Beyond Compare (34 page)

“Oh. Of course.” Kyria picked up the box and held it out to him. She felt a bit uneasy about showing it to anyone, but after all, Walford had done them a favor by insisting that the archaeologist speak to them. Without Ashcombe, they would probably not have been able to rescue Alex the night before.

“Exquisite,” Walford said, taking the reliquary in his hand and gazing reverently at it. “The Star of the Underworld,” he breathed.

“What? Oh, yes, that is one of the names that Ashcombe said the diamond was called. I did not realize that you were interested in such things as the reliquary. I thought it was more your father’s subject.”

“Oh, I’m not interested in the reliquary,” he said carelessly, handing the box back to her. Kyria turned away and began to rewrap the box and return it to the drawstring bag.

“It is the diamond that I desire,” Walford went on behind her.

Kyria turned, suddenly uneasy. She found herself staring into the end of a revolver. The air rushed out of her lungs.

“You,” she said at last. “It was you—”

“I have had the devil of a time getting it,” Walford said conversationally. “I realized finally that I had to stop relying on subordinates and take the matter into my own hands. So—” he motioned with the pistol “—please walk out the door in front of me. I am putting my gun into my pocket, but I will still be able to shoot you if you decide to refuse.”

Kyria walked out into the hall on legs that were suddenly wooden. How could Walford possibly hope to get away with taking the reliquary? She had seen him; she would simply go to the police and—It was then that it struck her.
He is making me walk out in front of him because he is planning on taking me with him! That way I will not be able to tell everyone what happened.
Her blood ran cold as she realized that the only way he could permanently keep her from revealing his identity was to kill her.

She stopped in the hallway. “No,” she said firmly. “I won’t go. Just take the thing and leave.”

“My dear Lady Kyria, I cannot possibly do that. You must see that it is impossible. If you refuse to go, I will have to shoot you, and then all the servants will come running, and I will have to shoot them, as well. Unless you want to have their blood on your conscience, I suggest that you start walking.”

Numbly, Kyria did as he said. The man was mad, she thought. He sounded perfectly reasonable, but his words were stark, staring mad!

She walked on, hoping that a maid or footman would see them and then tell Rafe and her brothers what had happened. Where were all the servants, anyway?

They made it to the front door without attracting anyone’s notice, and Kyria was both relieved and terrified. Once they stepped outside, she realized that the servants were no longer in danger, so drawing a breath, she let out a piercing scream.

Walford, cursing, grabbed her around the waist and picked her up, carrying her to the dark, plain carriage that stood in front of their house. Kyria kicked and screamed and tried to hit him with the box. But it did no good. The man atop the carriage jumped down and opened the door for Walford, then grabbed the bag from her and tossed it in onto the seat. Together the two men grasped Kyria’s arms and started shoving her into the carriage, as well, despite her struggles.

There was a flash of white, and Kyria realized that someone was running toward them, shouting. It was one of the Keepers! Hope surged in her, but Walford pointed his gun and fired, and the monk went down, blood staining his white robe.

“No!” Kyria screamed, and suddenly the world
went dark as Walford punched her in the side of the head, then threw her into the carriage.

Rafe was humming beneath his breath as he alighted from the hansom and started up the steps to Broughton House. He was rather surprised that no footman opened the door at his approach, as was customary.

He had just entered the house when a wild-eyed footman came hurrying toward him. “Mr. McIntyre! Thank heavens!”

“What?” Alarm rose up in Rafe. “What is it? Where’s Kyria?”

“That’s just it, sir!” The footman looked close to tears. “She’s been taken!”

For an instant Rafe could say nothing, could not even move. Then he sprang forward, grabbing the servant by the front of his jacket. “What the hell are you talking about? What happened?”

Fortunately for the footman, who went pop-eyed and started jabbering incoherently, Phipps came hurrying in, saying, “Mr. McIntyre!”

