CHAPTER 29 #2
“But just to be sure that the earl has come alone, I’m going to have a look around,” added Wheeler. “So in the meantime, let us shut him up in the Lockbox.”
That drew an appreciative chuckle from the provost. “A brilliant suggestion.” Fenway looked at Wrexford. “Some people consider that a fate worse than death. Several days spent within its walls have been known to turn someone into a blathering idiot.”
“The Lockbox?” repeated Wrexford. “Is that a sadistic little game you use to threaten the boys and frighten them half to death?”
“Oh, it’s no game,” assured Fenway. “The Lockbox is a hidden chamber carved into a special section of the interior stone walls. It’s pitch-black inside, the air is foul, and the damp chill quickly seeps into your bones.
It’s also deep enough in the walls that no one in the tower can hear a cry from someone imprisoned there.
” A low laugh. “It doesn’t take long for a man to lose his reason. ”
“You have only to ask the younger son of Lord Sudbury,” said Wheeler, “who became too curious about the contents of my private workroom.”
“Where, no doubt, he found records of systematic graft and fraud regarding the finances of the Bristol Road Project,” said the earl.
Another shrug.
“By the by, how did the two of you come to be working together?” added Wrexford.
“I was a King’s Scholar here, but Hugo—that is, Lord Fenway—was quick to recognize that my special talents would be wasted if I merely became a well-educated middle-class professional, limited in advancement by my background,” replied Wheeler. “And so—”
“Ezra,” interrupted Fenway. “There is no reason to reveal all the details about our activities.”
“On the contrary,” countered Wheeler. “I have read about Lord Wrexford and how he has helped solve crimes that have puzzled the authorities. Clearly, he thinks himself exceedingly clever. And so, he might appreciate—in a cerebral sort of way—that we are, too.”
A flash of teeth. “He’s no threat. He won’t be repeating the information to anyone.”
Fenway shrugged and looked away.
“I spent only a term here, and then Hugo arranged for me to apprentice with John McAdam,” continued Wheeler.
“I’m very good at designing roads and bridges, and I made important connections that allowed me to hear of attractive investment opportunities.
And then I met Jasper Milton, who arranged a consulting position for me with Thomas Telford. ”
“Between my influence in recommending Ezra for lucrative endeavors, and my ability to channel government investment in public works, we have built a very profitable private business for ourselves,” interjected Fenway.
Wrexford made a guess, though he was fairly certain that he was right. “So why murder Milton?”
“Because he made a bargain to partner with us to make a fortune with his new bridge innovation and then reneged on the deal,” answered Fenway.
“Ah, yes—honor among thieves.” Wrexford made no effort to hide his contempt. “How convenient to pretend to such scruples, when in truth your morals are those of a snake.”
Wheeler laughed. “Call us whatever names you wish.”
“What about Carrick?” asked the earl. That Cordelia’s cousin had chosen to slip away demanded the question. “Is he involved in your sordid scheme?”
“Oliver may be brilliant, but he is pitifully na?ve,” answered Wheeler. “Like Milton, he believes that people are altruistic by nature and are motivated to do the right thing. Though he wasn’t happy about Milton’s ultimate decision on what to do with his innovation.”
Recalling Carrick’s description of the murderer as a burly, broad-shouldered man, he made a guess. “So, it was you who murdered Milton. And recalling the quarrel you had overheard, you saw an opportunity to frame Carrick for the crime.”
“Milton had only himself to blame. Ezra tried to reason with him,” interjected Fenway.
“It had nothing to do with morals. It was all about business,” said Wheeler.
“Milton wanted to give his innovation to the French—and without receiving a penny.” A mournful sigh.
“We couldn’t allow that. It was key that the innovation remained a secret known only to us.
Which is why I also had to eliminate my fellow society members Kendall Garfield and Mercer Wayland.
I wasn’t sure how much they knew about Milton’s work. ”
He flexed his hand, which Wrexford had noticed was no longer bandaged. “Doing away with Wayland became a little complicated, but it all worked out in the end.”
So that explains who fired the shot that killed Wayland and ignited the return gunfire from the British government’s operatives that did away with the two Frenchmen, thought the earl. And one of their bullets nicked Wheeler.
“After several major bridges are constructed with Milton’s innovation, the innovation will no longer be a secret,” observed the provost. “And others will begin to use the concepts. But by then, we will have made a bloody fortune.”
“You’re already very rich men from the bribes,” said Wrexford. “Isn’t that enough?”
“That is easy for you to say, milord, having been born into wealth and privilege. You’ve never had to lift a finger to enjoy a life of luxury,” replied Wheeler.
“I grew up in poverty and worked myself to the bone to hone my skills. And Hugo’s father had squandered the family fortune, so he was constantly struggling to maintain a facade befitting his title. ”
His gaze hardened. “So, no. There can never be such a thing as too much money.” He pursed his lips. “Though perhaps we will feel satisfied after the final phase of our plan comes to fruition.”
