“And those are explosives,” Mrs. Singh added, pointing to the boxes. “The timer on them hasn’t started, but I’d get the bomb squad down here as soon as possible.”
“I second that notion,” Mr. Pryce agreed. “I’ve just narrowly avoided death by explosion. I’d prefer not to risk it a second time.”
Gascoigne slowly nodded. His expression made it clear that he didn’t enjoy being wrong, but he understood the situation and accepted it.
“I’ll have my men lock down the scene and deal with Smythe and his men,” he said. “You ought to get back to your headquarters and put your evidence together. I fear this is going to be a rather complicated affair to untangle, especially if one of the traitors answers to the Minister.”
“We also need to work out where the Old Man and Lowell are,” Mrs. Singh added.
“Lowell?” Gascoigne asked. “You don’t mean Lord Lowell, do you?”
“He’s one of them,” Mrs. Singh said.
Gascoigne wrinkled his nose. “Conspiracy between an MP, a lord, and a senior intelligence officer. This is turning into a bloody scandal!”
“Not if we can catch them all in time,” Mr. Pryce said. “I’d like to avoid a public panic, and I’m sure the government will agree. If we can capture Lowell and the Old Man before they do any more damage, no one need ever know.”
“Fine.” Gascoigne still looked worried, but he gave Mr. Pryce a nod. “Take your people and see if you can locate Lowell and the Old Man. I’m going to deal with this mess, and inform the Minister.” He grabbed Smythe by the scruff of the neck and leaned in close to him. “As for you, Sir Richard . . . . I don’t like being made a fool of. You’re in for a miserable time if I have anything to say about it.”
Chapter 27
Kitty followed Mr. Pryce, Mrs. Singh, and the rest of the team upstairs and out into the street.
“So the question is, where do we find Lowell and the Old Man?” Mr. Pryce asked.
“They could be anywhere,” Mrs. Singh said.
No one had a good answer, and they walked to the van in silence, broken only by a few half-hearted suggestions that ultimately went nowhere.
“Bloody—” Mr. Pryce grumbled, before he remembered himself and held his tongue. Kitty knew he wasn’t a man given to swearing, except under the most trying of circumstances. “There must be a way to narrow down the possibilities. They have to be someplace with communications equipment, to stay in contact with Smythe and their allies. It would be near London . . .”
“But not in London,” Mrs. Singh said, “in case something goes wrong. Lowell is a coward, and the Old Man is too smart to let himself be trapped in a box. He would leave open a path for escape, just to be safe.”
Verity gasped. “Wait! Lord Lowell has a private plane. It’s at an airfield a few miles outside of London. But I don’t know if he would be there.”
“Well, if ’e decides to run, it’ll be where ’e goes, won’t it?” Kitty offered. “Aeroplane’s the best way outta the country if it all goes wrong, innit?”
“She’s right about that,” Mrs. Singh told Mr. Pryce. She checked her watch and glanced back at Westminster. “And you know, Parliament is due to be sitting right around now. By the end of the hour, the Old Man is going to start wondering why there’s been no explosion.”
“Aye,” Tommy chimed in, “an’ that’s assumin’ ’e don’t know about Gascoigne moving on the basement early. I’ll bet he tipped ’em off thinkin’ Gascoigne would get there after the explosion. Gascoigne goes in early, the Old Man knows about it, an’ ’e’ll assume the plan’s gone wrong.”
“If it were me, I’d run for the airfield straightaway,” Kitty agreed. “Smythe checks in an’ gives the all clear, they can always go back. But if not . . .”
“They can fly away and escape,” Verity finished.
Mr. Pryce nodded. “I daresay that’s about right. Return in triumph, or slink off under the cover of the chaos. At this rate, they might already be gone!”
“No time to waste then,” Mrs. Singh said. “Pryce, are you sure you’re up to this? After the night you’ve had, you deserve a little rest.”
“And miss out on all the fun?” Mr. Pryce exclaimed. “Perish the thought!”
It took about forty minutes to reach the airfield, following Verity’s directions. As they drove up, Kitty immediately spotted the small silver plane on the tarmac, and the workmen who were loading it with crates and luggage cases. The airfield was surrounded by a chain-link fence, and men with guns stood at the only gate. Something told Kitty that the Old Man had taken over the place with his own guards.
