Chapter Twenty-Five
“S top fretting,” Gyda said.
“How can I?” Kara asked. “I thought he’d be done by now.”
“He will be back soon,” Gyda said with confidence. “That is not a job to challenge someone with Niall’s skills.” She had settled in a chair next to the fire and proceeded to sharpen several blades that she then tucked away about her person. She held the last one up to the light and examined the edge. “All will be well,” she said with quiet reassurance. “Tonight, we end this.”
“How can you be so calm?” Kara felt like her every nerve ending was fizzing—much like the bubbly water that had been so popular at the Great Exhibition.
“Because we have a plan. Because we can count on each other. Because nature abhors imbalance, and Petra has had her way for too long. It is our time to shift this contest of wills out of the murky dark.”
Kara wished she could be so certain, but she did get a boost of confidence when Niall finally returned, triumphantly flourishing his bag of replica caps.
“Oh, well done,” she said, taking one. “They are very like the others.”
“She’ll never tell the difference,” Gyda added. “Especially since it will be dark.”
“It was easy enough, once I found a supply of the right-sized square nuts.”
“And Harold helped?” asked Kara.
“That he did. And he was thrilled to get his hand in, as you’d expect.”
“Where is he now? Did you send him home?”
“No, I took him back to Stayme’s. That place is a fortress. The staff knows how to handle a threat. Turner is there alone. I reminded Harold about Petra’s tendency to harm you by hurting the ones you love. I tasked him with keeping Turner safe. He is taking the assignment seriously.”
“It’s a relief knowing they will both be safe.”
“Stayme had sent word back to Berkeley Square. He thought perhaps that Lord Palmerston would like to be present as we lay our trap for Petra, seeing as she meant to murder him, but his lordship declined. He said it is much more important for him to round up support tonight in the Lords. Then he is off to a special cabinet meeting afterward. There he will propose his plans to warn off Russia. Stayme said that he and some of his best men will stick close to the home secretary’s side all night.”
“I sent word to Wooten,” Kara said. He’s been in on the hunt for Petra from the very beginning, so I thought he would want to be there.”
“And that we could use the reinforcements?” Niall said wryly.
“Exactly. I have yet to hear back.”
“I did send him word about the Russian assailant we left with the constable at Chiswick. Hopefully Wooten did not trek out to retrieve the man himself.” He glanced about. “Where is Preston?”
“He went to the tower site to set the stage. He’ll return to fetch the box of caps. Come.” She pulled him over to a table, where a set of drawings lay. “See? He means to position a bricklayer’s cart at an angle here, just outside the sovereign’s entrance. And on this side, a pile of mortar bags. Both should provide excellent cover, should we need it.”
“Very strategic.”
“Tell him about the trapdoor,” Gyda said.
“It’s an interesting idea.” Kara pointed to one of the sketches. “Do you recall when we first met Preston, he was repairing a winch? One that lifts supplies up to the upper levels above the sovereign’s entrance?”
“Vaguely.”
“Well, it turns out that it sits above an octagonal trapdoor in the roof of the entrance. Preston said it is going to stay. It’s meant to be used as a lookout, as someone posted up there can peer down into the space and will be able to note the exact moment the queen enters the palace—and they can send word to raise the royal standard, to signify her presence.” Kara shrugged. “At first, we thought to post Lord Palmerston up there, so he could observe from a safe distance, but now we are not sure how to make use of it.”
Niall straightened. “Oh, this is perfect,” he breathed. “I know just how we can use it.” Kara’s eyes widened as he reached into a pocket and pulled out a smaller, rounder version of one of Petra’s devices.
“Is that—?”
“Yes. It is.”
*
Gyda left first, heading to Westminster to sneak in through a little-used entrance that Preston described in detail and gave her a key for.
Niall and Kara followed a short time later, both dressed in black. They entered through the gate that Gyda left unlocked and made their careful way to the sovereign’s entrance in the tower. The area was dark and deserted, and Preston had successfully set it up as they had discussed. Niall saw Kara tucked behind a wheel of the bricklayer’s cart, then crossed over to duck in behind the stacked bags of mortar. They settled down to wait. Niall drew up his knees, put his face down, and mentally ran through all the ways this meeting could go, trying to prepare for anything.
Eventually, Preston arrived, driving a small cart he had borrowed from the site. He left it standing a good distance away, then removed the tall box of percussion caps from the cushioning bed of straw in the back. He carried it carefully, as if it still contained the original, delicate caps. Setting it in the middle of the entry space, he stood behind it, waiting beneath the beautiful, vaulted stonework.
Nearly thirty minutes passed while they waited in the cold, dark silence. No one moved or made a sound.
