by Bonnie Dee
"Victoria." Harvey greeted her with a frown. "We need to talk."
No good conversation usual y fol owed such an opening, but even her partner's anxious tone could hardly dim Victoria's bright mood. "What is it, Harvey?"
He glanced around the room, although they were completely alone, and muttered, "Come into my office."
Victoria was getting a bit worried now. Dramatics were not in his nature. If he said he had something serious to tel her, then no doubt it was dire. She pushed aside her joyous mood and sensual memories and fol owed him into the smal office, where she sat in the chair by his desk.
He closed the door behind them, took his seat and leaned across his desk to whisper. "I think I'm being observed."
"Pardon me?"
"Fol owed, watched, listened to. My files and possessions gone through, my conversations overheard." His frown deepened. "No, Victoria, don't think I've become mental y unbalanced. This is not paranoia."
"Wel --" she was at a loss for what to say, "--who do you believe is doing this?"
"The Commission for Animatronic Affairs," he answered promptly. "I believe they're observing al of us, we five who worked on the project."
"Why?" She didn't doubt him. Harvey Samuels was not prone to flights of fancy.
"There are larger plans for the automatons than we ever imagined. The government plans to program them as a fighting force. Already automatons have al but replaced menial laborers and the poor have been eliminated in droves--exiled or hung for petty crimes or trumped-up charges. The Commission grows more powerful with every move they make. I believe their ultimate plan is to create a utopia based on their own agenda."
So the Brotherhood's conspiracy theory was not as outlandish as Victoria might've thought only a few days before. If she brought the leadership of the Brotherhood straight to the Commission, would they arrest them al and take them away, never to be heard from again?
"How did you find out al this?"
Harvey shrugged his stooped shoulders. "Things I've overheard.
Things I've surmised. And--" he tapped long, nervous fingers on the desktop, "--I have a spy on the Commission staff, a secretary who's privy to their affairs. He was the one who told me to watch everything I said, who I spoke to, what I wrote or researched, and what projects I work on. They won't hesitate to take whatever we do and use it in their own way."
"But who, specifical y, would be watching us?"
"The domestic workers they presented to us as a token of our service. As part of our households, they're the eyes, ears and hands of the Commission."
"Patterson?" She couldn't have been more shocked if he'd suggested her own grandmother was a spy. "But he's so... He always fol ows protocol to the letter."
"Ah yes, but whose protocol? That is the question." Harvey fixed her with his highly magnified gaze.
Suddenly she realized that Patterson fit the profile of a spy perfectly. He was witness to nearly every move she made. He knew her daily agenda and had access to her office.
"The file! The other day before my meeting with the Commission, I couldn't find some papers containing cases to support my proposal."
"How did your meeting go, by the way?"
"I became il and missed it but have rescheduled for Tuesday."
"There's your chance." Harvey brought his fist down on the desk with a thump that made her start. Such emphatic behavior was not his style. "You must bring a newspaperman with you and ask questions that wil expose the Commission's duplicity. It is the only way to bring them to justice."
"Harvey, I hardly know how I'm to accomplish that. We must have more to back up these claims. Ian Hatchett. The automatons are his design. He's continued working on the changes to adapt them to different kinds of work, which would include military models.
The Commission would rely on him to program them, so he must know something about it."
"Hatchett," Samuels agreed. "I never liked that chap. He always thought his work was the most important part of the project."
Which it had been. The automatons couldn't exist without a central system to act as a brain. "At any rate, at least we're aware now. We'l gather information, keep it wel hidden, and I wil ask questions at my meeting with the Commission. Beyond that, we can't make a move yet."
Harvey nodded and reached out to pat her hand. "Circumspect observation is the key. Very level-headed of you, Victoria. You're curbing that impulsive nature."
If he only knew. "For now we must just go about our business and not let these machines know they're being watched."
But once a person knew something, it was hard to remain calm and dispassionate. Victoria wanted to pul Patterson's switch and throw him in the rubbish bin. She was glad not to return home at lunchtime. The prospect of meeting Dash in the park was much more pleasant than facing her spying butler. After she told Dash everything Harvey had discovered, perhaps they would wander over to that wil ow tree and take up where they'd left off yesterday.
Victoria walked around the fountain a half dozen times then circled the duck pond twice. Her mood shifted from excited anticipation to mild annoyance to sour disappointment. The sun was low on the horizon before she final y admitted Dash was not going to come.
She walked home with her eyes on the shadows and entered her house with a heavy heart to face the lies and treachery within.
***
Dash reached the park in time to watch Victoria leave it. He didn't run after her or try to speak to her. He knew he was being fol owed, and the last thing he wanted was to bring his trouble to Victoria's doorstep. The detectives would remember the young woman who'd come asking al those questions and there was no explanation for her having a connection to someone like him.
After he watched her go, Dash walked to the underground and took the train back where he belonged. He saw the man fol owing him, who wasn't very circumspect in his watching. They'd let Dash go after a day of questioning and a night in jail because they had no reason to hold him. No proof of past crimes and no connection with the murder other than his having known the victim. If he was the kil er, did they think he'd merrily go about his business after this, right under their noses?