“Indeed, that brings us to the real genius behind our actions.” Fenway picked up the narrative.
“We have realized that steam-powered locomotives will soon displace traditional horse-drawn vehicles as the main mode of transportation, both in this country and abroad. That will require different bridge designs to carry the weight. Milton was smart enough to realize that too, and he explained to us that his innovation addresses the new requirements.”
“Locomotives require flat land for optimum performance, especially at the site of a bridge. So we have quietly been purchasing land along the major rivers that lie between London and the port cities of Bristol and Liverpool,” added Wheeler.
“Hugo will be in a position to counsel Parliament about the future of transportation and encourage them to pass a bill to make government grants for the public good. And of course, given his experience, he will be appointed to run the undertakings.”
“That’s quite an impressive plan,” said Wrexford. “I have just one question. What, exactly, is this wondrous innovation? Some sort of metal alloy? A special support brace that makes trusses stronger?”
Both Fenway and Wheeler hesitated in answering.
“Good God—you don’t know, do you?” Wrexford suddenly recalled something that Carrick, Garfield, and Wayland had all implied about Milton—the fellow put only some of his thoughts down on paper. The rest he kept in his head.
“My guess is, you stole his work papers when you murdered him, but his innovation revolves around mathematics, and you have not yet figured out exactly what he was thinking.” He considered what he had just learned and couldn’t resist doing a little needling of his own.
“But unlike the other members of Revolutions-Per-Minute, Wheeler, you’re not conversant with advanced mathematics. ”
“Enough talking,” snapped Wheeler. He aimed his weapon at the earl’s chest. “Place your hands on your head. And be forewarned—one false move and I’ll shoot you dead on the spot. It would be an inconvenience, but we’ll figure out an alternative way to get rid of your corpse.”
To Fenway he added, “Search him for weapons. Then let us put him in the Lockbox while I make sure that no accomplices are lurking in the buildings.”
The earl gave no reaction as Fenway relieved him of both his full-sized rifled pistol and the miniature one in the hidden breast pocket of his coat.
“Check his boots as well,” cautioned Wheeler. He smiled when Fenway fished out the thin-bladed knife from its sheath. “Boots are handy places in which to hide a blade.”
He gave a flick of his pistol, indicating for Wrexford to turn around and face the door to the corridor. “Go ahead of us and unlock the portal of our guest’s quarters, Hugo.”
“With pleasure.”
“Move, Lord Wrexford—but do so slowly,” ordered Wheeler. “As I said, I’ll shoot you now if I have to, but I’d prefer to take a stroll on the roof with you.”
Wrexford responded with a nonchalant shrug and walked into the corridor as directed.
Fenway had the door to the Lockbox open—it was a slab of thick oak with an ingenious faux front of stone tiles that blended into the outer walls. “Enjoy your stay, Lord Wrexford.”
“It’s not personal, milord. It’s merely business.” A push from Wheeler propelled him through the narrow opening into the chamber. The door slammed shut with a thud, and the earl heard a locking mechanism click into place.
A hollow silence settled over him. Fenway was right—no sound reached his ears from the outside. The only hint of life was the faint beating of his own heart.
And then Wrexford began to chuckle.
* * *
“Fawwgh!” Raven expelled a sharp snort through his nose as he and Peregrine emerged from the passageway. “That was even more disgusting than the sewers of St. Giles.”
Peregrine plucked a tangle of silvery strands from a spiderweb out of his hair and scraped a smear of ooze from his coat sleeve.
“Trust me, there are even more noxious tunnels under the chapel. But never mind that now. We need to get into the locked lair and discover if Mr. Valencourt is working with Milton’s killer. ”
He cracked open the door to the storage room and peered up and down the corridor.
The shortcut had brought them to within spitting distance of the door that gave entrance into the mysterious part of the building.
“The watchman has finished his rounds, and I don’t imagine that we’ll encounter anyone at this hour of the night—”
“Still, better to be safe rather than sorry,” counseled Raven. “You keep watch at the corner of the corridor while I attack the lock.”
He quickly approached the door and pulled a set of three slender steel picks from his boot, each with a different-shaped hook at its tip.
From his coat, he took a tiny candle and quickly struck a spark to its wick.
After inspecting the keyhole and giving a few experimental pokes, he blew out the flame and set to work.
Snick, snick. A precious minute passed. And then another. Swearing under his breath, Raven switched hooks, aware that his fingers were growing slippery with sweat.
From his vantage point, Peregrine turned with a nervous look.
Swallowing hard, Raven flexed his hands and tried again.
Snick.
On hearing the latch release, he felt a rush of relief and hissed for his fellow Weasel to join him.