At last there came the rattle of an approaching carriage. Niall rose into a crouch as it approached from the supply entrance that he and Kara had used before. It was a finely appointed vehicle. The craftsmanship and the coat of arms showed clear in the light of the lanterns it sported. He did not recognize the crest, though he got a good look as it passed. The carriage swept on, right into the spot that the queen’s carriage would eventually use.
How very like Petra Scot.
Niall peered into the entry. He’d chosen this position for the angle of the view. He could see everything.
Preston lifted his chin and maintained his position behind the box.
Petra stepped down from the carriage. She strode toward her childhood companion, smiling. She was dressed all in black, her skirts loose.
Kara was dressed similarly, Niall knew. Both women were expecting physical exertion tonight.
“Good evening, Robert,” Petra said with a nasty smile. “Have you brought me what I need?”
He merely indicated the box.
She gestured. “Show me how they work.”
Preston’s surprise showed in the flickering light of the carriage lanterns. “After all this effort, you would waste one?”
“It won’t be too much of a risk for one device to have eight pins instead of nine.” Her eyes narrowed. “Do it. Show me now.”
They had anticipated this. Preston had an original cap tucked into his sleeve. Kneeling to open the box, he made the switch. He stood and held up the original cap so that Petra could see it. With a swift motion, he tossed it to the side.
The cap struck the stone floor. Instantly, a bright flame flared up.
Petra’s face lit up as well. “Excellent.” She waved a hand. “Come and fetch it!”
The man standing at the back of the carriage climbed down and came to fetch the box.
Preston moved to block him. “No. Not yet. I want your promise first. After all these years, you have finally roped me into your scheming.” He nodded toward the box. “I know these are going to bring death and destruction. Now I will become a part of it.” His gaze hardened. “I want your word, Petra. You will stain my soul. In return, I want your guarantee that you will leave Tom alone. I don’t want you involving him in your dirty work. Don’t ask him for favors. Don’t contact him or talk to him. Don’t even look at him. Leave him alone. Forever.”
Petra’s mouth quirked into a twisted smile. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.” She spoke to her minion. “Take it. Start putting everything together, but for God’s sake, be careful.”
Preston struggled to keep the man away. “It’s what you promised, Petra! It’s what you owe me!”
“What I owe you is a bullet between the eyes.” From a pocket, she pulled out a pistol.
Preston froze. The henchman pushed him aside and took the box of caps to the back of the carriage, where a crate was strapped.
“Not there, you fool!” Petra told him. “One slip and you’ll blow the carriage sky high!”
Shoulders hunched, the man moved the box and the crate to the farthest corner of the stone entry. Now he was closer to Niall’s position. Niall could just make out the back of him as he bent to begin to assemble the devices.
“I should shoot you,” Petra said to Preston. “It is no less than you deserve for betraying me. Worse, for constantly, continuously underestimating me.” She raised her voice. “Bring him out!”
Niall cast his worried gaze all around. Then he heard it. Footsteps. The sound of a short-lived struggle. From somewhere beyond the front of the carriage came a big man. He dragged a cursing, resisting Tom Hawkins with him.
“What are you doing?” Preston raged. “Let him go!”
Tom’s hands were tied, but he yanked free of the other man’s grip and stepped away from him.
“Did you think I wouldn’t know you snatched him from Bluefield?” Petra demanded. “That I wouldn’t notice Levett’s stray pup spying on you? That I wouldn’t notice all of you colluding against me? Come out, Your Graces!” Her mocking tone echoed into the high, arched ceiling. “I know you are here.”
Niall didn’t move.
Petra laughed. “I admit, you made me work a little harder at this one. I still haven’t managed to break through Stayme’s defenses. I had to get a bit creative. Still, I think I managed well enough.” She threw her head back and shouted, “Bring the other one!”
Niall ducked as someone moved in the dark on his side of the entrance. Another henchman emerged from the shadows and moved to stand near the back of the carriage. He also prodded a captive along, bound like Hawkins.
Niall clenched his jaw as he saw who it was.
Wooten. The idiot woman had kidnapped Wooton.
“Come out right now,” Petra called. “Do not force me to put a bullet in the head of your pet inspector from Scotland Yard.”
*
Kara clenched her fists, along with her jaw. Damn the woman!
“Come now,” Petra called. “I must assume you have caught on to my game by now. If you know I mean to annihilate the home secretary—and as Stayme is babysitting him so thoroughly tonight, I assume you do—then you cannot think I will hesitate to destroy a lackey like Wooten. A lackey who once had the temerity to put me in a government cage.”
Kara knew she spoke the truth. Petra wouldn’t hesitate at anything. They had underestimated her. It was a lesson well learned. It was time to confront her.
