The Virtuous Feats of the Indomitable Miss Trafalgar and the Erudite Lady Boone

by Geonn Cannon

  Ivy eventually came to terms with her new state, embracing it, in fact. Her work as a private investigator had never been easier. She got used to wandering the streets of London in the nude. What did it matter if no one could see her anyway? Eventually she tracked down Dorothy, the stranger who refused to abandon her in her darkest hour, and they struck up a tenuous friendship. Ivy often took jobs Dorothy didn’t agree with, and Dorothy’s strict guidelines about what was and was not fair game conflicted with Ivy’s, but they couldn’t make the leap to consider themselves enemies.

  In the intervening years Ivy had made quite a few adjustments to make up for her new reality. She wore makeup to meet with clients, and she hid the fact her eyes were invisible by wearing tinted eyeglasses with leather shields on either side to prevent even a sidelong glimpse of her empty sockets. She shaved her head, since letting her hair grow out would be all nuisance with no benefits, and doing so allowed her to wear a variety of wigs when she was “presenting herself,” as she liked to call it.

  In the small room next to Ivy’s office, her visage was slowly coming back into view. She had a Greek nose, flat between the brows and straight along the bridge. Her eyes were spaced widely apart and, if Dorothy remembered correctly, had originally been green. At the moment they were simply dark craters where she hadn’t bothered to detail the lids or wrinkles. She instead focused on her cheeks and her wide mouth, applying crimson powder to her bottom lip before rubbing it against the top. She ran her fingers down her throat to the curve of her shoulders.

  Her round spectacles and a long brown wig covered the parts she hadn’t covered with makeup, and she returned to the room like a bust come to life. She put on a blouse, buttoned it to the collar, and then covered it with a black vest. A pair of gloves twitched in midair and then inflated to give shape her hands. She put on a pair of trousers and shoes and, with those final touches, appeared to have manifested an actual human being out of several disparate parts.

  Trafalgar and Beatrice seemed to be the most impressed by the transformation. Dorothy smiled at the sight of her old acquaintance and gestured at the wig.

  “New hair?”

  “Thought I’d try it. What do you think?”

  “It suits you.”

  Ivy smiled. Trafalgar recoiled and Ivy grunted. “Oh. Sorry.” She opened a tray on her desk and pulled out a set of veneers. She snapped them over her real teeth, smoothed her tongue over them, and smiled again. “I sometimes forget to put in the caps. Sorry.”

  “No apologies necessary. It’s quite a remarkable gift.”

  “I’ve decided to take it as such, yes.” She scooted her chair forward and flipped her journal open. Dorothy took one of the client seats in front of Ivy’s desk, while Trafalgar took the other. “I spent three weeks tracking down Felix Quintel. After the first week I began to suspect he was merely a figurehead. Just a name used by a conglomerate of people to strike fear into their competition. But then I found this.” She turned the journal around so they could see her sketch of a circle with a cursive F cutting through the center of it. The lower part of the F was stylized to give a tail to the circle.

  “F and Q,” Trafalgar said. “Felix Quintel left a calling card? Where?”

  “Carved on the stone entrance of a tomb in Jordan. His people were the ones who carved it. As far as I can tell he didn’t make that particular trip himself.”

  “From what I hear he never leaves the country,” Dorothy said. “So the name acts as their brand. Just because they mark the man’s name doesn’t mean he actually exists.”

  “I thought the same thing. But I looked into some of the goons who were present on the majority of Quintel’s expeditions. I found their names on passenger manifests of nine different airships heading to the continent, as well as to South America, India, and the Middle East. I figured they were his most loyal employees, so I dug as deep as I could on them. They all receive payments signed by F. Quintel. As far as Barclays is concerned, he exists. And he has a lot of money to throw around.”

  Dorothy said, “You tracked him to a bank account, but you couldn’t follow that thread to a flesh and blood person?”

