Chapter 15
Fifteen
brODIE
“Wot is it?” He had caught the subtle signal from Alex Sinclair that told him the young man needed to speak with him.
“Steiner,” Alex repeated. “Mr. Conner sent word he’s been seen, according to the description that was provided. Near the carriage park on the green.”
“No doubt preparin’ to leave.” And then disappear?
That meant that whatever was to happen tonight had either already taken place or was about to.
He nodded sharply.
“Mr. Conner is waiting at the main entrance.”
“Aye,” Brodie replied. “Tell Sir Avery wot you just told me, then find Inspector Dooley. His people are coverin’ the Mall.”
He then asked. “Are ye armed?”
“Yes, sir. And I’ve earned my proficiency certificate from the men at the Yard.”
Brodie shook his head. Even though he had several years on the young man, he considered them as equals, and that was what he liked about him. He didna put on airs about his work or the man he worked for.
But had he ever killed someone? He doubted it. Being proficient was one part of it, but the other part...takin’ a life, was something that stayed with ye. Some were able to handle that part. Others?
“Look for Mr. Dooley and stay with him,” he told Alex. “He’s had a great deal of experience in these things, and I trust him.”
Alex nodded then left.
Brodie glanced about the large reception room, saw Lady Antonia in conversation with James Warren and Mikaela’s sister. But was unable to find Mikaela.
He approached James on his way out of the Queen Anne Room, where the Prince of Wales was in an enthusiastic exchange with a guest, surrounded by men.
Brodie recognized several of the men from the MET, as well as a handful of others with the same demeanor, no doubt some of Sir Avery’s people sent as a precaution after what they’d learned about those meetings at St. John’s Wood.
When he reached Mikaela’s family, he pulled James Warren aside and in a quiet voice told him, “Find her.”
“Has something happened? What is it?”
James Warren was an intelligent man, suddenly intense. But he also was a studious man who spent his days behind a desk putting out Mikaela’s next novel, rather than facing down a dangerous confrontation.
“Take her and yer family over near the Prince of Wales. Stay there until I come for ye.”
“Something has happened,” James said then. “It’s not as if I don’t know what your business is, Mr. Brodie. I’ve read enough from Mikaela’s novels and the newspapers. If something has happened, I insist on helping.”
Brodie glanced over at Mikaela’s sister who stood a few feet away, watching them.
“You can best help by making certain they are safe. And the safest place at present is near His Royal Highness and his guards. But say nothing. With all these people about, I don’t want a panic. That is when people get hurt.”
James nodded. “I’ll find her.” And then as Brodie turned to find Mr. Conner, James told him, “Do be careful. I would not want to have to explain to Mikaela if you come to some harm.”
He turned then, walked over where his wife stood and gently but firmly took her by the arm.
“Has something happened?” Brodie heard her ask. “James?”
“You and Lady Montgomery will be more comfortable across the room,” he told them both. “There are chairs for the ladies, especially in your condition, my dear. I will find refreshment for you.”
Brodie left the Queen Anne Room to find Mr. Conner, and then Steiner.
What had happened at their first encounter would not happen again.
MIKAELA
Sir Andrew Smith-Thomas nodded curtly as he turned and left by way of a discreet side door at the far end of the reception room instead of the double, while the Foreign Secretary left by those double doors that led to a gallery and State Apartments.
I searched for Brodie but couldn’t find him among the guests or with my sister and Aunt Antonia. I glanced back at that side door and made my decision as I crossed the floor and stepped into a narrow hallway that adjoined the Guard Chamber.
That hallway was apparently used by royal staff, or possibly the monarch to escape when a banquet or reception became boring and tedious.
I thought of Henry VIII, who had the original palace built for such occasions, and was known to simply leave a function for his bed with his latest queen or latest mistress.
There were voices as I approached the side door to the Guard Chamber that had not fully closed. Two men were engaged in a conversation, one with a slight accent. The other man was Sir Thomas.
“You must see that this leaves the country without delay,” he told the other man, who nodded and replied with that slight accent.
“I will make certain of it. There are people waiting.”
Waiting? For what? I thought as I listened.
I glimpsed their exchange inside the Guard Room, the clean-shaven features of the man with the accent, and the mark on the inside of Sir Thomas’s wrist as he handed a leather portfolio to the man he spoke with.
It appeared to be a tattoo of the head of an animal, the ears distinct.
A wolf’s head?
