The Diamond Thief

by Sharon Gosling

  Thaddeus shut his eyes briefly. Then he reached out and shook Rémy’s hand firmly.

  “Good, good!” said the Professor, happily. “Now we’re getting somewhere. I’m sure it will take a while for you two to fully trust each other, but I think once you start working together instead of against each other, you’ll see that this makes sense.”

  Thaddeus wasn’t so sure and, from her face, neither was his new partner. But the Professor wasn’t listening. He’d obviously conjured up a plan.

  “Well,” said the Professor, “from Miss Brunel’s injuries, I think it is safe to say that trying to break into Lord Abernathy’s home is inadvisable, to say the least.”

  “Break in?” Thaddeus said, hardly able to believe what he was hearing. “We’re not breaking in to anyone’s house, let alone a lord’s!”

  “My dear Thaddeus, your integrity does you credit, I’ve often said that. But it also leads you to be a little… narrow-minded, at times.”

  “I don’t think it’s narrow-minded to want to uphold the law!”

  “Of course it isn’t,” his friend soothed, “but when others are not so scrupulous, sometimes the end justifies the means. You are looking for one thing, which does not belong to Lord Abernathy any more than it belongs to either of you. If it is not there, you take nothing. Yes? Yes. So, if you cannot break into this man’s house, you must find another way of reaching his inner sanctum. That is quite clear. And I think there is one person here who knows just how to do that.”

  There was a strained silence.

  “You mean me, don’t yer?” J piped up, fearfully. “You’re talkin’ about ‘is tunnels, ain’t yer?”

  “Yes, my dear young man, I am. You seem to know quite a good deal about all this. I suspect you may know a way in – a secret entrance, so to speak. Am I right?”

  J turned deathly pale, and shook his head. “I ain’t going near the place. Gives me the creeps, it does.”

  Thaddeus had no idea what they were talking about and said as much. “Tunnels? What tunnels?”

  “The old mines, Mister Rec. Abernathy – ‘e’s up to somethin’ down there.”

  “Mines? There aren’t any mines under London. Certainly not around here, at any rate.”

  The Professor crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. “No? Are you sure about that?”

  “Well – of course I am! How could there be?”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised what you’ll find under this city, my boy. It’s been here a very, very long time. And more has disappeared into its foundations than people even knew existed.” The Professor turned back to J. “Well, my boy? Could you take these two down there? Safely, I mean?”

  As Thaddeus watched, J swallowed hard. “I – I don’t fink so, Mister Professor. I bin there once, and that was enough for me. It ain’t safe. I said I ain’t never going back, and I don’t want to, sir. I don’t want to.”

  Thaddeus rested a hand on his shoulder. “Now, now, J – there’s no need to get upset. What old wives’ tale has got you so scared?”

  “It ain’t no ol’ wives’ tale, Mr Rec,” J gulped. “I seen it wiv me own eyes, I ‘ave. And me mate, Tommy – ‘e went missin’, like the others. ‘E’s down there somewhere. I know ‘e is. I should go to get ‘im out, but I’m too scared o’ getting’ caught meself…”

  Thaddeus knelt in front of the terrified child. He had no idea what all this talk was, but he hated to see this boy – who had already seen enough in his short life – so unhappy.

  “J,” he said. “Listen to me. You can trust me. You know that, don’t you? Haven’t I always done right by you?” J nodded and sniffed. “Right. So, whatever’s going on, you can tell me. What’s all this about your friend?”

  J shook his head, a resigned look on his face. “It ain’t no good, Mr Rec. Telling you, I mean. You ain’t never going to understand unless you sees it for yourself.” He looked at the Professor. “I knows that, Mister Professor. I does.”

  The Professor slapped him gently on the back. “Good boy, J. You’re a brave lad. Do you know what? How about, when you get back, I show you all of my inventions? You know, let you see how they all work?”

  The boy’s mouth dropped open, his fear instantly forgotten. “What – really?”

