Scotland Hard (Book 2 in the Tom & Laura Series)

by John Booth

  Alice backed away to the wall. She was not completely sure Laura was joking.

  “I can’t swim. I’d be drownded,” Alice said anxiously. “Me mam always says that nothing good comes of washing. That’s how the pox gets you.”

  “I was only joking, Alice,” Laura said as she smiled reassuringly at the girl. “I’m going to pick a few berries from those bushes.”

  Laura left the pen without a backward glance.

  “Aint they feeding you two enough?” Tricky enquired.

  “You never know for certain what’s going on with Laura,” Tom admitted. “However, in this case I think she has a more serious and important intent than simply satisfying her hunger. Is there anything at all like a sharp knife around here?”

  The children looked puzzled, and then Ebb grinned at Tricky. A few seconds later Tricky spoke up.

  “I couldn’t think of anything until Ebb grinned. Then I knew I was going to ‘ave an idea. I saw an old ploughshare in one of the out buildings. Someone’s sharpened it for cutting ‘ay. What do you want it for? We aint going to ‘ave to fight our way out of ‘ere are we?

  Tom was fascinated by this weird example of Ebb talents. Ebb’s excursion into the world of five seconds ahead had made him smile, which then gave Tricky the idea that made him smile in the first place. What would have happened if Ebb hadn’t seen the future and grinned? It gave Tom a headache trying to think about it.

  Laura returned with several overripe and partly rotted berries in her handkerchief. As Tom anticipated, she took the candle holder from her pocket and put it on the floor. Then she used her handkerchief as a sieve and squeezed the dark juice out of the berries into the central ‘cup’ of the holder.

  “Is she tryin’ to make ‘erself a drink?” Alice asked. “She aint goin’ to get much out of that an’ I wouldn’t drink it if you paid me.”

  “She is making fruit ink,” Tom explained. “Now if Tricky can go and get that ploughshare without getting caught, you three might get to see some Class A spellbinding.

  Locating the Military Magic building proved easy because there was a massive brass plaque proclaiming it to the world right next to the doors of its impressive entrance. A taxi rank was marked out on the road in front of it and there was a steady stream of traffic as people arrived and departed.

  “How are we going to do this?” Arnold asked.

  Cam considered the problem. “Daisy needs to wait by the doors so she can spot Saunders as soon as he comes out. Arnold, you need to stand with her. A young woman standing on her own might attract the wrong sort of attention. We need a cab waiting nearby so we can follow him.”

  “That will be your problem to solve,” Daisy said quickly. “Arnold and I will be busy enough with our task.”

  “We leave the easy things for you, Cam,” Arnold said airily. “Run along now while we do our jobs.”

  Cam glared at them and then walked over to the far end of the rank. She caught the eye of a cabby dropping off a fare and engaged him in conversation.

  Daisy nudged him. “What do you think she’s telling him?”

  Arnold shrugged. “I’m glad it’s her and not me. I would not have a clue what to say.”

  The saw Cam get into the cab with the cabby and some time later get out. He looked in their direction and gave them a wave, which they returned.

  “Whatever it was, it must have worked,” Daisy whispered. She clung to Arnold as if he was her betrothed and settled down to wait for Saunders.

  Daisy tugged at Arnold’s sleeve. “There he is, the small man with the enormous handlebar moustache.”

  Arnold waved his arm over his head in Cam’s direction and saw her nod. She said something to the cabby and held open the cab door.

  Saunders crossed the busy road outside the War Office with Daisy and Arnold behind him. He got into the cab at the front of the rank after giving instructions to the driver. They weren’t near enough to catch the words.

  Daisy and Arnold hurried to Cam and the cab.

  “Quick, get in!” Cam ordered.

  They got into the cab, whereupon the driver urged his horse forward as if he was on horseback chasing a fox.

  “What on Earth did you tell him?” Arnold asked as they were rocked from side to side as the cab bounced along the cobbled street.

