They quietly made their way out of the house and further down the alley where Davy waited. Proceeding across the river, Xavier and Tubs repeated their seamless abduction with Blackhand Harry.
Upon returning to Xavier’s office, Tubs carried both blanketed men into the cellar and secured them tightly to the support posts, still wrapped in their blankets, so when they woke, they would lack movement and sight.
Leaving Tubs to watch over them, Xavier returned to his new home, driven by a great need to make up with Vic.
He found her in the library, asleep in his chair, her cheeks wet from tears. Kissing both salty cheeks, Xavier waited for her to awaken.
Finally, her eyes fluttered open. Then she threw herself forward, against his chest, and her arms wrapped around his neck for a brief moment before the curses began.
“Damn it! Damn…damn…damn.”
It wasn’t until he focused in on her blue eyes, that he realized she was in pain.
“Where does it hurt?” he asked.
“Everywhere,” she snapped.
“Precisely where?”
She held up her fingers in splints, then nodded her chin at each arm, her right leg and left ankle, and finally touched her heart with her mummified right hand. “I’m sorry for what I said this morning.”
And that was what he dearly loved about Vic. She might be quick to temper, but true regret came just as fast. “As am I.”
“Let’s make a pact,” Vic said. “If either of us goes on a mission without the other, we will never leave with angry words.”
“I agree.”
She glanced at the clock on the wall. “You are back early. Could you not find them?”
He smiled and brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “They were both asleep in their beds.”
Her brow furrowed. “I cannot imagine two power hungry lunatics of the underworld would come to a compromise this quickly.”
After rising, he turned the other chair so it faced Vic, then sat. “No, I’m afraid this will take days.”
“So you’ve tucked them away somewhere?”
“I have,” he said with a single nod.
“Good. Can I watch you interrogate them?”
His brow crinkled in worry. “No.”
“Then how will I learn to interrogate crime lords?”
He breathed in deeply and then released the air. “I do not wish you anywhere near crime lords. I certainly do not want them to associate you with their current situation.”
“Does it matter? Wouldn’t they attack me just to hurt you?”
“Not these two. They have little regard for their employees, so they’ll assume I’m the same.”
“I’m not your employee,” she growled.
Leaning in, he kissed her on the lips. “No, you’re not. But when they take on partners, it’s to relinquish some fool of his money while being a front for their criminal activities. They no doubt think I’m siphoning off all your inheritance.”
“Would they still not kill me just so you lose your pigeon?”
“Not unless they wish to lose every front man they have.”
“But you wouldn’t do that.”
“Kill the greedy bastards? No. Have them arrested and jailed for fronting slave shops and kidnapping rings? In a heartbeat.”
Vic scowled. “We should be going after those anyway.”
“And we do, when the rules of engagement allow it. For example, razing the Dragon Cloud to the ground would not have been allowed under our rules of engagement, only I gave Seth fair warning if I was not taken to a doctor at once a wrath beyond his imagination would rain down upon him. He chose not to believe me and thus has only himself to blame for the destruction of his most lucrative business.”
“Which is up and running, again,” she grumbled.
“It is, and if a client loses a daughter or son to it, we may engage in reasonable efforts to rescue them.”
“Why have you never mentioned these rules of engagement before?” she demanded.
“Because I knew your sense of justice would be appalled. However, you have been exposed to a great deal these last two years, so I believe now you can face the reality of the situation.”
“Which is?”
“Evil will always exist. If I rid the world of two evil crime lords today, their businesses would continue, and as a myriad of lieutenants fight to take charge of the territory, more innocents would die, and instead of trying to bring two men to their senses, I would be dealing with twenty lunatics.”
“I understand,” she said.
“Do you?” She had conceded too quickly for his liking.
“Strong leadership is probably more important to the underworld than to the parliament. And far more problematic when lost. If we were to lose the First Minister tomorrow, we have laws stating who will hold the office until elections can occur. We do not have twenty ministers shooting it out for control.”
Xavier thought of the book someone planned to use to take out Olgeton. “At least not with guns.”
Vic studied him. “You are thinking about the book.”
He thumped her nose.
“I would like to speak to the First Minister’s wife,” Vic said.
Xavier choked. “Why?”
“I want to know what happened to his niece.”
“For what purpose?”
“I think he may have harmed her and she might be punishing her uncle in retaliation. She’s seventeen or eighteen now. She might have married, or has a fiancé with whom she’s confided.”
“Confided what? She probably had no idea her likeness was used.”
“How much money do you think that book cost the First Minister? Good quality lithographs are expensive, and in this case, they were used for only one book.”
“Good point. It probably cost over a thousand pounds.”
“Or more. And for the money, he would expect the likenesses of himself and his niece to be accurate.”
He nodded in agreement. The fellow had admitted as much when he claimed the book could ruin his career and marriage. It meant the likenesses were well done of both.
Vic leaned forward. “How did they get such a good likeness, unless the niece and the First Minister posed for the scenes? Graphic displays of violent rapes and sadistic abuse.”
