“This is all just nonsense!” Thaddeus Rec’s exasperated voice spoke into the hush that had fallen at Desai’s pronouncement. “All this talk of curses that crush love and powerful jewels – it’s all rubbish. And it’s not going to help us right now, is it?”
Desai turned to the policeman. “Isn’t it?”
“No! What we need to do is sort out this Abernathy business! What he’s doing down there in those tunnels is far more important than a stupid gemstone, whether it’s got powers or not!”
“I should say so,” J piped up. “You didn’t see it, Mr Rec, but ‘e ‘as got slaves down there, just like everyone’s been saying. And I saw Tommy, me mate. We’ve got to get him out – we’ve got to get ‘em all out!”
“We will, J,” said Thaddeus, standing up. “Thank you, Professor, for finding Mr Desai, and thank you, Mr Desai, for our rescue from that accursed place. But if you are, as you say, in hiding from the establishment, then this is where we must part ways. Because it is to the establishment I must now go with this information.”
“And what information is that, Thaddeus?” the Professor asked.
“Why, the information about what is going on down there, of course, below our feet at this very moment!”
Desai nodded slowly. “You are proposing to tell people, are you?”
“Of course!”
“And then what?” the Indian man asked. “What proof do you have? What evidence is at your disposal to make them listen to you?”
Rémy watched as Thaddeus tried to think of an answer. His shoulders sagged as he realized the truth of Desai’s words. He sank down onto the cushions again.
“Your dilemma is mine, too, Mr Rec,” Desai told him. “We have both seen fearful things happening in this city, but we have no one but ourselves to turn to for help.”
“I only feel sorry that I have had my head so buried in my own inventions for so long,” said the Professor, shaking his head. “To think, that there have been such terrible things going on for so long, without me even realizing it.”
Rémy frowned, watching the Professor with narrowed eyes. Everyone else around her seemed completely willing to accept the Professor’s presence here, and his explanation. She wanted to, as well – he was Thaddeus’ friend, after all, and the policeman clearly trusted him. And yet… she was uneasy. Something didn’t feel quite right. She just wasn’t sure what it was.
Desai inclined his head. “It is a pity we have not met before now, Professor,” he said. “But I am glad that you have tracked me down. You have provided us all with an exciting opportunity. Perhaps together, with our talents combined, we can prove a force aligned against Abernathy.”
“But what is he doing?” Rémy asked. “All those machines down there… What are they for? What do they do?”
Desai smiled grimly. “Let me assure you that I know Abernathy of old, and whatever his intentions, they will not be good. His is another name I know from India, a man I have been keeping an eye on ever since I came to England.”
“He took the diamond,” Rémy said, “the Darya-ye Noor. I know he did.”
Desai nodded. “I believe you, Rémy Brunel.”
“But – but who is he?” Thaddeus asked, frowning. “Is he really a lord? And if he is, how did he get caught up in all this?”
“Oh yes, he was born a lord,” said Desai. “But he aspired to more than the life he had been born to. When I met him, Abernathy had disguised himself and entered the ranks.”
“Disguised?” Rémy asked. “How? And why would he do that?”
“It was not as uncommon as you might think,” said the Professor, drawing her attention with a smile. “Young men – young women, even – who wanted to explore outside the lives they had been given, would hide their true identities in order to enlist. In either the Army or the Navy. I was one of them, in fact.”
“You?” Thaddeus asked in astonishment. “You were a military man?”
“Oh, indeed,” nodded the Professor. “Though not for as long as I would have liked. Afghanistan, you know. A harsh place. But that, my dear,” he added, reaching over and patting Rémy’s knee, “is why I can disguise myself, even now. It is an old habit. I just keep thinking of new ways to do it, that’s all.”
Rémy narrowed her eyes. “But why would you need to disguise yourself to be a recruit? When you could just sign up as yourself?”
