Chapter 18
The prison carriage was a black, oppressive space, with a low ceiling, dark painted walls, and the stench of stale urine.
He had been arrested for the crime of smuggling illegal arms.
Christ.
His body had radiated with rage since leaving Angelo’s garage. Thoughts darted every which way in his rattled mind. When was he found out? Had he been fooled all this time? He had been so bloody careful. He had kept to himself and did not utter a word about his plan to anyone. None of it made sense. What he knew with absolute certainty was that something had gone wrong, and he was either too caught up in his own thoughts or drugged with laudanum to have noticed. With an agitated growl, he pulled at his shackles.
Chained to a ring in the floor, the metal band only rattled.
He had to escape.
Heart pounding, he squinted around the carriage.
Everything was pitch black.
He felt around the wooden walls to find a weak spot. Splinters dug into his skin. A protruding nail pricked his forefinger. He pressed on as far as his chain would allow.
It was useless.
Utterly, hopelessly useless.
Chained to the floor like a dog. Even if he could escape, how far could he get? With Durrett and his colleague driving, they would easily chase him or, worse, get their police friends to search for him before he could make it to the harbour. And knowing how things in this blasted city went, that would end in a shoot-out, cowboy-style.
Not like going to prison for smuggling illegal arms is any better.
“Damn,” he yelled out. “Curse it all to hell!”
This was the end. He would never reach Scotland’s shores. He would never ensure his sister’s safety. Worst yet, he would never see Eva smile, hear her charming laugh and tell her how sorry he was. If he’d made it to her, maybe he would have had the chance to tell her how much he still loved her.
If she would have you back.
He sneered. What was the use of wondering about that? As determined as he was to piece his broken life back together, he was certain it would end within the hour. Tsing’s fortune be damned. It would take all the fortune in the universe to dig him out of this mess.
Instead of the rumble of the wheels on the rough road, a horrible ringing filled his head. As he tried to control his breathing, his head sank back against the side of the carriage. It was difficult to breathe in this darkness. Head swimming in drowning thoughts of his future, he looked up.
Through a pinhole, the whiteness of the moon was visible. He was drawn to it like a moth as he mumbled, “ ‘Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light; I have loved the stars too truly to be fearful of the night,’ ”
He pictured the poem tattooed on Eva’s right shoulder where three freckles dotted her skin.
With a shuddering inhale, he shut his eyes. An odd calmness warmed him.
If, by sheer luck, there was a way out, he promised all that was holy in this godforsaken world that he would allow his soul to rise in perfect light. And if not, well, he supposed he had loved the stars too truly to be fearful of the night.
He didn’t know how much time had passed when the carriage came to a halt in a quiet area. The door swung open, and Durrett climbed aboard and unlocked the chain from the floor. Outside, a river shimmered beneath the rising sun. Industrial buildings, some in ruins, others boarded up, were to the right.
“Come with me, Asheford,” Durrett said.
Henry glared at him.
Durrett pulled on the chain. “Come! Don’t be a stubborn bastard. Davies, do you have his case?”
With a deep exhale, Henry stepped down from the carriage.
Davies, holding Henry’s case, followed Durrett like a silent mutt toward the river’s edge.
“Unless there is a mystical entrance in that river, I assume you are not leading me to prison,” Henry said.
“How astute you are,” Durrett said.
“You will kill an innocent man for a pay cheque? Tell me, how much is my life worth to Angelo? Has he paid you in treasures? Gold? Favours? I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but his favouritism will only last for a short time.”
“Shut your trap.” Durrett pulled the chain, and Henry stumbled forward. “Stand by the edge.”
“You’ll be found out eventually.”
“Not if I’m careful,” Durrett said, shoving Henry into position.
“Everything ends,” Henry muttered. “And when your time comes, and you’re staring down the end of a barrel, you too will be asking whether it was worth it. Now, gentlemen, as my life is to end here in this monstrosity of a city, may I indulge in one last cigarette?”
“No,” Durrett said.
“Let the man smoke,” Davies said.
“We ain’t got time for this.”
Ignoring Durrett’s grumbling complaints, Henry searched his pocket for his silver case. It took everything to control his trembling fingers. He withdrew a cigarette, plopped one between his lips and tossed the case to the ground.
