“I see.” Edwina looked genuinely hurt. “Your father arranges a marriage that makes you unhappy, and that’s all right, but I match you with someone you actually love, and that’s wrong?”
Alice felt ready to explode, and Gavin’s gentle hand landed on her shoulder. “It’s all right,” he soothed. “You don’t want to throw the teapot. Let’s hear the rest.”
Was she holding the teapot? She was. Alice set it down with careful control.
“Thank you,” Edwina said. “At any rate, you rescued Mr. Ennock but refused to contact the Ward, so I talked to you as Louisa and ‘accidentally’ found the card with the agent’s name on it. And then there was the incident with the paper bomb outside the solicitor’s office. I was hoping you’d notify the Ward then, too. It was a relief when you and Mr. Ennock went off in that dirigible, and I was very upset when you agreed to marry little Norbie anyway and moved Arthur into his house. I had to come up with a whole new plan to break you free. Once young Mr. Barton was ready, I distracted the rest of the Ward and turned him loose so it would be just the two of you going after him. So romantic!”
“How could you possibly have known you’d need Patrick Barton?” Alice said, surprised at how level her voice was. She felt more and more as if she were attending a tea party in a lunatic asylum. “It was a year between the time you met him at the ball and the time he attacked the smithy.”
“Well, I wasn’t sure I’d need him. I was only planning ahead, just in case. It takes time for the plague to develop, especially for someone who’s going to become a genius, and I was sure my new version of it would develop Mr. Barton into one.”
“What if I had joined the Ward right away?” Alice said.
“Then Mr. Barton would have had a wonderful time inventing any number of things before the plague took him off. Really, darling, I don’t know why you’re so upset. You didn’t even know him. And he wasn’t very good in the bedroom. Though now that I think of it, that may have been the drugs.”
“Your version of the plague burns clockworkers out even faster than normal,” Gavin said. His voice was tight. “I watched him die. It was horrible.”
“I was afraid of that. Fortunately, he served his purpose first. You two did become closer. But then my automaton spies gave me the news that Alice was planning to elope, so I had to act fast. I’m sorry the plan was so crude—short notice and all. Still, your adventure with the war machine did make it clear how much you need Mr. Ennock, Alice. My dear brother’s death was a minor complication, but in the end you made the right decision. If it makes you feel any better, darling, you’re going to get notice tomorrow that all your debts have been paid off by an anonymous benefactor. You don’t owe Norbert a thing.”
Oddly—or perhaps understandably—the news didn’t make Alice didn’t feel any better. “Edwina,” she said in a dangerous voice, “I need you to tell us what the point is. Why did you want Gavin and me to . . . to fall in love and join the Ward?”
She held up a finger. “You haven’t asked why I attacked the Bank of England.”
“You needed money?” Gavin said.
Edwina laughed like a society woman who had heard a small joke. “I have pots of money, Mr. Ennock.”
“Then why did you do it?” Alice sighed.
“Partly to bring you two lovebirds closer together, and partly so I could play those notes for you, the ones that gave you the map coordinates for this little den of mine. I knew you and your perfect pitch would eventually figure it out, Mr. Ennock.”
“Alice figured it out,” Gavin told her coldly. “I just gave her the frequency numbers.”
Edwina waved this away. “It still worked. You’re here.”
“Aunt Edwina, I’m quite confused. Why did you lead us here?”
She stared at Alice. “So we could have this little chat, of course.”
“We have a wonderful telegraph system,” Alice nearly shouted. “And the Royal Mail. You didn’t need to attack the National Bank to get our attention.”
“Paper communiqués can be intercepted. Your sharp mind and Mr. Ennock’s perfect pitch gave me the means to send the perfect coded message. It was the only way to be safe.”
“Safe?” Alice echoed. “Attacking the bank with an army of zombies was safe? Blowing up a dirigible and killing dozens of men was safe?”
“Safer than sending a letter or telegram.” Edwina finished her cake.
“You sent me a telegram,” Gavin pointed out.
“That was from Louisa, not me. And I signed it ‘L.’ Could have been anyone.”