Xavier’s mind rebelled at the thought. The man was their First Minister! Surely, he would not do such a thing. But then a proper gentleman shouldn’t have purchased such a book to begin with. And the coincidental burning of the publishing house the day he acquired his book remained most suspicious.
Meeting Vic’s sad gaze, he said, “You think this child experienced abuse similar to that of the character Justine.”
She nodded. “I think it is possible, and if she did, she could hold a very understandable hatred for the First Minister, one that would require a drawn out torture in return.”
“And the delay in her actions?”
“Perhaps she’s met a man she trusts, has confessed the truth, and he’s helping her revenge her past.”
The pup had no proof for any of this, but then she rarely did. “I’ll question Olgeton about his niece,” Xavier promised as he rose. “Which I must attend to now. Where is that milk you wished me to take?”
“That was a stupid plan. Go upstairs and take my pillowcase. I’ve no idea if Cannon will follow it, but it’s better than ruining everyone’s mail with spoiled milk.”
Xavier kissed her head. “Much better. And the stubborn goat might even agree to this, although I won’t tell him exactly how the package will be tracked.”
“No. Stuff a small rock in with the money. Tell him we can track that. If the rock goes missing, we’ll have proof that someone close to him is assisting the blackmailer.”
“Well, I now have solid proof your fabulous brain was not damaged when you hit your head.” Xavier kissed the head in question and stood.
She grimaced. “Which you no doubt feared, given my stupid idea this morning.”
/>
He started to deny that, but stopped. Vic deserved the truth, even in this. “I was worried, but then often your ideas seem a bit ridiculous at first…and yet, prove to be brilliant.”
“So you were going to drench his money in milk, knowing that by midday, the entire world would be able to follow the stench.”
“I wasn’t committed to drenching it.”
“Thank God!” She grinned at him. “You have a very fine brain as well. So we can keep each other in check.”
“Yes, we can.” He leaned over and kissed her again. “I do not wish to make a habit of sappy exits, but you are my reason to live.”
“The same here,” she said. “Now go before we both get nauseous.”
He chuckled and headed out. He wondered how long it would take her to realize both of those damnable Sherlock Holmes books resting in her lap were now in the wastebasket by the desk. Hopefully, the maid would empty the trash before Vic found them.
***
Xavier arrived at the First Minister’s office precisely at six and walked directly in, since the secretary was yet in the front office.
“Have you received instructions?” he asked the old man staring out the window, watching the sun rise.
“I have.”
“And did you bring the money?”
“No.”
“No?” Xavier challenged.
The First Minister sighed. “I cannot risk them releasing the book to the papers.”
“That is inevitable, unless the book is retrieved first.”
The man turned in fury. “Then get the book back!”
Vic’s comment about England could survive without a good leader came to mind. Would England survive this fool?
“I require knowing who has your book before I have any chance at all getting it back. That is why I needed you to bring the money here.”
“Well, I didn’t.”
Xavier sighed and placed a pillowcase on his desk. “Then when you go home, place the money in this special pillowcase and then do whatever you normally do to send it off. Where are you supposed to mail this one from?”
“From the Fleet Street Post.”
“And you take it yourself?”
“To Fleet Street? Are you mad? I send a servant.”
A new possibility came to him. “I require a list of all locations you have sent the packages from.”
“I hardly retain the notes,” he snapped.
“I was under the impression the book disappeared at the time you engaged Stone to find it. Was I wrong in that assumption?”
Olgeton turned to face him. “Yes, the great Sherlock Holmes is wrong!”
Never had Xavier wished to throttle a client more. But then he wasn’t a client. The man never had or would pay him a pence for his services.
“Your lack of cooperation astounds me. I must conclude a part of you, the part that remains a good man, bears great shame and wishes to be punished for this book.”
“That’s absurd. It is merely a book. It means nothing.”
“And yet it has the power to destroy both your personal and public life, and you do everything in your power to prevent me from discovering the blackmailer.”
“That is not true! You simply lack the skill to do so and your absurd accusation is nothing more than a desire to deflect proof of your own incompetency.”
Xavier could not remember ever being angrier in his life. Over the years he had done a great many services for Parliament leaders. Never once had he received a ‘thank you’ or ‘well done’ but at least most of them had the sense not to withhold the information needed to get the job done and then sneer at him for his ‘incompetency’.
“I am done with you.” Xavier stormed to the door.
“Are you done with your precious Inspector Stone as well?”
Xavier stopped. “I have already given you fair warning. If you attempt to remove Stone from his position, then I will go straight to the Queen…and in explaining your inability to think straight, I might be required to share with her this burden you carry that is so severely impeding your judgment.”
The old man turned from the window, his face paled to a light green. “You wouldn’t dare. That was told to you in the confidentiality of your profession.”
“You are correct that I never disclose a client’s secrets.”
The man smirked and returned to staring out the window.