The Professor smiled. “Age, my dear. I was too young, and looked it. So, I made myself look older and no one questioned me at all. Once I was inside, no one cared how young I looked as long as I could carry a rifle.”
“You never told me,” Thaddeus said. “I had no idea!”
The Professor smiled, holding up his empty cup for Desai’s man to refill. “Ah, well – a man must have his secrets, Thaddeus.”
Rémy shook her head with a frown. “But what about Abernathy?” she asked Desai. “He was in the army?”
“Yes, he was serving as a British officer,” Desai told them. “An engineer, in fact, and a gifted one at that. He was assigned to the court of the same Raja who cursed your parents. I met him there twice and on both occasions our conversation revolved around the Raja’s gems and their mystical value. He had, as the British so vulgarly describe it, ‘gone native’. He was obsessed with the idea that he could harness the power of the Raja’s diamond for his wild engineering ideas. On the night that the diamond was stolen, he joined the Raja’s men to chase after the thieves. I distinctly remember thinking at the time that I would not trust him with my most valued possession – and his rage at the stone’s loss almost eclipsed that of the Raja himself.”
Rémy shook her head. “So… so what? You think he has waited all this time, just as Gustave has, to find another stone of equal worth? And he found that in the Darya-ye Noor?”
Desai shook his head. “No. I do not think that is quite what he is looking for. Abernathy is in search of something else.”
“What?” Thaddeus asked, his voice irritable. “For goodness’ sake, I’m tired of all this double-talk!”
“You mean what ‘e’s building,” J said, quietly. “Down there, in the mines. Don’t yer, Mr Desai? That’s what yer mean.”
“Yes, young man, that is what I mean. That place you found, all those mysterious machines and contraptions you saw? That is a graveyard for all his inventions that have not worked because he could not find a way to power them. He needs a power source. And I think in the Darya-ye Noor, he saw a way to get one. It just so happened that his quest brought him up against you and your master, Rémy.” Desai shook his head. “Is it not strange, how often the universe conspires to throw us all together, over and over again?”
“But none of those contraptions were working,” said Thaddeus. “Even the cylinder I was in – the fire worked, but inside, it was dead. If what you say is true, wouldn’t he be using the power by now?”
“Perhaps he has not perfected the method yet,” suggested Desai. “If that is the case, then we still have time to stop him.”
Thaddeus shook his head. “But stop him doing what?”
Desai got to his feet, and they all followed suit. “I believe that Abernathy is planning to attack London itself,” he said, gravely.
“What?” Thaddeus asked, shocked. “Why would he do that? To what end?”
Desai shook his head. “To what end does man ever want power? To dominate, to assert his authority. Who can know for sure? But you have seen what was in that room. Did they seem like peaceful inventions, to you?”
They never got to hear Thaddeus’ answer. The air was split by the sudden sound of shouting. The warehouse door was flung open and Rémy turned to see one of Desai’s men rush in, flailing his arms and shouting in a language she did not recognise.
“We are found!” Desai shouted. “Quickly, we must flee!”
F
rom outside, there came more shouting and the sound of heavy boots running closer. Desai lunged towards another door, set in the wall opposite the one they had entered, but before he could reach it, it burst open, the rotten wood splintering on its hinges as men forced their way in.
Rémy turned back to the other door but realized it was too late – more men had entered, pushing Desai’s turbaned servants before them. They were all trapped.
She looked up at the broken windows high above, at the curtains hanging from the ceiling. Could she make it up them and through the shattered glass? Should she try? A hand brushed hers, and Rémy lowered her gaze to see Thaddeus watching her.
“If you can make it, go,” he whispered.
She found her fingers curling around his, briefly. The sensible thing to do was escape. She knew where the diamond was now, and she knew how to get into Abernathy’s tunnels. She could go back. Perhaps she could find it, take it back to Gustave and leave this miserable city for good. Why would she hesitate? Why would she want to?
