Chapter 20
Saffron sat, numb with shock and self-loathing, wondering how she could fix what she had done.
She knew that Berking was lying, and the inspector himself had said Maxwell was no longer under arrest. But her confession might muddy the waters long enough for Berking to finish out his scheme and make his escape.
“Up you get, Miss Everleigh,” demanded Berking, his voice gruff. With a bruising grip, he forced her to stand.
“Where are we going?” Saffron asked as he dragged her out of the room. She almost didn’t want an answer.
“We’ll just pop down to Maxwell’s office.”
Saffron stumbled slightly when they reached the hall. “Why are we going to Dr. Maxwell’s office?”
“We need to collect your things, of course.”
She prayed that someone would be out in the hall, but she was disappointed. The hall and the stairwell were silent and dark.
Was Alexander still there?
Saffron tried to think of a way to get to him, but Berking’s grip was strong on her arm.
If she called out, Berking might panic, and who knows what he would do to her then.
He might just be walking her to the room for her things and would then let her go.
After all, she’d done what he’d asked. But why risk her going to the police immediately?
No, he would likely keep her somewhere safe until he sailed away.
But what would happen to her in the meantime?
Bone-shaking fear wracked her body, weakening her knees. Two weeks of being stashed away by Dr. Berking? She’d never survive that. She’d have to risk calling out for Alexander. Mustering a breath to scream, it withered into a whimper as Berking jerked the door to Dr. Maxwell’s office open.
Saffron and Berking stood in the doorway, staring at Richard Blake standing behind a seated Alexander, a pistol trained at the back of Alexander’s head.
All the dread she felt at her own situation drained away. “Alexander?” she whispered.
He said nothing. His eyes, one swollen and purpling, swept over her, then to Berking.
“You missed our meeting this afternoon, Miss Everleigh,” Richard Blake said, quiet and cold. He nodded to the chair next to Alexander. “Have a seat.”
She sat.
“Sure this is necessary?” grumbled Berking as Blake handed him a length of rope.
“It is,” Blake replied, wincing as he pressed his finger to his mouth and frowned. His face, too, was bruised. His lower lip was split and swollen, and his left cheek was darkening. Alexander must have tried to get away from him.
Berking tied Saffron’s wrists together behind her and then bound her to the back of the wooden chair.
The rope bit into her skin, ensuring she had no space to wriggle her wrists.
The remaining rope secured Alexander. When Alexander resisted Berking’s touch, Blake sighed impatiently and turned the gun on Saffron, who felt her heart stutter in response.
Alexander stilled, his dark eyes on the gun.
“What’s going on?” Saffron said, again trying to hide the fear in her voice. This was difficult, as her whole body was trembling.
“I don’t care for your interest in the poisoning of Mrs. Henry,” Blake said calmly, the muzzle returning to Alexander, though he faced her. “Between you and Mr. Ashton, you’ve poked around just a bit too much for my comfort. Berking, lock the door.” He tossed Saffron’s keys to him.
“How did you get my keys?” Saffron asked.
“They fell out of your bag yesterday. That’s how I decided, you know, when I found you following Berking and me yesterday.
Breaking into Berking’s office, Miss Everleigh, so sloppily done, leaving hairpins on the floor.
Mr. Tummel even saw you and Ashton dashing out of the building like lovers into the sunset.
And lurking in the stairwell … It didn’t look good for you.
” Blake smoothed a hand over his tie, the nondescript gray matching his slightly rumpled suit.
“And Mr. Ashton, going into to my office. I nearly fell over when I was told a young man of your description needed to be let into my office to retrieve forms.”
“This … this is about forms? What forms?” Saffron asked, trying to sound bewildered. “What do they have to do with the poisoning?”
With shocking quickness, Berking’s hand crossed her face in a vicious slap. Saffron cried out, and beside her Alexander lurched forward.
“Leave her alone,” Alexander growled. “She doesn’t know anything about this. Let her go. I’m the one whose been looking into the forms and—”
Her eyes watering, Saffron barely made out the blur of Blake hitting Alexander across the face with his gun. Alexander slumped forward against the ropes. Blinking to clear her eyes, she saw that Alexander’s temple was bleeding, his eyes closed.
Cool as ice, Blake said to Berking, “We need to discuss the plan, now that it has changed.”
He looked around the small room and frowned.
