Chapter 25 #2
“But you’re not going alone. We’ll explain the plan on the way there.
Right now, I need to send a message to Detective Inspector Teague.
” She strode to an ornate desk and opened drawers until she found parchment and pencil.
Turning her head toward Hadrian, she asked him to fetch a footman to deliver the note to Scotland Yard.
“Not to Cremorne Gardens?” Hadrian asked.
“I don’t want to miss Teague if he’s left.
I think it’s better to send this to Scotland Yard—the constable at the desk will know what to do.
” She quickly drafted the note, and a few moments later, sent it off with a young footman under express instructions to deliver it as soon as possible to a constable or sergeant and to indicate it was urgent.
The footman dashed off, and Tilda preceded Hadrian and Redmayne from the room. Outside, Tilda told Redmayne to wait in the coach whilst they spoke with Leach.
Redmayne’s face flushed as he clutched the ransom to his chest. “We can’t tarry!”
“We’ll leave presently,” Hadrian assured him with scant patience.
Scowling, Redmayne stepped into the coach.
Hadrian spoke in a low tone to Leach. “We don’t have time to explain everything now, but we’re taking Redmayne to deliver the ransom to the other kidnapper—it’s Larkin, the property manager at the Albion Theatre.”
Leach’s brows shot up. “You’re going to give him the ransom?”
“Hopefully not,” Tilda replied. “I believe this is a trap, and I want to turn the tables and entrap Larkin.” She explained where they were going in Nine Elms. “Stop the coach a short distance from the alley, and we’ll let Redmayne out.
Then you’ll drive past the alley and park the coach.
The three of us will depart—provided you’re able to find someone to watch the horses—and quickly make our way to the old railway construction store where we’ll steal inside and thwart Larkin’s plan. ”
“Will the Met be there?” Leach asked.
“Not immediately, but we’ve dispatched a message for Teague to meet us there,” Tilda said. “However, we must be prepared for the likelihood that he won’t arrive in time to help us.”
“You must bring your Tranter, my lord,” Leach said, referring to Hadrian’s revolver that was now stored in a compartment beneath the forward-facing seat in the coach.
Hadrian nodded, then turned his head to Tilda.
Before he could speak, she held up her hand. “I know what you’re going to ask. No, I didn’t bring my father’s Adams this morning, as I didn’t think it would be necessary, and yes, I need a smaller pistol, which we will purchase after this case is solved.”
“We also have the pistol in my box, my lord,” Leach said. “We’ll be ready.”
“Thank you.” Hadrian clapped his hand on Leach’s shoulder before helping Tilda into the coach.
They settled on the forward-facing seat—Redmayne had possessed the wisdom to sit on the rear-facing seat as the guest—and Hadrian removed his revolver from the compartment.
Redmayne goggled at him. “You’re bringing a pistol?”
“Larkin either murdered someone or assisted in murdering someone,” Tilda replied sharply. “Of course we are.”
Slumping against the seat, Redmayne rested his arm on the case holding the ransom beside him. “I can hardly fathom Lawrence being capable of such malfeasance. He always possessed such a charming demeanor.”
Tilda had thought so too during their interview at the Albion. “Was that before or after you excluded him from a patent for a device he helped invent?”
Redmayne winced. “He was angry, but I only saw him once after that.”
“I would have avoided him too,” Hadrian said sardonically. “Why would you cut him out of something he rightfully deserved?”
“I was young and desperate to make a name for myself as my father had done. He was instrumental in the construction of gas works and expanding gaslight throughout London.” Redmayne exhaled with perhaps a note of self-recrimination. “I’m not proud of what I did.”
“Perhaps you should offer to make amends when you see Larkin, or Lawrence, shortly—assuming he’s waiting there for you,” Tilda suggested.
“Isn’t that what I’m doing with this ransom?” Redmayne asked bitterly. “It isn’t even as much as he asked for. I couldn’t obtain that much. As it is, this will ruin me.” He straightened his spine, and his eyes looked damp. “But I would pay twice this to have Florence back.”