Gavin groaned.
“Getting back to the cure,” Alice said. “What do Gavin and I have to do with it?”
“The cure. Yes.” Edwina leaned forward. A red light, one among many, flashed on the wall not far from Edwina’s chair. It went out, and another one flashed. “We don’t have much time. The first cure I discovered was only partially effective. I had . . . manufactured another microorganism that attacks the clockwork plague bacterium. It’s smaller than bacteria and structured quite differently. I suspect similar agents already exist in nature. I call it a ‘virion.’ Do you like the term? I think it might catch on.”
“I thought we didn’t have much time,” Gavin said.
“Right, right. My first virion, the one the Ward stole, is very delicate and can only survive inside a living host. It must be injected directly into the bloodstream. Very disappointing, if one wants the cure to spread throughout the world. I put it in my safe, and then the Ward chased me away and stole it. I had to start again down here.”
“Did you do it?” Alice leaned across the table. “Did you succeed this time?”
“Of course.” Edwina dabbed at her cheek with a napkin. The lights were all flashing red now. “The second virion is much hardier. Once a person is infected with this second virion, he becomes a carrier, and his saliva and mucus will spread it to other people, who become carriers in their own right. Once released, it will spread throughout the world and destroy the plague entirely. The only problem”—and here she sighed—“is that it doesn’t cure plague geniuses. Their bodies change the plague somehow and make it immune to the cure. I tried an early version on poor Mr. Barton and a few others I’ve come across, and it didn’t help any of them.”
“But even so!” Alice breathed. “Edwina! We have to release it right now!”
Edwina held up a hand. “It’s not that simple, darling. I can’t finish incubating the second virion down here, with these limited facilities. It’s going to take some—”
“Wait,” Gavin interrupted. “You’re lying.”
“Oh?” Edwina’s tone was light, but with an edge.
“You said the Third Ward stole your first cure months ago,” Gavin said. “So why haven’t they—we—used it?”
“Ah.” Edwina steepled her fingers and stole a glance at the lights. They all went out. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to explain that quite yet. You need to play má què with the Queen.”
“I—what?” Gavin said.
“Play má què with the Queen. Play má què with the Queen.”
“What are you talking about?” Gavin demanded. “What’s—?”
The main door burst open, and a dozen agents flooded the room.
Chapter Seventeen
In an instant, Edwina was surrounded by pistols, rifles, and other weapons Gavin hadn’t yet learned to identify. Gavin himself stared down the barrel of a very strange gun with copper wiring that twisted all along it. He smelled ozone, and his heart beat at the back of his throat. Then he saw who was wielding it.
“Damn it, Simon,” he snapped, “it’s me.”
“Play má què with the Queen,” Edwina said.
Simon d’Arco didn’t move, and for a moment Gavin wondered if the man intended to shoot him. His thoughts flashed back to the moment at the symphony a few hours ago. Gavin hadn’t had any time to think about what had happened or what any of it had meant, but now he wondered if Simon was angry. Then Si
mon lowered the weapon.
“Jesus, Gavin,” he said. “I nearly blasted you to Sussex. Are you drinking tea?”
“I would prefer,” Alice said in a small voice, “if you didn’t point that at me.”
“Alice?” Glenda holstered her weapon. “Good God, you look a fright. Are you all right? When did you start wearing trousers?”
There was a clatter of shackles as a set was closed over Edwina’s wrists. She did not protest or struggle. A look of sadness came over Alice’s face. Gavin wanted to hold her tight and let her head rest on his shoulder, let her cry if she needed to. He also knew she would be angry if he touched her in front of all these people. In the end, both of them just stood and watched Edwina be led toward the door in her long brown coat. One of the agents put the battered top hat on her head.
“Play má què with the Queen, darlings,” Edwina called as she was towed out the door. “Má què!”
“Poor bugger,” one of the remaining agents muttered. “Gone completely round the bend already.”
Lieutenant Phipps stood to one side. Her arms were folded, flesh on brass. Gavin hadn’t heard her arrive, and he wondered how much trouble he was in. “It’s three o’clock, ladies and gentlemen,” she said. “Smith, Peters—get the clockworker back to headquarters before morning traffic. The rest of you, dismantle this place immediately.”
