“She has nothing to do with me,” Amos protested.
“Except help you escape once earlier in the week and very nearly a second time today.” Reynolds turned to the armed guards, “Detain them both and take them to the cells. They’ll be questioned later.”
Their hands were forced behind their backs and iron handcuffs placed on them. Amos struggled, but a punch to his stomach forced the wind out of him before they were bundled out of the room and taken to two separate cells.
***
Amos banged the sole of his foot on the iron cell door. Other than making a loud noise and hurting his foot it had no effect. He sat on the edge of the bed, his hands still in handcuffs behind his back.
“What are you trying to achieve?” Mia Jennings voice came from the next cell along.
“I’m trying to find a weakness.”
“You won’t. Save yourself the trouble, I’ll be there in a minute.”
Amos let out a small snort of disbelief before a noise outside made him look towards the door. He stood when he heard a key being inserted into the lock and his mouth dropped open when Mia walked into the cell minus her handcuffs.
“How did you get out?” Amos asked with more than just a touch of suspicion in his voice.
“The beauty of wearing a long skirt,” said Mia as she spun Amos around, “is that no-one searches you properly.”
Amos felt the handcuffs loosen before they dropped to the floor. He turned around and looked through the open cell door. The guard was unconscious and handcuffed to a radiator.
“Did you do that?” asked Amos rubbing his wrists.
“I learned to look after myself at an early age, Mr Coleman,” said Mia. “We have to get out of here. Help me put the guard in this cell. We’ll lock both doors but it won’t be long before our escape is discovered.”
“I came here to find something and I’m not leaving until I do,” said Amos dragging the unconscious guard into the cell.
“What is so important that you would risk your life for?”
Amos remembered the threats that had been made by the American agents back at the Watertown armoury.
“What were they pumping into the nacelles of that airship?”
“A new type of gas that…”
“Don’t tell me,” interrupted Amos, “when you put an electrical current through it, it has a hundred times the lifting power of hydrogen.”
“You work for the American government.”
“So you know where it’s from?”
“There’s nothing that happens in this factory that I don’t know about,” said Mia.
“So, where’s it going?” asked Amos as he took the guards plaque and pinned it to his coat.
“Ah,” said Mia, “I said in the factory. When it takes off and leaves…” she shrugged, “it’s not my concern.”
“No,” said Amos, “but that might be,” Amos nodded towards the other end of the corridor to an automaton guard scuttling towards them. Mia casually lifted her skirt and pulled out, what looked to Amos to be an old-fashioned, bulbous flintlock with a large metallic rim at the end of the barrel. Mia pulled back the hammer and the rim started spinning. She pointed the weapon at the automaton as it approached and pulled the trigger. An electrical charge like a small bolt of lightning crackled out of the barrel and hit the machine in its main body. The automaton stopped in its tracks. Through its glass face plate, Amos and Mia could see a miniature electrical storm raging inside the machine. The storm only lasted a couple of seconds before there were several loud cracking noises and the crab-like legs of the automaton folded underneath it as the machine crashed to the floor.
“That’s useful,” said Amos, “They really didn’t search you very well at all did they?” he grinned as she reached back under her skirt.
“A gentleman would have looked away,” she said as she offered him a key.
“I’m sure a gentleman would have,” he said, the expression on his face showed no sign of abating. “What’s this?” he asked as he took the key.
“It’s a skeleton key,” said Mia. “My father made it when he was alive. It will get you through any door in this factory.”
“Why are you helping me?” asked Amos almost as an afterthought.
For the first time Mia looked uncomfortable. She straightened her skirt and looked at the half-melted automaton, “For all my life I’ve been a prisoner, albeit a willing one. I’ve been able to follow my dreams here, but those dreams do not include the kidnap and murder of innocent children.”
“I thought what happened outside this factory was of no concern to you.”
“It isn’t. Not usually, but there are some things you just can’t ignore,” she said, finally making eye contact with Amos.
“What do you know of the kidnap of Grace McKinley?”
“The doctor’s daughter? I have an idea who was responsible, and I’m sure I know where she is being held,” said Mia.
“So she’s still alive?”
“At the moment, but when that airship takes off and is out of sight I don’t think she will be of any further use.”
“Here,” Amos gave Jacob’s card to Mia, “This is the doctor’s address. I’m sure you will be well received. I’ll disrupt things here as much as I can. It should give you the cover you need to get out and make your way to the doctor’s house,” he watched as she placed the card in a pocket sewn into her sleeve before adding, “I assume you’ll be able to make your own way there.”
“As I said, I’ve been a willing prisoner, but that hasn’t stopped me from making plans should a hasty exit be required,” she handed Amos the electric pistol. “Here, you’ll need this. Just pull the hammer back and wait five seconds before pulling the trigger. The longer you wait before pulling the trigger the more violent the charge will be.”
Amos took the electric pistol and cast a wary eye over it.
“Oh, and one more thing,” said Mia, “once you have pulled the hammer back make sure you pull the trigger.”
“Why?”
“Because if you don’t there will be an overload of electrical energy and the pistol will explode, and you really don’t want to be holding it when that happens.”