  “Most definitely, J,” said the Professor. “I think you’re a clever boy. Maybe you’ll even give me a hand with a few puzzles I have yet to solve, eh?”

  J straightened his shoulders and wiped his nose on the back of his cuff. “Right then. Well – what are we waitin’ for, eh? Let’s go!”

  The Professor chuckled. “Hold your horses, my lad. First, I think you all need a bit of a rest. Besides, the tide is in, and for where you need to go, I think it needs to be out. Am I right?”

  J’s shoulders sagged a little. “Oh,” he said, “Yeah, you’re right. It does.”

  “Well then, while we’re waiting – Miss Brunel…”

  “Yes, Monsieur?”

  “My dear, you may want to look through the large wooden chest in the office over there,” the Professor pointed to his private room, closed off at the back of the workshop. “Over the years I have collected various garments that may be of… of use to you. I think there are some boots, too. Do please take anything else that you like, while you’re at it. It’s only going to waste where it is. Oh, and pick a new outfit for our young lad J, too, would you? In the meantime, I have a few items to gather together for your trip.”

  * * *

  Rémy could hardly wait to investigate the chest. She tried not to look at Thaddeus Rec. Part of her felt guilty for the fact that he was in trouble because of a theft that she would have performed herself if not for Lord Abernathy’s treachery. But by far the larger part of her was just enraged by him. By the fact that he had caught her, by the fact that he would not listen… even by his face! It annoyed her, those mismatched eyes that refused to believe a word she said, whether she was telling the truth or not, even though she had agreed to help him. And it annoyed her more that she didn’t know why it made her so angry.

  She should try to escape, she knew that. Rémy had agreed to work with Thaddeus Rec only because she couldn’t see another way out of her predicament – but she’d be better off alone. She always was. Still, Rémy was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. It had been a long, long time since she’d had new clothes, and the idea that there was a chest of garments from which she could take her pick was too good an opportunity to pass up, especially now she had lost her trusty boots.

  Rémy opened the door to the Professor’s office cautiously, looking over her shoulder at Thaddeus, who glowered at her from his place beside the fire. She turned her back on him and slipped inside. It was no tidier here than in the main workshop. Nuts and bolts, springs and wires, clock faces and barometers – there were piles of them all over the place, on the floor and beside the books stacked one against the other on the bookcase, and on the large wooden desk that dominated the space. There was a mirror, too, and a wash-basin, still full of water. She paused, fascinated by the sight of an array of pots of colour, like the greasepaints she used to turn herself into Little Bird. These were not so bright, though – they were flesh-tones, in various tints, and they were set beside strange, soft, moulded noses and ears and feathery false eyebrows. It reminded her of the circus, and of Colicos the clown, who could change his appearance as often as the wind changed the weather. Who exactly was this Professor friend of Rec’s? Rémy asked herself. He acted like a gentleman, but lived like a pedlar. She wasn’t sure she trusted him. But then, life had taught her not to trust anyone. Maybe she should begin to learn.

  Rémy searched for the trunk, and found it under a pile of old, yellowing maps. It was stout, made of wood the colour of walnuts, and banded with strips of iron. It was not locked, though, and the lid swung open easily enough. Inside were piles of clo
thes of all descriptions and for all ages and sizes, both male and female. For a second, Rémy was stunned. And then she began to rummage.

  The clothes were mostly black shirts and trousers, but here and there among them were flashes of colour. Rémy pulled out a corset of black satin and stared at it. It reminded her of the costumes she wore on the trapeze and she loved it, instantly. She also picked up a short-sleeved black top that would go under it perfectly. There were several pairs of boys’ trousers, too – they would be far more practical than a skirt. She found the smallest pair she could – they were worn, but still had plenty of life in them – and dragged them out. Finally she found a short black jacket whose only fault was a small tear in the bottom hem. No one would notice though, so it would do nicely. Dressing quickly, she was relieved to find that most things fitted her well – she had to cinch in the waist of the trousers with a rough leather belt, but the top and jacket were perfect, and the corset added a touch of bravado that made her feel as if she were about to perform. And if ever there was a time when Rémy felt brave, it was when she was about to step out onto the wire.

