Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Zachary couldn’t have been more surprised if Mephisto and Satan had come to call.
Their unannounced visit could not have come at a worse time.
There were numerous breakdowns, late supply deliveries and one completed machine, stolen during the shipment to the customer, and another delivery wagon tipped over into the river with a brand-new engine.
Too many accidents and thefts to consider. He narrowed his eyes on the two devils. He had a good idea who was responsible. Physically and mentally, he was tested. If he didn’t make progress at the expected time, he’d fail.
“We’ve come for a tour of our investment, Mr. Rourke,” said Spencer, donning his top hat and stepping down from his carriage.
“This way, sir,” Zachary waved his hand not waiting for Dyer to disembark. He walked through blasts of vaporous humidity and steam with the banking titan at his side, showing and explaining his factory layout, and how it worked with efficiency.
Spencer granted Zachary a smile that was anything but friendly and then nodded for him to continue the tour examining everything in detail with almost covetous interest. Nothing was spoken other than several grunts from both men, noncommittal and impressed depending on the tenor of their grunt with Dyer observing him with a calculated lack of interest.
Zachary slapped his hand on his working masterpiece, listening to the grand hum that was his proudest triumph.
Spencer listened without interest, focusing his attention on a pigeon that had flown in and roosted in the rafters, making it clear that Zachary’s words bored him.
“All new inventions look the same to me,” he replied with a scornful glance.
Zachary gritted his teeth. People with a meager soul always try to make others feel small and Edward Spencer could probably conceal his on the head of a pin.
“Tell me, Mr. Rourke, a man always has two reasons for the thing he does: a good reason—and the real reason. I hope your motivation has nothing to do with my daughter.”
A sour taste grew in Zachary’s mouth. The real reason for their visit. He narrowed his gaze on Rawlins Dyer, the snake he knew was sabotaging his company.
Dyer’s eyes shone like points of steel. “Miss Spencer is one of the finest ladies I’ve ever met in delicacy of feeling and taste, in sweetness and disposition and, in fact, in every corner in every charm…I’m sure you will never meet her equal.”
What was Dyer’s game where Elizabeth was concerned?
He had a distinct impression it was Dyer’s machinations in creating the riot with paid goons.
His instincts roared that there had been fellow conspirators, including Elizabeth’s brother-in-law, Roderick Hawkes who had duped and trapped her.
Had the riot had been a ploy to ruin her reputation by being connected to an unsavory theater production in a sleazy part of town?
Why? He’d seen the nondescript carriage and swore he caught a glimpse of Rawlins Dyer.
Had Rawlins had been there to witness the whole thing, creating a problem so he could sweep in as Elizabeth’s rescuer?
Except Chen, Daniel and he had cut short his plans. Oh, how he wanted to call out Dyer. His hands fisted. Couldn’t do it in front of Edward Spencer. Elizabeth would be compromised over a situation that wasn’t her fault. His silence was critical.
“Why don’t you sell out to me before you default?” said Dyer. “I’d give you a substantial sum.”
Zachary could feel the blood rush through his veins. Never would he give up. “Tempting, but I’ll keep my company open and give good employment and fair wages to my employees.” Dyer was known for the lowest wage in the city and firing anyone for the smallest infraction.
“You self-righteous bastard,” said Dyer. “Your business is doomed.”
Zachary took two steps and plunked himself in front of Dyer. “I can’t help wondering who is responsible for my delays, sabotage and theft.”
Dyer snorted. “Those are suspicions based on unsubstantiated allegations.”
Zach took a step closer one inch from Dyer’s face. “Are they?”
Dyer snorted. “You flatter me.”
Elizabeth’s father had moved ahead, heard the altercation, then turned on a dime, Zachary in his sights.
“I observe what happens to money as it moves through international markets, changing direction as swiftly as a school of fish. I command that movement. As for politicians, newspapermen and the like, they all behave for me,” preached the red-faced, thick-necked financial bully, drunk with wealth and power.
The innuendo struck clear. While Zachary had a loan with these men, he was sacrificial fodder and beholden to them. His status, less than a serf.
Zachary stared back at Edward Spencer, didn’t flinch. The man’s esteem of himself existed a veiled threat.
His battle instincts stirred, Zachary’s senses lifted to the next level of sharpness. Beneath his calm lay an edge of fury and frustration. In a carefully controlled tone, Zachary said, “I’ve had ten Commanches with razor-sharp knives on me ready to take my scalp.”