Tilda was glad to hear that. She couldn’t decide if Redmayne was callously ruthless or a man who’d made a mistake.
Hadrian narrowed his eyes at Redmayne briefly. “How would you do that if you couldn’t even come up with the full amount?”
“I was going to borrow money, but there wasn’t time.” He blinked as his shoulders twitched, making him appear quite nervous.
“What had you planned to do if the kidnapper counted the money and saw you were short?” Hadrian asked with a frown.
Redmayne’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t know. This was the best I could come up with.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” Tilda said crisply. “When we arrive, we will drop you off before the alley and you’ll walk to the old construction store. You’ll go inside, and we won’t be far behind you. If your daughter is there, you’ll deliver the ransom. If she’s not, you must try to leave.”
“Try?” Redmayne’s voice cracked on the single syllable.
“Larkin may have already killed someone, and it seems you and your daughter were his ultimate targets. I won’t lie and tell you that there’s no danger.”
Redmayne stiffened as he notched up his chin. “I don’t care. I’ll risk anything to rescue Florence.”
“We could also wait for Detective Inspector Teague to arrive,” Hadrian said.
“No!” Redmayne shouted. “I can’t miss the appointed time.”
Hadrian sent Tilda a look of concern. She replied with a subtle nod. It was a dangerous scheme, particularly since they’d no idea what they were walking into, but it was all they had.
They traveled in silence for some time. Once they crossed the Vauxhall Bridge, the tension in the coach thickened.
“Are you ready?” Tilda asked the man as he picked up the case and set it in his lap.
“We won’t let anything happen to you or to your daughter.” Hadrian gave the man a reassuring look as the coach stopped.
Hadrian opened the door, and Redmayne took a deep breath that seemed to catch in his throat. He stepped out of the coach, and Hadrian pulled the door closed.
Leach drove past the alley and parked the coach. Hadrian quickly stepped out and helped Tilda to the pavement. Leach found a boy to watch the horses and paid him a few pennies before joining them. He carried the pistol he kept beneath his seat.
Nine Elms was dominated by the railway depot on the opposite side of the road. The area was a warren of streets, with a gas works and brewery nearby. The scent of coal and river mud clung to the morning air.
They hurried to the alley and quickly found the old store that Larkin had described in the note.
It was utterly derelict with its boarded-up windows and crumbling brick facade.
There was a single door at the front and a larger, boarded-up entrance to the right side of the building that was likely used to move supplies in and out.
“We should go to the back and hope there’s a rear entrance,” Hadrian said.
He led them around the building, and Tilda’s eye was drawn to the black iron gas pipe that ran along the brickwork. It was old and rough-looking, but the fittings where it met the wall were bright and recently worked.
Not wanting to call out and be overheard, Tilda reached forward and grasped Hadrian’s sleeve. He stopped and turned his head to look at her. She pointed at the shiny pipe fittings. Hadrian frowned then moved closer to inspect the pipe where it entered the building.
The report of a pistol startled Tilda, and she saw Hadrian flinch. He took off toward the back of the building. Tilda ran after him and heard Leach following behind her.
Fortunately, there was a rear door. Hadrian drew his revolver from inside his coat and, with a quick glance back at them, rushed inside. Tilda paused so that Leach came abreast of her. He also had his weapon ready. How she wished she was armed as well.
She gestured for Leach to go in after Hadrian, then she followed.
They stepped into a large open space that was almost the entire first floor, save an antechamber at the front of the building.
There was a loft, with a ladder leading up to it.
Dozens of candles burned everywhere, including the loft.
A stack of bricks leaned against one wall, and some rusted chains were piled in a corner.
Given all the light, it was easy to see Larkin standing on the right of the large room where Miss Redmayne was seated against the wall, her hands and ankles bound, and a gag tied around her mouth.
She sobbed as she tried to scoot closer to her father who was lying on the flagstone floor, blood seeping from his hip where he’d apparently been shot.