Face to face.
She crawled out from beneath the wagon and walked calmly around to the edge of the entrance.
“There you are.” Petra sounded gleeful. “But where is your dear husband? Surely he will not allow you—”
She stopped as Niall stepped out into the flickering light. He sent Kara an encouraging glance, and they both turned to face their enemy, from either side of the entrance. And they both took care to keep well back from her.
Petra looked around with obvious satisfaction. Preston and Hawkins huddled together on her right, with the henchman covering them and Kara standing off to the side beyond them. To her left lay the other henchman and Wooten, with Niall behind and to the side of them. “So much revenge to be had at once,” she said happily.
Kara held her silence, but much as Petra might know, it wasn’t everything.
“You first,” Petra said, beckoning Kara nearer. “Interfering bitch. How did you get to Gibson’s farm? How did you know?”
Kara held her silence.
“So smug,” Petra said with a sigh. “I know you were not in that tavern when Dalton was crying to your husband.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, yes. Dalton. I suppose I should mention Dalton—and the fact that we found him lurking outside. He’s currently trussed up near the gate, so if you thought to rely upon him, you’ll have to think again.”
The horrid woman watched Kara avidly for a reaction. She refused to give it to her. She was very careful not to look up, where their last hope of support waited.
But Petra kept poking at her. “You hid in the hay cart, didn’t you?” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll have that livery burned to the ground.”
Kara caught a slight movement from the corner of her eye. Niall was taking advantage of Petra’s attention being focused on her. He was moving ever so slowly up behind the henchman holding Wooten.
She tossed her head and curled her mouth in contempt, hoping to keep Petra focused squarely on her. “Speaking of smug,” she said wryly, “I followed you to that livery, Petra—and I didn’t squeeze into that farm cart until after you left the place. They had no part in it. There is no one to blame but yourself.”
“No one to blame?” Petra laughed. “You dare to say so, after drugging me? There is plenty of blame to go around, but you share the largest burden of it. If you had just done as you were meant to and kept yourself and your interfering crew at home, we wouldn’t be so very crowded here tonight.”
“Don’t be such a child,” Kara sneered. “Are you not woman enough to face up to your own mistakes? Not mature enough to acknowledge your own desires? You wanted this, Petra. All of it.”
“You don’t know what you are talking of,” Petra said.
“I do. You know I’m right, too. You could have come into England again and crept quietly around with your Russian conspirators and we might never have known of your presence.”
Petra gestured toward Wooten. “Your pet would have kept you appraised.”
Kara shrugged. “You are likely right, but there was no need for us to meddle.”
“You are an inveterate meddler!” Petra scoffed.
Niall was nearly behind Wooten’s captor, but the man, like everyone else, stood captivated, listening to Kara and her temerity in verbally sparring with Petra Scot.
Kara took a step closer, hoping to keep the woman’s attention firmly fixed on her. “Perhaps. But we have never tangled with you except at your instigation. The last time, you meant to use Niall. You forced our hand. This time, you could not let us be. You taunted us. Goaded us. You threatened my family to force me into action. All because you could not stand the thought that we won our last encounter.” She lifted her chin. “We are all here at this crossroads, Petra, because you led us here.”
The other woman stared at her, her brow furrowed. She started to speak, then stopped. Her lips pursed. She put her hands on her hips. “Damn you. I think you are right.” She nodded. “You are right. I threw sticks at the lioness. I injured her cubs. Because I wanted to best her. I wanted the trophy on my wall.” Turning, she took a step toward the carriage, then stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Do you have those devices ready?” she called out sharply.
Someone else spoke out from the carriage, his tone just as sharp. Kara missed the words, but she knew the voice.
The Russian. He was in the carriage.
Petra ignored him. “The devices?” she asked her henchman again.
“Two are ready,” he answered.
“Bring one to me,” Petra ordered him.
“No.” This time the order from the carriage rang clear. “Enough of this. We have real work to do.”
“No! She is right,” Petra said. She kept her gaze locked on Kara, but held out a peremptory hand.
The man assembling the devices obeyed the summons, holding one gingerly out in front of him as he came.
Behind him, Niall struck Wooten’s guard in the head with the handle of his blade. The man slumped, and Niall eased him silently to the ground. He cut Wooten’s hands loose, and the inspector immediately began to creep toward the coach.
Petra took the device. It looked larger in her grip. She gazed down at it. “Such a strange-looking thing. And yet it is going to bring me so much satisfaction. For you are absolutely right, Levett.”
Niall was trying to tug Wooten away, but the inspector resisted. He clearly wanted to see who waited in the carriage.
