Chapter 13 Kane
KANE
KANE’S MOUTH WENT DRY AS HE STARED AT THE NECKLACE. The one thing standing in the way of saving Fletcher’s life. The main source of his current conflict with Ward.
It was larger than he’d imagined. Even more stunning. The longer he looked at it, though, the more he understood why Ward wanted it so badly. It was a piece fit for a queen, and it was surely priceless. Finally, finally, Kane had found it. Now he only had to take it.
The necklace sat within a glass case that in turn sat inside a rectangular iron cage. One side of the cage was dominated by what appeared to be the brass-plated front of an ordinary safe. It was an unusual display, and Kane frowned, tracking a slow semicircle around the setup.
“It’s locked,” Zaria said needlessly. For a moment, her words scarcely registered with Kane.
She had a strange look on her face, as if something had shocked her and she hadn’t quite recovered.
Perhaps she was merely overwhelmed by the sheer number of things in the Crystal Palace.
Despite the rather dreary day, light streamed through the angled glass ceiling, picking up the gold in her hair, the gold flecks in her large brown eyes.
Kane could tell she was self-conscious about her simple attire, but here, all sun gilded and swathed in crimson, he couldn’t imagine how she felt like an outsider.
He gave his head a shake, refocusing on the Waterhouse display. He had picked countless locks in his life—it was a skill most of Ward’s crew had—and he’d expected to encounter one here, but this lock… it was clearly different.
“Son of a bitch.” He exhaled the curse, glancing over his shoulder to ensure nobody was watching. A few feet away, a group of patrons marveled at some beautifully woven tapestries, and just past that, a man chuckled jovially as he pointed at a longsword. None of them were looking at Kane and Zaria.
He could steal it now, Kane thought, if not for the lock. Could smash that glass case, grab the necklace, and run.
But he pushed the idea from his head. It was a foolish thing to entertain.
Even if the necklace hadn’t been locked up, he wouldn’t make it more than a few steps before he got a bullet in the head.
Officers milled around the perimeter of the Exhibition, and Kane didn’t know their rotations.
Not yet. That was Fletcher’s job. That was why they had a plan in place.
Posing as Theodore and his fiancée, Kane and Zaria would enter just as they had this morning, paying their shillings and getting lost in the crowd, which would be far larger than it was today.
The queen and the prince consort would each make a speech not long after the doors opened, which would divert enough attention to allow Kane to pay a visit to his very own contribution to the Exhibition.
It wasn’t here yet, of course, but it would be. Once he got his hands on it, that was.
What he hadn’t planned for was this particular lock.
Kane could pick a simple lock in seven seconds.
A more complicated one typically took between two and five minutes.
He knew from Ward that an alchemological smoke bomb provided complete opaqueness for around three minutes and gradually diminished in the seven minutes following.
Three minutes to work at the lock, seven to escape. Those were the numbers Kane had been relying on. But this? He didn’t have a goddamned clue what to do with this.
“Mad, isn’t it?” The man who had been examining the longsword came to stand between Kane and Zaria, arms crossed over his narrow chest. He wore a suit and top hat of some luxurious fabric, and he didn’t seem to notice the tension in the air.
Kane forced a vague smile onto his face. “What’s mad?”
The man shrugged, eyes on the exhibit. “Why, the lengths at which they’ve gone to in order to keep the Waterhouse jewels safe. See, they’ve got one of those new American permutating locks on the cage. Seems a bit unnecessary, what with all the security milling about.”
“You never know the kind of things people might try to steal,” Zaria said, and Kane shot her a withering look behind the man’s back.
“What’s so special about this lock?” he said, hoping to distract from Zaria’s comment.
The man brightened. He was the kind of person who liked to be asked about his knowledge, Kane saw. That boded well.
“Why, it’s a new design patented by Day and Newell—the most complicated one yet!
America entered the design, and their representative has teamed up with Waterhouse to showcase both the lock and the jewelry in one display.
You see, it requires a parautoptic key, which can have as many as fifteen changeable bits.
The owner of the key can rearrange the bits however they’d like prior to each insertion, and the lock will adjust without any manual reordering of the levers.
” The man adjusted the hat atop his graying hair.