  Ivy held out her hands. “And what does that tell you? I know where he lives, but even I couldn’t get into the place to confirm he was there. The place is a fortress. He has a guard posted at the door and security watching the perimeter. Even if I got in, I have to believe there would be countermeasures even an invisible woman like myself would have a hard time getting past.”

  “You’ve had it too easy,” Beatrice said. Dorothy turned to look at her, and Beatrice shrugged. “It’s true. She’s gotten so used to slipping through places unseen that she doesn’t know how to avoid a normal security perimeter. She’s lazy.”

  Dorothy said, “Do you think you could do it?”

  “I’d have to see the place first,” Beatrice said, “but I got into your place, didn’t I?”

  Dorothy grinned. “Indeed you did.”

  Beatrice said, “I’d have a good shot by myself, but with Ivy’s intelligence and if Miss Trafalgar is willing to loan me Leola, I think we’d stand a better than fair chance of robbing the National Gallery.”

  “We’ll save that as a possible victory celebration.” She stood up and faced Ivy. “Miss Sever, kindly point us toward Mr. Quintel’s home. We shall see how much of a fortress it truly is.”

  Chapter Seven

  There was much about the plan Trafalgar disliked, not the least of which was the idea of working alongside Dorothy Boone. But Ivy Sever proved herself to be a valuable source of information and Trafalgar would never have been able to find her without Lady Boone’s presence. Now there was the small matter of finding a man who seemed to not exist. And now that they had an inkling of what had caused the day’s mayhem she knew she had more to motivate her than mere vengeance, but on the ride back to Lady Boone’s townhouse she found her thoughts drifting back to Adeline.

  The girl had never known peace, but she’d accepted her ability as a gift instead of a curse. From the moment she fell into step with Trafalgar outside the orphanage, she greeted the world with a smile despite the turmoil in her head. She was very young when she came to the conclusion that seeing more than everyone else was a treasure, but accepting something was far different from actually being at peace with it. There were nights Adeline couldn’t sleep for all the turmoil in her head. There were days she locked herself in her room and piled pillows on top of her head in a futile attempt to silence them. The worst part, she’d once admitted, was sometimes she didn’t know if her feelings were her own or just castoff from someone nearby.

  “I thought I was in love,” she once revealed. She and Trafalgar were in an airship over the English Channel, and looking out over the water had helped lower some walls between them. “All the signs were there. I was short of breath, anxious, I was always nervous and babbling whenever a certain person was nearby. I convinced myself the feelings were mine, and they were for him. Then I discovered I was simply siphoning his feelings. Feelings he had for my friend. They fell in love with each other and got married.” She gazed out the window wistfully. “I didn’t get to feel that part. The being loved in return part. That was just for them.”

  “I cannot imagine going through life with such a commotion.”

  “I can’t imagine life without it.” She had looked out over the water then and smiled. “In the air, it’s easier to pretend. There are fewer people up here, fewer signals to cross with my own.”

  “Would you like me to leave?”

  Adeline had put her hand on top of Trafalgar’s. “No. You’re quiet. I like being near you.”

  Trafalgar closed her eyes at the memory, hoping the other passengers of the car wouldn’t see the tears on her lashes. Earlier she had been angry but now... now she was livid. Adeline’s death was meaningless. She was merely a pawn in some bored rich man’s private game. She died as a means to his end, a prop with which he hoped to eliminate Trafalgar from his path. The gir
l deserved so much better. If there was one bright spot, one small consolation, it had been the look on Adeline’s face just before the bullet hit. For a few seconds the girl only had the present with no future overlapping. For a shining moment the world was silent and clear to her.

  “The future has finally gone quiet.”

  Lady Boone... or Dorothy, she supposed she should get used to calling her, looked at her. “Did you say something?”

  “I didn’t realize I had spoken aloud.”

  Dorothy seemed to accept that as a reluctance to follow through. “I wouldn’t have interrupted, but Ivy says we’re almost to the fortress Felix Quintel calls home. I thought you might like to take note, and you seemed distracted.”

  “Thank you.”

