Ministry Protocol: Thrilling Tales of the Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences
Page 49
*****
That evening, as she went to turn the sign in the window from Ouvert to Fermee, Anne-Marie couldn’t help noticing the figure posing across the street. The suit fit him perfectly, and with his hair slicked back under a gentleman’s topper, he looked less like a bare-knuckles brawler and more like an aristocrat—or two aristocrats stuck together in a black sack. Seeing her gaping, he tipped his hat and grinned. She hurried upstairs to change into her own guise for the night.
He was sitting at the bakery table when she emerged, her cheeks hot with a blush.
“Don’t laugh.”
He looked up, face blank. “Why would I?”
She smoothed her hands down the black leather corset and over her fitted trousers. They were far too tight, blast it all. Thanks to the bakery’s bounty, her stealth uniform barely fit. But she couldn’t sneak undetected into the cabaret in her usual frilly dresses, so she would just have to hope her pants didn’t split up the back. Still, it felt good to put on men’s boots and pack her waist belt with gear she hadn’t had call to use in years, guns and knives and poisons and gadgets. She was ready.
But was he?
“What’s your play?” she asked, and he stood and bowed.
“Reginald Cumberbatch,” he spoke in a manner that gave her a start. “A humble shopkeeper on holiday from London.”
The stuffy accent was flawless.
“Touché. Undercover really is your specialty.”
He grinned. “You underestimate me.”
She tried to bow in mock apology, but the seams on her pants creaked dangerously.
“Of course I underestimate you, monsieur; that means you’re a good agent. We’ll meet back here at midnight. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” Joe went to open the door, but she stopped him with a tentative hand on his jacket sleeve.
“Wait.” Her fingers hovered over the Ministry-issued ring, a slightly different fashion than the one she had been assigned twenty years ago. “How do these new rings work? If I’m in trouble, will it alert you?”
He nodded. “If you push it, I’ll know.”
“But how will I know if you’re in trouble?”
He pulled back his jacket to show a pair of derringers, their chased brass accented with wood so polished that they’d clearly seen their share of Ministry action.
“I never am,” he said in his usual, gruff manner.