Davies already had a lit match waiting.
Henry leaned in. “Thank you,” he said. “At least answer me this: how did you find out about my plan?”
“We intercepted your letters,” Durrett said.
“My letters.” Henry nodded. He inhaled a long, deep drag of his cigarette. “You had me followed to the hotel, then?”
“Angelo told us to keep an eye on you on account of your distrustful ways. Your wife noticed you were sending many letters, and one day, we intercepted the mail to find one addressed to the London police. A fool’s mistake.”
“My wife, you say?”
So, she had lied. And he had fallen for her tricks, once again. He supposed it was poetic to have been deceived by that woman.
“And what about the letter you penned me? Was that a ruse for my arrest?” Henry said.
“How you surprise me with your intellect,” Durrett said. “If you had used your brain more, perhaps you would not be knocking on death’s door now.”
The ground beneath his feet began to tilt.
He would be murdered for his attempt at doing the right thing. He would leave this world by being shot and pushed into a dirty, fetid river in a city he hated even more than London.
What a legacy you’ve left for yourself.
Addicted and heartbroken.
Married to a wife he despised.
Childless.
A father who would rather see him dead than alive and a sister he had failed. His heart ached at his mistakes. If he could turn back time, he would have listened to Eva that evening in June, when she begged him to go into hiding with Lottie.
“Right,” Henry nodded, taking one last inhale. He flicked the cigarette to the ground. “Go on then, shoot me and set me free. God knows how desperate I am for the peace.”
Durrett’s leering grin flashed as he reached beneath his jacket to unholster his pistol. He looked excited at the prospect of killing a man and getting away with it.
Time slowed.
A tide of memories overwhelmed Henry, and he shut his eyes. He thought of his home – the vivid colours of his floral garden, the shimmering blues of the ocean, the quiet calmness of the countryside. If there was a heaven, he hoped to God it would look like Asheford Hall.
Then, she came.
His beautiful, magnificent and strong Eva.
Her radiant smile flashed into his mind. She ran ahead of him through the meadow, hair bouncing around her shoulders as she peered over her shoulder. He returned her smile. She was to be his last conscious thought.
The bang of a gun pierced through him.
He flinched and waited for the pain. It didn’t come.
Henry opened his eyes.
Before him, Durrett’s face stared back in shock. His eyes had widened to the size of dollars. There was a startling gurgle, followed by a steady stream of blood from his lips. Then, Henry saw it: the pistol against Durrett’s right temple, held by Davies.
Durrett fell to the ground in a heavy heap.
“I don’t know about you, mate, but I was getting rather bored by this bumbling idiot. One less crooked cop,” Davies said with a distinct Cockney accent. He held out his hand. “I’m Daniel Wyndham, a detective working for the London police. More specifically, for Clarkson.”
Henry stared at Daniel’s proffered hand, marked with gunpowder and speckles of blood.
It took a few seconds for Henry to come out of the fog of impending death. His cheeks warmed with confusion. The tremble in his hands was unstoppable as he shook the man’s hand.
“We’ve met before, Mr. Asheford.” Daniel dug into Durrett’s pocket, produced a key and unlocked Henry’s shackles. They fell to the ground in a metallic clang. “Benjamin Cooper’s apartment. You pushed me down the staircase.”
“You … it was you?”
“Of course. To be perfectly honest, I imagined you would’ve recognized me, given we’d already come face to face.”
Henry blinked rapidly.
What the devil?
A hazy memory of that night returned. There had been two policemen knocking on Cooper’s door before he had…
“Dear God,” Henry exclaimed. “Clarkson was the man I whacked with the briefcase?”
“Yes,” Daniel chuckled. “A good whack that was, too. Poor chap had a busted lip for two weeks. The men at the precinct made a ruckus about it.”
“And you … you have been … how—”
Daniel regarded him with warm brown eyes. “Mr. Asheford, do accept my apology; I owe you an explanation. Clarkson knew all along his mysterious informant was you. During our investigation into Cooper’s murder, we found a note between the dead man’s feet. Do you recall what it said?”
“ ‘This is what happens to squeaking rats, son’,” Henry quoted.