Rafe abandoned his unsatisfactory prey and turned to the other man. “Where’s Kyria?”

“She has been abducted, sir.” The butler retained his preternatural calm, although the level of his disturbance was evident in the beads of sweat that had formed at his hairline. “We thought she was leaving with a friend. Milly saw them walking out the front door, and she said that the man did not have hold of her and Lady Kyria did not seem to be forced. But there was quite a commotion after they stepped outside, and a man—I believe you call them Keepers, sir—was shot.”

“Shot! Is he dead?”

“No, sir, merely wounded. The doctor is with him right now, but he insists on speaking with you. He will not let the doctor give him chloroform until he has spoken with you.”

“Where is he?”

“Right this way, sir.” The butler led him quickly toward the smaller formal dining room.

A gaggle of servants stood outside in the hall, obviously upset, and with them were the twins, white-faced and abnormally silent. When they saw Rafe, they ran to him.

“You’ve got to do something! They’ve taken Kyria!”

“I know. Phipps told me. Let me talk to the Keeper and find out what happened.” Rafe put a hand on each boy’s shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze. “Hold fast.”

The twins nodded, looking calmer. Rafe went past them into the dining room. The doctor was standing beside the long mahogany table, looking both worried and irritated, and before him on the table lay a white-robed monk.

“Sir!” The Keeper saw Rafe and let out a relieved cry.

“Tell me what happened,” Rafe said, going to his side and taking the hand the man held out to him. He was little more than a lad. His face was deathly white, and one side and sleeve of his robe were stained grimly with blood. “Did you see who took Kyria?”

“Yes, but I did not know him. He was…tall…dark hair.” The man winced at a sudden pain, his words coming out in gasps. “She screamed. She was fighting. He threw her…in the carriage. I ran to them. He shot me.”

“Can you tell me anything about the carriage? Was there anything distinctive about it?”

“Plain.” The young man squeezed Rafe’s hand harder, looking up earnestly into his face. “The reliquary. He was carrying a bag. I think the reliquary was in it. I could sense it. It called to me.”

Rafe remembered Brother Jozef’s similar statement about the sacred object. Whatever feelings the monk might have about the reliquary, Rafe felt sure that he was right: the reliquary would be with them. It was, after all, what the man had come for.

“You did well,” Rafe told the Keeper, giving his hand a squeeze. “I will take care of it now. Let the doctor get to work on you.”

The young man nodded, closing his eyes in relief, and his hand slipped out of Rafe’s grasp. Rafe turned and left the room. The twins, as well as all the servants, were waiting anxiously for him.

Rafe shook his head. “He doesn’t know who the man was. Did only Milly see him?”

It appeared that she had been the only one. She came forward, her face tear-splotched, and told him that she had not recognized the man. “I’m so sorry, sir! I never thought there was anything wrong! She didn’t act afraid.”

“She wouldn’t,” Rafe said. “I imagine the fellow had a gun on her—you just couldn’t see it.”

“Do you think they took her to the place where I was?” Alex asked.

“I think it’s unlikely, since we know about the building. I suppose it will have to be checked out, though. Phipps…”

He turned toward the butler, and at that moment, the
front door flew open with a crash and there was the sound of running feet. “Phipps!”

A moment later Reed and Theo appeared at the end of the hall and hurried toward them.

“What the devil’s going on?” Reed shouted, his face etched with worry.

“What did Phipps’s message mean, ‘Kyria’s in trouble’?” Theo said.

“She has been kidnapped,” Rafe replied, and told them the story. “The Keeper thinks they have the box, too, and I feel sure he’s right.”

“But if he has the box, why did he take Kyria, as well?” Reed asked.

Rafe looked grim. “Because she could identify him.”

Theo’s tanned face paled. “You mean, then, he would…”

“…see to it that she
can’t
identify him, I would imagine,” Rafe finished for him. “We have to find her as soon as possible.”

“Good God! Where do we start?”

