Chapter 30 #2
“Diabolically cunning,” muttered Hedley. “Whatever investigation you are involved in at present, milord, I devoutly hope you ensure that the devils who perpetrated the crime get their due.”
“I shall do my best.” The earl refolded the sketch and returned it to his coat pocket. “Your information has been exceedingly helpful.”
“If there is anything else I can do to help …”
“Not at the moment,” he replied. “But be assured I won’t hesitate to ask.”
Once out on the street, Wrexford checked his pocket watch, impatient to return to Bramah’s workshop. He was feeling more and more certain that the pieces of the grand puzzle were coming together.
And yet, he couldn’t afford to make a mistake.
Kit … Cordelia … their unborn child are all depending on me.
With that agonizing thought in mind, he decided to take a roundabout walk through Green Park, in order to parse all the clues once more before meeting with Bramah.
He had one key question to ask the engineer, and given all that he surmised now, the answer might unlock the truth.
Crunch, crunch. The sharp-edged sound of the gravel beneath his boots as he turned down one of the footpaths was an added reminder that one small slip—
“Good day, milord,” murmured a familiar voice as a gentleman moved out of the shadows of the trees and fell in step beside him.
Damnation, how did the cursed fellow always manage to move with such stealth!
“Don’t look daggers at me,” said the newcomer. “I know you always say that I turn up like a bad penny when things are fraught. But speaking of bad pennies …”
“Bloody hell, stubble your witticisms, von Münch. I’m in no mood for humor.” He blew out his breath. “That said, for once I’m actually happy to see you.”
A glint of amusement flashed in his companion’s eyes.
“It must pain you greatly to admit that.” During a previous investigation, von Münch had introduced himself to Wrexford and Charlotte as a scholarly librarian, whose knowledge of ancient manuscripts proved very helpful in solving a complicated murder tied to past betrayals.
However, they had soon learned that his real persona was far more complicated … A sleuth, a spy, a damnable rascal who enjoyed keeping the earl guessing …
“Indeed, you’re a pain in the arse,” replied Wrexford.
He allowed a grudging smile. “But your cleverness and courage more than make up for your legion of faults.” A harried sigh.
“How did you know we’re facing a life and death situation?
Does your arsenal of weapons include a magical scrying glass? ”
“In truth, a little bird told me.”
Wrexford swore under his breath. “Stop corrupting my sister by having her keep secrets from me.” He softened his scowl before adding, “Thank heavens her pigeon reached you so quickly.”
“I happened to be in London on my own business,” replied von Münch.
“Once again, it appears our interests are aligned. My king and the rulers of the major European powers are as concerned about counterfeiting as your country. With international commerce growing exponentially, it’s imperative that all countries have paper currency that can be trusted.
On learning of the Bank of England’s competition for the design of the Inimitable Banknote, a committee of Continental financial experts asked me to travel here and discreetly keep an eye on its progress. ”
It was now sympathy rather than amusement that rippled in von Münch’s gaze. “Lady Eddylina’s note was, by necessity, short and said only that Sheffield has been taken hostage.”
Wrexford looked around and then led the way deeper into a grove of trees before giving a terse overview of the situation.
“That doesn’t leave us much time,” mused von Münch. “As you point out, there are several choices.”
“All of which have risks,” said the earl softly.
“Risk is inherent in every breath and step we take.” A breeze set the overhead branches to rustling with a brittle, crackling sound. “Have you decided on a course of action?”
“From what Egg told me, Arlington’s foundry seems a likely possibility for the place where Kit is being held,” answered the earl.
“However, given that we can’t make a move on the foundry until late tonight, I plan to revisit the Bramah family’s workshop now.
The key I mentioned to you matches one I saw at the Bank of England, so it’s possible the villains are holding Kit there. ”
He exhaled a harried breath. “It also seems to me that showing Jack MacArthur—Archie Campbell’s son—the sketch of Sylvester Arlington is important, in case he recognizes the face and can suggest another likely hiding spot.”
Choices, choices …
“So, you’re right in saying that I have several choices, but …” Wrexford looked away to the taunting swirl of mist and shadows moving through the trees. “But I can’t afford to make the wrong one.”
“Then let me help,” said von Münch. “While you head to Bramah’s workshop, I will head to the house where MacArthur and his compatriots are sequestered and press him to think harder about the people who visited his father’s counterfeiting lair.
A small detail might help identify the culprit.
” His smile exuded confidence. “And once you arrive, we can make final plans for which venue to search first.”
He brushed a quick reassuring touch to Wrexford’s shoulder. “Sheffield will be home by dawn.”
Feeling his spirits lift, Wrexford quickly gave von Münch the address. But a sudden thought tempered his fragile optimism. “MacArthur and his friends will be on guard for trickery and may not cooperate—”
“Don’t worry about that,” said von Münch as he patted his pockets. “I’ve no doubt that the official credentials I carry will convince them that I can be trusted.”
“One of them likely proclaims that you’re the Crown Prince of Württemberg,” muttered the earl, who had himself been fooled by one of his friend’s fancy forgeries.
“That one has come in handy on several occasions,” said von Münch, a glint of amusement flashing in his eyes. “Trust me, if MacArthur has any hidden memories stuck in his cockloft, I’ll coax them out.”
As he turned to take his leave, he hesitated just long enough to give the earl’s shoulder another reassuring pat. “Never fear, Wrex, we won’t fail.” A smile. “And even if we did, Lady Cordelia would march straight to Hell and twist the devil’s tail until he spit Sheffield back to us.”