The Reunion

by Michelle E Lowe

  The only way to find out was to wait, yet, if anything went awry, Archie was uncertain of what he’d be able to do to help. So far, nothing had happened, and he began to worry. A guard exited from the same door Landcross had entered earlier and spoke to the door guard out front. Archie wasn’t close enough to hear, but he assumed it had something to do with Landcross’s plan. Or so he hoped. Moments later, another guard with a scarf around his face came out. The door guard stopped him and spouted off some questions. The keeper’s tone was loud, and Archie heard him order the man with the scarf to go to the pub and fetch the people who had shown up shortly after Landcross arrived. Archie wondered if they worked for the woman, Juan Fan. He decided to follow the third keeper.

  The rushed man forced Archie to sprint after him. The moment he caught up to him, the guard ducked into an alleyway. Perhaps he’d gotten spooked when Archie came running up. He believed he was being quiet, but maybe not enough. Archie used caution as he drew closer to the mouth of the alley. He leaned against the front of the building and waited. Sorrowful weeping sounded from the pathway. Archie wondered if someone else was in there and the guard was hurting him or her. The cry grew louder, and it prompted Archie to peer around the corner. Through the weak reach of the nearby streetlamp, he saw a young woman crouched against the wall, sobbing. She was dressed in the same frock as the man he had been tailing. It became clear rather quickly that she and the guard—the same person. Archie approached with prudence.

  “Excuse me,” he whispered calmly.

  His peaceful tone might as well have been an angry shout. The woman leaped to her feet, wielding a short club.

  “Keep back!” she demanded in a Russian accent.

  From what he could make of her from under the hat and hood, she was rather lovely. She had dark skin and darker freckles dotting her face. Her snarl of clenched teeth was dangerous, yet her glossy eyes were mournful and held a dash of fear. Archie thought of only one thing to say to her.

  “Landcross.”

  Her worry changed to bewilderment.

  “Chto?”

  “Landcross?” he repeated.

  She looked at him queerly. “Who are you?”

  “I am a friend of Pierce Landcross. Have you heard of him?”

  She shifted her eyes from side to side until locking them on him. “He is one of Nona and Jasper’s sons.”

  “Indeed. Their youngest boy. You know his parents, then?”

  “Da. They are . . .” She broke off. “They were my family.”

  Archie noted the changed word.

  “Were?”

  Without lowering the club from her warrior pose, she nodded. Panic ran through him like a winter storm, raising gooseflesh all over.

  He swallowed thickly, dreading her next answer. “When did they die?”

  “Tonight. Just now.”

  Relief instantly melted his cold terror. “Oh, thank God,” he breathed out.

  “What do you mean by that?” she demanded hotly.

  He took in a breath. “Pierce is inside the prison, disguised as a royal guard in an attempt to free his parents. He’s staging their deaths.”

  She was quiet for a long moment. “Are you saying that Nona and Jasper are still alive?”

  “Yes.”

  “And their son is in there?”

  “He is.”

  The club shook in her tight grip. Until now, she had held it as steady as a plank. The worried expression crossing over her face told him something was wrong.

  “What is it?”

  “He’s dressed as a royal guard?”

  “Yes.”

  Finally, she lowered the weapon and placed her other hand over her mouth. Her eyes widened with such panic that his fear quickly returned.

  “What happened?” he demanded.

  She removed her hand. “He came into my cell.”

  “Who? Pierce?”

  She nodded. “I believed he was a guardsman. I hit him in the head and locked him inside my cell.”

  Archie hoped he had heard her wrong.

  “Wait. You mean he’s trapped in there?”

  “Da. I . . . I did not know.”

  He felt a flash of resentment until he considered the predicament through her point of view. How could she have possibly known?

  He breathed out his anger. “It’s not your fault. But we must act fast.”

  “What are we to do?”

  “Well, there’s still the matter of his parents. What did the guard say to you?”

  “He wanted me to go to the Old Stone Tavern and tell some Chinaman there’s a pickup at the prison.”