  “I told him that Saunders had betrayed our family honor and stolen our youngest sister in a tryst to have his evil way with her,” Cam explained. “And that we need to track him to his lair and rescue our sister before she is ruined by him. Whatever the outcome, we must avoid a scandal.”

  “And he believed all that?” Daisy asked in wonder. “You had him waiting for nearly three hours for Saunders to come out. I shouldn’t wonder he wanted to be off about his business.”

  “I think the large sum of money I offered him in recompense had something to do with it. I paid half up front and gave him sight of the rest to prove I had it,” Cam admitted.

  “I’m not going to want to know how much of our depleted funds you have spent, am I?” Arnold asked wearily.

  “It’s not your own money, you know,” Cam whispered furiously. “And could you have done any better?”

  Arnold shook his head. He wouldn’t have had a clue how to get a cabby to go along with following a gentleman coming out of the War Office. Most likely, the cabby would have called a policeman and had him arrested as a spy. The problem worrying him was that if they didn’t find Tom and Laura fairly soon, they would have no money left.

  “I think you were brilliant, Cam,” Daisy said grinning at her. “When I think about it, that is not such an unbelievable story. Something similar happened to a cousin of mine a couple of years ago.”

  “You told me about her,” Cam admitted and punched Daisy lightly on the chest. “Where do you think I got the idea from?”

  The journey took almost two hours as they made their way through heavy London traffic. They ended up in a quiet leafy suburb to the north of London. They watched Saunders pay off his cab and enter an imposing mansion.

  Cam paid the cabby the money they agreed and he wished them good luck in their venture before setting off at a fast clip back towards the centre of town.

  Cam looked at the large detached house in dismay. The good news was that it appeared Saunders lived alone. There was no one to greet him at the door when he arrived. It was starting to get dark and they saw a couple of windows in his house light up as he moved around inside.

  The companions found a hiding place in the bushes at the bottom of the drive. It was getting colder as evening set in and Cam stomped her feet on the ground in an attempt to get some circulation going in them.

  “Are we going to spend the night out here?” Daisy asked with some trepidation. They were dressed in town clothes and not for any kind of hike.

  “Should I go and look for an inn?” Arnold asked. “We could come back in the middle of the night and break into the house while Saunders is asleep.”

  This idea did not appeal to the girl, but they could think of nothing better. It was therefore something of relief when a coach in War Office livery pulled into the drive and stopped in front of the house.

  They moved closer using the bushes as cover of in the hope of overhearing the conversation. The soldier driving the coach knocked loudly at Saunders door and waited impatiently for someone to open it.

  “What can I do for you, sergeant?” They heard Saunders ask.

  “Urgent dispatch for you from the Director of MM3, sir,” the sergeant said handing Saunders a letter. “He said that I should bring you back to London with me.”

  Saunders tore open the envelope. He scanned its contents and looked up at the sergeant.

  “Ah yes, but not unexpected under the circumstances,” Saunders said gravely. “I’m afraid two of our young agents have been found dead in the Thames. There’s going to be a stink over this one, sergeant, you mark my words. Trelawney may not survive as the Director of MM3 by the time this is all over.” He turned back
towards his house. “I’ll just get my hat and coat and be right with you.”

  The three young spies looked at each other in horror. There was no doubt in their minds over who the dead agents were. While they were still digesting the news, Saunders returned and got into the coach. The sergeant set his horses trotting with a crack of his whip. The coach sped off down the drive at considerable speed.

  “What do we do now?” Cam asked in despair. “Tom and Laura are dead and we have failed them.”

  11. Corpses

  Sir Ernest Trelawney got out of the cab and paid the driver. Fog obscured the buildings around him, reducing them to an oppressive set of looming shapes. If it had not been for the gaslight burning brightly at the top of a lamppost he would not have even been able to see the cabby well enough to pay him.