Rémy pulled away from Thaddeus’ touch, swallowing hard. Whatever this pulse in her heart was, whatever it meant, she didn’t want it. She was Little Bird, and she flew alone. She didn’t need anyone else. She didn’t want anyone else. It was feeling like this – torn, tearful – that got you caught. And Rémy Brunel was never caught. At least, not for long.
She turned away from Thaddeus, blinking away tears, and leapt. Rémy caught hold of the heavy curtain and pulled herself up it as if she weighed nothing. She reached the top as shouts from below echoed after her, but she didn’t pause to look down. There was a metal pole – an old pipe – that ran along the ceiling, stopping short of the broken window. Rémy gambled that it would take her weight and threw herself towards it, catching it easily.
She was almost at the end when she heard the shot. It was from a pistol – she recognised the tinny double crack as the firing pin hit the bullet and then recoiled. Pain lanced through her – it was only a glancing blow to the arm, but it was enough. Rémy lost her grip and then her only luck was in knowing how to fall. The trick was to relax – to turn your bones to jelly instead of tensing up. That way you were at least less likely to break all of them at once.
She heard Thaddeus’ voice, crying her name as she hit the floor. Rémy lay still, unable to move for the pain, winded and who knew what else. She blinked up at her captors, trying to focus. This time she really was in trouble.
Fifteen
Captives
“Rémy!”
Thaddeus watched as she fell, his ears still ringing with the sound of the gunshot. She hit the ground with a sickening thud, and his eyes blurred. Thaddeus jerked towards her, but before he could take more than a few steps his way was blocked by a large, stocky man with an angry, scarred face.
“Where do you think you’re going, boy?”
Thaddeus looked around. There were more men everywhere, blocking the exits, roughly hustling Desai, his men and the Professor into a huddle at the centre of the warehouse. One had caught J by the scruff of the neck and he was struggling, arms and legs flailing helplessly.
Thaddeus looked away, only really thinking of Rémy. She was still lying where she’d fallen, and she wasn’t moving. Thaddeus tried to push forwards again. “Let me see her! You – you shot her! Let me see –” he cried as the man continued to block his path.
The man turned to look over his shoulder, restraining Thaddeus with his hands. As they watched, Rémy began to move. Thaddeus could see her blinking, and relief washed through him. She was alive! She was alive, at least.
“Please,” Thaddeus pleaded. “Please – let me see if she’s all right.”
The man snorted. “Rats like that are always all right. Shame – the streets could do with a clean. Too many dirty foreign whelps on them, if you ask me.”
Thaddeus had never felt rage before. He’d always prided himself on being calm, on being the reliable one in a crisis, on solving conflict with reason. But now he was angry, and the fury flooded his veins like the hot burst of a lightning bolt. Before he even knew what he was doing he’d drawn back his arm and thrown a hard punch that caught his captor unawares, just below his ale-fat stomach. The brute was only winded, but it was enough to fold him in half with a dull groan.
Thaddeus dodged him and ran to Rémy. She was still lying on her back, blinking up at the ceiling. Blood was seeping from beneath her. He knelt down beside her and put one hand to her forehead. She was whispering under her breath, words in French that he wouldn’t have understood even if he could have fully made them out.
“Rémy?” he asked. “Can you hear me?”
“Pardonnez-moi avant… avant… de venir me juger…”
“Rémy? What did you say? I can’t… I can’t understand you.”
“Vous ne mépriserez… point un coeur… contrite…”
Thaddeus heard a bellow behind him that meant his opponent had recovered his voice. He ignored it, moving instead to tear open the arm of her jacket. Beneath it, Rémy’s skin was covered in blood, but there was some good news – the bullet wound was only superficial. It had hit her, but it had been a glancing blow.
Rémy coughed and then drew a shuddering breath. “Thaddeus?”
He scrambled back to her side. “Rémy? Are you all right?”
She blinked at him. “Non.”
Thaddeus looked her over again. “Tell me where you hurt.”
She muttered something in French that may have been an insult, and then said, “Everywhere. I just fell from the ceiling.”