  “I believe the person you were sent to fetch is someone who works for Juan Fan, a friend of Pierce’s. We need to find him.”

  The woman nodded, her face now brave. “Da.”

  She started to leave when he bowed. “I’m Archie Norwich, by the way.”

  She looked at him, and gave a slight curtsy. “Taisia Kuzentsov.”

  They fled the alleyway and rushed to the pub. Archie only prayed Juan Fan’s people could help and that no more problems would arise.

  The Old Stone Tavern was full of drinkers and loud chatter. Sometimes laughter broke out. Archie was acutely aware his expensive clothing told the lower-class customers that he might have money for the taking. He did have a little, yet something else he carried was more valuable, and that was his revolver, which he’d aim at anyone who got in his way. His primary goal was getting Landcross out before someone discovered him, or, at the very least, to make certain his parents got to safety.

  The pair received a few glances, but no one wanted to start any trouble, most likely due to the prison that lay just down the road.

  In the center of the tavern, seated under the brightest area as if wanting to be found, was an Asian man with a fair-haired youth. The Chinese man eyed Archie as he approached.

  “Pardon me,” Archie said politely.

  If this person was an acquaintance of Pierce Landcross, the unwise thing to do was for Archie to appear as someone of authority.

  “Shì?” he demanded hastily, lowering his glass of wine.

  “Pardon my intrusion, but do you work for Juan Fan?”

  The Chinese man sat up a little straighter, and Archie noticed he already had a hand tucked underneath his black jacket. Archie raised his hands slightly to show he had not come looking for trouble.

  Kuzentsov came around and stood in front of him. “Please. Time is not on our side. Do you know Juan Fan?”

  The man’s eyes shifted to her. “I am Juan Fan.”

  That caught Archie off-guard. But you’re clearly a man.

  “What do you want?” Fan demanded harshly.

  Instead of trying to sort Fan out, Archie focused on the agenda.

  “We’re friends of Pierce Landcross. This young lady, Taisia Kuzentsov, was imprisoned with his parents.”

  “And?” the short-tempered man snapped. “You were released. Good for you.”

  “No,” Kuzentsov continued, taking a seat next to Fan. “I escaped. I . . . I have done something very bad.”

  “What?” Fan asked.

  “Pierce came into my cell. I believed him to be a guard. I hit him on the head and locked him in there.”

  Fan looked at her a moment and sighed. “That would happen to Pierce.” He looked up at Archie. “And what of you, young one, eh? I have not heard about you. Why you here?”

  “I’m here to make sure everything is all right,” he explained. “It appears anything but.”

  “Please,” Kuzentsov begged. “Can you help us?”

  Fan considered her a moment. He clicked his tongue and let out a groan. “Let’s go outside.”

  The four stepped out and stood away from the lamplight.

  “How did you find me?” Fan demanded.

  “When I left the prison, I was ordered to fetch you,” Kuzentsov answered.

  Fan nodded. “I see. The only thing I can think of is for you”—he pointed to Archie
—“to pose as a guard and get Pierce out.” To Kuzentsov, he said, “If you have walked out on your own, then you must have keys, shì?”

  “They are in my coat pocket.”

  “Good. Then it’s a start.” Fan turned to his man. “Come, Bartlomiej.”

  “Where are you going?” Archie asked.

  “We are retrieving the bodies. I assume that is why the guard has sent for us. It appears Pierce managed to achieve his part of the plan before you locked him up.”

  Kuzentsov turned away in shame.

  Fan looked to Archie. “Are you willing to infiltrate?”

  Archie was, and he showed it by taking off his coat. “Kuzentsov,” he said.

  She took off her coat, the hat, and her own hooded jacket underneath. Archie undressed down to his shirt and dressed in the hooded coat that fit very tight on him. He put on the frock, and finally, the scarf, which he wrapped around the lower half of his face.

  “I’m ready,” he announced. “Kuzentsov, where is Landcross?”

  “He is in a private cell near the rear of the prison.”

  It was a vague map, but Archie held faith he’d locate it.

