‘But we have information!’ exclaimed Morozov. He pointed to Mitya. ‘This man was seen at the circus tonight. He was part of the plot against His Imperial Majesty!’
‘This young man may have been at the circus tonight,’ said Carruthers. ‘Several of us were. I was there myself, as a matter of fact. But he did not shoot anyone, nor was he in possession of a weapon. And simply being present does not necessarily make him a part of the plot against the Tsar, does it? Not unless you plan to arrest half of St Petersburg society, that is.’
‘But he ran!’ protested Morozov. ‘When my men went to arrest him – he fled! And we found books in his room, here in this house. Books containing dangerous and subversive ideas!’
Carruthers gave a wonderfully dismissive snort. ‘Books! Of course you found books. This man is a student at St Petersburg University – a most promising young fellow. Of course he must educate himself by reading all kinds of literature. As for the rest of these people your men are arresting, they are nothing whatsoever to do with any plot. They are performers from the Circus of Marvels. May I remind you that the circus is here on His Imperial Majesty’s own personal invitation? Think of the embarrassment that would be caused if he were to discover that you had mistakenly locked up several of the star performers, especially after the ordeal they have already faced tonight?’
‘He’s right!’ Sophie heard one of the policemen whisper to another in a doubtful voice. ‘That’s Miss Hercules – I know it! I saw her in the ring. Surely we can’t really be going to arrest her?’
‘Furthermore,’ Carruthers concluded. ‘As a representative of the British government, I will vouch for each of these individuals personally. If they are arrested without due cause, I’m afraid I shall have no choice but to go straight to the British Embassy to raise the matter with Sir George Buchanan himself.’
At the name of the British Ambassador, Officer Morozov turned a little pale. ‘There’s no need to do that, Captain,’ he murmured at once. ‘We understand that a terrible mistake has been made.’
Behind him, his men were already letting go of Hanna, Nakamura, the Count and Mitya, murmuring uncertainly to each other. Vera darted towards Mitya and flung her arms around him.
‘Thank you, Officer,’ said Carruthers, with a respectful and approving bow. ‘I could see you were a man of sense and honour. I would suggest that in their place, you arrest this violent and dangerous young man, before he can cause any further harm to this lady.’
‘Quite right, sir,’ said Morozov hurriedly, summoning two men who at once stepped forward and grabbed the furious Viktor, marching him away towards their waiting motor car.
‘I beg your pardon most humbly, madame,’ said Officer Morozov to Vera, performing a low bow. ‘On behalf of my men, we extend to you our deepest regrets about this evening’s . . . er . . . activities.’
He ordered his men away, leaving Hanna, Nakamura and the Count standing beside Vera and Boris, with Mitya between them. Sophie’s knees were weak with relief.
‘I don’t know who you are – but I thank you from the bottom of my heart,’ said Vera, surging towards Carruthers and kissing him firmly on both cheeks. ‘You have saved our family.’
Carruthers looked pink, embarrassed – and a little uncertain. ‘Well, I’m not sure it was strictly speaking the proper thing to do,’ he admitted, speaking in his usual voice. ‘Forgive me, but you were part of that plot at the circus, weren’t you?’ he said to Mitya.
‘Yes. But it wasn’t what it looked like. There was no intention to hurt anyone. You know I would never agree to a plan to assassinate the Tsar – or to harm his family, or anyone else,’ Mitya said soberly, looking at his father and mother.
‘Viktor pushed Mitya and the others into this,’ Sophie explained. ‘He was the one who changed the plans and arranged for all the guns. Then he had the crate sent here, so that Mitya would be framed for organising the crime!’
‘But Viktor wasn’t really the one behind it all,’ Nakamura reminded her.
‘No. I think he was instructed by Mr Gold – his contact, who he believed to be an important revolutionary leader. He was really the one responsible. He manipulated the students, supplied the guns – and then tipped off the secret police!’
‘And now Viktor and Nikolai and many of the others are behind bars,’ said Mitya anxiously.