It was identical to the one the Foreign Secretary hastened to cover with the edge of the sleeve of his tailcoat, and as Sir Thomas turned, light from the overhead fixture gleamed on the gold buttons with that same image scattered across the front of his uniform.
The shorter man with that accent had tucked the portfolio into the front of his own coat and turned to leave.
What was in that portfolio? What was so important that the Lord of the Admiralty had passed it to the man who now crossed the Guard Chamber and would be gone?
Was this what Adele had learned about? Secret meetings held away from London by men of position and power. Then fled, terrified, and had gone to Burke? What was worth a man’s life?
What had the other man said? There were people waiting...? Steiner? Others?
Sir Avery had confiscated my pocket revolver, and there had been no opportunity to replace it.
Aggravating man! Along with his comment when Brodie and I were released, that a weapon was a dangerous thing in the hands of a woman.
I had only the slender knife tucked into my boot that Munro had given me.
But if I left to find either Alex or Sir Avery, both men would be gone, as well as whatever was in that portfolio.
I slipped into that ancient armory, the doorway guarded by a pair of crossed lances decorated with royal banners, and on the wall, a satin bell pull that was undoubtedly used in past centuries to assemble the yeomen of the guard for the drawing rooms when it was the residence of the royal family.
I pulled on it even though I had no way of knowing if it was still connected to that ancient, medieval bell system.
The armory reminded me of the Sword Room at Sussex Square, with panels on the walls filled with racks that contained dozens of flintlock rifles, long rifles, and hunting rifles.
As well as flintlock pistols and dozens of swords.
Along with a sword stand that contained several sabers, as if the men who had once carried them would return any moment.
Sir Thomas had waited several moments after his accomplice had departed, and now followed him, as I reached for one of the sabers.
I do not know if it was the sound of my movement, the rustle of the skirt of my gown, or the faint sound of the blade—that faint sigh of death, my instructor had called it. Sir Thomas suddenly stopped and slowly turned.
He laughed, a cold, hollow sound.
“We have not been formally introduced. Lady Forsythe, if memory serves me. Your reputation precedes you.”
“What is in the portfolio?” I demanded.
His smile faded.
“It seems that you have seen too much this evening.”
I was not surprised that he chose not to answer the question. Still...I needed to buy time with the hope that bell pull might summon someone.
“And the mark on your wrist? A wolf’s head, much like the decorations on your tailcoat?”
“You are quite observant.”
“The mark of others in that exclusive club that met at St. John’s Wood.” Not a question. I was through with them.
Not quite as eager to leave now, he turned to face me.
“What do you know about that?”
“Meetings with ‘gentlemen’ that included the Foreign Secretary and others, that no one was ever to know about. And Steiner?”
A murderer who had already killed once and had tried again with that attack on Brodie.
They had gone to great lengths to keep their meetings secret at St. John’s Wood. It was obvious that no one was to know about their scheme.
The Foreign Secretary, a man in a position of power and influence in diplomatic matters. The man who stood before me, Sir Smith-Thomas, Lord of the Admiralty.
Were there others? Who else was part of this?
His expression changed, from surprise to curiosity.
“You seem to know a great deal, Lady Forsythe.”
“And Burke’s murder was part of it. He could be persistent.
” I knew that as well as anyone. “Eliminated, no doubt, because he had discovered something that was supposed to be secret? That threatened to expose all of you. Yet there was one thing you hadn’t counted on.
That Adele DeMille would go to him. Therefore, she needed to be eliminated as well. ”
“Things you should not know, Lady Forsythe,” Sir Smith-Thomas replied with growing coldness in his voice. “Since you seem to know so much, tell me—where is Mademoiselle DeMille now?”
Not bloody likely, I thought.
“She is safe,” I informed him as he moved closer. “As is the journal she kept.”
I saw by his reaction that he had not known of it.
Bravo, Adele! I thought. She had written down everything she overheard or saw of those secret meetings at St. John’s Wood, even though it might have cost her life.
She had feared that she had sinned because of what she was subjected to while there. She had not! She had survived, as I told her, a miracle with what we now knew.
And now?
I was well aware that it was dangerous and, absurd as it was, I thought of that saying, ‘in for a penny, in for a pound.’ I was far beyond a handful of pennies.
“And then there is B-10, in that graving dock at Gosport,” I added. “Something you would know a great deal about. Is that what is in the portfolio? Information about B-10?”
Smith-Thomas scowled as he pulled that ceremonial saber from the scabbard under his coat and came at me.
“Far too clever! You will not leave this room alive!”
He came at me, and slashed with that sword...