Alex once again brought up the warehouse where he had been taken, but Reed, too, dismissed it as unlikely. “I can’t imagine they would go back there, and the police found nothing that seemed to connect the place to anything.”

“What about this opium den?” Theo asked.

Rafe nodded. “That’s a better place to go, I think, although since we have already confronted them there, I wouldn’t think they would take her there, either. I want to talk to Ashcombe again. He clearly knew something. When we followed him to the den, we could hear him arguing with someone about Alex’s abduction. So he knows, if not the man behind all this, at least some
one higher up in the organization. And just as clearly, he felt uneasy about kidnapping a child. He would have to be just as uncertain about the possibility of their murdering someone. I can break him, I’m certain of it.”

Given the look on Rafe’s face, no one was inclined to argue.

“Ashcombe?” Theo asked, looking puzzled. He had not heard all the details of the events of the previous night. “Are you talking about the archaeologist?”

“Yes. He is involved somehow.” Rafe’s face cleared. “Say, you can use your influence with Walford. If he confronts Ashcombe, the man will—”

“Lord Walford?” Theo frowned. “The old man? What are you talking about? I don’t have—”

“No, his son,” Reed explained impatiently. “The old man died a year or two ago, and his son came into the title.” He looked back to Rafe. “But why would Theo have any influence with the man?”

“Because they are friends.” At the blank looks on the other two men’s faces, Rafe went on, “Lord Walford told Kyria that you and he had become friends when you were both in Turkey or somewhere.”

“Good heavens, no!” Theo said. “Gerard is a rum one—I’ve never heard anything good about him. There were a number of unsavory rumors about him going around the English community in Turkey.”

Rafe looked at him for a moment, his face hardening. “He
is
involved in it! Dammit to hell! How could I have been so stupid? I dismissed my suspicions about him because I thought it was merely jealousy.”

“Walford? You think it’s Walford behind this?” Reed asked.

“I don’t know. But I think he may very well be
involved in it. His archaeologist certainly is. Ashcombe has been searching for that box for years. Maybe he was doing it for his employer. Or maybe the two of them share the mania.”

“Let’s go talk to Ashcombe,” Reed said. “We’ll catch a cab. We haven’t time to bring around the carriage.”

For once, the twins did not protest when told they could not accompany them, and moments later, the three men were rolling down the street in a hansom. They were well armed, Rafe and Theo with a brace of pistols each and Reed with a shotgun. Theo also took the added precaution of concealing a scabbard with a rather large knife in the side of his boot, a souvenir, apparently, of his trip up the Amazon some years earlier.

At Ashcombe’s house, Rafe did not even wait for the maid’s protestations, but shoved open the door as soon as she opened it and marched inside, Reed and Theo following him. The maid’s mouth dropped open as she took in the men, all obviously armed. Raising her hand, she pointed down the hallway at her employer’s study.

Ashcombe was at his desk, and he jumped up, startled, when the door slammed open and Rafe barged in.

“Good Lord! What are you…” He straightened, squaring his shoulders, and went on, “What is the meaning of this intrusion?”

“I want the truth, Ashcombe, and I want it now.” Rafe strode over to the man and wrapped his hand around the lapels of his jacket, twisting and jerking the man forward.

“I…I don’t know what you mean.”

“Who abducted Alex yesterday? Who were you talk
ing to in that opium den? Who the hell is behind all this?”

Ashcombe gaped at Rafe, then began to sputter. Rafe gave him a single hard shake.

“Don’t even try to lie. I will have the truth from you if I have to peel your skin off strip by strip to get it. He has taken the box
and
Kyria.” Another shake. “What the hell is going on?”

“He…he took Lady Kyria?” Ashcombe looked dismayed, and he glanced around vaguely. “Oh, my God. My God, I told him…”

“Who?” Reed barked. “Is it Walford?”

Ashcombe nodded. “He has gone mad! I told him he would go too far…”