  Pulling on a pair of boots that were only slightly too big, Rémy went back out into the workshop, holding a new pair of trousers and a shirt for J. It was quiet save for the crackle of the fire. She looked towards the door and wondered if the policeman had remembered to lock it this time. She couldn’t see the Professor anywhere. Maybe this was her chance, if she could…

  She stopped as her eyes fell on Thaddeus. He was sitting in one of the old armchairs, gazing at J, who had fallen asleep in the chair closest to the blazing fire. As she watched, Thaddeus got up to pick up her cloak and place it carefully over the boy. He glanced up as he returned to his chair, and saw her. They stared at each other for a moment, before Thaddeus looked towards the door.

  “It’s locked,” he told her, quietly. “I’m not quite as stupid as you think I am.”

  “I never thought you were stupid.”

  He smiled wryly, and touched his cheek where her nails had caught him a glancing blow during their struggle. “Funny. That’s not what you said earlier.”

  Rémy gave up on the idea of escape and headed for the fire. “Where is your friend, the Professor?” she asked.

  “Gone to get us some food.”

  She nodded. “He is a kind man.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  She could feel Thaddeus’ eyes on her as she sat in front of the fire. He seemed to have only just noticed her change of clothes.

  “What?” she asked. “Not smart enough for you?”

  He looked away. “Just surprised you’d choose to wear that thing. I thought most women hated them.”

  She grinned, glancing down at her corset. “Well,” she said, “I am not ‘most’ women. Besides, I think it suits me.”

  Thaddeus dropped back into his chair. “I never said it didn’t,” he muttered, almost too low for her to hear.

  Ten

  The Depths of the Earth

  They left some hours later, as twilight coincided with the turning of the tide. After they had eaten, Thaddeus had managed to doze a little, and he felt better for it. When he’d woken, the first person he’d looked for had been Rémy Brunel, in case she had fled in his sleep. He didn’t have to look far – she was curled up on the hearth, like a cat, her arms wrapped around her knees and her hair strewn out about her head. As he watched her, she woke and sat up, blinking at him. He pretended he’d been staring at the fire.

  The Professor appeared again, this time with three small packs which he passed to each of them.

  “Just some essentials,” said Thaddeus’ friend. “Candles, matches, a draught of water each – that kind of thing.”

  “Thanks, Professor,” Thaddeus said as he took his. “And what about that listening device you planted in my pocket? Could we use that, too?”

  “I wish you could, my boy,” said the Professor, “but where you are going, even if you managed to also carry the attending set with you, I doubt the signal would pass. What I can give you, though, are these.” He pointed to a nearby work bench. On it lay three sets of the night-vision glasses.

  Thaddeus went to them. “Professor!” he exclaimed. “You got them to work?”

  “Indeed, and I think you should each have a pair to take with you. Where you’re going, they will no doubt come in very useful. Though there will still be levels of darkness that not even they can banish, which is why I have given you each a candle. A single flame should be enough to help the glasses work, even if they seem to have failed completely.”

  Thaddeus, Remy and J set off as dusk fell, J leading them around the edge of the Basin and turning left along Narrow Street, past The Grapes. Thaddeus couldn’t imagine where they were going. He’d never heard of mines under the East End of London.

  J took them east, following the Thames as it meandered on its long journey to the sea. It wasn’t until they reached Lime Kiln Wharf that J slowed and looked about him. Then he slipped down a tiny, greasy alley that disappeared towards the river. It was so narrow that the dying light of day barely filtered down to the rough cobble and dirt path beneath their feet.

  The walkway ended at the Thames. The river’s shore lay below them at the end of a metal ladder that stopped just above the exposed mud and sand. The tide was out and the water had receded to its lowest point, leaving a wide beach at either side. If the tide had been in, the bottom of the ladder would have led straight into the murky water.

  “We can’t go down there,” Thaddeus said. “The mudlarks own the river bank. They won’t like it.”

