“He has power,” Coe rushed on. “And he listens to me. If I ask him to give amnesty to members of the Resistance, he will.”
“You can’t know that.” Charlotte frowned. She could tell Coe believed what he was saying, but she was just as certain that he was deceiving himself.
“Do you really think he wants Jack or Linnet dead?” Coe asked. “All my father wants is for the Resistance to fade so the greatness of Britannia can be truly realized. The Resistance is the thorn festering in the lion’s paw. It must be pulled out.”
“Coe.” Charlotte tried to keep her tone kind, despite her frustration. “Even if Admiral Winter was willing to spare the lives of your friends, a handful of the Resistance, what about all the others who will die?”
Coe shook his head, but Charlotte pressed. “And I don’t agree with you. The Resistance is not hopeless. I can’t speak to France’s commitment, but I don’t believe that all the men and women who have dedicated their lives to this cause are so misguided that they’d throw their lives away.”
“You don’t know what I know,” Coe said.
“I don’t have to,” Charlotte countered. “If the Resistance is such a lost cause, why is the Empire so frightened by it? Why do they focus the energies of their military leaders on its destruction? The Empire wants to be rid of the Resistance not because it’s a pest, but because it is a true threat. Because it will succeed.”
Coe stared at her. He was pale, but Charlotte couldn’t discern whether anger or fear had robbed his cheeks of color.
He whispered, “It can’t be true.”
Seizing on his uncertainty, Charlotte said, “Coe, I believe that you don’t want to hurt me. I believe that you care about me.”
Coe didn’t respond.
“You can help me,” Charlotte told him.
He walked to the window and rested one arm against the frame. “How?”
Charlotte’s heart thudded. “I can’t stay here. I need to get Grave out of that monstrosity of a laboratory and find somewhere safe for us.”
“There is nowhere safe,” Coe said in a flat voice. He turned toward her, frowning. “Why do you care about him? You keep trying to protect him, despite the danger. He could be an incredible help to the Resistance, but you won’t give him to either side.”
“He isn’t something to be given or taken,” Charlotte said.
“You know what he is?” Coe asked.
Charlotte wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a sudden chill. “He’s an impossibility. A miracle created because love didn’t die when Hackett Bromley’s son did. Somehow Grave manifested from that pain and devotion. I may not know what he is, but I know he’s innocent.” She drew a shivering breath. “I protect him because he shouldn’t be treated like a machine or a weapon or a tool. He deserves to simply be.”
“To simply be,” Coe echoed, then uttered a joyless laugh. “He deserves that? Do any of us get to live that way? From the day we are born, we are thrown into the forge of life; we are hammered and shaped as the world wills. Why shouldn’t the same be true for Grave?”
“Because he isn’t the same,” Charlotte said.
“From all this talk, I’d say you belong with the Sisters,” Coe told her. “Go spend your time reading stars and prophesying while the rest of us toil.”
His jibe riled Charlotte, but she didn’t let it provoke her.
“Will you help me?” she asked.
“If I let you go, my father will execute me,” Coe said, returning his gaze to the window.
“You can come with me,” Charlotte said.
“If I go with you, the Resistance will execute me.” Coe smiled to himself.
“I’ll protect you,” Charlotte said quickly. “You think you can save our friends by influencing your father. I can do that for you. I won’t let them execute you.”
Coe pushed himself off the window frame. “I am grateful for your sentiment, Charlotte. It’s touching that you would be willing to speak on my behalf. You have more confidence than I that anyone would listen.”
“Coe—” She didn’t know what else to say, what words would sway him.
“I don’t know what to believe,” Coe said, speaking more to himself than to her. He started toward the door.
“Coe, wait!” Charlotte went after him.
He was already exiting the room. The door closed behind him.
“Coe!”
The only answer Charlotte received was the sound of a key turning in a lock and a bolt sliding into place.
19.