  Foghorns boomed from ships on the river. Trelawney was in the heart of London’s Docklands, a considerable way downriver from the War Office. Everything from sleek tea clippers to filthy barges carrying coal from Newcastle made their way to these docks. It seemed that bodies came this way too, floating upriver on the evening tide.

  Trelawney would have given a great deal not to be down at the docks this evening, but it was his duty and he knew he could not shirk it. He had failed his two young friends and it was certain he would pay the price for his failure with his career.

  He arrived at the docks much later than originally intended. The Secretary of War in person had summoned him to the House of Commons to explain himself and his conduct. Sir Sidney Herbert had been fuming when he had walked into his office.

  “How could you allow this to happen, Ernest?” Sir Sidney shouted as Trelawney walked into the room. “You do realize this could result in Military Magic being moved out of the War Office and into the Admiralty? Do you want magic to be put in the hands of sailors?”

  “I did not plan on this happening, Sidney,” Trelawney replied wearily. Sir Sidney handed him a large glass of brandy and the men sat to talk. “I thought I had taken all necessary precautions.”

  Sir Sidney Herbert was a tall thin man who had celebrated his fiftieth birthday only a couple of months before, but looked much older. He was renowned for his skills in the management of war and as an orator in parliament. To Trelawney, Sir Sidney looked more haggard than usual; the disaster that was the Crimean War had taken a lot out of the man. The news of the death of a young Class A would not be helping the disposition of his liver.

  “Officially the British Empire has four Class A’s and that makes us the most powerful nation on Earth,” Sir Sidney said, stating the obvious. “But you and I know that we actually have five of them, or rather we did have five until Laura Young’s body was found floating headless in the Thames. When this fact comes out the government is very likely to fall. Do you realize how serious this situation is?”

  “Of course I do, Sidney,” Trelawney replied angrily. “It is worse than you know. MM3, and probably all the departments in Military Magic have been infiltrated by the Brotherhood of Knights. They took Laura and Tom from us and killed them.”

  Sir Sidney did not seem impressed by Trelawney’s speech. “There is no evidence that the Brotherhood of Knights exists. It is much more likely that a Hungarian agent killed your charges.”

  “I instructed Charles Drake to pick them up from Paddington. You know his record and his loyalty. Someone managed to kill him in his home with his own sword. Laura and Tom were picked up in his MM3 cab. They would have suspected nothing.”

  “Then you have a Hungarian spy in your department,” Sir Sidney snapped back. “There is no need to invoke this imaginary band of thieves.”

  “I am sure that Snood was working for the Brotherhood. There was a commission to kill young Carter placed by Lord Humphrey. The Hungarians do not do such things.”

  “Snood is dead and we only have your opinion that he attacked Carter. And Laura Young is dead.” Sir Sidney sighed. “The Prince Consort is furious. He had barely been briefed by his son about the episode at Hobsgate before we received word of the bodies. The Queen herself will be on our necks before very long, and let us not forget about the Prime Minister. He owes his life to these two young people. What do you plan to do about it?”

  “I have some agents out in the field. Their job was to find Tom and Laura without alerting the Brotherhood. I must get word to them to return to Hobsgate and their studies. I have all my other agents scouring London for clues. James Saunders will lead the team. He has a score to settle with whoever killed Drake, as Drake was one of his men. You know how good an agent he is and I can assure you he will be highly motivated.”

  Sir Sidney nodded in approval.

  “I am going to order all the other Military Magic departments to release as many of their men to you as they can. I will try to keep a lid on this for as long as possible, but when this story gets out, heads will role. Yours will be the first on the chopping block. Find out who did this, Ernest, and bring them to justice. Go out with honor rather than in disgrace.”

  Trelawney stood in the fog and wondered if he would have any honor left even if he did succeed in finding those who killed Laura and Tom. He sighed loudly and began walking through the docks to where the bodies were waiting for him.

  “Beheaded sir,” the Doctor told Trelawney as the blankets were lifted from the bodies.

