Chapter 11 Zaria #2
Taylor, though, either didn’t notice or didn’t mind. He tipped his hat once more before strolling away through the lush grass.
The moment his back was turned, Zaria pulled away from Kane, fixing him with a look she could only hope aptly communicated her fury. “What the hell was that?”
“That,” Kane said as Jules approached them, “was Ambrose Taylor. Politician, collector of artifacts, and member of the Royal Commission for the Exhibition. He’s kindly offered to do me a favor. Why did you bring him, by the way?”
This was clearly in reference to Jules, who grimaced. Zaria, however, didn’t answer the question. She couldn’t help her gaze darting apprehensively to the enormous blond officer.
Kane heaved an impatient breath. “Relax, would you? He’s not a real copper.”
Of course he wasn’t. She ought to have known.
The man—boy?—in question extended a hand to Zaria. “Fletcher Collins. I’ve heard quite a bit about you, Miss Mendoza.” His voice was low, a little rough.
Zaria stared at his outstretched hand. “Do you work for Ward, too?”
“I do. Unlike Kane, though, I doubt my reputation precedes me.”
“How unfortunate for you.”
“Oh, I prefer it that way.” Fletcher’s grin was lopsided, seemingly genuine. He withdrew his hand and nodded at Jules, apparently realizing there would be no regard for niceties. “And you are?”
“That’s irrelevant,” Jules muttered at the same time Kane said, “Julian Zhao, son of George Zhao, the pawnbroker down on Horseferry.”
Jules gaped. “I never told you that.”
“I do my research.” Kane’s lips tilted up in a smug grin.
Zaria believed him. Beneath that careless facade, she had the impression Kane was deathly clever and calculating. She wondered if his smile was intended to distract his marks from the moment he finally stabbed them in the back.
“If you don’t mind,” Zaria said, steering the conversation back around, “I’d be interested in knowing why I was pretending to be your wife.”
“Fiancée,” Kane corrected her mildly, as if it made a lick of difference. “Conveniently, Mister Taylor believes I’m none other than Theodore Wright, apprentice to Charles Fox.”
Zaria knew the name. Charles Fox was one of the engineers who’d assisted Joseph Paxton in designing and constructing the Crystal Palace. “I’m assuming he believes that because you told him as much.”
“Correct.”
“That’s not what convenient means.”
“Well, it’s certainly been convenient for me,” Kane pointed out.
“You’re here to assist, not to question my methods.
Anyway, Theo just got engaged, poor bastard, so it’s lucky you arrived when you did.
Taylor’s a big family man,” he added, seeing Zaria’s less-than-impressed expression.
“Besides, I think we make a striking couple.”
She didn’t deign to respond to that. She still wasn’t clear what they were doing here, and she itched to ask Kane whether he had any news of Cecile. But she couldn’t broach the topic in front of Jules, so she held her silence.
Jules said, “Don’t you think it’s a bit foolish to meet outside the building you plan to steal from?”
Kane’s mouth twisted in what might have been amusement, but it could have been distaste. Instead of answering, he said, “I don’t recall inviting you.”
“I invited him,” Zaria snarled, wishing she could point out that it was Kane who had told her not to go anywhere alone. She tensed, wondering if he would bring up the previous night, but he only clicked his tongue.
“Yes, and I don’t recall inviting you to invite him.”
“Then I suppose it’s a good thing you’re not really my fiancé. Jules goes where I go.”
“Can he be trusted?”
“Of course I can,” Jules said acerbically.
“Kane,” Fletcher intoned. He said it in the way of someone who was accustomed to telling Kane off, and Zaria wondered if perhaps Fletcher Collins was not so bad.
Kane gave a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. We’re meeting here, Master Zhao, because there’s a private viewing of the exhibits taking place today.
I managed to get Fletcher onto the force, thanks to one of Ward’s contacts, and Ambrose Taylor has kindly given us two tickets to said private viewing.
” Indeed, he brandished two slips of paper with a flourish.
“It’s invite only, for organizers and those who’ve contributed to the anticipated success of the event.
Hence my alter ego, Theodore Wright.” His smile was self-satisfied.
“The real Theo Wright has no plans to attend the Exhibition just yet.”
Zaria grimaced. “Did you do something to him?”
“Absolutely not,” Kane said, as if such a thing contravened his high standard of moral integrity.
“Merely a fortunate happenstance. Anyway, because of the limited guest list, the palace will be less crowded, which means we can move around more easily. We’ll be able to get a decent look at the necklace and the layout of the building.
Think of it as a reconnaissance of sorts. ”
Fletcher inclined his head toward the unoccupied turnstiles at the Exhibition’s entrance. “It looks as though we won’t have to worry much about exterior security.”
“Not yet,” Kane agreed.
It was interesting, watching the way the two navigated each other. Kane was undoubtedly the leader, but Fletcher’s confidence was obvious. As if Kane’s presence bolstered him, bringing him into focus rather than overshadowing him.
Jules turned to Zaria. When he spoke, it was as if Kane and Fletcher weren’t present at all. “You can’t seriously want to do this.”
Zaria hesitated—she didn’t particularly want to have this conversation in front of the others. As it turned out, she didn’t have to, because Kane addressed Jules first.
“If you’ve come along solely to try to dissuade her while shooting me dirty looks, consider yourself unwelcome here.”