MARGERY OTT HAD hosted any number of unorthodox gatherings in her lifetime, but this would be the first time she’d staged a kidnapping in her parlor. Quite the adventure. The only troubling part of this endeavor rested in Lady Ott’s lack of familiarity with her co-conspirators. Linnet and Jack were close associates, of course, but she knew this Meg only by snippets of intelligence that had been passed on to her. Having always been suspicious of religion, she was predisposed to doubt Meg’s reliability in deed and veracity in word. After all, the woman forsook her friends for the Sisters so she might dabble in the arcane. What rubbish!
Then there was the matter of this pirate. Margery had more knowledge of the legend called Sang d’Acier than she did of the man she’d been introduced to. Jean-Baptiste Lachance lounged in his chair as if he were in his own house rather than a guest. He was extraordinarily handsome, but too enamored with himself for her taste. Though she knew the pirate’s boasts were for show and not a true reflection of his character, Margery still found it irksome.
What was it that had been said of the French champion of America’s Revolution, the Marquis de Lafayette? That he was a monument in need of a pedestal. Yes, that was the sort of man Lachance appeared to be.
Sang d’Acier had brought along a rowdy troupe of associates. Meg had asserted that these ruffians could be brought into line at a single word from Lachance. Margery rather wished the pirate captain would get around to saying that word. She had many friends she’d have described as roustabouts, but in her line of work, it was imperative to adjust one’s role to whatever setting one found oneself in. Intelligence-gathering proved nearly impossible when an agent was a peacock strutting amid a gaggle of geese. While she’d happily have downed grog in the Quay with these fellows, she would have preferred that they observe appropriate decorum while visiting her home in the Floating City.
Ah well. The hulking men’s muscles would certainly be welcome when the time came.
Lady Ott smoothed the front of her plum satin dress and walked to the center of the room.
The company fell quiet, and she allowed herself a small smile of triumph. Through years of partnership, conniving, and love, Lady and Lord Ott had built what was nigh unto an Empire of their own. Theirs was an Empire of secrets, backdoor deals, assassinations, and conspiracy. When the couple were but young things, newly married and madly smitten with each other, their chosen profession had been much more dangerous to their persons. Those were the years when they did the spying and smuggling and, when necessary, killing with their own hands. As their experience grew, their fortunes increased, and their reputations flourished, the Otts were bit by bit able to extricate themselves from the gritty day-to-day tasks of their business and delegate them to their hirelings. Now the couple enjoyed the view from aloft in their expansive domain. The network of loyal associates they claimed hailed from Britain, France, Spain, the freetowns, and the Caribbean, and included Iroquois, Mohawk, Cherokee, Chickasaw, Creek, Seminole . . . the list went on and on. They were aristocrats, bureaucrats, bankers, spies, thieves, mesmers, and mummers.
Hers was an extraordinary life, from which she gleaned great satisfaction.
Thus, news of Coe Winter’s treachery caused a painful sting and the sullen bruise of injured pride.
Of course there had been bad apples among the their employees through the y
ears, but Roger and Margery Ott had always been several steps ahead of those who sought their ruin. Coe was the first to fully dupe the reigning monarchs of espionage, and she was eager to repay that favor in kind . . . with interest.
Lady Ott spread her hands in welcome as she addressed the group. “Thank you for gathering here today. You all know why you’ve been summoned, but let me quickly review the planned operation. Commodore Winter will arrive within the hour. He expects a meeting with me alone. Once he’s inside, all of the doors must be secured.”
She gestured to Lachance’s men, who voiced their “ayes” in acknowledgment.
“You’ll keep your posts at the doors,” Margery continued, “while Commodore Winter enjoys his tea. Once he’s been sufficiently restrained, our real work begins.”
“Are you certain he won’t be suspicious?” Jack asked. “He didn’t make his arrival in the city public.”
“I’m sure he has a sound cover story to pacify me,” she said. “And Coe shouldn’t be surprised that I’d receive word of his presence. He knows we keep close watch on the Military Platform.”
