Moonlight & Mechanicals (21 page)

The thrill of being secretive was going to get old very quickly. She made a mental note to begin looking for a small house to lease as soon as this Ascot business was over. Between her salary from the Order and her patents, she made more than enough to support herself, even without the generous allowance her parents insisted upon.

She tugged on a nightgown before pressing the button beside the bed to let Libby know she was awake. Other grand houses still had a bell pull system, but Wink had done away with that at the Hadrian homes years ago. Each room had a discreet button connecting it to the servants’ hall, where it would flip a simple switch. No clanging bells in this house.

While she waited for Libby, Wink checked the room to be sure there were no traces of Liam remaining. Of course, fastidious as he was, he hadn’t left his necktie, nor a sock, nor even a handkerchief. In fact, the most obvious sign that someone other that Wink had been here was the stack of her neatly folded clothing. It was a shame to undo his efforts, but Wink tumbled the pile off the dresser and onto the floor.
There.
Now it looked as though she’d undressed herself. Wink sent a silent apology to her long-suffering maid. Libby earned every bit of her lucrative wages.

She sat down on the bed to brush out her hair and a glint of something shiny caught her eye. There on the bedside table rested a tiny gold wolf. She picked it up and ran her hand across the satiny patina. At perhaps an inch and a half from head to tail, it wasn’t detailed, representing just a stylized silhouette. There were no gems, the edges were smooth and worn and a look at the pin on the back told her it was old. Liam hadn’t purchased this as a token of affection. This was something he’d kept on his person, probably for years. Wink held it in her hand and cradled it close. Another barrier had come down.

After Libby came and helped her dress, Wink pinned the wolf to her shift and closed her shirtwaist over it. She wasn’t about to leave it behind, but she wasn’t ready to share it with the world yet, either.

In the breakfast room, she met Tom and Piers, who were already dressed for traveling. The two were leaving today for Windsor, along with Liam. Wink and Connor would remain behind to coordinate from the Club—likely with the help of Jamie, who seemed to have volunteered for duty. Piers had been conscripted into acting as technical support at the duke’s Windsor residence for the duration. Of all the siblings, he was the only one who could work with any of Wink’s inventions. As a boy, he’d called himself her apprentice and swore he wanted to be an engineer himself—until he’d gone to school and discovered whole other worlds of study.

“Papa and Mum called this morning,” Piers told Wink and Nell. “They’re meeting us in Windsor. Come up if you can, once we have the all-clear.”

“They’re not bringing the children?” Nell looked up in alarm.

“Of course not.” Piers patted Nell’s hand. “This is just a quick visit—mostly because Papa’s still a Knight, and the duke called in all hands. The royal enclosure will be packed with Knights and their families.”

“And one Irish earl,” Wink said. “Keep an eye on Liam’s family, please. Don’t let them humiliate him in public.”

“Already planned on it.” Tom grinned. “I wonder if the earl likes to play cards.”

The others laughed. Tom had made his living as a card sharp in Wapping. Liam’s father wouldn’t stand a chance.

After Tom and Piers left and Nell went off to her classes, Jamie and Wink made their way to the Camelot Club. Much of the staff had decamped for Windsor with the duke, so the place had an odd, almost haunted feel to it. Along with Connor, they spent the day poring over printouts and trying to make connections.

“Well, it’s about bloody time.” Shortly before five o’clock, Jamie hooted and waved a sheet of newspaper over his head like a flag. “After six hours of reading Society gossip until I wanted to puke, I finally found the name of Lord Trumball’s mistress—a Mrs. Harriette Eggerston.”

“Good,” Wink said. “Now for another property search.” She flexed her fingers and keyed the name into the analytical engine as Jamie spelled it.

Connor sighed and picked up another stack of papers. “I know. Start hunting for that name anywhere.”

“Exactly.”

Jamie stood and stretched. “I’m ordering supper. I think we’re going to be here awhile.”