“What about you?”
Mia reached behind her and started undoing the buttons of her skirt, “Don’t worry, I have another.”
“What else do you have under there?” asked Amos.
Mia arched an eyebrow at Amos as she undid the last button and let the skirt fall to the floor, “Trousers,” she said as she holstered the second electric pistol.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Shortly after Amos had left St. Giles square, Kate and Jacob had started debating what to do next. As far as Kate was concerned it was simple; call the police. Jacob had an entirely different approach.
“We still don’t know where Grace is being held. I don’t want the police flooding the area and scaring the kidnappers into doing something reckless.”
Kate didn’t like the idea of just the two of them going back to Limehouse and exploring the pubs and gin palaces as night-time descended and told Jacob in no uncertain terms.
“Who said you were going?” asked Jacob.
“You’re not going on your own.”
“Limehouse isn’t a safe place for a young woman after dark and I don’t want to have to worry about you as well as Grace.”
“I can look after myself thank you very much. And judging by your display with those steamworms and at Finch’s yard I’d say you could use all the help you can get,” bristled Kate.
Jacob wanted to argue. He wanted to tell Kate that there was no possibility of her coming with him, that it was just too dangerous and that she must stay here and wait for any further news. He looked at her, but the words wouldn’t come out. He had known Kate for less than five days and in that time she had been accepted by the household, saved his life twice and, most importantly, saved his beloved daughter Grace from an incurable disease. The simple truth was he couldn
’t conceive of anyone else he would rather have by his side.
“Very well,” said Jacob, “but when I go into the public houses you stay in the carriage and watch for any trouble.”
Kate was about to argue, but Jacob stopped her in her tracks.
“We don’t want to attract too much unwanted attention. We’re going to arouse enough suspicion asking questions in the local pubs. If you walk in, however you’re dressed, every eye will be on you.”
Kate exhaled, the wind taken out of her sails. Jacob was right and she knew it, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. Before Kate could reply Jacob continued, “We’ll get a cab to take us around, chances are the driver will know every drinking hole in the area. You will stay in the cab and keep a look-out for anything suspicious or, more importantly, any trouble.”
“Very well, but I’m not getting changed into one of those skirts. I go like this. If there is any trouble I want to be able to move freely.”
It was a compromise Jacob could accept. He nodded and went to the fireplace to get his cane. Kate watched as the false panel swung open and Jacob twisted the cane from the base which made an angry hiss.
“Do you have a gun?” she asked.
Jacob hesitated before pushing the cane back into its base, “I have a shotgun,” he replied, half expecting the question.
“I think you should take it.”
Jacob regarded Kate for several moments before hooking his thumb under his watch chain, producing his watch and a small key from his waistcoat pocket. He walked back to the bookcase and unlocked a long, upright cabinet. Kate thought she recognised a Purdey side by side shotgun. It was almost identical to an antique her father had owned. Jacob then took out a box of brass cartridges, loading the shotgun before filling his coat pockets with the rest. Kate watched as Jacob lifted a small walnut box from one of the shelves, opened it and placed something on his wrist. He pulled his jacket sleeve down and went back to the fireplace. He re-opened the false panel and, with a hiss of steam, pulled out two silver coloured canisters from the unit at the back of the cupboard before closing the panel and placing the canisters into his pocket. He put the shotgun into a canvas bag and slung the bag over his shoulder.
“I’m ready,” said Jacob, and they headed for the front door.
***
The brougham was like an ice box. Kate shivered and tucked her chin into the woollen cape she had got so used to wearing. She was surprised at how many pubs there were in such a small area and each one seemed to take an interminable amount of time to visit. She looked out of the window to see Jacob walking towards the carriage with an anxious look on his face.
Another dead end, she thought. There can’t be many more pubs to try.
Jacob had a quick word with the driver, got into the cab and sighed, “There’s one more a couple of streets away. After that…” the words trailed away as the cab began to move.
Kate saw the look on Jacob’s face and knew he was beginning to despair. She had to try to keep him focussed on the job at hand, but how?
“What did they ask you to do?” she blurted out.
“I’m sorry?”
“Your sponsors, the American Secret Service. You said they asked too much, what was it they asked of you?
Jacob pulled his gloves tightly onto his hands, stretching his fingers as he considered the question.
“They wanted new ways to kill people. Nothing obvious such as a bullet or bomb. The secret service works in stealthier ways. They asked me to formulate new poisons which would kill a man in a way that would simulate a heart attack and leave no trace in his body. They wanted poisons which would kill instantly and others which would take several days. They also wanted me to perfect various delivery methods.”
“I’m sorry,” said Kate, “I don’t understand.”
“When you think of poison you think of it being taken orally. They wanted me to perfect ways of it being targeted to a single person by way of breathing or even touch and then to be able to dispose of the delivery system so foul play was not suspected.”
“I’m assuming you said no.”
Jacob smiled, “I didn’t train to be a doctor to kill people. I was grateful of the help they had given me but I suppose I was quite naïve in regards to the price I would have to pay.”