‘I would have thought prison was the best place for that Viktor,’ snorted Lil. ‘Waving a revolver at Sophie like that! It serves him jolly well right, if you ask me.’
‘Well, it wasn’t entirely his fault,’ said Sophie. ‘He’d been told all kinds of things about me by Gold . . . that I was a British spy scheming with the Russian authorities, and that you were all helping me,’ she explained, nodding around to Mitya and the rest. ‘Which explains why he helped frame you. He obviously thought you were a traitor to the revolutionary cause.’
Mitya was frowning. ‘There’s much to be done,’ he said, drawing himself up, looking suddenly less scruffy and more purposeful. ‘I’ll arrange a meeting of our group. We must try and help the students who have been arrested and do what we can to secure their release. I’ll set Viktor right about me, and about this Mr Gold too. I have heard stories of these kinds of agitators, stirring up trouble amongst the revolutionary groups, whilst all the time they are really working with the police.’
Sophie nodded. ‘And perhaps then you can set the students on the right path – and make some real change,’ she said.
Mitya smiled at her gratefully and Vera put an arm around Sophie’s shoulders, giving her a little squeeze.
‘What I’d like to know is how you managed to get rid of the weapons,’ said Lil, as Ravi scooped up Shesha who had come slithering back to him, his evening’s performances now complete. ‘Where’s the crate now?’
‘With any luck, at the bottom of the canal,’ said Nakamura, who was looking very relieved to be a free man once more. ‘Which in my opinion is the best place for it!’
‘Yes – no one will be able to use those guns now,’ agreed Sophie, with satisfaction.
‘Which means we don’t have to worry about them. We can go back home,’ said Lil.
Home. Not long ago Sophie had been staring down the barrel of Viktor’s gun; but now all that was over. Whatever else the Fraternitas might have in store, she’d have Lil and Carruthers by her side on the journey home – and before long, she’d be back in London. She felt once again for the now-familiar shape of the spyglass and notebook in her pocket, and smiled with satisfaction and relief.
Home. In London, Joe was back on home turf – but it didn’t feel like home to him any longer. Now shadows loomed and stretched out in the alley, as the dark figure moved closer towards him.
He had to move – he had to do something. There was nowhere to go or to hide, but he kicked out at the dustbin beside him, sending it spinning forward and taking the opportunity to dart past and away down the alley, back the way he had come.
It had begun to rain, running down the collar of his jacket, but he kept on running, splashing blindly through the puddles, through a nightmare labyrinth of twisting alleys. Behind him, he could hear the thud of footsteps, coming after him.
It all felt so familiar. He’d run down these streets many times before. He’d run from Jem and the Baron’s Boys, the knife wound on his arm throbbing in pain. He’d run down streets like these in Limehouse with Lil and Sophie, his heart thumping. Now he was running for his life once more. It was because he knew something, he realised. Whatever he’d stumbled on, whatever the connection was between the Bureau and Norton Newspapers, it was important. So important that they would shoot him to keep him quiet.
He’d been lucky so many times before. He seemed to have been born lucky, he thought – thinking in a flash of everything that had happened to him. He’d have to count on that luck to hold out now. Speeding up, he ducked around a corner, dived around another alley. He’d lost his bearings, but he knew he had to keep on running. It was his only chan
ce.
He turned another corner, but then stopped short.
All at once, his luck had run out.
The alley stopped abruptly – a derelict old house stood at the end, the windows boarded up. He ran towards the door, tugging desperately at the handle, but there was no time to break it open or pick the lock. He could already hear the footsteps, moving towards him.
He turned, shivering in the rain, to face the dark figure. The blood was pounding in his ears as he realised, with a sudden shock, who it was.
‘You don’t have to do this,’ he said in a shaking voice, but it was no good. He cast one last desperate look around for a way out – but there was nothing. No one to rescue him now. He knew that it was too late.
Perhaps it had been too late for a long time, he thought. Perhaps he’d been on borrowed time ever since that night he’d run away from the East End.
The dark figure took another step forward and stretched out an arm. He heard the revolver click.