“What about the tea?” Jack’s anxiety was understandable. The fact of his brother’s treachery must have been all the more painful for the younger Winter.
Margery offered him a sympathetic smile. “You needn’t worry about the tea, Jack. Coe is aware that I don’t take sugar in my tea, while your brother takes three sugars.”
Jack nodded, but his jaw remained clenched. Linnet put her hand on his shoulder.
“It will be over soon,” she told her half brother.
“Very well,” Lady Ott said, shooing them away. “Time to make yourselves invisible.”
The group split apart, each person moving to his or her assigned position. Only Meg lingered in the parlor.
“Are you certain you’re comfortable facing him alone?” Meg asked.
Margery puffed up in indignation, a retort ready on her lips. But as she looked into Meg’s eyes, she saw an old wisdom, and steel.
Perhaps I’ve underestimated her, just as she’s underestimating me now.
Rather than chide Meg, Margery patted her on the cheek and smiled. “My dear, I appreciate your concern. But if you knew me, you’d be aware that’s a completely unnecessary question.”
Meg was taken aback by Lady Ott’s reply. The younger woman considered the elder’s face for a moment, then said, “I meant no insult, Lady Ott. Your reputation attests to your expertise in these matters—”
“There’s something else, then?” Margery’s brow crinkled. “Something that troubles you?”
Meg looked over her shoulder in the direction that Linnet and Jack had exited the parlor. “There’s a darkness in this betrayal. Born of jealousy and fear that goes far beyond the politics of war. Coe has been bowed by his father’s tyranny. I believe there is no boundary to what Admiral Winter will do to maintain control of the situation. Be wary.”
The solemnity of Meg’s words chilled Margery to the core. She knew many people sought out Madam Jedda for her gifts of intuition and foresight. It appeared her daughter had inherited the same spiritual abilities.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Margery said.
When Meg had gone, Lady Ott returned to her chair. She waited calmly, her mind clear and serene. Though anticipation provoked anxiety in many people, patience had never posed a problem for her. Waiting was an essential part of the intelligence game, and her skill in this arena was finely honed.
A quarter of an hour later, one of the staff announced Commodore Coe Winter’s arrival. Another servant showed him into the parlor. Lady Ott stood when the young officer arrived. He was in full military dress. With a broad smile, Coe doffed his hat and bowed. Despite his amiable expression, she noted the dark circles beneath his eyes.
“What a pleasure to receive your invitation,” Coe said. “And a surprise.”
Margery returned Coe’s smile and let her gaze fill with mirth and mischief. “Was it truly a surprise, Commodore? Surely you don’t think your arrival would escape my observation.”
Coe laughed, shaking his head. “Of course, Lady Ott. You and your husband are farseeing beyond the power of any telescope and more discerning than any magnifying glass or microscope.”
“Now you’re full of flattery.” She laid her hand atop his. “Won’t you please have a seat?” She turned to her servant. “Tea, Mr. Bell.”
“Of course, my lady.”
Coe and Margery settled into their chairs.
“You must tell me what’s brought you to the Floating City,” she said. “I expected you’d remain in New Orleans to assist Commander Marshall with locating Charlotte. Poor girl, I can’t imagine what’s gotten into her head.”
Coe grimaced. “I wish I knew. I’m fearful for her, and I would have stayed at the Daedalus Tower had I not received a summons from my father. The admiral’s will is not wisely ignored.”
Margery nodded.
“And I thought I might learn something of Charlotte’s whereabouts here,” Coe continued. “The Empire is still hunting Grave. If they’d been found, there would be word of it among the officers.”
Bell returned bearing a silver tea service. He poured Lady Ott’s tea with cream. Then turned to Coe.
“Three sugars, no cream.”
“Very good, sir.”
Bell poured the steaming liquid into Coe’s cup, then added three lumps of sugar. With a curt bow, Bell left them to their conversation.