* * *

Liam looked out over the racecourse with a captain from each of the Household Cavalry regiments. “The grounds tomorrow will be sewn up right and tight,” the Life Guard captain said with a crisp nod. “No rioters will be anywhere near the royal procession. I can promise you that.”

“Indeed.” The Blues and Royals officer nodded briskly. “We’ll have the perimeter of the royal enclosure secured. The Yeomen of the Guard will be in the procession itself, surrounding Her Majesty and then inside the enclosure with her at all times. We’ve pulled in a couple other regiments from the area as well, to fill in as needed.”

Liam nodded. “And there will be a mix of plainclothes and uniformed policemen along with Home Office agents and retired military volunteers mingling among the public stands. Altogether, that
should
keep out any determined insurgents.” There would be as much military and civilian firepower here as there had been at some of the battles in the Crimea. The Queen and her consort had refused to disappoint the populace by not attending, but at least none of the Royal children would be present. The Prince of Wales, in particular, was safely back at Buckingham.

The Army had scores of men watching the grounds overnight, so Liam caught a lift back to Windsor and took himself off for a walk to clear his head. He’d be bunking with Tom and Piers tonight since the Duke’s townhouse near the castle was overflowing with every Knight and Order employee not on assignment elsewhere. There was also a large number of Hadrians. Liam really wasn’t looking forward to sitting down and chatting with Merrick. While he’d come to grips with loving Wink, he wasn’t ready to ask the man for her hand.

The idea of marriage still scared the hell out of him, but it had begun to seem more or less inevitable. If they continued as they were, sooner or later they’d get caught, either
in flagrante delicto
by one of her myriad relations or by a pregnancy. As he’d warned her, no method of contraception was foolproof. And yet, perhaps, with Wink, it wouldn’t be the disaster he’d feared. She was so much stronger than his mother had been. She wouldn’t let anyone, even him, hurt one of her children. Perhaps she was right. Maybe they could make a go of it. After the insanity of this week was over, he’d spend some time sorting things out. At the very least, he wanted to tell her he loved her.

“McCullough, old boy. Didn’t think I’d see you at the races.”

Liam looked up to see Kersleigh and Lord Eustace smiling at him from the front stoop of a pub.

Eustace waved him over. “Well, come on in, man. Everybody’s here. Have a drink or two with us.”

“Sure.” Cringing internally, Liam made his was across the street. “What luck, running into you here.”
Indeed. What rotten luck.

Liam let Eustace and Kersleigh lead him into the pub. Haversham and a couple of the others Liam had met at the meeting were present, all of them apparently lodging at the same inn.

Haversham clapped Liam on the shoulder. “So where are you staying, old chap? I think they’re full up here, but if you need a bed, you could share with someone, I’m sure.”

Liam shook his head and accepted a mug of ale. “Here on official business, so my lodging is covered,” he said. “They always like to have a few coppers watching the betting stands and keeping an eye on the riffraff.” It was the first excuse he could think of to explain his presence.

“Good, good.” Haversham nodded. “You’ve met Kersleigh, right?” He nodded toward the man sitting next to him. “Our illustrious founder, eh.”

“We’ve met.” Liam reached across to shake Kersleigh’s hand.

Half an hour of idle chatter later, and Liam was ready to shoot himself in the foot for an excuse to leave. He drained his drink and stood. “Well, duty calls and all that. I’ll try to catch up with you later in the week.”

Kersleigh stood as well. “I need a bit of air. I’ll walk with you a ways, Inspector.”

“Decent of you.” Liam’s feet didn’t seem to work entirely properly. He made it out the door and gulped in some fresh air, his head swimming.

“Sorry about this, Inspector.” Kersleigh wrapped an arm around Liam’s waist as if he was helping a drunken friend, and walked him to a coach waiting behind the inn. “I was watching for you all day. Slipped some wolf’s bane in your ale. Can’t have you interfering with the grand plan, now, can we?”

