Hatshepsut's Collar (The Artifact Hunters #2) (31 page)

Early evening and Natalie rode with Cara to the familiar apartment building which housed the high class courtesans. She chose to walk up the stairs, one hand on the balustrade of sensuously entwined snakes. Her heart pounded against her corset stays. Nate’s life and hers depended on the events about to unfold. An unproven piece of experimental technology could draw the trap around Nolton and free Nate, provided the delicate equipment worked. Her mind baulked at considering the hundreds of thousands of lives in the balance if they did not stop Victoria, and she plunged the globe into war.

Arriving at the second floor landing, she passed Justine’s room and headed to the end of the hallway. Her hand gripped the brass door handle and with one deep breath, she pushed the door open. A smoky haze crept down the walls in the luxurious apartment. The air held a distinctive, sweet tang and Cara hoped she could keep her wits about her with opium seeping into her nostrils and down her throat with every shallow breath.

A naked courtesan lounged on a divan, her mind already chasing the ephemeral dragon down into oblivion. Two other semi-clothed women prowled the room. Three men sat and laughed at a round table, Nolton amongst them. The lamp hung low over the red felt. The players’ hands illuminated by the squat metallic light fitting, but their eyes left in shadow. A blond head turned in her direction and a smile stole over his face.

“Ah, the Lady Lyons, come to plead for your husband’s life?” He gestured for her to approach him. “Dropping to your knees will be an excellent starting point if you wish to sway me with your oratory skills.”

Cara’s fingers tightened around the parasol handle. With one tug, she could free the hidden stiletto blade, lunge, and bury the length in his chest.

Wouldn’t help Nate, though. Should probably stick to the plan.

“Actually, I came for a hand of cards.”

He laughed, returning his gaze to his hand. “I doubt you could match our stakes.”

Cara pulled out the vacant chair and settled herself across the table from her adversary. She took her time with her next words. “I know what Nate stole, and where it is.”

A breath hissed out between Nolton’s teeth. “You would wager the egg?”

“Yes. If I lose, you get the egg.” A part of her sighed in relief; he thought there was only the one dragon egg. At most, she risked a third of the legendary beasts. They could still free the other two if she lost. She peeled off her gloves and tossed them on the felt.

He leaned back in his chair and placed the cards on the table. “It’s mine anyway; he stole my opium to swap for it.”

“He filched your drugs to pay for a stolen item. I’m not sure who has the moral high ground in that situation.” Cara’s gaze lifted to the heavy lamp dominating the table, wondering if Nikolai made his modifications. The thing looked like an ordinary, if somewhat ugly, light fitting to her.

“And in the unlikely circumstance you win, you expect me to have the charges dropped against Lyons?” His voice held a sharp, teasing tone.

She gave a short laugh. “No, I’m not that naive. If I win, I walk out the door. But while we play, I want to talk. Enlighten me as to your plan. I’m a curious kind of girl and it often gets me into trouble.”

Silence while he tried to see the hidden angle in her offer. “One hand, two discards. And when you lose, you stay here until Lyons delivers the egg. I hope I won’t have to wait too many years to have the creature broken to my hand.”

“Very well.” She spent all afternoon with Natalie and Loki perfecting her technique at palming cards. If cheating didn’t work, Nate promised a fall back plan to ensure she didn’t end up in Nolton’s grasp.

The duke inclined his head at the other men, signalling they were to opt out of the game. One man remained seated to act as dealer, pulling the cards together and then shuffling in easy strokes. The other chose to take his entertainment with a willing courtesan. Cara blocked her ears to the noises of the couple as the cards were dealt, face down.

“I’m surprised Lyons married you. Never thought him a man to take second hand goods.” Nolton picked up his cards and studied them. “But then I suppose no real lady would want to be tied to him.”

Cara stared at her hand, blinking several times to force her eyes to focus on the numbers and suites as she resisted the urge to sink a blade into the leering visage across the table. Reacting would show him how deep his barb cut.

“Then perhaps we suit one another.” Four low cards and a lone Jack leaned against her fingers. Even with the two cards hidden in her sleeve, she would struggle to make an adequate hand. Blowing out a long breath, she discarded a two and a three and picked up another Jack and a ten. The reason she hated poker stared back at her, she always seemed to lose.

“Do you really think you can overthrow Victoria even with China’s assistance?” She moved the placement of the cards, so the two Jacks nestled together.

He smiled, but it never touched his cold eyes. “I won’t have to lift a finger. I originally toyed with taking Hatshepsut’s Collar for myself when I found it languishing in the treasury.” He moved one card further down in his hand. “I found out a bit about the trinket’s history, worn by some of the most powerful men in history. However, ensuring Victoria wears it has made my plan so much easier. The feeble brain of a woman cannot cope with the power stored in the collar.”

Cara frowned at her cards, she was going to lose. “You’ve cast Victoria as the villain.”

He reached for his crystal tumbler and took a long drink of the rich amber liquor. “No woman should rule over men.”

“You have a low opinion of women.” She slid another card across the table toward the dealer. She watched the man’s fingers pull her replacement from the bottom of the deck; while he dealt Nolton two from the top.

“You’re called the weaker sex for a reason. Your place is under, not over, men.” The sly smile accompanied the taunt.

This is a damn stupid plan.
“Victoria is loved by the people. You will plunge England into civil war.”

