by Geonn Cannon
Trafalgar and Boone
in the
Drowned Necropolis
Geonn Cannon
Supposed Crimes LLC • Matthews, North Carolina
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are
products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance
to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 2016 Geonn Cannon
Published in the United States.
First Edition
ISBN: 978-1-938108-82-2
To Melissa, Jo, and Amy, who got me through the gate.
Chapter One
There was a special kind of anxiety to being left alone in someone’s home. Leonard Keeping graciously invited Trafalgar in when she arrived, but a bell summoned him upstairs as soon as she’d been escorted to the study. His wife, Agnes, had fallen ill on their last sea voyage and she found it unseemly to be tended by their manservant, Mr. Elmer. She of course granted him leave to see to her needs and found herself unattended. She had gotten to know the Keepings fairly well in the past year, but their acquaintance was nowhere near intimate enough to make her comfortable in their private rooms.
Her attention was captured by a bowl of fruit sitting on the table. Trafalgar crossed the room and picked up the orange. The first time she’d seen one was in Cairo after her ordeal on Enoch Solomon’s ship. She was a child alone in a strange and frightening world with no guide or guardian. She’d seen the orange in a marketplace stall and was drawn to its shape and color. It reminded her of the sun but felt like a stone in her hands. She had stared at it, turning the strange thing over in her hand a few times before a tall man with a face burned red by the sun tapped her on the shoulder. He smiled at her, gestured with an orange of his own, and demonstrated how to break its skin with his teeth. Trafalgar did the same but bit too deep. She was startled by the juice spilling into her mouth and made a squeak of surprise.
The man had laughed at her reaction. He paid the stall owner for his items, then gestured at Trafalgar and added a coin. “I’ll buy that one, too.”
“Thank you,” Trafalgar had said. He seemed surprised that she spoke English. “I have my own money.” That is, she had money she’d found in Solomon’s coat pocket. It wasn’t much, but it would buy her an orange without incurring a debt to this strange man.
He shook his head and gestured with his orange. “Consider it a gift, young lady. Enjoy your treat.” He smiled again and disappeared into the crowd.
Decades later, in the Keepings’ study, Trafalgar brought the orange to her face and breathed deeply. Even now, citrus reminded her of the dust and crush of the Cairo marketplace. It was the first act of kindness in her new life, and it helped give her the courage to keep moving. There were kind people in the world; she just had to learn who to trust and who to be wary of.
Leonard Keeping swept back into the room and glanced in her direction on his way to the large walnut partners’ desk in front of the window. “I’ve heard those can also be eaten, if one is so inclined.”
Trafalgar smiled. “But then its simple beauty would be lost to us forever. Best to enjoy it while we can.”
“There will always be oranges.”
“But there is no guarantee we will always be here to enjoy them.”
He took a seat and nodded. “Then take it, with my compliments.”
“Thank you.” She slipped the orange into her jacket pocket and approached the desk. “How is Agnes faring?”
“Better than she would lead you to believe,” he said under his voice. He checked the doorway as if to make sure she hadn’t followed him downstairs. “She can get very dramatic when she’s ill. Of course I encourage that behavior by jumping to attention whenever she calls.”
Trafalgar smiled. “Give her my best.”
“I shall.” He opened the humidor on his desk and removed a cigar. Out of deference for his guest, he simply held it in his hand without lighting it. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? I hope you or Lady Boone weren’t intending to ask for our aid for as you can see--”
“You have other priorities,” Trafalgar said. “But no, this has nothing to do with an expedition. Rather, it’s related to the events of last year when you and Mrs. Keeping, along with myself, Lady Boone, and a host of others in our profession were targeted by the Weeks brothers.”
He grimaced. “I remember it well. We lost some good people that day.”
“Yes.” Trafalgar thought briefly of Adeline, her dear friend who had been a casualty of that awful endeavor. “Dorothy and I have continued working together over this past year, and it occurred to me that the Weeks’ scheme could never work now. It only came close to succeeding because we were distrustful of each other. Our partnership would have made the deception impossible to believe. Just as we’ve become closer, we have become friends with you and your wife. That relationship doesn’t preclude us from competing against one another, but it does give us allies should we require assistance in a future endeavor. I believe that in the grand scheme, we have more to gain by being friendly competitors rather than true rivals.”
Leonard had leaned back in his chair to listen to her. He dragged a finger along his jaw, tracing the line of his beard. “You suggest we enter into a partnership? Like the one you formed with Lady Boone?”
“No, nothing like that. You and Agnes would remain independent, just as you’ve always been. You would have your expeditions and we would take our commissions. Competitors in the field just as always. But here on the home front, we would support one another. We would meet infrequently, discuss our work, support one another...”
“Like Doyle’s Diogenes Club?”
“With less of an emphasis on ‘gentlemen,’ of course,” Trafalgar said.
“Of course,” Leonard said. “I fear this club would create a conflict of interest among its members. We do like our secrets and our exclusive knowledge.”