  “I could have deduced that for myself,” Saunders snapped irritably. Trelawney put a hand on the man’s shoulder. There was no point in taking out Laura and Tom’s deaths on the Doctor. He was only doing his job

  “Those are the clothes they were wearing,” Trelawney said dismally. In truth, neither body looked like them despite being the right height and build. However, he knew that this was wishful thinking and being decapitated is bound to change the way a person looks.”

  “Who found the bodies?” Saunders asked, with only a little more civility than in his previous statement.

  “That would be me, sir,” a man in a civilian uniform answered. “I’m the harbormaster and I always look for debris floating into the dock at high tide.”

  “Bodies floating up here are a common occurrence?” Trelawney asked in surprise.

  “We usually get more dead dogs than anything else, sir. Bodies usually end up in the Royal Docks. From the poorer parts of the city itself, you understand. In this dock, we get the flotsam and jetsam from the estuary, and that can sometimes be logs which do damage to the ships if we leave them. So I always do an inspection at high tide.”

  “Is this fact common knowledge?” Trelawney asked.

  “I knew about it,” Saunders replied. “There was the case of a young woman who committed suicide on the mudflats and her body turned up in these docks. It was in all the papers.”

  “I must have missed it,” Trelawney admitted. “Which begs the question, did whoever killed Tom and Laura intend that their bodies should wash up here?”

  “Perhaps, sir,” Saunders said thoughtfully. “But I very much doubt it. If they wanted the bodies to be easily identified they would have left their heads on them.”

  “My own thoughts exactly. Why do you think they have taken the heads?”

  “For payment most likely,” Saunders replied sagely. “If they are freelance assassins, they would need to prove they have killed their targets.”

  “This wasn’t done by a freelance assassin,” Trelawney stated.

  Saunders frowned at Sir Ernest’s assertion. He looked Trelawney straight in the eyes.

  “How can you be so certain of that?”

  Trelawney waved at the doctor to cover up the gruesome remains. Then he stared straight back at Saunders and uttered one word.

  “Drake.”

  Tom held a goose feather firmly against a block of wood and sliced the end of it with the sharp edge of the ploughshare. He examined the resulting quill pen critically.

  “It’s not very good, I’m afraid.”

  “It will have to do,” Laura said grimly. She dipped the end of the quill into the juice and
thought hard about the bind she was going to create.

  “I’m going to try and turn everybody in the house into mice,” she announced. “It probably won’t last for more than a couple of hours, mainly because I don’t know the people involved and because blackberry juice is not a good ink for binds.”

  “It don’t ‘ave to last long,” Tricky said with a broad smirk on his face. “Not when I bash ‘em with a broom.”

  “We are not going to kill anyone,” Laura said, shocked at the suggestion. “We must be fairly close to a town or village and as soon as we can find one, we will report these villains to the authorities.”

  “Tricky might have a point,” Tom ventured. “If the people change back too soon we might be caught before we can get to a town.”

  “Might I remind you, Thomas Merlin Carter, that your pretty little maid is in that house and one mouse looks very much like another. I will not kill innocents and that is final.”

  “What kind of Spellbinder are you anyways?” Alice asked contemptuously. “I thought Spellbinders loved to kill the enemy. Not much use ‘aving one that gets all squeamish on you.”

  Tom felt his anger rise.

  “Laura is the kind of Spellbinder who insisted that we come looking for you so I could cure your wounds, rather than the sort who would have left you to rot.” Alice backed away, surprised at the strength of his anger.

  “I wuz only askin’,” she said meekly.

  “There, it’s done,” Laura said triumphantly. All of them crowded around her to look at the elegant Latin script on the paper.

  “I think we had better go quickly,” Tom said urgently.

  “What’s the rush?” Tricky asked.

  “Laura’s spells don’t usually smoke like that,” Tom told him. A haze of steam rose from the light purple ink on the paper

  “Hold these,” Laura ordered and Tom took the candle-holder and pen she gave him. “We will go now and when this sheet catches fire I will stop and write another.”