Joe squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He thought of anywhere but here, anywhere but the dark East End alley, rain on his face and mud beneath his feet. Instead, he thought of the familiar smell of Sinclair’s stables, the way the horses whickered gently to each other, their warm breath and the fragrance of hay. He thought of sitting in the Taylor & Rose office with Billy, eating jam tarts with the fire going, and Daisy lying at his feet.
He thought of fields of buttercups, and Lil when she smiled. He thought of her looking up at him on the station platform, with that look in her eyes that said maybe – just maybe – he had a chance with her after all.
It was the last thought in his mind before the gun went off.
The Way Back Home
In the pale morning sunlight outside the Ciniselli Circus, Lil and Carruthers were saying their goodbyes.
‘You really cannot stay – not even one day longer?’ said Ravi, looking disappointed.
‘I’m afraid not,’ said Lil, with a smile.
‘We have orders,’ added Carruthers. ‘And this time, we’re going to follow them,’ he told Lil. She shrugged and grinned back.
‘I’m still awfully disappointed that you weren’t hiding on our train because you were eloping,’ said Hanna with a sigh. ‘It was such a wonderful, romantic story!’
Lil giggled. ‘We were definitely not eloping,’ she said.
‘Most certainly not!’ exclaimed Carruthers, with a revolted shudder. But just the same, he wasn’t such a bad sort after all, Lil reflected. Perhaps one of these days, she’d even manage to call him ‘Sam’.
A little distance away, Sophie had her own farewells to say. She’d said goodbye to Vera, Boris, Mitya and the children that morning. ‘We shall never forget you,’ Vera had said, her eyes bright with tears. ‘You have been like another daughter to us, lapochka. And we thank you from the bottom of our hearts for all you have done for us.’
That had been hard enough – but now she must say goodbye to the Count and Nakamura, who had insisted on accompanying her as far as the Ciniselli Circus.
‘What will you do now?’ she asked them, a little sadly. ‘Will you stay on with Vera and Boris?’
But Nakamura shook his head. ‘No. I think it is time to say farewell to St Petersburg. We had a narrow escape, and I don’t believe either of us wish to end our days in prison. I am going to head home – and I’ve invited Herr Schmidt to come with me.’
‘Really?’ asked Sophie, surprised and pleased by this development. In spite of everything he had done, she’d developed an odd fondness for the Count.
The Count looked pleased too. ‘Captain Nakamura tells me that my knowledge of military matters and aviation will be useful,’ he explained proudly. ‘He has kindly offered me the chance to travel to Japan with him, and when we arrive, I will be given the position of military advisor.’
So in a way, the Count was to turn spy himself, passing his specialist knowledge of European politics and military matters to the Japanese, Sophie thought with a grin. It seemed strangely appropriate. Ever since she’d arrived in St Petersburg, there seemed to have been double agents on all sides: Viktor, who believed he was working for the revolutionary cause although he was really doing the bidding of the Fraternitas; Carruthers, who Lil had suspected of being a Fraternitas man, but was actually nothing of the kind; the mysterious Mr Gold; and even herself, she realised. For in some ways, Viktor had been right. She was an undercover spy, posing as Alice Grayson – and even briefly as a Fraternitas agent – whilst really working for the British government. She thought again of how he had accused her of being on the side of the authorities, who planned to use the weapon against the people, and all at once she felt again that chilly, uncomfortable sensation sweep over her. What did the Chief plan to do with the weapon exactly?
‘Well, you couldn’t get much further from Arnovia and the Fraternitas than Japan,’ she said to the Count now. ‘How will you travel there? Will you fly?’
‘We’ve been offered the chance to travel with the circus on their train,’ explained Nakamura. ‘I’ve been to see Miss Fanshawe this morning, and it’s all been agreed. Their train is easily large enough to transport our aeroplanes – and Miss Fanshawe is most interested in our expertise in aviation.’
‘We may even be able to help design a new flying act for the circus,’ added the Count, looking enthusiastic at the prospect.
