicles Box Set

by P M Cole

  “Umm, yes.”

  Colin leaned back in his chair until it balanced on two legs. “You wouldn’t be the first lass that has done.”

  I resisted rolling my eyes, instead, I sat in the closest chair. “What do you know of Cephas Finlay?”

  I noticed Colin’s face tightened somewhat, although he did his best to hide it.

  “You were always about the business… and what would you be wanting with him? Is it about the ring you stole? Does it have sentiment for you? Because if it does, I suggest you forget about it.”

  I looked down, wondering how truthful I should be, then looked back at him. “I did not steal the ring, that was just a misunderstanding. The man I was with, he is a reporter for… well he is one and I work with him. We are investigating Mr Finlay. Writing a story about him. I understand he is very important in criminal circles.”

  Colin looked at me. I wasn’t sure if my story was holding any water.

  “Well, he certainly is that. But any reporter who writes about him is sure to end up at the bottom of the Thames.”

  “That is the risk us reporters take for the truth.”

  Colin’s eyes narrowed. He pushed the small empty glass towards me and promptly filled it from a tankard. “This is something of our own making, it has a bit of a ki—”

  I picked up the glass and downed the concoction in one effort. The burning was intense, but I was prepared for it.

  Colin’s eyes widened for a moment, then he smiled. “Always a bricky girl.”

  “So, what do you know? I can pay you if that’s what you want.”

  He nodded. “Always happy to take a generous donation!”

  I quickly found two shillings and dropped them on the table. He picked the silver coins up and slipped them into one of his side pockets. His face then grew more serious.

  “And are ya sure I can’t dissuade you to write about this man?”

  I shook my head. As well as the lingering heat in my stomach I could feel my throat tightening. Images from my past tried to push their way into my vision. I wondered if I really wanted to know about this Finlay character, then pushed aside my doubt.

  “Hmm, well, perhaps when you know what I do, you will choose not to anyway… there are a number of gangs that rule the streets of our fine city.”

  I forced my eyes to concentrate. Maybe the liquid I just gulped was more powerful than I first thought. “Such as your own?”

  “Ha. We know a few areas, but as you have seen we are mostly young folk. We try to avoid the topsiders if we can. Luckily we have eyes and ears across the boroughs, so information is what we trade in. The largest gang in the whole of the city are the Penny Cutters. Most of the other gangs pay a fee to them. Mr Finlay is who runs the Cutters. Some say he answers to even more above his station, but they are shadow men. People the likes of us never come in contact with the likes of those.”

  I wavered slightly on my chair. The heat was now over my entire person, but I pushed the words from my mouth regardless. “This might sound like an odd question, but do you know if he has a key-shaped burn on his hand?” I pointed to where I remembered the scar being, using my own hand.

  Colin looked at me confused. “That is an odd question. What do you care if he has a scar?”

  “Umm… the public like details such as that. I heard he has?”

  Colin nodded. “I have heard he does indeed have such a mark—”

  The room was now not just swaying but engaged in a full rotation, the axis of which was myself. Flickers of snow fell around me. My hand fell onto the table, knocking the coins over. A gunshot boomed at my side, causing me to spin around in fright.

  Colin tried to comfort me, but his words were from a distant land.

  “I feel… sick,” I said, my stomach threatening to release its contents. Sixteen years being lost in the wilderness of my own past were becoming focused on my present. As I fell to my knees, I glanced at the man a few feet away. Is he laughing? Is he concerned? I tried to get back to my feet, but my world turned black.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I’m running on a nighttime country road. Beyond the gas lamps to the sides is a nothingness so deep, I know if I veer from my path I will be lost forever. The sounds of horses come from where I’ve been. I turn around and stagger backwards as I see them, eyes ruby-red pulling a carriage. I know it’s the same carriage that carried my parents to their death, and now it’s coming for me too. I turn and try to run, but the snow is up to my knees, then my chest. Huge clumps mounting up in front of me. The wheels of the carriage crunch through the ice and the drumming of hooves draw closer…

  “Cog?”

  I opened my eyes. Colin stood over me with a woman at least twice his age. She looked as concerned as him, beneath the scarf wrapped across her head.

  “Where… what happened?” I said, trying to push myself up, but my hands felt like lead.

  Coolness swept across my face. The woman had something in her hand. A damp cloth I think.

  “Now, you stay where you are, young miss. You had a nasty turn,” the woman said. She frowned at the young man. “He should have never have given you our brew! I’ve seen grown men fall and never get back up after a few glasses of that stuff.”

  I stopped trying to sit up and instead concentrated on using words. “Where am I?” Before they answered, my eyes flick around. I’m in a different dwelling than before. It is slightly smaller but more homely, with some dried plants hanging from the ceiling and some small framed portraits on the walls. A small fire burned in a hole at the base of a brick-built column that rose through the roof.

  “You’re in my home, it’s not much but it’s better than being topside, especially during this time of year.” The woman smiled, which made her look ten years younger. “My name is Olivia, but people who find favour with me, usually call me Liv.”

  I smiled then regretted the decision as a pain throbbed between my temples in unison with my heart.