A “yes, ma’am” chorus echoed around the room. Phipps dropped into Edwina’s chair. Alice and Gavin were on their feet.
“How did you know to come here, Lieutenant?” Gavin asked.
Phipps nodded at Alice. “Her automaton told us.”
“Kemp?” Gavin blinked. “He wasn’t supposed to—”
“I told him to tell them if we didn’t return within two hours,” Alice said quietly. “I’m sorry, Gavin. I didn’t think it was a good idea to go off alone.”
His mouth hung open. “You lied about the hot bath and the tea.”
“Yes.” She looked unhappy. “But it was a good thing, in the end.”
“We’ll talk about it later,” Gavin said.
“Once again,” Phipps put in, “I’m torn between praising you and shooting you. This is the clockworker who’s been terrorizing London with the zombies and who tried to steal the war mechanical, correct?”
“Yeah,” Gavin said. “She was also Alice’s aunt Edwina in disguise, so we got two for one.”
Phipps bolted to her feet. “That was Edwina?”
“It was,” Alice replied.
“You’re both in for a bonus and a holiday,” Phipps said. “See me back at headquarters for your report.” And she was gone.
“That was strange,” Gavin said. “She never gives bonuses, let alone holidays.”
“It’s not strange at all. The Queen’s letter said her job was in danger if Edwina wasn’t captured, remember? And Edwina can make the cure for the clockwork plague.”
“Which the Ward already has, if we can believe her,” Gavin said. “Alice, I hate to say it, but I think your aunt is entering the final stage. She said she has bad spells, and she was losing her mind there toward the end. All that business about má què with the Queen. All that stuff about a cure may have been rambling.”
Alice shook her head. “I don’t think so. It was all too careful, too reasoned.”
Meanwhile, agents were rushing about the laboratory. They had already brought down crates and boxes and were packing up Edwina’s materials with swift movements that bespoke long practice. Simon was dismantling some equipment while Glenda took notes on how it went together. Glass clinked and metal clanged. Within three or four hours, all traces of the laboratory would be gone. Alice was swaying on her feet, her face drawn with exhaustion, and Gavin remembered how long they’d been awake. Their encounter at the symphony had happened this evening, but it felt like days ago. When had he last slept? He couldn’t remember, though he didn’t feel particularly tired—not with everything that had happened.
“We should get you back to headquarters,” he said to Alice. “You look half-dead.”
“If that’s the sort of compliment you’re going to give from here on out,” Alice said, yawning, “perhaps I should have stayed with Norbert.”
They left the other agents and went topside, where they found their snorting horses amid a crowd of Ward carts and carriages. The ride back was chilly, partly due to the early-morning mist, and partly due to the fatigue that drained the heat from Gavin’s bones. When they reached Ward headquarters, Kemp met them at the door with two cups of hot tea on a tray.
“Madam and Sir should have taken a hackney cab and let someone else bring the horses,” he fussed. “Shall I bring a warmed wrap for Madam?”
“Thank you, no, Kemp.”
Gavin drank hot tea and felt better as it warmed his insides. “You should go to bed, Alice.”
“I agree, Madam,” Kemp said. “I shall warm your sheets straightaway.”
Alice shook her head. “We still have to report to Phipps, and I want to check on Aunt Edwina.”
Kemp’s eyes flickered. “According to Mrs. Babbage—”
“Mrs. Babbage?” Alice interrupted.
“That is what the Third Ward’s primary Babbage engine prefers to be called,” Kemp said. “We have established an excellent working relationship. At any rate, Mrs. Babbage says Lieutenant Phipps is down on the clockworker level.”
“No doubt with Aunt Edwina,” Alice said. “Let’s go.”
Against Gavin’s better judgment, they headed for the creaking lift. Down in the stony underground, however, they found a pair of guards at the entrance to the hallway. Gavin scrambled to remember their names—Sean Something and Something Donaldson.