Having a tail also made it impossible for him to meet with the Brotherhood. When he saw Rat loitering around the Sheep's Head, he told the boy to let the committee know the beak was onto him and he had to steer clear just now.
Dash decided to go home and catch some sleep, but on the way he almost literal y ran into Jones coming out of a tobacconist's shop. "We can't talk long. I'm being fol owed. The police know about my friendship with Lizzie so apparently that makes me a suspect."
Jones's eyebrows rose. "I believe you've done many things in your life, perhaps even kil ed someone, but not a crime like this."
"Tel the others I spoke to Miss Waters yesterday. We have a meeting with the Commission next Tuesday. We should prepare what we're going to say, and Victoria thinks we should meet the night prior to review our presentation with her."
" Victoria thinks that? You're cal ing her by her Christian name now?" Jones studied him cool y. The peppery scent of tobacco emanating from his clothing made Dash need to sneeze.
Jones changed the subject. "I should tel you Robeson has fol owed his nickname and gone rogue. After you left the other day, he was angry he hadn't been invited to represent the Brotherhood to the Commission. Says he's had enough and is starting his own group to do things his way. You know what that means."
Dash nodded. Bombings. The news didn't surprise him. Rogue had been searching for a reason to splinter for some time. "I hope he doesn't give us a black eye before we have a chance to meet the Commission."
Jones shifted his parcel from one hand to the other. "I wouldn't be surprised if he struck soon. He's been chomping at the bit."
Dash glanced at his shadow. The undercover man was pretending to look at something in a confectioner's window. "I'd better go. I'l keep in touch."
Jones nodded, but before Dash walked away, he adde
d, "Don't do anything that might ruin our chances."
"Such as?"
"A woman like Miss Waters is not for the likes of you. Keep your emotions in check, your mind on our goal, and your cock in your trousers. For God's sake, lad, remember your place. There's us and there's them, two different types, and you can never cross over as much as you might like to think you can."
Chapter Eight
Scientist Murdered, the headline proclaimed. The subheading added, "Automaton inventor kil ed. Possible link to radical
'Brotherhood.'"
Victoria gasped and grabbed the newspaper from the tray.
Patterson stepped back with a bow. She looked at him sharply, trying to read any expression in his dead eyes, but of course there was none. Her every thought about him was now tainted by Harvey's conspiracy theory.
She looked at the paper and when she read the name of the murdered man, a cold wave swept over her and she couldn't breathe. She felt as if she were drowning as she sat at her breakfast table. Professor Harvey Samuels, her mentor and closest friend, was dead.
Victoria read the article while her kippers and eggs grew cold.
Harvey had been kil ed on a street in a seedy part of town behind a particular gentleman's club where it was rumored men met to find companionship with other men. Even sheltered Victoria had heard whispers of the place's reputation. A light turned on inside her and suddenly she understood why Harvey hadn't been interested in marriage. When he'd said he wasn't inclined toward it, he'd meant he wasn't inclined toward females at al , let alone an institution which would shackle him to one for life.
And now her guide and teacher, the man who had shaped her life, was dead. He had been stabbed multiple times and his body had not been found until the night watchman made his rounds.
Although there was no evidence to attribute the murder to anything other than a common criminal, the suggestion that the Brotherhood had been involved was firmly planted in the article.
The Commission for Animatronic Affairs stated, "We have lost an innovator and a great man. Those who would protest progress by any reprehensible means shal find themselves brought to justice.
Our city is rife with social misfits and criminals cal ing themselves a brotherhood, which must be eradicated in order to usher in a new era of peace and prosperity."
Of course the Commission wanted to point blame at the Brotherhood, but it was possible Harvey real y had been attacked by a footpad. Or, if they knew what Harvey knew about them, maybe the Commission itself had stooped to murder to rid themselves of a perceived threat.
On the other hand, perhaps some members of the Brotherhood had taken their campaign of violence to the next level. To be fair, she must entertain the idea that the Brotherhood was suspect in Harvey's murder.
Victoria thrust the paper aside and pushed away her plate. She rose from the breakfast table so quickly she nearly knocked her chair over. She was beside herself with sorrow for the loss of the one person in her life to whom she could tel anything without fear of judgment. Although clearly they hadn't shared al details about themselves. She'd never guessed at Harvey's secret life nor had she ever talked about her sexual yearnings and longing for someone special to care for her. There were private aspects of oneself a person couldn't reveal to anyone.
It was almost impossible to believe that Harvey no longer existed on this earth. Surely if she went to the laboratory it would al be a mistake and he would be leaning over a circuit board, his spectacles sliding down his nose. When she entered, he would glance up and say "Good morning, Victoria."
The pain of loss was fol owed by a potent chaser of rage.
Someone had got away with murder and she was desperate to know who. Her empathy with Dash's need to know who had kil ed Lizzie increased a hundredfold.
Marching hand in hand with anger was concern for the rest of the team. Were al of the automaton scientists in danger now?
Perhaps she should contact the others and tel them al that Harvey had revealed to her.