While Coe stirred the sugar into his tea, Lady Ott asked, “Have you heard anything of Charlotte and Grave since you arrived?”
Coe shook his head. “It’s a frustrating situation. I don’t think Charlotte realized how much danger she’s put herself and the Resistance in.”
“She’s still young,” Lady Ott replied. “And prone to act on impulse.”
She watched Coe sip his tea.
“Do you have anything to report on other matters?” she asked, lifting her own cup.
“There’s an ongoing debate about redistributing the air fleet.” Coe paused and took another drink. “Some of the high-ranking officers believe too much credence has been given to rumors of an overt alliance between the French and the Resistance. They would prefer to have some of our strength in America transferred to the colonies in the East.”
“Such reassignments could prove beneficial to the Resistance,” Margery said.
Coe began to blink rapidly. “I . . . yes . . . they could.”
She sipped more of her tea.
Coe frowned, passing a hand over his eyes. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead. “My apologies, Lady Ott. I fear I may be unwell.”
“Have you eaten anything today?” Lady Ott asked. “I know you industrious fellows. All work, never remembering that you need sustenance. Here, I’ll have Mr. Bell bring sandwiches.”
“Yes.” He had another swallow of tea. “That might help.”
As Lady Ott reached for the velvet pull to summon Mr. Bell, Coe’s teacup slipped from his hand. Tea spilled over the tray while he gazed at Margery in confusion. She continued to smile as Coe slumped in his chair, his head lolling back as unconsciousness swallowed him.
She did pull the velvet rope then, and Mr. Bell appeared in the next moment. She pointed to the tray. “Would you please take care of this, Mr. Bell?”
“Of course, my lady.” Bell moved to collect the tray.
“And let our guests know that we can proceed.”
“Right away, Lady Ott.”
20.
COE’S SKULL ACHED as though it had just been released from a vise. His first instinct was to rub his temples, but when he attempted to raise his hands, he discovered he couldn’t. He lifted his head, blinking in an attempt to clear his blurred vision.
Lady Ott’s parlor came into view. Coe was in the same chair he’d occupied when t
aking tea, but his arms were bound to the arms of the chair, his legs to its legs. He remembered feeling slightly feverish, then dizzy. After that, nothing until a moment ago when he’d woken.
What happened?
Coe had considered declining Lady Ott’s invitation. Since Charlotte’s abduction, his one-time rigid convictions had become unsettled. For the past two years, he’d adhered to his father’s words, to the admiral’s assessment of military issues. Under Admiral Winter’s tutelage, Coe had found it easier and easier to dismiss contradictory information offered by the Resistance.
But Charlotte was different. Despite being a child of the Resistance, reared to despise the Empire, Charlotte was no sheep blindly following a herd. When her values had been compromised, she had challenged her mother and fled the Daedalus Tower. Charlotte’s fealty was to that which she believed true and just. When she fought, it was on her terms. She had courage of a sort Coe had never encountered.
And that was why, despite his doubts and fears, he’d decided to help her.
Leaving the key was the compromise that Coe’s mind had finally settled on. He’d offered Charlotte the means to escape her room, but getting out of the building, evading guards—all of that she would have to accomplish on her own.
Most importantly, the Empire still had Grave. Coe doubted Charlotte would attempt to rescue him on her own. By the time she could rally her friends, it would be too late. Events had already been set in motion that couldn’t be stopped. The Resistance’s fate was sealed.
But Coe still fostered hope that when it was over, Charlotte, if she survived, would understand what he’d done and why. He needed someone to understand.
Ignoring the dull pain in his head, Coe cast his gaze about the room. A rough-looking fellow was across the room stuffing cake into his face while he leaned against the door frame. The man noticed Coe watching him.
“Oy!” the man called, spewing bits of cake from his mouth. “Your man’s awake!”
The Turncoat's Gambit Page 13