Liam’s world tilted and two big men came off the coach to bundle him inside. One held his nose while the other poured a noxious liquid down his throat.

“Good night, Inspector. It seems you’ll be part of the Glorious Revolution after all.”

Chapter Twelve

“You’re going to be my best creation yet.”

Liam fought against the lassitude that dragged at him and managed to open his eyes. An unfamiliar woman leaned over him, her head bent over Liam’s hand. “Who the hell are you?”

“Mind your manners, boy.” As she twisted the screwdriver she held over his hand, Liam’s arm went into a painful spasm up to the shoulder. “I’m your new mistress. And you—you are going to make a lovely mechanical soldier. I’ve never worked with anyone so strong.” She wasn’t young, but hadn’t yet gone gray. With medium brown hair and blue eyes, the woman wouldn’t have turned any heads, but she held herself with the confidence of a woman in control of her own fortunes.

He tried to move but found he was held in place by a number of chains—silvered ones, based on the way they burned his skin. His vision cleared enough that he could look around him. The sloped walls and equipment attached suggested he was in the hold of a ship—no, an airship. That was a spare hot-air burner in the corner. They weren’t moving, though—the room was steady beneath the table he lay on.

A moment of panic ripped through him when he realized he couldn’t feel his feet. Looking down at them, he saw his legs had been encased in shining bronze, along with the lower half of his torso. Standing a few yards away was row on row of gleaming metal-covered humans—just like he would be soon.

Bloody Kersleigh!

Even when he’d been hiding in a closet, bruised from his father’s fists, Liam had never been in a situation as dire as this. It took all his strength not to give in to the terror and the pain. He needed to keep his head. He needed to figure out a way to escape. A raw moan filled the air and he realized the sound had come from his own mouth. He tried to move, but his limbs refused to respond to his brain’s commands.

“So, our new experiment is awake.” A man’s face appeared over the woman’s shoulder. It wasn’t Kersleigh, but there was a distinct resemblance in the hawk-like nose and the shape of his jaw. He had the same straight dark hair, though not as neatly slicked back. “How’s the operation going, my love?”

“Well enough,” she said. “The silver wire seems to be working as we suspected it would. This would have been easier back at the warehouse, but I can make do here. Welcome to our private yacht, Inspector.”

“Lord Trumball, I presume.” Liam heard his own voice weakly, as if through a fog. The man had removed his coat and a bandage wrapped his upper arm, showing through his thin linen shirt. Was he the one Jamie had shot in Wapping? “And you must be Mrs. Eggerston.”

“I see you’ve done your research. Such a shame you chose to work for the police,” Trumball said. “You would have made an excellent asset for the Revolution.”

“You’re not going to succeed.” Liam hoped to hell he was right. Could the Order and the cavalry fight off this many mechanical soldiers? There were dozens of them, more than he could count, and all presumably under Trumball’s command.

“Of course we are.” Mrs. Eggerston tightened the screw holding the bronze glove to Liam’s left hand and began to poke wires into his right. Pain stabbed through him, but try as he might, he couldn’t so much as twitch a finger. Small cuts in his skin allowed her to connect the wires to his bones with tiny screws, just like he’d seen in the broken bit he’d found. Each cut into his skin burned—the scalpel they were using had to be silver. He felt every tendon and muscle as it was mutilated. White-hot agony seared him as the wire went into his bones. “My brother is one of the chief officers of the Yeomen of the Guard. Believe me, Her High-and-Mightiness is totally convinced this is nothing more than a silly ploy to keep her from her public.”

Liam groaned. That explained the lack of cooperation they’d gotten from the palace. The military would be present for show, but weren’t truly expecting trouble.

Little by little, Eggerston and Trumball encased him in metal, fusing it to every bone, muscle and joint as they went. Through it all, he remained conscious, in excruciating pain and helpless. The wolf’s bane toxin and the sheer quantity of silver inside his body prevented him from shifting or even moving at all.