“The brass plate in front is to hide the levers from view. Impossible to pick, they say!”
“Fascinating,” Kane said, though his blood ran cold. He’d never heard of such a thing. “How is it you happen to know about this?” He tried to lace the question with interest as opposed to suspicion. In his experience, only those who were up to no good knew this much about lock picking.
The man gave a self-deprecatory wave. “It’s a special interest of mine. I read something about it in the paper when the American exhibitors arrived in the city.”
“I’ve something of an interest in locks myself,” Kane said smoothly. “It’s an unusual hobby, isn’t it? How nice to find someone who shares it.” In his periphery, he saw Zaria roll her eyes, but he ignored her. “I suppose the Americans intend to do a demonstration at some point?”
The man nodded, the wrinkles in his brow deepening. “Oh, certainly. Like I said, the parautoptic key is especially interesting in the way it can be reset.”
“I can imagine.” Kane grinned. The action felt mechanical. “I look forward to it.”
The contraption featuring the permutating lock had thrown him off. It was a variable he hadn’t factored into his mental plan. But knowing there was a key around here somewhere…
“Rumor has it the Americans aren’t only here for the Exhibition, but also to tour the country picking their competitors’ locks,” the man told Kane confidentially, his voice softening. “A curious marketing tactic, isn’t it?”
“Very curious,” Kane agreed. “Enjoy the rest of your day, sir.” He dipped his head, flashing a last grin at the man, then motioned for Zaria to follow him over to Canada’s exhibits.
“What was all that about?” she said, lips thinning. “Did you know him?”
Kane pretended to be interested in the birchbark canoe that hung suspended above their heads. “Not at all. But sometimes the most pertinent information is given willingly.”
“Whatever you’re talking about, can you say it in plain English?”
“The lock on the Waterhouse exhibit? I’m not going to lie; it throws a wrench into the plan. I wasn’t expecting to have to contend with a new design.” Bitterness flooded Kane’s mouth as he spoke. “But the man I was speaking to over there—didn’t you hear what he said? You only need the proper key.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s the case with every lock.”
Kane ignored her tone. “This one is different.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Nothing. Yet. Stay here for a moment, will you? I’ve got to find Fletcher.”
Zaria cut him with a look, but it seemed more exasperated than hateful.
A lock of hair had escaped its intricate knot, brushing the curve of her cheek, and Kane clenched his hands into fists.
Maybe he was imagining it, but something about her demeanor had shifted since they’d entered the Exhibition and found the necklace.
Perhaps it was the anxious excitement of seeing the very object they were after.
It made everything more real. Perhaps Zaria was finally beginning to realize that he did know what he was doing.
Either way, Kane thought he liked the change.
Unfortunate that he was going to betray her in the end.
He stayed close to the center of the palace’s long corridors, avoiding the guests of import clustered at each of the major exhibits.
As he moved, Kane took note of the places people congregated.
What drew their attention? What was arranged so as to block their line of sight?
In which corner could he stand and go more or less unnoticed?
People in crowds, he had learned, tended to move in a predictable way.
They were like sheep. They stayed with the majority, took cues from their peers without even realizing they were doing it.
Because the palace was so grand, it took Kane longer than expected to track down Fletcher. He eventually spotted his friend among the foreign exhibits, positioned a short distance away from France.
“Nice,” Kane said as he approached, indicating Fletcher’s newly acquired constable’s hat.
“Shut up. Price gave it to me.” Fletcher spoke from the corner of his mouth, keeping his attention fixed straight ahead. “What’s going on? I thought we weren’t going to meet up until later.”
Kane pretended to be very interested in a woven carpet as a laughing duo passed them by. “I need you to look into something for me.”
Fletcher waited, an invitation to continue.
“The Waterhouse jewels—they’re in a cage. A fancy display case that’s essentially a safe, featuring a new type of lock that’s being shown for the first time. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
Some of the color leached from Fletcher’s already pale face. “That’s… not ideal.”
“To say the least. Apparently, though, it was sent by some American company called Day and Newell. If my information is correct, each lock corresponds to a parautoptic key with up to fifteen bits.”
“Where did you get that information?” Fletcher asked, and Kane shrugged.