  I suddenly remembered the sun had already set when I had descended beneath the ground. Mr Gladwell would be wondering where I have gotten to. I went to reach into my side pocket to obtain my pocket watch when I realised Colin and Olivia were not the only eyes that were studying me. Two more sets, belonging to a boy and a girl were almost hidden by a sheet that was covering the entrance.

  Olivia noticed where my gaze was looking and turned around. She frowned and waved her hand at the two young spies. “Hey, be off with ya! This is not a penny peek show!” They receded back into the shadows. She shook her head then placed her hand on my cheek. “Your temperature is coming down. Are you feeling better?”

  “Err… my head’s hurting, but I think so.” I tried to sit up, this time being more successful. I pulled my watch from my pocket. The time was 10 p.m. “Ah! I need to leave. If I’m not back to the shop before 11 p.m. Mr Gladwell will feel compelled to come looking for me.”

  Colin looked inquisitive. “Where’s the shop?”

  “Fray Street, Holborn.”

  “I can get you there in ten minutes. No problem!”

  “Unless you have invented a carriage that can travel twice as fast as the ones above our heads, then that will not be possible.”

  He smirked. “The tunnels run under all of London and beyond, and some connect directly to that street you mentioned.”

  The iron grate above my bed in the basement came to my mind. “Ok… well then, thank you…” I suddenly remembered the reason for this underground adventure. “About Mr Finlay…”

  Colin and Olivia exchanged a brief look.

  “It really is far better that you forget about him…” said Colin.

  “He’s right, lass. Cephas Finlay is not a man to be giving any mind to,” said Olivia.

  My face grew stern and I placed the damp cloth on the bed. “I paid you two shillings for information, Mr Murphy. I expect you to be good to your word.”

  I noticed Colin’s shoulders wilt slightly. “Ask your question.”

  “You sai
d he has a key-shaped scar on his hand?”

  Colin nodded. “That is what they say, aye.”

  “Then the next thing I need to know is. Where does he reside?”

  Colin scoffed and the woman’s eyes grew wide.

  “Are you mad?” said Colin. “A young thing like yourself wants to lay eyes on Finlay? He will stick a knife in your stomach just for looking at him wrong, or worse!”

  I looked away. “That’s my concern. Will you give me his address or not?”

  He looked down, his head moving slightly, as if in conversation with himself. Then once he had concluded the discussion, looked back. “Only if I go with you—” I went to protest, but he held his hand up, then continued. “And you have to tell me how you did this…”

  I looked at him confused.

  He bent down, picking up a mass of silver and copper from near the fire, then held it up.

  “I don’t understand…” The ache in my head continued to pound. An image of the carriage with its horses stampeding towards me briefly flashed before me.

  In the dim light I was not able to tell at first, but the closer he brought the clump of metal, the more I could see it was an amalgamation of pennies and shillings, all blended together as if it had been placed in a forge.

  “Are you a witch? My ma used to talk of—”

  “What?”

  Olivia baulked. “Colin! What she is, is her concern!”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m just saying, if she has the gift, then that could be very lucrative…”

  Olivia rolled her eyes and continued barracking him.

  As they argued over nonsense fairy tales my mind returned to Mr Finlay and anger started to rise in me again. I stood.

  They both became silent and looked at me.

  “I need to leave. You will show me the way through the tunnels?”

  “I will take you, but you agree for me to escort you to see Mr Finlay?”

  I nodded. “Fine.”

  As we left the secret village under the streets of London, I felt eyes on me from the various blanketed dwellings and hovels and was glad to be back in the tunnels.

  After ten minutes of twist and turns, we walked past a wall with an iron grating that I recognised. I stood close to the bricks and looked into the basement. “This is my home.”

  “Shame there not be a door here, could be useful one day!”

  “Hmm maybe.”

  We continued on then climbed up a nearby rusting ladder to the sewer exit. I dislodged the cover, then climbed out to the dark alleyway, waiting for Colin to emerge. His head appeared at the top of the ladder, his candle in his hand. “So I’ll come by in the morn, take you to see him. If you change your mind before then, I won’t hold it against ya.”

  “I won’t change my mind.”

  “OK then.” And with that, he descended and pulled the cover to the sewer back into place.

  I quickly made my way across the cobbles of the back of the shop and approached the rear entrance. The warm orange glow came from the small windows, and through them, I could see Mr Gladwell asleep in the chair near the fire.

  I unlatched the door as quietly as possible and walked into the warmth, then tiptoed across the rug to my basement door, closing it behind me as I made my way down the stairs.

  As I entered my own secret place, I turned on the gas lamp and looked at the iron grating against the wall. Colin was right, an entrance or exit on that wall would be a good idea.

  Despite the ache still vibrating in my head, I looked at my workshop. If I was going to meet the man that killed my parents tomorrow. I needed to be ready.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  I sat up from my worktop with a start. Mr Gladwell was standing to my side, and a mug of steaming tea sat on the wooden table in front of me.

  “Looks like you have been busy, a personal project?” he said, looking at the various pieces of clocks and watches, some combined in strange combinations, all lying scattered around me.

  I looked at the most obvious clock on the wall in front.