The team assembled behind some shrubs a little ways away from the fence. Mr. Pryce looked troubled by the situation.
“A bit of a higher-security setup than I expected,” he admitted.
Mrs. Singh frowned. “We need to lure the guards away from the gate. There’s no doubt this is the Old Man’s work. If he and Lowell aren’t on that plane already, they’ll be boarding soon. We have one chance to grab them. After that, they’re in the air and gone.”
“Can’t we get someone to shoot them down?” Verity asked.
Mrs. Singh raised an eyebrow at her. “You mean ask the Royal Air Force to open fire on a civilian plane belonging to a British lord?”
“Ah, yeah,” Verity said. “I suppose the Minister wouldn’t sign off on that.”
“If we don’t take Lowell and the Old Man alive, I don’t know what the Minister will think about all of this,” Mr. Pryce said. “We are making outrageous accusations against some very powerful people. The more evidence we can get, the better for all of us.”
“We need a distraction, then,” Tommy interjected. “Right? Like an explosion somewhere else. Somethin’ to make ’em leave their post to investigate.”
“But what?” Verity asked. “Set the van on fire, maybe?”
Tommy looked shocked and then furious. “You are not settin’ fire to one of me vehicles, Verity. I’ve spent hours fine-tunin’ that bloody thing!”
Kitty blinked a few times as ideas turned around in her head. She ran through all of the possible—and impossible—options. Driving by with the van would attract attention, but on its own it wouldn’t lure anyone away from the gate. Driving into the gate would only get them shot. They needed something to spark a panic. Faith’s noisemakers weren’t loud enough to work in an open space like this. They needed something like an explosion.
Explosion.
“Cigarette lighter!” Kitty exclaimed.
“What?” Mrs. Singh asked.
Faith looked at Kitty. Her eyes widened. She understood. “Cigarette lighter!” she echoed.
“Is this code or somethin’?” Tommy asked.
Faith rummaged in her bag until she found her lighter and held it up for everyone to see. “My pocket flamethrower.”
“I thought it didn’t work,” Verity said.
“It doesn’t work because it explodes!” Faith answered.
Mrs. Singh looked at Mr. Pryce, and Mr. Pryce looked at Mrs. Singh.
Finally Mr. Pryce asked, “Can your lighter explode on demand?”
“I turn it on, it starts burning, and it blows up within a couple of minutes,” Faith replied. “It doesn’t have a timer or anything.”
“Well, we don’t have a better plan, do we?” Mrs. Singh said to Mr. Pryce.
Mr. Pryce sighed. “We do not.” He turned to Faith as Mrs. Singh dashed back to the van. “Faith, set the lighter to go off a few meters down that way.” He pointed along the fence. “Then get back here as quick as you can. I’m afraid I have to conscript you and Kitty into our little army.”
Mrs. Singh returned from the van with the spare guns. The very thought of more violence made Kitty feel sick. Still, she wasn’t going to back down now, not when the others needed her.
“What about us, sir?” Tommy asked.
“You’re our best driver,” Mr. Pryce replied, “so I need you to get the van away from here. Once the bomb g
oes off, drive past the gate on your way out. Make a show of it and try to lure out the guards. Verity, go with Tommy in case they give chase. I don’t want the two of you getting into a firefight, but if it happens, protect each other.”
Verity and Tommy both nodded. “Yessir.”
“And after that?” Verity asked.
“Get back to headquarters and wait for us.”
“What are you going to do?” Verity asked.
Mr. Pryce gestured to Mrs. Singh, who handed the extra pistols to Kitty and Faith. “Capture the plane and fly it out with our prisoners onboard. I hope.”
Kitty clutched her pistol nervously as she crouched behind Mr. Pryce and Mrs. Singh. She watched Faith plant the bomb and hurry back to them, hidden from view by a dip in the ground. When Faith got there, Kitty handed her the second pistol. From Faith’s grimace, she knew that they shared a similar discomfort with holding the weapons. But they had the training to use them, and under the circumstances, there wasn’t much choice.