“Why?” he asked Trumball as the man helped his mistress bolt the breastplate over Liam’s chest. “You’re not a younger son. What’s in this for you?”

Trumball shook his head. “The whole Prodigal’s Club nonsense? Bah. They’re little more than a distraction—though they have proven a useful source of funds. They also give my brother Victor something to do. His job is to keep the soldiers and police too busy putting down their petty riot to notice when my army arrives. Once I’ve killed that usurper bitch and proven the superiority of my—our—soldiers, Parliament will give in and grant me the throne, as the rightful heir of George IV.”

“And one day,
my
son—our son—will be king,” Eggerston crowed. Now she began to shove wires into Liam’s neck, making him scream.

Soon, his screams stopped. He couldn’t even do that, not even move his lips. All motor control over his body was gone. All he could manage was to blink. Swearing mentally, Liam lay there in horror until they’d clamped the final piece of armor on—the faceplate that left him little more than a breathing hole and eye openings.

“Here we go, my love.” Trumball pressed a button on a small device about the size of a snuffbox. Liam’s spine jerked, and he found himself sitting upright.

Eggerston cheered.

Trumball pressed another button, and Liam stood.

“Oh, excellent work, dearest.” Trumball gave his mistress a smacking kiss.

Liam tried to fight, but no matter how he struggled, his body moved without his conscious control. He made his way to one of the rows of soldiers and took his place at the head of it.

As the lights turned out, he remained standing, but his body felt no fatigue. In fact he felt no physical sensations at all—just horror.

“Good night, my beautiful army,” Eggerston called as she left, giggling like a girl and clinging to Trumball’s arm. “Tomorrow we take over the kingdom.”

* * *

“Wink, wake up.”

Wink rolled over to see Jamie standing beside her bed. “What’s wrong?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, but something’s gone totally pear-shaped. We need to get back to work.”

She sat up and rubbed her eyes, glad she was in a sedate cotton nightgown. “Have you called Windsor? Is everything all right there?”

He nodded. “They’re all accounted for, except Liam. And we all know he likes to walk at night, on four legs. I just think we need to find where they’re keeping the prisoners.”

If Jamie thought it was important, Wink wasn’t going to argue. She threw back the covers. “Go call Connor. Have him meet us at the Club. There has to be something we can do.”

Jamie smiled. “Thanks for believing in me.”

Wink tousled his hair. “No problem. Now go.”

She dragged on her coveralls and sturdy boots instead of a skirt and corset. If there was trouble, she preferred to meet it armed to the teeth.

They worked through the night, catching naps in shifts. It was only after the steward brought in breakfast that Connor shouted, “Eureka.”

Wink and Jamie looked over at him, bleary eyed, barely daring to hope.

“Please tell me you’ve found the secret spell that will end this once and for all,” Jamie said.

“Not quite.” Connor shrugged. “But this is good. There’s a warehouse in Richmond, right on the river, owned by one Harold Eggerston, minor. It was purchased just two years ago. Want to guess who his legal guardian is?”

“His mother’s protector, one Lord Trumball, I’m guessing?” Wink keyed in another search. A few minutes later, she studied the printout. “Right. I’ve got a baptismal record for little Harold. His father is listed as unidentified. He’s eight. Now why would an eight-year-old want a warehouse?”

“Perhaps Lord Trumball—that is, his unidentified father—buys him too many toys to keep in the house.” Jamie flipped through another sheaf. “According to Debrett’s, Trumball is married, but doesn’t have any legitimate children. Harold might be his one and only.”

“That would make him heir apparent as well, if I follow Trumball’s thinking correctly. Well, we have an address,” Connor said. “I’m off to investigate.”

“We’ll all go,” Wink said. “We’re not much of a force, but we’re all we’ve got. With George and Jojo, we have a few reinforcements.”

Connor winced. “You know your father is going to kill me, right?”

Jamie shrugged. “Papa knows us. And he’s made sure we were trained, even the girls.”