“Not at all. I shall be carried to the throne on the shoulders of the common man. When they are tired and beaten by the endless war with China and the greed of their mad queen, they will rise up and demand a strong king. And there, ever so conveniently, I will be waiting. Due to my skillful negotiation, China will offer up a truce, but only if I take the crown. It will be the fairy tale ending… for me, anyway.”

Cara’s blood ran cold, hearing how he plotted to place himself on the throne, but he overlooked one significant detail. “You have no claim. Victoria is our rightful queen.”

He gave a bark of laughter. “She has no right. Rumours have long circulated as to her legitimacy. Once I prove she is a mere a bastard, my superior claim will be recognised.”

Cara’s fingers tightened on the cards; the duke lost in his grand vision.

“I shall ensure the taint of her madness will be washed from English soil. She and her family will be transported to a Chinese estate, one I have already selected and made secure. There, she can live out her life darning and fussing over his children like women should.” He drained his tumbler and dropped the glass to the table top.

“We will stop you.”

He blew out a hard laugh. “With what, did you expect me to gift you a signed confession? So sorry to disappoint.” He laid his cards on the table, a straight flush against Cara’s single pair. “You lose.”

“A signed confession would have been convenient, but I’ll have to settle for something else: the truth from your lips.”

He frowned, eyes narrowing as though he sensed a trap in her words, but couldn’t place what it meant. He shook his head, trying to clear a fog and the moment passed. He laughed, dismissing her. “I very much doubt you have anything at all. If you did, you wouldn’t be sitting here in my grasp.” He opened and closed his hand.

She watched him sway in his seat. “We live in a wonderful age of science and technology. For example the phonautograph is a marvellous invention with incredible implications. You should look into it, when you wake up.”

The sway became a slump and his head impacted with a dull thud against the table top. The dealer pushed back his chair, his body began to rise before he too toppled over.

“About time,” Cara muttered. “That was awfully close.” She rose from the table.

One courtesan approached the slumped men and put her hands into Nolton’s pockets. She pulled out gold coins and stuffed them down her décolleté. The third man knelt on the floor, still conscious; his eyes milky and unfocused, his gaze flitting around the room as though following an invisible wisp.

Cara watched his strange movements. “Did he not drink the whisky?”

“Nope. Had to use lipstick on him.”

Curiosity pulled her to a halt, wondering how lipstick could incapacitate a man. “You’ll have to explain that to me.”

The courtesan tapped her scarlet lips. “Secret formula, works a few minutes after they kiss you and sends them off chasing fairies in their minds for hours.”

Innumerable uses sprang to Cara’s mind. “Oh, I have to have some, where did you get it?”

The other woman gave her a wink and reached into a pouch hanging from the side of her corset and then tossed a small glass bottle to Cara. “I can always get more.”

Cara stared at the small jar. Within it was divided in two segments, one side white, the other red.

“The white is an undercoat, put that on first, before you brush the red overtop. You don’t want to knock yourself out.”

She thanked the other woman and tucked the jar into her reticule before she pulled the door open and whistled down the hallway. Nikolai and Nate emerged from Justine’s apartment and made their way down the hall. A warm hand brushed her cheek as Nate entered the apartment.

“All right?” he questioned, his gaze searching her face.

“No, actually. I lost. His man dealt from the bottom of the deck. I couldn’t even make a decent hand with my hidden cards.”

Nikolai hit the main light switch, leaving the room bathed in the flickering glow from the wall lights. The two men dismantled the fitting over the table. Pulling open the top, Nikolai extracted a metal barrel and placed it into a silk lined box.

Cara watched the process. “How exactly will this save you?”

“It holds everything Nolton said in his own tongue. We will be able to play it back when we return to England. He will bear witness against himself.”

Cara stared at the metal cylinder, wondering how a piece of metal could contain Nolton’s words. Nikolai laid silk over the top, tucking the tube in like a sleeping infant before shutting the lid. “Where did you find this contraption?”

“Some genius American kid called Edison has been tinkering and adapting de Martinville’s phonautograph. Our governments are sitting on it, trying to discern any military application before it is unveiled in public.” Nikolai spoke as he secured the box, which would decide Nate’s future. “The youngster wants to use it as a personal music device. He imagines a world where people listen to phonographic recordings of musicians in their own homes. Can’t see a market for such a thing myself.”

Cara raised her gaze from the box to Nate. “Please tell me we’re up to the part of the plan where we get out of here before he comes looking for me and a dragon egg?”

Nate flicked a worried gaze in her direction before giving a curt nod. “It’s time to take our leave of Nikolai and Natalie.”

One of the courtesans patted Nolton’s blond head. “These boys will be out for a few hours, we’ll make sure they don’t leave before dawn.”

Tearful hugs were exchanged with Natalie as were promises to visit one another before they returned to the hotel room to pack. Cara found the aethergram occupied itself chattering away, busy drawing coded messages from the atmosphere and they awaited her attention. The long strip of ticker tape had overshot the small wire basket meant to contain it and the paper dangled to the carpet like the tongue of an over-heated dog.

Coffee in one hand, she picked up the messages and tore them free. Holding it high, she twisted her head sideways to read the neat vertical print. The first message was from Fraser.

I regret to inform you I can find no veracity to the accusations.

She snorted and cast a glance to Nate. She could imagine how upset Fraser was at being unable to verify the treason charges against his nemesis. The second message bore the simple signature A.

V worsens. Help us all, before it is too late.

She raised a worried gaze to Nate. “Do you think we can we stop her?”

“We can try. First we deliver Sergei and the eggs to Siberia, and then we return to England. I’ll send word to Albert that we will be back in England soon.”