Thirty seconds passed, and a small fire appeared on the ground near the fence. The ground was mostly dirt so there wasn’t much risk of a conflagration, but a few scattered bits of grass and shrubbery began to burn. The guards near the gate looked in that direction and started shouting.
Thirty more seconds passed, and suddenly the lighter exploded with a bang and a shower of fire and heated metal.
The shouting from the guards got louder. The men at the gate abandoned their posts, and they ran to see what was going on. More men came from the airfield buildings, carrying fire extinguishers instead of their guns.
Mr. Pryce raised a hand as he watched the guards. As the men crowded around the fire, he motioned to Verity and Tommy, who waited in the van. At Mr. Pryce’s signal, Tommy hit the accelerator and the van roared past the guards. It banked sharply at the edge of the fire, and raced toward the highway.
The guards were clearly starting to panic. Some of them ran to a truck parked inside the fence and gave chase along the road. The others continued to fight the spreading fire. The gate was unguarded, and everyone was too busy to pay attention to it.
Kitty followed Mr. Pryce onto the tarmac and across the landing strip to the plane. Faith was close behind her, clutching her bag of gadgets, while Mrs. Singh brought up the rear, protecting the two girls.
As they approached, the plane’s engines fired up. A couple of attendants, looking confused and frightened, grabbed the rolling stairway next to the plane and started to push it away.
Kitty pointed her gun at them and shouted, “’Ere! ’Ands off it! Get outta ’ere!”
These men weren’t soldiers, and they didn’t argue. As the attendants ran for cover, Mr. Pryce led the way up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Kitty dashed after him as quickly as she could. As they reached the top, a man appeared in the plane’s doorway, reaching for the hatch to close it. Mr. Pryce leveled his weapon at the man’s forehead and motioned him back inside.
The interior of the plane was cramped but very expensive. There were a few seats upholstered in plush velvet, and a table in the back. Kitty had never been inside of an aeroplane before, but she hadn’t expected this. It was part private office and part gentleman’s club as far as she could tell, and also it could fly. Kitty couldn’t even imagine affording something like this, and the fact that it belonged to a man like Lowell was doubly galling.
Lowell and the Old Man were already buckled into their seats. They were looking over some papers, and at first they didn’t seem to notice the team entering their cabin.
“The first thing we want to do is liquidate the Swiss bonds,” the Old Man said to Lowell, sounding very cool and collected. “We also must divest the network, in case James or Richard decide to talk.”
“They wouldn’t do that, would they?” Lowell asked. He was ashen-faced and sweaty. “Sell us out?”
Mr. Pryce cleared his throat to interrupt them. Lowell looked up, did a double-take, and then tried to jump out of his seat, only the seatbelt held him fast. The Old Man looked up more calmly, his expression resigned but not panicked.
“Ah. Pryce,” the Old Man said. “I suppose it was gambling too much on good fortune to assume we would get away.”
“You are quite right about that, sir,” Mr. Pryce replied. Even facing down an enemy, he was polite to a fault.
In the back of the plane, a couple more of Lowell’s men got up from their seats, grabbing for their guns. Mr. Pryce and Mrs. Singh turned their weapons on the men to stop them before they could draw. Kitty and Faith exchanged a look and quickly covered Lowell and the Old Man.
Mr. Pryce closed the aeroplane door and gave everyone a pleasant smile. “That’s right, no sudden movements,” he said. “I would prefer not to shoot anyone today, if that’s all right with the rest of you.”
Lowell’s men awkwardly nodded their assent.
“Guns on the ground, if you please,” Mr. Pryce continued. “And take off your belts. It seems I forgot to bring my handcuffs.”
As Kitty and Faith covered the men, Mr. Pryce and Mrs. Singh tied the men’s belts around their wrists to secure them, and locked the guards into some of the unused seats.
“Mrs. Singh, if you would be so good as to relieve the pilot, I think we should be going,” Mr. Pryce said.
Mrs. Singh answered with a crisp salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.”
“Now look here . . . Pryce, is it?” Lowell said. “Let’s be reasonable about this. I have money. A lot of money. I can make you a very attractive offer if you let us go.”
Mr. Pryce raised his eyebrows. “Bribery?”
Lowell laughed nervously. “Let’s call it an understanding between new friends. I have a quarter of a million pounds’ worth of bonds here on the plane, and almost a million more in a Swiss bank account. If you let us go, I’ll pay you whatever you want!”