Trafalgar said, “Competition is the lifeblood of any endeavor, it’s true. But we could at the very least learn how to be civil to one another. Perhaps if such a club existed, we could have ferreted out Orville and Daniel Weeks before they became a threat. Dubourne, Mummery, Whitmore... my friend Adeline, they might all still be alive.”
“And Lady Boone would take part in this? I only ask because, in the past, she’s been rather adamant about working better on her own.”
“I believe her partnership with me has changed her mind on that front.” She laughed at his disbelieving look. “I wouldn’t have believed it myself but we seem to work well together. We haven’t yet had cause to work extensively as a pair, but we’ve met often to do research or archive our collections. We’ve gone on what she calls training missions so we can learn each other’s foibles. She can be abrasive and self-centered but I’m sure she would say the same about me. We’re both getting better at finding our footing.”
Leonard nodded slowly, then shrugged. “I would have to discuss it with Agnes. And of course I would want insurance that it’s not just the four of us in this guild. What you’re proposing would do little good if it’s only a handful of us.”
“I quite understand,” Trafalgar said. “We shall endeavor to recruit as many people as possible. If they should ask about who else we’ve spoken to, I trust I can share your names?”
“If it helps, yes.”
Trafalgar stood up and extended her hand. “I thank you, Mr. Keeping. If we are to prevent another tragedy like the one we faced last year, we require unity rather than conflict.”
Leonard took her hand and squeezed gently. “You and Lady Boone are sterling examples that it can be done. If the two of you have buried the hatchet, well... I suppose it must be possible for all of us.”
Trafalgar smiled. “Lead by example, as they say. Thank you for meeting with me. And for the orange.”
“My pleasure on both counts. I’ll show you out.”
He escorted her to the foyer, opening the door and peering out at the sky to make sure the looming clouds hadn’t yet begun to spill. He faced her again as she buttoned up her coat.
“About the orange, Miss Trafalgar. It’s fine to enjoy its presence. The scent and the weight of a thing, it’s all worthy of appreciation. But if you wait too long, it begins to rot. The beauty fades and the fruit is useless to eat.”
Trafalgar narrowed her eyes. “Are you certain Mrs. Keeping is doing well?”
He smiled and nodded. “She is fine. Now, at least. But there were moments at the on-set of the illness when I must confess I harbored some very dark thoughts. Enjoy the beauty, Miss Trafalgar, but do not ignore when the time for action has arrived.”
“I will keep that in mind, sir. And I recommend heeding your own advice in terms of what I proposed today. You never know when the next Orville and Daniel Weeks may show their awful face.”
“Your warning is heeded.” He looked out into the street. “Has your driver been summoned, or...?”
“I walked. It’s a beautiful day, after all.”
Leonard looked at the storm clouds again and raised an eyebrow. “To each their own, I suppose. Good day, Miss Trafalgar.”
She nodded and left the Keeping house. The storm was still well south of London. She would have plenty of time to make it home before the rains came even on foot. She began to walk and, at the corner, paused to retrieve the orange from her pocket. She hefted its weight in her hand and ran her thumb over the pebbled surface of its skin. There would always be oranges, she thought, and she intended to be around long enough to enjoy them for many years to come. But if the worst happened and her life was cut short, she would be loath to die with an orange uneaten in her pocket.
Trafalgar brought the orange to her lips and bit into the skin as she started across the street.
#
Dorothy was in her private office, her stockinged feet up on an ottoman as she held two maps up to the light. It had been three weeks since her visit with Cora, and she’d spent the intervening days trying to find some corroborating evidence of the network of underground caverns she believed existed under the Mediterranean. The labyrinth where she and Trafalgar had nearly been entombed was massive and, though Crete and Cyprus were nearly eight hundred kilometers apart, she felt the two had to be connected. A minotaur at one end, a beast that killed anyone who dared enter its territory at the other, and who knew what lay between?
She had drawn a map of Crete upon their return, and she had borrowed a map of Cyprus from a friend of Desmond’s. The Mediterranean had been a sea for millions of years, but there was a theory that it must have dried up at some point. All it would take is the right factors occurring at the same time. If the sea was cut off from the Atlantic Ocean near Gibraltar, the heat and dryness of the region would evaporate the water in the blink of an eye. The Sahara would stretch all the way up into France, and the entire seabed would be exposed. Crete and Cyprus would be connected by a long stretch of salty and empty land. When she thought of it that way, eight hundred kilometers was practically right next door.
Three floors down, she heard someone enter the house. “Trix!” she called. “I’m in my private office. Would you mind coming up here, please?”
“I’m afraid I’m not Miss Sek,” Trafalgar said.
“Oh. Come up regardless.” She sat up straighter and put the maps down. It was still eminently odd to have Trafalgar enter her home unbidden and unannounced, but it quickly became a pain to make her ring the bell and summon Beatrice just to let her in every time she visited. There were very few people in London who were afforded that kind of access to Dorothy’s home, and she was surprised every time she was reminded she’d extended that courtesy to a woman she’d once considered her nemesis.