‘And it sounds like they will be happy to have us, now that your friends are departing,’ said Nakamura, nodding to Lil and Carruthers who were strolling over to join them. ‘After all, we both know a little Russian so we may be able to make ourselves useful.’
‘It sounds like a wonderful plan,’ said Sophie. ‘Write to me from Japan, won’t you? Let me know about the rest of the journey – and that you made it home safely.’
Nakamura didn’t hug her goodbye, but instead he bowed very low. ‘Of course: it would be my pleasure. Taylor & Rose Detective Agency, Sinclair’s Department Store, London – that is the right address, isn’t it? I have no doubt we shall meet again someday, Sophie. It has been a great pleasure to travel alongside you.’
The Count was looking at Lil uncertainly. ‘I wonder . . . I know I don’t deserve it – but might I ask you to do me a small favour?’ He produced a slightly crumpled envelope from his pocket and held it out to her. ‘I’ve written this to Anna and Alex. It isn’t much, but I wanted them to know how sorry I am for everything that happened – for my part in the kidnap plot against them, and er . . . well, you know . . .’
Lil nodded. ‘I’ll give it to them,’ she promised, taking the envelope and putting it carefully into her pocket.
‘And tell me, are they well?’
‘Very well,’ said Lil, with a small smile. ‘And Würstchen, their dog too.’
The Count nodded gratefully and stepped away. ‘Goodbye and thank you,’ he said formally, shaking hands with all three of them.
Lil took one final look at the proud façade of the Ciniselli Circus. ‘Well, I suppose we’d better be on our way. Time to say goodbye to the Circus of Marvels and St Petersburg.’
‘Do svidaniya!’ whispered Sophie, under her breath – pausing to wave one last time to Nakamura and the Count, who were now standing beside Ravi and Hanna on the steps.
As they turned away, suitcases in hand, Miss Roberta Russell was getting out of a motor-taxi, accompanied by Walters, the photographer.
‘I must say, it’s really too disappointing,’ she was saying to him. ‘Here I was, wishing the boss would send me to cover a real news story – instead of an air race or a circus performance – and then the Tsar of Russia is nearly assassinated, right here in this very building, and I miss the whole thing! Just think – if I’d only stayed until the end of the show, my exclusive report could have been on the front page of newspapers all over the world. But no, the boss insisted that I had to get my story wired over by midnight, so I rushed back to the hotel to write it up.’
Walters shrugged. ‘I’d say we were better out of th
e way. I’d never have been able to get a good shot in all that scrum. Besides, we were still the first British journalists on the scene – and we can do follow-up interviews with the circus performers today, can’t we? Get their take on it – that’s a good angle.’
‘And I suppose I don’t necessarily have to say that I wasn’t there . . .’ mused Miss Russell thoughtfully.
‘I’d like to get some more portrait shots done too,’ the photographer went on. ‘I still need one of Madame Fleurette – and just look at that kid with the snake, over there. I must get some pictures of him.’
But Miss Russell was not looking at the young snake charmer. Instead, she was staring at two young women and a young man, who were walking together away from the circus building, each carrying a small suitcase. There was a rather puzzled expression on her face.
‘Do you know, I could swear that young woman is Sophie Taylor. One of those lady detectives from the agency in London. She was mixed up in the air race in Paris.’ But then she laughed. ‘I’m seeing things – it can’t possibly be her,’ she said to Walters, who wasn’t really listening, already hurrying ahead of her into the circus building, thinking of the pictures he would take that day. ‘I mean, what on earth would she be doing in St Petersburg?’
Along the street, Lil, Sophie and Carruthers were deep in conversation.
‘What did they say at the Embassy?’ Sophie asked Carruthers. He’d been to the British Embassy that morning to pick up travel visas for himself and Lil, but also to ask some important questions about Sophie’s letters to the Chief.
‘The fellows I spoke to confirmed the letters had been received, and had gone into the diplomatic bag,’ Carruthers reported. ‘They showed me the paperwork to prove it. Which I suppose means that whoever has been intercepting your letters has been working from London.’
Spies in St. Petersburg Page 20