He clutched the wound as he reached for his daughter.
Larkin held the ransom bag in one hand and a revolver in the other. He’d pivoted toward them but was still also angled so he could see the Redmaynes.
Hadrian raised his Tranter and pointed it at Larkin. “Drop your weapon and surrender, Larkin. Or Lawrence.” He cocked the pistol. “The Met will be here presently.”
Tilda stood slightly behind Hadrian, and Leach moved up on her left, his pistol also raised. Pulse racing, Tilda inhaled sharply to fill her lungs, only to smell something alarming. “I smell gas!”
Suddenly, there was another shot.
Tilda instantly looked toward Hadrian, but he didn’t falter. Leach, however, dropped to the floor. Tilda rushed to his aid as Hadrian fired his revolver, then ran forward, presumably after Larkin.
“Hadrian, don’t!” Tilda cried. “There’s gas. I believe Larkin plans for this building to explode.”
“He told me he removed the regulator,” Redmayne called out. He groaned. “Please, you must get Florence out of here!”
Hadrian raced back, his features dark and furious. “Larkin will escape.”
“Unfortunately.” Tilda had only seen Hadrian look like that once before—when she’d nearly been killed in the not-too-distant past, and Leach had killed the man threatening her.
Leach!
Tilda focused on the coachman who appeared to have been shot in the leg. Blood streamed from just above his left knee. “Oh, Leach. We must get you out of here.”
“If you can help me up, I think I can walk if I lean on you.” He clenched his jaw.
“Hadrian!” Tilda called.
He rushed to her side and frowned down at Leach. “You’ll be all right. I’ll ensure you have the finest physician.”
“Help him stand,” Tilda said. “Then I can assist him out of the building.”
“You must help Florence!” Redmayne shouted. “The building is going to explode as soon as there’s enough gas in the air. That could be any moment!”
Indeed, the smell of gas was becoming stronger by the second.
“Can’t you blow the candles out?” Leach suggested. “The gas won’t ignite then.”
Hadrian put his arms under the coachman’s shoulders and lifted him to stand. Leach grunted as Tilda sidled close to him. He put his arm around her to steady himself.
“Too many candles,” Hadrian said. “We’ve no idea how many are up in that loft. Better to get you all out of here. You walk out with Tilda and I’m going to help Redmayne. Go out the front so you can move as far away as possible.”
Leach nodded, and Tilda met Hadrian’s gaze for the barest moment. “Please be careful,” she said urgently. “And quick!”
Tilda helped Leach walk out the front. They moved as fast as they could, but it was still slow due to Leach’s wound. He groaned every few steps, and Tilda kept darting nervous glances at Hadrian helping the Redmaynes. He’d first removed Miss Redmayne’s gag and was now working on her bindings.
When she was free, she wrapped her arms around her father. Her sobbing grew louder. Hadrian told her there would be plenty of time for that after they escaped the building.
Tilda didn’t see what happened next, for she and Leach had reached the antechamber. A few steps later, they were outside. She took several deep breaths, as did Leach. The coachman slowed his pace slightly.
“You can’t slow down,” Tilda urged him. “We must get as far away as possible. Keep going, Leach. You can do it.”
He picked up his speed once more, and Tilda resisted the urge to look back to see if Hadrian and the Redmaynes were out. They were going to make it.
Halfway down the alley, Tilda felt a deep concussion in her chest. It knocked her down, taking Leach to the cobblestones with her.
An all-encompassing sound followed—a rolling boom that seemed to wash over them like a wave on the shore, or how she imagined that to be.
The boom echoed around them, intensifying the sound.
Tilda absorbed it in every fiber of her being.
She felt a rush of heat behind them, and all she could think was that Hadrian and the Redmaynes had to have escaped. But she couldn’t get up or even turn to look.
Debris fell from the sky like an angry storm—bits and chunks of brick and grit and timber. Tilda squeezed her eyes shut and put her arms over her head.
The world went dark.