  “What am I to do?” Kuzentsov asked, slipping her arms through the sleeves of Archie’s coat.

  “Stay out of sight,” Fan ordered. “Go left from the tavern and cut through Ave Maria Lane. Wait for us on the other side. Understand?”

  “Da.”

  “Good. Come. We must hurry.”

  Archie, Fan, and the youth named Bartlomiej, left down the road, heading for Newgate.

  * * *

  “Oh, good, you found them,” the guardsman said to Archie. “Where’s the whore?”

  Archie was utterly confused. “Sorry?”

  “The whore you were sent to fetch for a prisoner.”

  Puzzled by this, Archie said, “I wanted to obey your orders first.”

  The guard studied him, perhaps wondering why the keeper was taller and sounded differently.

  Before he could put more thought into it, Fan interposed. “You have dead for us?”

  Fan reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin purse. That alone switched the guard’s focus.

  “Aye! A pair of them, in fact. Pull your buggy around back and I’ll have them brought out to you.” To Archie he commanded, “You. Stay here.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The guardsman rushed up the steps and knocked. When the door opened, he whispered to the keeper inside, “They’re here. Let’s get to it, eh?”

  With that, he vanished into the building.

  When they were gone, Archie said to Fan, “I’ll go in while you—”

  Before he finished speaking, a collection of horsemen approached the middle door down the way. The group, dressed in common clothing, halted their mounts. One of the men spoke to the other guardsmen with urgency.

  “I am Lieutenant Darius Javan. I must speak to the sheriff this instant.”

  Archie didn’t recognize the name, but he knew that voice. He’d heard that same commanding tone not too long ago while in Berck, visiting with one of Pierce’s shady friends.

  “Shit,” he muttered.

  “Javan,” Fan said, the color draining from his face.

  Apparently, the two had crossed paths before.

  “That’s the officer whom Landcross escaped from the other night,” Archie explained. “He must have come on the suspicion he’d be here.”

  “It is too dangerous for you to do your part just yet,” Fan informed him.

  Archie sadly knew that to be true.

  “What about a distraction?” Bartlomiej spoke up.

  Archie was surprised to hear him speak. “Sorry?”

  “A distraction,” he repeated.

  “Shì!” Fan said. “That’s it. You, young one, wait until those other guards leave, then move in and locate Pierce. We will create a diversion.”

  “What kind of diversion?”

  Fan smiled, showing off his stained teeth. Archie had no idea what he had planned, but there wasn’t any time to ask. Bartlomiej clicked his tongue, and the buggy turned about-face and headed the other way. Archie clutched the stolen keys tucked away in the coat pocket, watching as Lieutenant Javan and his soldiers entered the building.

  Chapter Six

  To the Lieutenant’s Utter Amusement

  Lieutenant Javan was prepared to push his way through in order to speak to the sheriff. Fortunately, it never came to that. The guardsman outside allowed him and his troops inside without protest.

  “Lieutenant?” Joseph Waters, the prison sheriff, greeted. “I haven’t seen you since you last came to interrogate the Landcross couple. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

  “Has there been anyone here tonight asking about them?”

  His abruptness startled the warden.

  “Pardon? Did anyone . . . ?”

  Javan hated how slow-witted the man was. “Come asking about the prisoners,” he hurried the man along. “The Landcrosses.”

  “Ah, actually, a young Sergeant Crispin Gales showed up, wanting to question them about their son.”

  “Where is this sergeant? Has he left?” the lieutenant demanded, his voice rising.

  “Not to my knowledge. He also requested that he be able to speak to the Russian woman, so I had a keeper bring him to her cell.”

  “Take me there. Now!”

  The warden jumped at the strong, commanding tone.

  “Ye . . . yes, sir. Right this way.”

  Lieutenant Javan pointed to a couple of his men. “You two, come with me. The rest of you, keep watch outside. No one leaves until I say, understand?”

  “Aye, sir.”

  He followed Joseph into the prison and toward the private cell area.