“I know, but – no – don’t move, not yet!” He put out a hand to stop her as she began to struggle up, a grimace of pain on her face.
“You think I don’t know how to fall, little policeman?”
Thaddeus opened his mouth, and then shut it again. Then he said, “But you’re usually on a wire. Aren’t you?”
Rémy gave him a look that could have stripped the hide from a carthorse, but before she could say anything else Thaddeus felt himself lifted from the floor until only his toes were dragging in the dirt. The strong hands that grasped him belonged to the man he had punched, and he did not look happy.
“You little –”
“Jonesy!” snarled another voice from behind them. Thaddeus could see a thug approaching, his face as dark as thunder.
The man holding Thaddeus turned with a scowl. “What now, Bates?”
“Knock it off,” Bates ordered shortly. “Let’s get them down to Abernathy before he starts wondering why we’re taking so long, eh?”
Jonesy hesitated for a moment. Then he shook Thaddeus once, hard, and let him go. Thaddeus fell back to the floor and Jonesy lunged forward, pushing his menacing face right into Thaddeus’ own.
“I’ll be watching you, boy,” he said. “You and your little foreign wench.”
Thaddeus swallowed his anger and turned back to Rémy, who had torn off more fabric from her trouser leg and was using it to wrap around her wound. He dropped to one knee beside her.
“Are you all right?” she asked, wincing as Thaddeus tied a knot in the makeshift bandage.
“I think I should be asking you that.”
“I can look after myself.”
“I’ve noticed.”
Rémy smiled at him, and then stopped abruptly, turning her face away.
“Right, you lot,” barked Bates. “Let’s get moving, shall we? Lord Abernathy wants to know why you dropped by his place without so much as stopping for a cuppa.”
* * *
Rémy let Thaddeus help her up, but only because she had to. The fall had hurt her more than she was willing to let on and she was fairly sure she’d cracked a rib or two. Still, she’d been lucky. Rémy knew it could have been much worse – probably should have been, in fact. She touched the opal at her throat. It w
as a talisman against harm, Desai had said. Maybe it really was. But then, if he’d been right about that... it meant he was right about the curse, too...
Rémy almost fell as one of Abernathy’s men jabbed her in the back, urging them to move faster. Thaddeus caught her, his arm slipping around her easily. She realized she liked the feel of it there, and then stamped on the thought, squashing the life out of it before it had time to take root. He was a policeman; she was a thief. They wanted the same jewel but for vastly different reasons. She just had to remember what she was there for, that was all.
Abernathy’s men took them back into the tunnels, but not via the crypt this time. Outside, it had begun to rain again. The day was giving way to a grimy evening, darkness falling amid a pall of gritty smog. The men herded them like cattle, several ahead and several behind. People who passed turned their heads away and scuttled faster, anxious not to be drawn into trouble. The downcast group was forced to walk back down to the canal path, but instead of heading to Limehouse, they stopped beneath one of the bridges.
At first Rémy thought that the men intended to drown them in the oily water – that the talk of Abernathy had merely been a ruse. She half-turned to Thaddeus, intending to tell him to run. But instead of death they were offered darkness. The leader opened a narrow wooden door, hidden in the side of the bridge. There was a steep flight of steps that led down into the blackness. The Professor was pushed in first, followed by Desai. Rémy watched as J was then shoved forwards. She saw him darting small, furtive looks this way and that, which told her he was planning something. She tensed instinctively, waiting for what was to come and willing him to succeed.
A split second later, J made a break for freedom. He ducked out of his captor’s grasp and made a run for the grassy bank that led up to the road above. Abernathy’s men were too fast, even for J. One of them shouted a warning, and two of them dashed after him. One grabbed at his arm and missed, but the other got a grip on his ankle and wrenched him back. J yelled as he flew through the air, crashing on to the hard pebble track of the canal path and curling up like a beetle.
The Diamond Thief Page 13