“Precisely,” Daniel said with a nod. “Given the nature of our relationship with Cooper, we assumed your father had him murdered. What we did not know is why you were involved, and why there was a message for you left at the crime scene.”
“I was sent to collect a debt,” Henry said, breathing through the rising nausea. “Cooper’s murder was a warning.”
“To force you to do Edwin Asheford’s bidding?”
Henry weakly nodded.
“Of which marrying into New York’s most powerful crime family was part?”
“Yes, yes, precisely,” Henry muttered. He would sooner be sick than recall the events that had led him here. “I do not mean to sound rude, but all this is overwhelming, and I rather wish you’d get to the point.”
“Of course,” Daniel chuckled. “Naturally, Cooper’s investigation led to us seeking whether you were involved in the murder. What we found was a man who went out of his way to distance himself from the family business, whose distaste for his father was well-known in the public eye, and when you came to Clarkson in disguise, all questions were answered. You were a man who wanted to break free from his father’s criminal grasp and would stop at nothing to do so.”
“Clarkson knew who I was then?”
“Only a suspicion, which was confirmed when we heard about a Henry Asheford travelling to New York with his bride, Fanny Davenport. He does commend your impeccable American accent.”
“I… I…” Henry paused. His rattled mind could not keep up.
“Take your time to process all this. As you said, it’s very overwhelming,” Daniel said. “In any case, I was tasked to follow you to New York and become your shadow. I will not go into detail about how I infiltrated the police force here, due to confidentiality, but know this: there are eyes everywhere with an interest in taking down criminals like your father. Sometimes, international alliances are formed.”
A tense silence followed.
“I am at a loss for words, Mr. Wyndham,” Henry finally said.
“You have always been in good hands, Mr. Asheford.”
“But why did you not inform me about all this?”
“We had a mind to do so, but with Durrett sneaking about, it was not possible.”
Henry’s gaze fell to Durrett’s body. He tried to make sense of the turn of events. Mind whirling, he looked at Daniel again. All this time, he had never been alone.
“Well,” Henry breathed. “I must thank you, Mr. Wyndham.”
Daniel nodded.
Henry gestured at the corpse. “Durrett, he was—”
“A crooked cop working for Angelo, yes.”
“And the shipment?” Henry said.
“Still planned to be shipped to London, although via a different route, since your father has caught a whiff of police involvement. Rest assured, the slight delay in schedule will not fool us.”
“You’ll arrest him, then?”
“It is our intention to do so.”
“And I … I can catch my ship?” Henry said.
“Indeed, you can.”
“Am I expected to continue our relationship?”
“No,” Daniel said. “No, Mr. Asheford, your work here is done.”
“Right.”
Daniel handed Henry his suitcase. “You’re a free man.”
Taking the case, Henry nodded again. He didn’t feel like a free man. He still had to deal with his father, and no doubt Angelo’s wrath now, too. He was contractually locked into a forced marriage to a woman he did not love. He was shackled to the bonds of addiction. How the hell was he free? He remained frozen in place, unable to move past the corpse that had moments ago threatened his life.
“One more thing, Mr. Asheford. The letters you wrote to your sister were also intercepted, but I managed to secure them before Durrett read them. The fool was too blinded by the one you wrote to Clarkson to bother with the ones for your sister. You have my word that they have been sent to Miss Asheford without delay and with top police priority, might I add.”
The relief overcame Henry in a fresh wave of nausea. “They were never breached?”
“No. The wax seals are intact.”
Henry exhaled. “Then, I shall be eternally grateful for your service.”
“No, Mr. Asheford.” Daniel smiled. “We shall be eternally grateful for your service. Due to your selfless and courageous acts, we are one step closer to putting a stop to Edwin Asheford.”
“That pleases me to hear,” Henry said flatly. “Goodbye, Daniel.”
“Safe voyage, Mr. Asheford.”
Numb. He felt numb.
He stepped over Durrett’s limp legs. The realization he had been a hair’s breadth away from death settled into his chest like a boulder. Something within him had shifted. He had been given a new lease of life. Clarkson and Daniel had offered the key to his cage; all he needed to do was unlock it and flee.