  They had been traveling close to half an hour, and now she could see they were near Kew Gardens. Here the trains ran aboveground, and the homes were considerably less rich than the neighborhood they had just left. There were hints of wealth, however, and it was on one of these posher streets that Ivy directed them. Dorothy instructed her driver to stay well enough away that they wouldn’t attract attention from the homeowner. She leaned forward between the two front seats, and Trafalgar removed a pair of eyepieces from her inner pocket. The glasses had a pair of open frames with various lenses extending out to the side like small flat moons orbiting near her head. She flicked a metallic tongue with her fingernail and a pair of magnifying lenses dropped into place.

  “Fancy toy,” Dorothy said.

  “Threnody the Crafter.”

  Dorothy said, “Aha. She does excellent work.”

  With the aid of her lenses, Trafalgar was able to get a very detailed view of the home. It was less ornate and less cluttered than most homes, which she found refreshing. She didn’t like all the fancy patterns and ornaments that denoted the Victorian style. The house was two-story, brick, and was a perfect mirror of itself. Two large windows on the ground floor, and two more above on either side of a patio with a high balustrade. The front garden was protected by a gated wall, and to the right she could see a plaque which bore the FQ logo Ivy had shown them.

  Ivy spoke up. “He’s got guards all around the place, and no one gets through that gate without an escort.”

  Dorothy pondered that. “He never leaves?”

  “Not that I ever saw. He has a maid and she brings in groceries.”

  “Then how does he hire killers? How did he arrange this whole bloody day down to the damned minute if he’s sitting safely in his den? There has to be some way for him to get out and arrange his schemes. The lot behind him... what does it lead to?”

  “There’s a ten foot stone wall, and then a two-story shop. Believe me, I kept my eye on it. No sign of Quintel going in or out that way. The grass is overgrown, there’s weeds and critter nests. He’s not going that way with any kind of regularity.”

  Dorothy twisted her lips at the quick dismissal. “There must be some explanation. No man can pull off something of this magnitude solely using outside contractors. If we uncover how he’s getting in and out with no one seeing him, we’ll be one step closer to stopping him.”

  Trafalgar said, “There’s something else we must consider. He’s not only leaving home without being seen, he’s doing it when he’s unaware of being observed.”

  “Ain’t that what we just said?” Ivy asked.

  Trafalgar said, “What I mean... if he was aware of surveillance, it would make sense that he’d be furtive in his movements. Yet there is no way he could have known Ivy was watching. The street would have appeared empty and his movements unobserved. Why would he go to the trouble of concealing his departure when no one was present to see him? The law of averages states that she should have at least seen something, depending on how long she watched.”

  “Three days. And she’s right. If he knew I was out here, yeah, he could arrange his schedule so I’d never see him. But given my unique abilities...”

  “He’d never know when it was safe and when it wasn’t.” Dorothy stroked her thumb over her bottom lip. “There must be something we’re missing. But we’re not going to make much headway sitting here announcing our presence. Trix, take us back to the Tube station. We’ll ponder the situation from there.” She settled back in her seat and checked her pocket watch. “We should also see if we can find a telephone. Desmond will most likely be wondering where we’ve gotten to by now.”

  “Hold that thought,” Trafalgar said.

  Beatrice looked over her shoulder at Dorothy. It was obvious she would be willing to ignore Trafalgar if that was what her employer wanted.

  “Do you have an alternative plan?” Dorothy asked.

  Trafalgar opened the car door and stepped out onto the street. She heard Dorothy mutter, “Crumbs” and clamber out behind her. Trafalgar’s longer stride meant Dorothy had to hurry to catch up with her, and then she was nearly trotting just to keep up.

  “You certainly don’t intend to walk directly up to his front gate and knock, do you?”

  “This man perpetrated several attempted murders today. Who knows how many were successful? We can waste our time by withdrawing to conjure up some scheme or we can act.”

