A Dangerous Liaison With Detective Lewis (38 page)

Hunched over, Finn braced himself in the hatchway. “I cannot just stand here and watch Mr. Bruce fumble about with the controls. Give me work to do.”

Rafe straightened as much as he could in the sub. “I believe Archie’s got things working fairly well now.” Their submarine pilot continued to toggle switches in an effort to find . . . something. Archie flipped a switch overhead and a swath of light beamed through the bilgy green basin water. “There we are. Much better, wouldn’t you say?”

Finn ducked for a look out the observation window. “At last—we can see three feet in front of us.”

Rafe agreed with Finn’s bleak assessment. “Thick as a black fog down here.”

Arch turned to Finn. “Near as I can tell, we’re not more than a few feet under the surface. The rear observation dome will give us a view higher up. I could use another set of eyes if we’re to find this old pirate route.”

Archie unhooked a cone-shaped speaking tube attached to a rubber hose. “Should be one of these back there. Give us a shout if you see anything.”

Finn nodded his head. “Right.”

Rafe took the seat beside their intrepid pilot and
strained to see through the flotsam and jetsam. A hail of squawks blared out of the cone above Archie’s head. Rafe took down the speaking tube. “Say again, Finn?”

“I’ve a herd of river rats swarming about the glass up here—love to take a few nips out of my head. Have a look above.”

Rafe craned his neck toward the surface. A myriad of undulating shadows and tiny, clawed feet paddled just underwater. “Blimey. Hundreds of them.”

Arch motored alongside the immense black hull of a moored ship. “The rodents are attracted to the light, possibly? Ask Finn if he can get a direction—where they’re coming from.”

Before Rafe could speak, Finn’s voice filtered through the device. “As soon as we pass this ship, throttle down a bit and head us starboard thirty degrees.”

A trail of rodent legs and tails led them into the oldest section of the dock. The crude stone basin wall grew more rugged until . . . it just fell away. An entire section of wall appeared to break off into darkness. “You see what I see?” Rafe spoke into the cone and waited for an answer. “Finn?”

“Christ. Tell Archie to take us lower—and another ten degrees or so starboard.”

As the submarine slipped into what they hoped was a passageway, Rafe strained to see into the unknowable darkness of the gaping hole. “Can you reverse our direction?”

“If there is a reverse lever I haven’t found it.”

He wiped away a few beads of perspiration off his forehead. “Excellent.”

Archie took a quick glance at Rafe. “There must be a back lever around here somewhere.” A stomach-lurching grinding noise came from below ship. Archie grimaced. “We’re scraping bottom.”

Finn’s tinny voice actually had a reassuring effect. “I can see air pockets throughout the tunnel. The dome is partially above water—with more room above—you can take her up a bit.”

The next terrible clunk and crunching noise came from the top of the sub. They were now partially above the waterline. The search beam illuminated rugged walls that closed in from both sides. Rafe’s gaze traveled up, over, and down. “Narrow bugger.”

“Rather tricky, these small adjustments in ballast.” Archie tugged on several wheels and levers. At the moment, the most reassuring aspect of their cruise down this ancient passageway was the constant putter of the submersible’s engine.

Finn’s voice shouted from the cone. “Stay your course, Mr. Bruce. If I’m not hallucinating, there may be a grotto ahead.”

Rafe fixed his eyes forward. The passage grew even tighter for a time before it opened, rather quickly, into an expansive cavern.

Archie whistled. “Blimey. And to think this quiet cove is hidden beneath the Docklands.”

The moment they surfaced, Rafe cranked the wheel of the overhead hatch and poked his head up. The pungent odor of decayed organic material mixed with stale air—mustier, moldier than topside. The sub chugged
softly into the cavern, gliding through dark waters. “Heave ho, mate.” Finn urged from below.

Up on deck, Rafe stepped through a thin sheet of water. He pivoted in a slow circle, peering into cracks and crevices. Long ago, by the looks of it, a stair and walkway had been constructed up one side of the cave. And there were hints of passageways lit by torches. Archie nosed them toward a grotty old pier.