  * * *

  Pierce causally leaned against the bars, slowly twirling the broken broomstick handle between his fingers. He’d been hit by the damn thing so hard, it surprised him his head wasn’t bleeding. He just knew the hit would leave a mark.

  The plan had been working perfectly up until his father said, “What about Taisia?” He wanted to kill the lass he had come to save. If he were any less of a man, he’d have yelled for assistance ages ago. He reckoned it best to give her a sporting chance at freedom. After all, she hadn’t been brought back yet . . . perhaps she had already made it out. Besides, if he called on the guards, it could very well hinder his parents’ escape, which should be taking place at that moment. He waited for either the broomstick-wielding wench to be hauled back in or for someone else to show up, wondering what had happened to the missing keeper, Andrew. Pierce had already switched on the dispenser, ready to convince whoever came that he was waiting for Andrew to release him from the cell as he was supposed to do when he was finished questioning the woman. He’d decided it was his best shot at getting out of this and had flicked the switch before applying the scented oil under his nose. He then placed the dispenser close to the bars and covered it with hay. As the mist began wafting out, he heard people coming up the stairs. He grabbed the cap, ready to put it back on.

  “Guard?” Pierce called. “Come get me out. I . . .” His voice trailed off when a dark-skinned man appeared. Pierce’s eyes grew very wide before he grabbed the bars and bowed his head with a deep sigh. “’Ello, Lieutenant.”

  He raised his chin to the man’s smiling face.

  “Oh,” Darius began cheerfully. “Oh, this is truly a memorable moment.” He laughed loudly, confusing the warden standing beside him. When he calmed, he stammered out, “You . . . you snuck into Newgate only to get yourself locked in? I could have saved you the trouble!”

  He again broke out into laughter. Pierce was growing infuriated by his amusement.

  The bastard continued. “Not since witnessing my firstborn coming into this world have I experienced something as precious as this.”

  “Wonderful,” Pierce griped.

  “How did this happen, Landcross?”

  Pierce thought about answering
when he remembered the chemical in the air. “I was recognized by the guard who brought me up here. He locked me in with the woman.”

  “She’s in there with you?” Darius asked, looking into the dark cell.

  “Aye. Huddled in the far corner.” Pierce pointed. “See her?”

  Both lieutenant and sheriff peered in. Pierce bit the side of his cheek. The guard remained unconscious on the floor behind the headboard where Pierce had dragged him. If the illusion worked as well as when he and Fan had used it years ago, they wouldn’t notice the man’s feet poking out.

  “Where did he go?” the lieutenant inquired. “The keeper?”

  Pierce shrugged. “Dunno. Told me he was going to inform you, Sheriff, before heading off to the pub.”

  Darius snorted and said to the warden, “Seems likely he has done one before the other, Mr. Waters.”

  The halfwit sheriff finally caught up to their conversation. “Landcross? You’re Pierce Landcross?”

  Pierce simply shifted his eyes to him without an answer.

  “Did you have a good reunion with your parents?” Darius mocked, crossing his arms.

  “Never had the chance to even get to ’em,” Pierce quickly replied.

  Waters opened his crooked mouth, but Pierce cut him off. “Remember, Sheriff? You allowed me to come here first before letting me visit them.”

  The man pursed his chapped lips and rolled his eyes up while he rifled through his memory box, struggling to recall. Soon the lie became the truth.

  “Oh. Yes,” the warden finally said. “That’s the way of it.”

  Bloody love Salvia!

  “So, whatever you had planned has failed,” the lieutenant pointed out scathingly.

  Pierce’s grip on the bars tightened and he lowered his head somberly. “It appears so.”

  Darius turned to the halfwit. “I want him placed in another cell up here.”

  Waters pulled his own set of keys from his coat pocket. “Aye, Lieutenant.”

  Pierce stayed close to the entrance to keep them from coming in and seeing the guard. The chemical had worked so far, but that didn’t mean it was some sort of magic spell. The second the door opened, the lieutenant snared Pierce by the arm and yanked him out.