  9 a.m.

  “I think I fell asleep at four.” I slipped off my stool still not fully awake. “I’ll get cleaned up and get the next clock to be repaired.”

  Mr Gladwell held his hand up. “No need to start straightaway. Get that tea down you. It’s one of my own special blends, then start at ten…”

  I climbed back on the seat and sipped the hot liquid. The cobwebs immediately started to clear from my mind.

  “You must have come in quite late last night. Is there anything you want to share with me?”

  I produced a smile. “I’m fine. I went for a walk and got disorientated in the fog, but luckily with the help of my pocket watch I found my way home…”

  He frowned. I wasn’t sure even I believed my own words.

  “You have to be more careful, a young lady such as yourself is easy prey for those with evil in their hearts.” He looked at the various contraptions across my worktop, then turned. “Drink all the tea.” He traipsed up the steps. Each one a labour.

  “Oh, umm, actually I will need to go out again, umm… this morning, but I’ll be back in the afternoon…”

  While I was talking he was paused just before the final step.

  “Fine.” He then climbed the top step and left the stairs.

  I sighed, wondering if I should have told him of the events of the last few days. But what if he wanted to stop me from trying to see this Mr Finlay? Things were too finely balanced. Maybe after today I will sit with him and try to explain.

  I heard the bell ring in the shop above.

  No… too soon Mr Murphy.

  Luckily I was already fully dressed.

  “There is a young man here for you, Cog!” shouted Mr Gladwell down the stairs.

  “Yes, tell him I will be right there.”

  Once I was sure Mr Gladwell was back in the shop, I pulled a wooden box out from under my desk, for it contained the two apparatus that I had constructed in the middle of the night.

  The first was an improved design of the weapon I created days before. It was now more compact, being able to be neatly folded, and contained a set of five wooden bolts with iron ends, which loaded automatically. It was also, as the wall opposite could contend, significantly more powerful in its momentum on being released. The second, smaller item was a bracelet with a multilayered spring mechanism that contained a few yards of twine. I had already thought of at least eight uses for it, but mostly I was interested in how it could be used to restrain another if needed. I snapped it onto my wrist, then threw on my coat. I quickly moved to the loose brick in the far wall, pulling it out and removing the most valuable item in the secret hideaway.

  I replaced the brick and moved to my wall mirror. Subtle dark patches laid beneath my brown eyes.

  Is this the day I meet the man that killed my parents?

  If it was, he was going to pay.

  I turned out the lamp and made my way up the stairs and out of the basement, as I did I ran through my plan…

  “Mr Ashmore?” I stopped in the doorway between the rooms, surprised, my hand halfway up my coat’s buttons.

  Mr Ashmore removed his high hat. “Please excuse my unannounced visit. But I wondered if I may interest you in an early morning walk?”

  Mr Gladwell stood behind the counter, his attention down at his ledger.

  “Err… well…”

  The figure of another young man became visible on the other side of the front door.

  Oh no…

  The bell rang again as Colin walked inside, also removing his hat. He grinned at Mr Gladwell who had now looked up, and Mr Ashmore, then finally myself. “Are ye ready?”

  Mr Gladwell sighed and looked back down to his list of numbers.

  I smiled awkwardly. “Umm… yes…” I then walked to Mr Ashmore and offered him my gloved hand. Which he shook. “I’m sorry, but I have an appointment this morning, perhaps another time?” I noticed Colin looking the young gentleman
up and down.

  Mr Ashmore smiled, placing his hat back upon his head. “Another time it is then.”

  I quickly made my way out of the store, taking Colin with me and quickened my step along the pavement.

  “Hey, slow down,” said Colin, struggling to keep up with me. “So is that one of your suitors? I guess you have many…”

  I scoffed. “Who? Mr Ashmore? No… he…” The image of his face returned to my mind. “He’s just a business acquaintance. We provide the clocks that his employer uses.”

  “Uh huh…”

  My face felt warm despite the cutting chill in the air. “So what is our direction? Where is the Mr Finlay?”

  Colin jumped in front of me, causing me to stop. We were outside another of the local shops, ‘Whittocks Butchers’.

  “You do not simply pay a visit to Mr Finlay, well not by choice. If you truly still want to meet with him…”

  “Yes, I still do, continue…”

  “Then, we have to go to one of his establishments, and pay the right person the right levy, and if we’re lucky, we will be told where he might be today.”

  Omnibuses, cabs, and carts rolled past in the street.

  “OK, then let’s be getting on with it…”

  Colin remained fixed in his spot, which was becoming irritating.

  “And what will you give for the reason for this meeting? That you want to expose him to all of London? I don’t think he’ll like that.”

  I sighed. “If you must know, I’m going to tell him the opposite. That he is an important gentleman and people should know that.”

  “Ah… good plan. That might work…”

  I went to set off again, this time Colin thankfully walked with me.

  “So when is your reporter friend going to join us?”

  I had completely forgotten about Mr Brooks, which tinged me with guilt. “Umm… I will be doing this first meeting myself. Mr Brooks is running another errand.” I briefly wondered how well he had recovered from his ordeal.