Xavier opened the door and walked through, then decided to have the last word. “But you never paid me my interview fee, so technically, you are not my client.” Xavier slammed the door behind him and hurried out into the hall, ignoring the man’s bellow for him to return.
Before climbing into his carriage, he gave Davy their next destination. Once inside he literally shook with fury. He wished he had time to get Vic’s opinion on what was causing the man to behave so irrationally, but this could not wait. It was imperative he find the damnable book, if for no other reason, then to remove an imbecile from the office of First Minister.
Arriving at his next stop, he hurried up the steps and pounded the door…several times. Eventually, a non-too-pleased butler glared at him. “Sir, do you have any idea what time it is?”
Xavier took out his watch. “Half past six. My butler’s been up for hours. Consider yourself lucky.”
The man’s jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed, but he had the sense not to continue his scold.
Having lost all patience, Xavier tried to push his way in, but the butler prevented his entrance. “I wish to speak to Jacko at once.”
“The master is sleeping.”
“Then wake him up!”
“I will not.”
“Then step aside and I will do so. I need his services and I need them now!” Xavier yelled through the six-inch opening of the door.
A woman’s voice spoke from inside the house. “Perry, what’s going on?” Alice smiled upon sight of Xavier through the opening. “Xavier, come in. Is something afoot?”
The butler stepped back so Xavier could enter. He greatly appreciated the invitation inside, however he could have gone without one of Doyle’s favorite terms: ‘something afoot’. He had never said such a ridiculous comment in his life and he’d no idea where Doyle derived the phrase.
“I need Jacko,” he answered more abruptly than he should have, but the ‘something afoot’ annoyed him.
“Of course.” She looked at her butler. “Perry, wake Jacko and tell him Xavier Thorn requires his assistance.”
Perry’s eyes rounded. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Thorn. I did not realize who you were.”
“Then you should have asked!” Xavier bellowed.
“Thank you, Perry. Have tea sent in to the library once you’ve woken Jacko.”
He nodded and hurried upstairs.
Alice gripped Xavier’s arm and led him to the library. “Has something happened? Is Vic all right?”
“Vic is at home in his favorite room, the library, sitting in my chair.”
“Did Vic’s chair go missing?” she asked as she led him to an identical chair and motioned for him to sit.
“No. Vic’s chair was there.” His ill humor dissipated under Alice’s gentle teasing. “You should visit him. He needs cheering up.”
Her brow furrowed. “Is he in considerable pain?”
“I fear so. Otherwise, he’s simply taken up cursing like a pirate.”
A rumpled, tired Jacko rushed into the room. “Has something happened to Vic?” he asked.
“No. But I have a private matter to discuss with you.”
Alice stood. “And that is my clue to leave,” she stated cheerfully. “I will visit Vic this afternoon,” she promised and then kissed Jacko while she attempted to tame his long wavy hair. “Find a brush before you leave,” she whispered and left the room, closing the door behind her.
“You chose very well,” Xavier said, impressed with how amicably Alice left when he stated he had private matters to discuss. “Can’t say I care for your butler, howev
er.”
“If you had bothered to give him your name, I’m sure matters would have gone a bit more smoothly. However, rest assured, whenever you arrive in the future, you will be let in even if it’s two in the morning.”
“Excellent, I will keep that in mind if I’m ever shot in this neighborhood.”
“So what requires my attention so early in the morning?” Jacko asked as he sat down in his chair, smiled, and closed his eyes.
“Perhaps you should stand. I actually require you to hear what I have to say.”
“I can hear you,” he muttered.
“Until you fall asleep, which appears to be only seconds away.”
When Jacko made no response, Xavier kicked his shin. “Stand up. You are too tired to sit in a chair.”
“Damn it, Xavier. This is my castle, not yours,” he muttered as he rubbed his ankle and stood up.
“The new First Minister has lost his bloody mind.”
Jacko snorted. “You woke me up to tell me something I determined six bloody months ago?”
“Remain standing and I will tell you all.” That assurance woke Jacko right up.
Jacko sat on the edge of his elegant mahogany desk and crossed his arms. “I’m all ears.”
Chapter 19
At eight a.m. Gregory engaged a cabbie and with the help of a strong footman named Samson, she and her wheelchair were lifted into the carriage and taken to the chemist.
To Vic’s amazement, the man had an amazing supply of different baby bottles with names like Princess and Sweet Dreams.
However, when Vic instructed Gregory to take them apart, the chemist accused her of being a thief and ordered her out of the store.
“A thief? Nonsense. I’ve taken nothing. All your bottles are there. Check your inventory list if you cannot remember what you have.”
“It is not the bottle you wish to steal; it is my ideas,” the chemist said, tapping the side of his head. “You come in here pretending to need a bottle.” He snorted. “You’re a cripple. You’ll never have a wife nor need for a bottle. You, sir, are a bloody thief of ideas and wish to steal mine, since you lack any cleverness of your own. Then you intend to make and sell bottles like mine. Now leave this store before I throw you out.”
Pack of Trouble (The Adventures of Xavier & Vic Book 5) Page 16