  “Mudlarks?” Rémy queried.

  “The beachcombers of London,” Thaddeus told her. “They own whatever they find on the shore. It’s been that way for centuries.”

  The French girl sniffed. “That cannot be a very good living. And to have to work with this smell always in your nose!”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised at the valuables what washes up ‘ere, Miss,” said J. “But don’t you worry yerself, Mister Rec. The ‘larkers, they know me. Stick with me and they’ll treat you right.”

  Thaddeus nodded reluctantly and watched as the boy made his way down the ladder, the new shirt that Rémy had given him flapping in the wind that rose from the water. He sent Rémy down next, still suspecting she may run the moment he was preoccupied. She skipped down the metal rungs as if it were a gentle slope, not a slippery plunge to a nasty death. He wished he had her confidence with heights. Thaddeus had always preferred to have his feet squarely on solid ground.

  He followed gingerly, his knuckles white as they gripped the cold metal tightly after each step. At the bottom, his feet sank in the wet sand. They set off together, keeping close to the walls built along the riverbank, on which stood the busy wharves and docks. The walls were carpeted in the velvet green of moss kept damp by the constant drenching of the river at high tide.

  J nodded to a man who stood by the water’s edge. He was dressed in several layers of clothing that were uniformly brown, and his boots looked as black and greasy as the sediment beneath them. He could almost have been a feature of the river shore himself, a barnacled spit of sand, merely man-shaped. The mudlark raised his hand slowly at them in greeting, and then turned back to the net at his feet. It was on a long pole, and he dragged it slowly over the damp sand, searching for anything that may be of value, if not to him, then to someone else.

  The shore was uneven, dotted with fallen bricks and rough stones and pocked with the castings-off from a thousand ships. Thaddeus kept his eyes on his footing. There were shells, shards of pottery and pieces of cutlery. He saw clay pipes everywhere, the sort that were smoked a handful of times and then thrown away. He wondered where they had all started off. Had they washed down the river, or been thrown from one of the warehouses, above?

  Through his brief reverie he heard a sho
ut carried over the wind, and looked up to see that J was far ahead, with Rémy a distance away between them. The boy was waving his arm, urging them on. Thaddeus picked up his pace.

  The boy was waiting for them beside the wide mouth of a small tunnel, no bigger than a large pipe, that led directly into the brick wall below the basement of a cotton wharf. It was built a short distance above the sand bank, and so when the tide was in it must have been fully submerged. A trickle of brown water was dripping from it and onto the sand.

  “In there?” Thaddeus asked.

  “Yup,” said J. “Sorry, Mister Rec, but it’s the only way. We better be quick, too – once the tide turns, it’ll fill with water, and we’ve got a long way to go, like.” The boy pulled out his glasses and put them on. Rémy did the same. “Come on, then,” she said. “What are we waiting for? Let’s get on with it!”

  The boy ducked his head and jumped inside, his feet splashing in the brackish water. Rémy went in next, not even pausing to glance at Thaddeus. Watching her receding figure, he almost had the feeling she was beginning to enjoy herself.

  Thaddeus slipped on his night-glasses and took a deep breath before he followed. Once in the pipe, the outside world vanished at once. The tunnel reeked of wetness. The brick walls were slick with slime and very cold. His shoes were damp within seconds as he pushed on through the sludge. Ahead of him, Rémy seemed to have no such worries – the new boots the Professor had given her must have been more watertight than his own.

  J forged ahead at surprising speed. The sewer was not straight, and at first it rose so steeply that Thaddeus found himself having to pull himself up. It levelled out soon enough, but twisted and turned so rapidly that Thaddeus soon lost his sense of direction. Then it began to tilt downwards again, lower and lower into the earth, but he had no idea how far. His glasses cast everything in a strange green glow that was strong enough only to stop him stumbling on the uneven brick. Every now and then, either J or Rémy would turn and look back at him, their eyes two weird, glowing discs of greenish light in the murk.