“Stop it.” Zaria turned her glare on Kane as Jules’s teeth came together with an audible click. “You can’t blame him for being concerned, given… everything about you.”
“And yet,” Kane said, “I suspect our agreement benefits him as well.” His gaze slid to Jules. “Am I wrong?”
Something icy coalesced at Zaria’s core. Did he know? It would only make sense that the kingpin’s crew knew what their associates were doing. Was that why Kane had come to her when he did? Did he know she would be easy to convince because of what was at stake?
Jules, to her relief, didn’t so much as blink. “I haven’t decided whether or not it’s worth it.”
“You live in Devil’s Acre.”
“Yes. And every day we’re one visit from your crew away from homelessness.” There was a slight quaver in Jules’s voice, but he didn’t back down as he met Kane’s eyes. “Can you really blame me for not liking you?”
Zaria watched Fletcher’s hand migrate to Kane’s shoulder, as if he feared his friend might do something rash, but the precaution was unnecessary. Kane merely tilted his head, expression icing over into something cool and thoughtful.
“You know what, Zhao?” he said. “You’ve got a set of morals on you. I don’t like it, but I respect it.”
Nobody appeared to know quite what to do with that, at least until Fletcher cleared his throat.
“I think I see Price. I’d best be going.
Security duties await.” Hand still lingering on Kane’s shoulder, he gripped it tightly—a brief, familiar gesture—and shot Zaria and Jules a wink. “Nice to meet you.”
And then Fletcher was gone, his tall frame engulfed by the crowds as he wove his way toward a pair of officers waiting by the turnstiles.
This left Zaria and Jules alone with Kane, the latter alone in appearing unbothered by the development. He worked his jaw, gaze tracking the progression of a gilded carriage like an animal might watch its next meal.
Zaria took a breath, trying to organize her thoughts.
What difference did it make, really, if Kane had taken advantage of her desperation?
It was one job. By this time next week, it would all be over.
She’d have more valuables than she knew what to do with and, with any luck, a primateria source in hand.
She and Jules would no longer have to worry about what the future held, and she’d never have to see Kane Durante again.
“I suppose we should get going as well,” Kane said after a beat. “See you later, Julian.”
Zaria’s brows slid up of their own accord. “Excuse me?”
“It’s Jules,” Jules said. “And I’m coming with you.” He stood shoulder to shoulder with Zaria, arms crossed.
Kane tsked, shaking his head. “You’re not. I only have two tickets, and even if I had a third, we’d look ridiculous attending as a trio. Besides, your outfit is abysmal. This is a private event, and we need to look like the height of upper-class London.”
Zaria glanced at Jules’s threadbare ensemble, then to Kane’s outfit: a well-trimmed black frock coat, black trousers, and shoes in which she could all but glimpse her reflection. She rolled her eyes where Jules could see. They didn’t all have dark market money for custom-made suits.
“The height of upper-class?” she scoffed at Kane. “You look like you’re about to swindle money from a rich old woman.”
“That is so incredibly specific.” He scanned her from head to toe, an almost dismissive action. “I suppose you, at least, are passable.”
Zaria looked down at herself. Dress nicely, Kane had told her last night. She’d obliged as best she could, but it had been a foolish request in the first place. “No one is going to believe I’m upper-class.”
Kane waved a dismissive hand. “No one’s going to be looking at you,” he said. “You’ll be with me.”
She had the sudden desire to smack him.
“And just what the hell am I supposed to do while you’re inside?” Jules demanded. “Stand out here by myself?”
Kane shrugged. “What do I care? Go to the shops. Sit on a bench. Make a new friend.”
“You’ve got to be joking.”
Zaria glared daggers at Kane, her stomach tightening. She hadn’t planned on doing this without Jules. Hell, she hadn’t planned on doing this at all. “He’s coming with us. You’re a con man, aren’t you? Figure out a way to make it work.”
Jules was already shaking his head. “Whatever. If it’s going to make things difficult, I’ll wait outside.” His eyes flicked to Kane, their depths reflecting the gray-blue skies overhead. “If you get any funny ideas, though—”
“Yes, yes,” Kane drawled. “I’m sure you’ll stab me, or shoot me, or some alternate manner of painful retaliation.”
“No. Zaria will, though.” Jules gave her a measured nod, concern in the lines of his mouth.
Zaria returned it and couldn’t help the ghost of a smile that crossed her face at his words. It was true. Jules wasn’t much for violence, but then he’d rarely needed to be. Zaria was the angrier one. The unpredictable one. The one who acted first and regretted later.
“Somehow, that does not surprise me.” Kane wasn’t looking at either of them; his attention was on the entrance to the Crystal Palace, and in one hand he clutched a silver pocket watch on a chain.
There was eagerness in the way he held himself.
A kind of energy Zaria suspected had to do with the thrill that prefaced the execution of something unsavory.
She felt it, too. Though she could scarcely admit it to herself, she did. It was a delicious kind of anxiety, and the moment it reared within her, she made an effort to push it back down. She wasn’t like Kane. She would not delight in this as he did.
“Be careful,” Jules murmured in her ear, a needless warning he could always be counted on to provide.
“You can trust me.”
A rough laugh escaped him. “It’s not you I don’t trust.”
He gave Zaria’s arm a last squeeze, the pressure a grounding sensation, before Kane took it and led her into the fray.