“Sorry, ma’am, sir,” Sean said. “Lieutenant Phipps left orders that no one is to enter the clockworker section until further notice.”
“But she’s my aunt!” Alice protested.
“Lieutenant Phipps?” said Donaldson, puzzled.
“No, I—oh, never mind.” She turned to Gavin. “I’m exhausted. Let’s go to bed.”
Despite the events of the day, the phrase went straight through Gavin’s brain to other parts of his body, which too happily responded. “Uh . . .”
“Oh, good heavens.” Face flaming, Alice turned and stalked toward the lift. Gavin followed, though not before Sean shot him a small salute. In the lift itself, Alice stared resolutely forward. She was still wearing her cloth cap, though Gavin had taken his off indoors. Should women who wore male clothing remove their hats inside? He had no idea. Maybe some of the rules Alice worried so much about made sense—they told you what to do in a number of situations.
“I don’t like lies,” he said suddenly. Around them, the cage shuddered and creaked. “It bothers me that you lied to me about what you told Kemp.”
“Would you have gone along with it if I hadn’t?” she countered.
“No.”
She shrugged. “That’s why I did it.”
“No.” He shook his head. “Look, I’m not perfect. When I was little, back in Boston, I lied about all kinds of things so people would give me money, and on the Juniper I lied to the pirates, and when I’m on a case for the Ward, I lie to all kinds of people. But I never lied to my family, and I never lied to Captain Naismith, and I never lied to Lieutenant Phipps, and I never lied to you. I can’t do this if I think you might lie to me.”
She thought about that. “Gavin, I lie to survive. I lied to my father about where I was going and what I was doing in order to sell my automatons or to sneak books out of the subscription library so I could read about science instead of poetry. I lied to Norbert about my feelings for him. And there’s more. My title hides who I really am. My clothes hide what I really look like. Even the Third Ward hides its true purpose. Our entire society lies. We give the lie so the truth can live beneath it.”
“You can lie to other people all you want,” Gavin said. “But not to me. I love you for the real you, for the truth.” He took both her hands in his. “I can’t
do this if you’re going to lie.”
“Oh, Gavin.” Her eyes grew wet. “I’ve been lying for so long, I’m not sure if I know how to tell the truth all the time. But I’ll try.”
He nodded, disappointed but understanding. “I suppose that’s the best I can hope for.”
The lift thumped to a halt, and Gavin opened the gates for them. At the place where the men’s and women’s dormitories diverged, they kissed and went their separate ways.
Two days later, a tap on wood snapped Gavin awake. Gavin always snapped awake, often with the ghost of Madoc Blue’s hands on his body and the first officer’s lash on his back. Months gone and he still lived those moments as if they were yesterday. By now, he had forgotten how to wake up like a normal person.
Doves cooed in the barn rafters far overhead. All around him stood a great expanse of space—the building was an empty wooden shell resting on an ancient fieldstone foundation. On the dirt floor nearby squatted a small electric generator. A heavy cord exited one end and terminated at the large, bulbous form that took up a great deal of the barn’s empty space. Gavin sat at a carpenter’s worktable strewn with drawings and tools, and he remembered deciding to put his head down for just a moment. Sawdust stuck to his cheek. The knock came again, more urgently this time.
“Who is it?” he called.
The barn sported two enormous doors that would allow a piled hay wagon to enter—or a large project to exit—but next to them was a smaller door for more everyday use. It creaked open, and Alice backed in. She wore a dark skirt and white blouse. Her honey brown hair had been pulled back under a small hat, but a few loose tendrils framed her face.
“Alice!” Startled, he leapt to his feet and hurried over to her. “Alice, what are you doing here? I didn’t say come in!”
“It’s only a barn. Besides, I couldn’t wait to tell you. You haven’t been to the main house for almost two days now, and—oh!”
Gavin plunged a hand into his coat pocket and found the silver nightingale. He fiddled with it nervously. His sleeves were pushed to the elbows, and bits of grease and sawdust speckled his forearms, and his hair looked like a haystack. In short, he looked a right mess. But her gaze went over his shoulder to the dirigible.
The Doomsday Vault Page 31