“I did want you here tonight.” Petra took a couple of quick steps toward Kara, leaving the shelter of the entryway’s stone buttresses to confront her. “Because my victory would not be complete…without your death.” With a grin of pure evil, she tossed the device to Kara and turned to run.
It was pure instinct. Without thought. Kara reached out and caught it. It didn’t go off, of course, despite the multiple pins that struck her palm and fingers. Holding the thing, she looked up.
Petra had reached the middle of the sovereign’s entrance before she realized something was wrong. She spun around, her triumph fading to shock—and then to fury.
Kara didn’t wait for the woman’s further reaction. They had set up several emergency-level, prearranged signals for Gyda—and Petra tossing an ineffective bomb was one of them.
She turned to sprint away, then spun back in time to see the object failing from the trapdoor above. Niall’s makeshift bomb, with a functioning percussion cap, fell to the stone floor and landed at Petra’s feet. Unfortunately, it landed with the pin pointing up. Without contact to it, nothing happened right away.
Also unfortunately, Petra was quick to grasp what it was—and all the implications. Before the ball could turn and the pin strike the ground, she kicked it away. Niall’s bomb skittered across the stone toward the carriage, where the pin struck a wheel.
Kara threw herself on the ground. The explosion roared. Heat washed over her and small, stinging sensations struck her arms and hands where she had flung them over her head.
She lay there, gasping while smoke and other particles swirled in the air around her, before struggling to sit up. “Niall!”
Her ears were ringing. Her arms and hands stung. She stared. They were full of splinters. Climbing to her feet, she looked back at the carriage.
It had been ripped apart. Parts of it were burning. It listed on shattered wheels into a hole in the stone. The horses… She looked away, swallowing back the horror. “Niall!”
She headed for where she had last seen him. As she passed the back side of the carriage, she saw the blood dripping from it.
The Russian, whoever he was, was no more.
She found Niall just beginning to stir on the far side. He had clearly been pushing Wooten away and managed to get him behind the stack of mortar sacks. His hand still reached out toward the inspector, but Niall had been caught out before the safety of their shelter.
Kara flinched to see a great, long shard of wood impaling the muscle of his calf, several inches above his ankle.
“Niall!” He was groaning as she threw herself down beside him. “Don’t move,” she ordered him. “Be still.”
“Wooten?” he asked, coughing.
She moved to put her fingers on the inspector’s neck. “His pulse is steady. I don’t see any wounds.” Wooten began to stir. “He will be fine.”
Coming back to Niall, she threw up her skirts and reached for a petticoat. “That leg is going to bleed when we pull that out. I’ll need padding—”
“Kara, wait.”
She stopped as Niall grabbed her wrist. He nodded toward the entrance hall. She turned her head to see Petra on her feet, stumbling through the wreckage. She paused in the corner, standing over the box of trigger-less devices. Her face contorted as she pounded the stone wall in frustration. She didn’t glance their way or check on anyone else’s welfare before she walked out into the cluttered construction site. Kara heard her footsteps stumbling, then quickening to a run.
“Don’t,” Niall said as Kara reached again for her petticoat. “Kara, you are right. It’s going to bleed. It will slow me down. Damn it, someone needs to go, and it can’t be me.”
“What are you saying?” She stared. “I cannot leave you!”
“Gyda will already be after her,” he said roughly.
“Oh, yes.” She looked back up toward the trapdoor in the ceiling. “She’ll be facing her alone.”
“She shouldn’t do it alone,” Niall said urgently. He gripped her arm. “Petra has just lost. Again. She will be in a rage. A frenzy. She’ll feel like she has nothing to lose.” He tried to shift off his hip, but grimaced and cursed. “Damn it!”
“No! You are right. I’ll go. I can do this.”
His lips thinned. “You can do this. The both of you.” Reaching into his coat, he handed her his pistol. “You know where she is going.”
Kara frowned. It took a moment. “Oh, Brougham.”
“Yes. She will need to salvage something from this disaster.” A spasm of pain crossed his face. “Odin’s arse. I cannot believe I am sending you after her.”
She grabbed his face, gripping it between her two hands. “You are not sending me. I am going. You are right. This has to end. Tonight.”
She kissed him fiercely. And then she stood. “Preston,” she shouted.
“Kara?” The engineer limped into view on the other side of the carriage, cradling an arm and looking wildly about. “Are you all right? Tom and I are bruised, but fine. But where have they all gone? Have they all fled?”
“Niall is injured. Get over here. Don’t pull out this shard until you are able to apply plenty of pressure to stop the bleeding.”
She glanced down. “I love you. I’ll be back.”
“You damned well better.”
Their gazes met for a long, intent moment. Right before she slipped away into the dark.