“What did they do when you said no?”
Jacob’s smile widened, “They weren’t happy that’s for sure. For weeks they threatened, bullied and cajoled me in every way you can imagine, but I’d made my mind up. I had a small amount of money which, with advice from the service, I had invested in various options. Steel, coal, railways were all good investments and my small amount had grown very quickly into an extremely large sum. I withdrew the money, closed the accounts and came to London, much to the chagrin of the American Secret Service.” Jacob looked at Kate. “What about you? Why did you become a police woman?”
The good humoured expression on Kate’s face disappeared. “My dad was a farmer. He owned a great deal of land south of Lincoln. There were just the three of us, me, Dad and my grandmother.”
Jacob was about to ask but Kate anticipated the question, “My mum died when I was very small. One night, when I was nine years old, we had a break in. My Gran used to sleep downstairs in a room my dad had converted into a bedroom and she had got up to go to the kitchen. Gran said that she saw a man carrying two jerry cans walk towards the fuel yard. Straight away she knew he was going to steal the diesel from the storage tanks. Rather than raise the alarm Gran decided to go outside and confront him. He attacked her with one of the jerry cans and kept hitting her when she was on the ground.
By the time we had got outside he had gone and my Gran was in a bad way. She was in hospital for nearly three weeks before being discharged. The doctor said she was the bravest patient he had ever had. She came home and she was fine, physically. She never got over the attack. She was always nervous and jumped at the slightest sound outside. She never left the house again and died about a year later. It was then, as an eleven year old, I decided to join the police and catch the person responsible.”
Jacob watched as an odd mixture of humour and sadness slowly spread across Kate’s face. “Was he ever found?” he asked.
“No, and my desire to join the police remained as strong as ever. My dad tried to dissuade me, but I had made up my mind. I tried to make things easier for him, I even went to university and got a degree, but I was always going to join the police. He died two days after my passing out parade. I sold the farm and everything that went with it and bought a flat in London. It was where we went the other day, but…” her voice trailed off.
“Don’t you have any other family? Brothers, sisters?” asked Jacob, keen to keep the conversation going.
“No. Dad always said I was enough of a challenge. I have some distant cousins in Norfolk, but I haven’t seen them in years.” Kate looked out of the window of the brougham as it stopped, “Looks like we’re here. Good luck.”
Jacob climbed down, shut the cab door and nodded before disappearing into the pub.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Jacob stood at the entrance to the pub and looked up above the doorway. A faded sign with the words, ‘The Anchor’, just visible through the soot and grime was attached to the brickwork. Jacob walked in and despite the relatively early hour it was already full. A few of the locals stared at him as he pushed his way to the bar. The way he was dressed he had expected far worse, but so far no-one had raised more than a puzzled look or the odd suspicious question. He ordered a half pint of stout and looked round the bar at his fellow customers as he waited for his drink.
Seeing no-one he recognised, Jacob moved away from the bar and into a quiet corner. He took a sip of the dark liquid from the glass and grimaced as it covered his tongue. He forced it down his throat and looked round the room. It only took a moment before Jacob saw him. Bert, the man who had run from Finch’s yard. He was sitting alone in one corner of the bar drinking from a pewter tankard
. Jacob tried his best to walk casually over before sitting opposite him at the table.
“What do you want,” asked Bert in a drunken gurgle.
“Information,” said Jacob as he put his hand into his pocket.
“I ain’t telling you nothing,” said Bert as he felt Jacob’s coat brush his knee.
“I have a revolver under the table. I’m pointing it right at your stomach and I’ll blow a hole in it if you don’t tell me what I want to know,” Jacob swallowed even though his mouth was as dry as sandpaper. If his bluff was called there would be no-where to run.
“You’re bluffing,” said Bert, his voice trembling.
Jacob leaned in towards the table, “My daughter has been kidnapped,” he said in a low growl. “If I don’t find her soon she’s going to die. I have nothing to lose. If you want to live you’ll tell me what I want to know.”
Jacob watched as a film of greasy sweat formed on the man’s top lip and noticed how his hands were trembling as they held on to the tankard, “You ran from me when I showed you those photographs in Finch’s yard,” said Jacob. “Why?”
The man twitched at the sound of Harry Finch’s name.
“They both worked on the docks and reported to no-one but Finch. When Lord Ashbury’s son was taken they were told to look after him. I heard he made a lot of noise so they made him drink laudanum to keep him quiet. They gave him too much and killed him. Finch was furious and killed them both, garrotted them I heard.”
“So Finch wasn’t able to collect a ransom?”
Bert started laughing until a bronchial wheeze made him violently cough into his beer. He wiped the spittle and sweat from his lips before regarding Jacob with faint amusement.
“There was never a ransom,” said Bert. “The good Lord Ashbury staged the whole thing to get rid of the governess. Rumour had it she was in the family way and it was his. The kid dying was just a mistake, that’s all.”
Jacob began to tremble with anger. He tried to convince himself it was the cold but he knew his face was flushed and a trickle of sweat ran down his back.
Out of Time: . (Steamside Chroncles Book 1) Page 22