Finn joined him. “Awfully quiet. Do you suppose anyone’s home?”

Rafe removed his revolver from his jacket. Out of habit he checked the cylinder. Six bullets. And he had more in his pocket. “Let’s knock on a few doors.”

“SUCH A HEAVENLY angel . . .” Mallory reached up and brought her around to his side. “And what trouble you are.”

“Trouble does seem to follow me of late.” Fanny perched herself on the edge of the settee and tried to make small talk. Much more difficult, face-to-face. Like now—when he captured her gaze and held it.

She knew that look of desire very well. On her dearest, most darling Rafe. “You delivered the boy safely to Scotland Yard?” This forced flirtation with Mallory had worked her stomach into knots. She drew her lower lip between her teeth. Mistake. His eyes locked on her mouth and she heard a groan.

“To their door.” He pulled her to him and did not ask permission. “A kiss.”

Every fiber of her being reacted to the soft pressure of his lips. Warm, passionate, they traveled lightly over her mouth and then pressed harder with more intensity.

She grew frightened and pushed away. He leaned closer, never taking his eyes off her mouth. “I am not finished.”

Mallory seized her and kissed her angrily. Fanny shut her eyes tight and tried not to resist. He assailed her mouth with his own, plowing the depths with his tongue. He pulled her onto his chest, the press of his erection more than obvious. If only she could just let him do as he wished. His breath was ragged and his words even more so. “Say yes, Fanny.”

She declined with a shake of her head. “Please, Mallory.” Her voice husky from fear of this strange, unholy attraction. He reached out and pressed her hand to his groin.

“Shall I tie you down and take you here on the settee? Look at me.” He was so arrogant. So aggrieved. He grabbed hold of her chin and forced her to look at him. “What happened to willingly?”

“I made a bargain. I will do what I must, but I’m not sure about the pleasure part.” Fanny swallowed. “You murdered my father. Not something one can easily overlook.”

Mallory slumped back onto the arm of the chaise. “Yes. I did.” She found both his shrug and grin disturbing. A kind of madness seemed to overtake him at times. “Not something one can easily apologize for.”

A volley of bullets rang out in the passageway. Her heart quickened with the thought of what might be happening outside the door.

Much like a sudden bolt of lightning is followed by a downpour of cold rain, Mallory’s reaction to her shifted. His glare deepened as his black eyes once again blazed a deep crimson red, not unlike they had during their first meeting. He made no mention of the disturbance, and yet she knew he listened.

The echoing ricochet of more gunshots. Closer, she thought.

He drew his mouth into a thin cruel line. “So, it appears the lady’s protector makes yet another attempt at rescue.” Mallory shifted her off the couch and traversed the room.

“It is comforting to know someone looks out for me.” Fanny bit her lip and tried to look as though she regretted the remark. Impossible when her heart had grown wings and soared with hope. Until Mallory slid open a desk drawer and removed his pistols.

He tossed a coat and hat her way and shrugged into a frock coat. He grabbed her by the hand, and paused at the door. “Cry out, make any attempt to communicate, and I will shoot him dead.”

He opened the door a crack. No guard standing watch. It seemed this outlaw post was rather understaffed this evening. Fanny wondered why. Had Mallory sent them all away? But why would he do such a thing? He took her by the hand and hauled her toward a set of spiral stairs carved into the rock of the cavern.

RAFE SPOTTED MOVING shapes at the end of the passage—two people, a man and a woman. Dear God, one of them must be Fanny. He thought his heart would pound out of his chest. “Scotland Yard! Stop right where you are.” He climbed the stairs.

“Rafe!” His name was muffled. But it was she—it was Fanny.

He raised his gun. “Let her go.”

The two figures were so close together in the dark, he couldn’t chance a shot—not yet. The man yanked Fanny to his chest. One hand covered her mouth while the other placed the barrel of his pistol to her temple. “Oh . . .” The man grinned and shook his head sadly. “I think not, Detective.”

Could this ghoulish creature be Mallory? If he took his gun off Fanny and fired, Rafe might have a chance at a very dangerous shot. But would he risk taking it? Rafe hesitated, then lowered his pistol.