Victoria hurried to her room and dressed to go out. She couldn't stay in this house, wondering, worrying and being watched by Patterson. She needed to talk to Dash about this development, whether he wanted to see her or not. He might be able to tel her something about Harvey's death.
But, God, she hoped he couldn't. If members of the Brotherhood had been involved, she could no longer champion their cause. It might even mean Dash had a hand in it and was not the man she'd taken him to be. She real y didn't know him at al .
When she was finished changing, she went downstairs to the foyer, where she col ected her hat and coat.
Patterson, who always seemed to be within earshot, hurried from the servants' quarters to see her out the door. "You should have rung for me, miss. I would've got your outdoor things for you."
"That's al right, Patterson. I'm quite capable." She headed for the door, but he had it open before she could reach for the knob. "I'm visiting a friend. I don't know when I shal return."
"Yes, miss. Good day."
When the door closed behind her, Victoria felt she'd escaped a prison--a feeling no woman should have in her own house. She headed for the underground without taking in the pretty day or the flowers in the park or even the dirigible floating overhead.
She rode the train to Whitechapel and went looking for the Sheep's Head Inn, a place Dash had mentioned in passing.
She'd got the impression he and members of the Brotherhood met there on a regular basis. At any rate it was a starting point in her search for him.
Was she walking into a lions' den by going to see him? Serving herself up to the enemy? But no, she found it impossible to believe Dash had had any hand in Harvey's murder. She'd given the Brotherhood what they claimed to want--a chance to be heard by the Commission. Why would they ruin that chance now?
The streets in this part of the city were grimy, rubbish-strewn and choked with pedestrians, handcart vendors and dray wagons.
Ragged urchins darted in and out of the crowd and passed perilously close to horses' hooves. She'd tucked her purse into the waistband of her skirt beneath her shabbiest coat. She'd also worn a large old felt hat to try to blend in with the locals, but even so, she felt she stood out, an anomaly in a stew of similar organisms.
Victoria asked a vendor sel ing steamed potatoes from her cart if she knew the way to the Sheep's Head and received a convoluted set of directions in an accent so broad she could scarcely understand the woman. Victoria was soon lost in the maze of narrow, il -planned streets. Their layout was nearly as incomprehensible as the warren below ground.
Her nerves were frayed and she was beginning to wish she'd never left home when she saw a familiar face among the ragamuffins. There was no mistaking the ugly boy Rat, who'd come to tel Dash his Lizzie was dead. Victoria hurried over to the child.
"Excuse me, boy, could you point me in the direction of the Sheep's Head Inn? Or tel me where I might find Mr. Dash?"
Rat stared at her from head to toe, before answering. "Who's askin'?"
"A friend. I promise I don't mean him any harm."
"'ow much ya give me?"
"Sixpence if you lead me to him." She knew better than to offer too much. Even a child as young as this could be dangerous if he thought she had a purse ful of money.
He shook his head. "I ain't takin' ya where 'e lives, but I'l show ya to the Sheep's Head and you can wait there. If 'e wants to see ya,
'e'l come."
"Very wel . Sixpence on arrival, and more if you return with Dash."
The lad spit on his hand and reached for hers. Victoria shook on the deal.
Very soon, she was sitting at a corner table in a pub so dark it might've been evening rather than afternoon. She kept her back to the wal and nervously watched the customers, who stared back at her. She was ready to bolt for the door if anyone approached her.
What if she was perilously wrong? One member of the Brotherhood, the short man with the bandy legs, had seemed to be itchi
ng for violence. What if the boy, Rat, went to get him instead? Would anyone in this place help her if he dragged her away, fighting and screaming? This was an alien world, a dangerous place where she didn't belong.
And then suddenly a figure came through the doorway, ducking under the low mantel. Before she could make out more than his shadowy form, she recognized the shape of Dash's body and the way he carried himself. Her heart lifted as though borne on helium.
Dash paused for a moment, acclimating to the gloomy interior before sighting Victoria. He strode purposeful y toward her and took a seat across from her.
"What are you doing here? You shouldn't have come. This neighborhood is dangerous." He echoed her thoughts.
Her smile disappeared at his brusque manner. She stung as if he'd slapped her. His coldness on top of her sorrow over Harvey's death was too much to take. "I have some news. It's important and I thought you'd like to know, but clearly I was mistaken."
"What is it?" He regarded her with an adversarial air that made her temper rise.
"Why are you behaving like this? You kidnapped me, remember?
In return I did favors for you. You've no cause to be so rude to me now."
He gazed at her through narrowed eyes. "When you talked to the police, did you tel them about me?"
"Of course not. Why would you think that?"
"Because I was picked up for questioning about her murder."
No wonder he was so angry. And it explained why he'd missed their appointment yesterday. "It must have been awful to be treated as a suspect. I'm so sorry."
His eyes softened a little, but his jaw remained tight. "I've been fol owed since then. I shook my shadow on the way here, but I can't talk to you long. If they draw a connection between us, it would be the worse for your reputation. Now what's your news?"
His coolness hurt, but she maintained a stiff upper lip as she related what Harvey had told her about the Commission and what had happened to him last night.