The Old Man gave Lowell a disapproving look. “Henry, stop it. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“You could retire to the Caribbean on that!” Lowell sputtered. “Just let us fly away and tell your superiors you arrived too late!” As Pryce remained unmoved, Lowell looked at Kitty and Faith. “You two! Pryce doesn’t care about you. He’s using you! How much is he paying you? I can top it! I’ll—I’ll give you a hundred thousand pounds each if you turn your guns on Pryce! That’s probably more money than you’ve ever dreamed of before!”
“Now you’re embarrassing me,” the Old Man said.
Kitty made a face at Lowell, furious and insulted. “I thought you said the offer were a quarter million.”
“Or do we get paid less for treason because we’re girls?” Faith asked.
“Well, I . . .” Lowell stammered.
Mr. Pryce snorted with laughter, then tried to compose himself. “Lord Lowell, please stop trying to bribe my agents,” he said. “You already have enough crimes to answer for.”
Lowell continued to shout and sputter, mixing offers of money with threats of violence. “You will regret this, I swear!” he shouted. “Release me now, or your families will suffer!”
The Old Man looked at Lowell and said, “Shut up.” He turned to Mr. Pryce and smiled. He seemed amused at his situation. It wasn’t the reaction Kitty had expected, but perhaps it was his only way of coping with the failure of the plot. “Well done, Pryce. A game jolly well played.”
Kitty stared at him. He thought of this as a game?
“You shouldn’t congratulate me, sir. I was unconscious most of the time.” Mr. Pryce nodded at Kitty and Faith. “My agents did all of the real work. If you want to heap praise on the people who foiled you, give it to them.”
From the cockpit, Kitty heard Mrs. Singh call, “I helped too, you know!”
“I said ‘my agents’, didn’t I?” Mr. Pryce called back.
“So I’m just an agent now?” Mrs. Singh asked.
“Well, when I say agent, I mean someone who works for me,” Mr. Pryce replied.
“For you?”
“Alongside me,”
Mr. Pryce corrected. “In a junior capacity.”
Mrs. Singh laughed. “Keep digging that hole, Pryce. There had better be a bottle of champagne at the bottom of it.”
Mr. Pryce grinned. “Your wish is my command, Mrs. Singh. And it’s the least we deserve after saving Britain.”
Chapter 28
The day dragged on for what felt like forever, even after Lowell and the Old Man were taken into custody. There were interviews and reports with Mr. Pryce, Mrs. Singh, Gascoigne, and some people from the Ministry. Kitty did her best to stay focused and relay everything that had happened precisely and clearly, which was extremely hard. Her brain clicked on endlessly, and it was all she could do to avoid drifting off into peculiar tangents instead of answering the official questions.
By the time it was all done, Kitty was too tired to go home. The Orchestra had a small barracks for the agents to use, and she just wandered in and collapsed onto one of the beds. The room had no windows and Kitty had no idea how long she slept, but eventually she woke up and saw Verity reclining on the next bed along, apparently having drifted off in the middle of reading some reports.
Kitty smiled. Verity looked very peaceful, and peaceful things were a welcome change from the mission. She slowly got up, and the bedsprings creaked. Verity snorted softly and opened her eyes.
“Oh, I, um . . .” Verity said, disoriented. She looked at Kitty and smiled. “Oh, you’re awake. I was just, um, waiting for you.”
“ ’Course,” Kitty replied. She stretched and gave a tremendous yawn. “What time is it?”
Verity checked her watch. “It’s tomorrow morning.”
“Oh Lord!” Kitty cried. “’Ow long ’ave I been asleep?”
“I’m guessing twelve hours,” Verity replied. “Don’t worry, you needed the rest.”
“But there’s things to do! I’m not in trouble, am I?”
Verity shook her head, looking almost as if she might laugh. “You just saved Britain from a fascist coup, Kitty. Why would you be in trouble?”
Kitty frowned and looked down at her hands. Feeling like she was in trouble for something was familiar. It was easier to assume that than to hope for the best and be disappointed. “I dunno,” she said quietly.
The Secret Life of Kitty Granger Page 22