Trafalgar nudged the door open and peered inside before stepping over the threshold. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
“Only brainwork,” Dorothy said. “Sometimes those tasks must be placed on the back burner in order to find a solution. I’m happy for the distraction. I assume you’re returning from the Keepings’ residence?”
“I am. I spoke to Leonard, but Agnes was under the weather. Unfortunate for them, but also for us. He was reluctant to give an answer one way or the other without her input.”
Dorothy sighed. “I suppose I understand. That’s one reason I hope to never be married. Casting my lot in with someone else, making every decision a democratic ordeal... it sounds harrowing. To be avoided at all costs.”
Trafalgar said, “If anyone else heard you speak like that, they might feel very sorry for poor Professor Tindall.”
“Ah, poor Professor Tindall and our never-ending engagement. It makes one wonder why he puts up with me at all.” She smiled and winked as she returned the maps to their proper places behind her desk. “Leonard is a good man. And Agnes is intelligent. They’ll decide that our idea has merit. We are stronger together than if we are constantly at each other’s throats.”
“He suggested that you and I are sterling examples of what we hope to accomplish. If the two of us can work together...”
Dorothy laughed. “What a cheeky bugger he is. Agnes would have thumped him if she’d heard him talking that way. I do hope she was well...”
“He seemed to believe the worst was past, yes.”
“Excellent. I’ll call on her myself later. We can be friendly while still competing. The world is large enough and history so vast that there are treasures enough for everyone to find.”
Trafalgar moved toward the window. “When I came in, you thought I was Miss Sek. I would have expected her to be here at this time of day.”
“As would I.” Dorothy furrowed her brow to show her consternation. “She’s become annoyingly unreliable of late. Long and unexplained absences, reluctance to discuss where she’s been or who she’s meeting with. If things don’t change soon, I may have to take drastic action.”
Trafalgar looked at her with concern. “You don’t mean you’d fire her.”
“Of course not!” Dorothy said. “Perish the thought. I’d be lost without my Trix. No, I simply meant that if she doesn’t explain herself soon, I may have to resort to following her. I would not like to violate her trust in that manner, but if she is in some manner of trouble, then I must do everything in my power to let her know I can help.”
“Surely she would come to you for help.”
“She can be stubborn.”
Trafalgar laughed.
“Oh, shut up.” She sighed and shook her head as she examined the papers scattered across her desk. “In the meantime, my correspondence has gone woefully awry.”
“Would you like some help sorting it?”
Dorothy squared her shoulders and gave Trafalgar a playfully skeptical look. “Hm. Speaking of trust...”
Trafalgar rolled her eyes and picked up one of the letters. “Yes. The whole of this past year has been a diabolical plot simply so I could discover your grocery bill is very overdue.”
Dorothy smirked as she snatched the paper away and took a seat. Trafalgar sat across from her and discarded the grocery invoice for something she hoped would be a bit more interesting.
Chapter Two
Less than two miles from the opulent comforts of Dorothy Boone’s townhouse on Threadneedle Street, Beatrice Sek navigated the warren of Bethnal Green’s slums in search of a specific address. It was harder than it might have been in other parts of the city. Intersections were unmarked and numbers had faded or been removed from buildings. The day was prematurely dark due to the storm clouds, and long shadows stretched out from every ragged
awning and threatening alleyway. A discarded couch had been moved to block one of the alleys, innards bursting from its seams. Two grimy boys in filthy clothing were perched on the back of it and eyed her carefully as she passed. Beatrice met their gaze as she passed and resisted a smile as their defiant expressions turned to wariness and then something close to fear.
Not long ago these had been her streets. Anyone who dared cross her soon learned their mistake. She was a thief and a pickpocket, a grifter and a confidence artist. She knew her time with Dorothy hadn’t softened her - some of her most brutal fights occurred after she moved into the townhouse - but living a life of privilege had put her at a disadvantage to those who had to fight for everything they had.
She was dressed in an old work shirt and pants so worn that the patches overlapped in several places in an effort to blend in, but there was only so much she could do. She could hide the affluence of her current situation but it was harder to disguise her Chinese features. Rich or poor, she stood the risk of being assaulted simply for being an immigrant. She ignored the comments she heard muttered as she passed. People who were out of work and assumed she or her family had arrived to steal jobs, people who were just hateful to outsiders on principle, or those who combined the two and added the extra sin of being a woman. The hate and fear radiated off of everyone she passed, but she wasn’t afraid of what they might do. She was worried about the damage she might cause if one of them chose to start a fight.
The narrow street she was on dead-ended at a sharp right angle with the connecting road blocked by a plywood wall and a metal dumpster. A group of men were seated in front of the building to her left. Most of the windows were boarded over, with those that weren’t leading out onto hazardous-looking fire escapes. When Beatrice left the street to approach the building, one of the loitering men stood up to block her path. She continued walking until she risked colliding with him. Only then did she meet his gaze. He was a few inches taller than her, forcing her to lift her chin. His cheeks were hollow, his nose long and thin with a bulb at the end, and he wore his cap pushed forward to shade his eyes.