  The front gate opened as they approached, and two men exited. They wore heavy leather coats buttoned to the collar that were close enough in appearance to give the impression of being a uniform. They each held long-barreled flintlock pistols by their sides. The one closest to them held up a hand, but Trafalgar continued walking until she was close enough for a civil conversation.

  “Turn around and go back to where you came from,” the man said.

  “We would like to speak to Felix Quintel.”

  The man narrowed his eyes. “Maybe you didn’t hear me, madam. I said--”

  “I am Trafalgar of Abyssinia. This is Lady Dorothy Boone. Your employer arranged to have us killed this morning. We would like the opportunity to convince him that further attempts would be most unwise. While we could use you as messengers, I believe it would have more weight coming from us directly. So if you would please step aside.”

  “We’re prepared to use force.”

  Trafalgar smiled. “You shall have to.” She flicked her wrist and the emei piercers dropped into her palm.

  Dorothy rolled her eyes and withdrew her own gun. As she aimed it at the second guard she leaned toward Trafalgar and spoke sotto voce. “There was no need to create a physical confrontation.”

  “I shall not cower in the shadows while my friend’s body lies cold in my parlor. Felix Quintel is responsible for her death and shall be held accountable.”

  The men brought up their guns. Trafalgar heard the car doors open and close behind her, then the running footsteps as Leola and presumably Beatrice ran to prevent the other perimeter guards from providing backup. Trafalgar saw one of the men moving to thumb back the firing mechanism.

  She took a quick step forward. “Look to the sky!”

  The combination of her sudden movement and shouted phrase confused him enough that his eyes flicked upward. His gaze was only off her for a split second, perhaps shorter than a blink, but she closed her hand around his gun with her right hand while slicing his forearm with her piercers. The man howled and clutched at his arm. Trafalgar turned to deal with the second guard, but Dorothy was already engaged. She smacked his gun hand with her club, stepped into his reach, and smacked her hand flat against the center of his chest. He fell back, winded, and Dorothy relieved him of his weapon as he tripped over his own feet. Trafalgar turned her attention back to the man she’d cut. He was trying to stop the bleeding, so he had only one hand free to fight back. He seemed unwilling to try it, however.

  “I imagine you rarely get to this point. The majority of people who show up at this gate are likely intimidated by the mere threat of violence, so you’ve never had a chance to hone your skills against a true attacker. In a way, we’ve done Mr. Quintel a favor today.”

  Dorothy said, “I believe we shall accept our gratitude in person.
”

  Trafalgar looked toward the corner of the wall. “Should we perhaps check in with Leola and your girl? They may require assistance.”

  “Does your Leola generally require backup?”

  “No.”

  “Then she will be fine with Trix.” She stowed the guard’s gun in her coat pocket and pushed the gate open. “Shall we?”

  Trafalgar looked at the guards. “By my estimation, you have only two options. You can pursue us and tell your boss that you allowed us entrance, at which point you will likely be out of a job anyway. Or you can leave now, tend to your wounds, and never return here. Either way you will be seeking new employment tomorrow. If you leave now you can meet your new managers without appearing bloodied and bruised.”

  The men backed away, but Trafalgar kept an eye on them until they were out of sight around a bend in the road.

  “Impressive,” Dorothy said.

  “Anyone can defeat an enemy in a brawl. To convince one to give up without fighting requires a bit more finesse.”

  “This from the woman who storms the gates of her enemy’s home without a plan.”

  “Plans make you predictable,” Trafalgar said as they entered Quintel’s property. “I would expect the woman who stole my submersible would understand that.”

  “I only stole...” She took a deep breath. “Another time.”

  Tall grass and overgrown flowerbeds filled the null space between the wall and the bricks of the home, foliage crowding in on either side of the main walkway. Once through the gate they were buffered from street sounds so much that it seemed as if they had crossed over into a completely different world. Dorothy approached the steps but paused to let Trafalgar take the lead to the front door.

  “Shall we ring?”

  Dorothy shrugged. “We’ve already come this far. Why not a bit further?”