Saffron flinched as he grabbed her chair and dragged her toward the wall.
Berking jerked around Alexander’s chair, so both now faced the wall.
She turned to him, hoping she could coax him into waking up.
She opened her mouth to speak, and behind her Blake said softly, “One word and I will shoot you, Miss Everleigh. You are to sit quietly.”
Saffron closed her eyes against tears. She couldn’t believe the situation she’d gotten them into.
How was it possible that Richard Blake, the bland, boring man, was casually threatening to shoot her? Was she about to die? Her breath came fast and shallow, sending her blood pounding through her body as if trying to make the most of what she thought might be her final minutes.
She’d never figure out how to get out of this if she was panicking. Behind them, Berking and Blake spoke quietly. She took a few determined deep breaths, and their words came into focus.
“—can’t shoot them here,” hissed Blake.
“Why do we have to?” Berking huffed. “Why can’t we just tie them up and leave?”
“No loose ends, Berking. I’ve learned that much in my years of playing this game.”
A long pause. “All right. Let’s just shoot them quick. We leave them and make it look as though Maxwell came back …”
Saffron stifled a sob and looked frantically around. Alexander was unmoving beside her, still knocked out. If she could manage to get out of the chair, she might make a run for it, but she wouldn’t be able to drag him away too.
“A gunshot would be overheard,” Blake’s cool voice said. “No, we’ll have to do something else. Do you have any of the solution on you?”
The hope that came with the promising idea of causing a loud sound—she could throw something at the window and break it—was drained away at the mention of the solution. The solution that caused Mrs. Henry to go into a coma.
“In my office. I just have one left, not enough for them both.”
“Damn,” Blake murmured. “Don’t want to use it anyway, not the same thing. What else is available? What would Maxwell have nearby? If we’re sticking with him, it should be poison again.”
Next to her, Alexander stirred. His eyelashes fluttered, and his head rolled as he emitted a soft groan.
Berking said, “Ah … We could use the original weapon, the xolotl vine. Appropriate, isn’t it?”
Xolotl! Alexander opened his eyes and looked at Saffron. Her wide eyes caught his slightly unfocused ones. Hope battled with logic. Saffron had survived the first dose, but they might force them to have more than what she’d taken.
Blake didn’t seem as keen. “Would it work? I thought it wasn’t clear what exactly it did.”
Berking laughed. “Maxwell was too afraid to touch the thing once he brought it back. Even Winters won’t go near it! Oh, it’ll work.”
“Fine. What do we need?”
Saffron wasn’t sure whether to be relieved that xolotl was their weapon of choice. What would they do when they found it didn’t kill them?
Berking paused and thought for a moment. “Too hard to force them both to eat the leaves—we’ll need a solution.”
“Injection?” Blake asked.
“It’s highly toxic, so an infusion should do it. We’ll need the kettle from downstairs and glasses. The plant is in the last greenhouse. Giant yellow thing. Can’t miss it.”
Blake moved toward the door into Saffron’s line of vision and caught a set of keys from Berking. His pale eyes slid to Saffron and Alexander. “If Berking tells me you’ve communicated, you will be sorry. Whoever speaks will have to go last and watch the other die.”
The utter coldness of his words convinced Saffron of his promise.
Blake unlocked the door and locked it again from the outside.
Alexander, face completely impassive but for the flare of his nostrils, closed his eyes.
Perhaps he was finding courage in the meditation he’d spoken of.
Or coming up with a plan. With two of them and just Berking in the room, they might be able to manage an escape, if they were given the opportunity.
Behind them, Berking’s heavy footsteps paced.
He jerked open the drawers of Maxwell’s desk, muttering and shoving things around inside.
Then he paced again, his labored breathing marking his place in the room.
Without warning, he strode over to Saffron’s chair and flipped her around roughly.
Saffron bit her lip on a cry of surprise as she came face-to-face with him.
“How did you know about the plant?” he demanded, his voice reverberating in her ears.
When Saffron didn’t respond, he tilted her head back with a rough hand grasping her chin so she had to look at his flushed face.
“The aconite! How did you know where it was? I won’t tell Blake, girl—I want to know!
How did you find it? It was hidden! How did you know?
” He smacked her smartly across the cheek.
The sting of his palm burned her cheek, sending tears flooding into her eyes. Saffron could hear Alexander straining against the rope next to her. Her cheek throbbing, she shook her head.