Several pistol shots zinged by him from the passage below stairs. Rafe slipped down the steps and flattened himself into a shallow alcove. More bullets ricocheted off the rock wall next to his head. He swung out from cover and returned fire.

He’d left Finn in the middle of an attack of nerves, and now he was caught in the cross fire. Rafe rolled onto the ground and let fly a hail of bullets, taking the gunman down. Now he faced another, with pistol drawn, just feet away.

A gun fired—and then another shot. The bloke standing over him dropped his weapon and fell to his knees. Finn stood behind the fallen man, his pistol smoking. “Sorry I’m late. I do hope I haven’t missed out on all the fun?”

Rafe rolled onto his feet and started up the stairs. “Mallory’s got Fanny.” The curved rock stairway led them directly out of the cavern into an anteroom. A very small iron door opened onto an alley. The clever exit was hidden by the stone footbridge overhead.

“Hold it.” Finn picked up the broken end of a crate and jammed the opening. Rafe checked the alley. In one direction, the masts and rigging of ships docked in the basin could be seen a hundred feet away. At the opposite end of the alley, a carriage turned the corner at a fast clip.

“That’s got to be them.” He and Finn sprinted down the row, leaping over cartloads of tea chests and cotton bales. They made the corner only to lose the carriage in the crush of traffic on Commercial Road.

“Bugger me.” Rafe walked in circles, panting. “Bugger me. Bugger me.”

Finn hunched over, hands on his knees. “I’d watch myself—there are sailors about who wouldn’t mind.”

“Bloody bugger.”

“Better. Less inviting.” Finn straightened to have a look around. “Not that I look forward to closed-in dark spaces, but shall we return to the cavern? A couple of Mallory’s men may still be alive.” Finn shot him a wink. “And they’ll talk—believe me.”

Rafe nodded. “What say we find a patrolman about and have him blow his whistle? Get some blue coats to comb the place and—Christ.”

Finn raised both brows. “Now what?

“We left Archie down there, defenseless.”

Chapter Thirty-four

F
anny pressed both hands to Mallory’s chest and pushed. “Get off me.”

He tried for another kiss. A swath of light from a passing streetlamp flashed inside the cabin. He was amused. He appeared to love every second of resistance she offered. The fast-moving carriage turned a corner and rocked them apart. “Lost your intrepid Yard man,” he sneered.

Inching into a corner of the plush upholstered seat she ignored his remark and fastened the buttons on her coat. “Where are you taking me?”

He glanced outside. “Cavendish Square.”

“Of course, the Royal Polytechnic Institution.” Fanny chewed on her lower lip. “Scotland Yard knows full well you plan some sort of horrid mischief for the opening of the Exposition. I’d give it up if I were you—try for another day. Unless, of course, you can’t resist the dramatics.”

A cynical bark of laughter raked across his features,
which appeared ghostly pale and drained. Fanny blinked at the debilitated figure. “You are bad off, Mallory.”

His head lolled with the rock and sway of the vehicle. “Indeed. I am not . . . well.”

USING THE DEEP shadows of the cavern, Rafe signaled Finn to move forward by way of an adjacent alcove. Two of Mallory’s guards walked ahead with Archie sandwiched in between, hands bound behind his back. Finn dropped into the nearby niche and nodded for Rafe to make his move.

He trotted up close, gun drawn. “Gentlemen.”

Both men swung around to face him. “Detective Inspector Lewis, Scotland Yard. You are under arrest for an assortment of capital crimes. And I suspect more charges will be forthcoming. I will need you to turn over any weapons—”

Both guards raised their pistols.

“Tut-tut, now.” Finn emerged from the shadows behind the men. “You really should listen to your betters.”

Before the men could pivot, take aim, and fire, Finn took down a man from behind, and Rafe struck the other on the chin. A few well-placed blows and they had both culprits groaning on the ground.

Greatly relieved, Archie grinned. “You boys arrived in the nick of time.”

While Finn untied Archie, Rafe confiscated weapons and searched pockets. Rafe looked about the passage. “Anyone see the jailor’s keys?”