“Jamie, gather our weapons.” Wink keyed in the instructions to print out a map of the address. “Connor, can you telephone Superintendent Dugan? Liam said he was staying in London. Perhaps he can arrange us a boat. I’ll bet you anything that this warehouse opens onto the water, since that’s how they’ve transported their victims.”

A few minutes later, they reconvened.

“We found the warehouse.” Wink held up a detailed map of the Richmond waterfront. “I was right. It’s on the river and has its own dock.”

Jamie handed Wink her rapier and the electrical stun gun, which she strapped on. Jamie tapped the experimental weapon. “Connor, did you purchase one of these for yourself?”

Connor shook his head. “Why?”

Jamie shrugged. “I don’t know. I just have the feeling they might come in handy. Couldn’t tell you what for. Maybe there’s someone we’ll need to subdue and not kill.”

“I didn’t buy one for myself, but since Wink approved them, I did purchase a few for the Order.” Connor strode off to the weapons locker and returned with three more. “This is all we have. I thought Superintendent Dugan might like one as well.”

Jamie and Connor each strapped one on their waists. They used an Order carriage to travel to the police dock, and during the ride, they all cranked up their electrical charges. At the boat, they met Dugan with two young, uniformed constables. It wasn’t much of a force, but it was better than nothing.

“I have a bad feeling we need to hurry,” Jamie said. “I didn’t want to say anything to you until I was sure, but I saw something else on the way here. Something horrible has happened to Liam.”

“The hell you say!” Wink glared at him. “And you waited until now to mention it?”

Jamie shrugged. “Sometimes the visions don’t sort themselves out right away.”

“Top speed, lad,” Dugan said to the pilot, his gruff voice thicker than Wink had ever heard it. He’d been around the Hadrians enough to trust Jamie’s feelings. “That boy’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a son.”

Wink swallowed tears and slipped her hand into the officer’s bigger one and they sat there, silently trying to comfort one another.

It wasn’t a long journey, but due to the urgency Jamie displayed, it seemed to take forever. Wink checked her watch just before they docked. “It’s almost noon, gents. The royal procession starts at two. If they’ve got something planned for today, that only gives us two hours to put a stop to it.” Only two hours to rescue Liam, if only they weren’t already too late.

The dock was deserted, allowing them to tie up without any trouble. Dugan left one constable to guard the boat, leaving them a force of five, plus George. It wasn’t much, if they found themselves facing an army of metal soldiers, but hopefully that wouldn’t come to pass.

“Place looks deserted,” said Dugan as they moved close to the building. “Might have already left.”

“Christ, I hope not.” Wink eased over to the door and held her ear against it. “I can’t hear anything inside. Shall I pick the lock, or shoot it off?”

“Allow me,” said Connor.

Wink moved aside, pointing her weapon toward the door, along with the others. Connor muttered the words of a spell and the hinges and lock disintegrated, allowing him to kick the door in. The crash echoed in the empty space of the warehouse.

“Damn it.” Wink looked at the floor, spotted with machine oil, but not dusty enough to have been abandoned for long. “We’re too late.”

“’Fraid so, lass.” Dugan patted her shoulder.

“Over there.” Jamie pointed to one shadowed corner, where a tarpaulin mostly covered a pile of…something. Guns still drawn, they approached it. George growled. Something beneath the tarp twitched, and Wink lifted her stunner, nodding to Connor who held his sword out to lift the edge of the heavy sailcloth. The stench of rot nearly overwhelmed her, and she carefully breathed through her mouth.

Metal-covered bodies, mutilated unclad bodies and scraps of spare metal had been haphazardly tossed into a pile. Humans and dogs in various states of decay had obviously failed at some point in their conversion. On the top of the pile, a dog, its left hind leg missing, flailed weakly with its right. Connor shot the poor animal, but the bullet pinged off, ricocheting into the wall.

“They’re impervious,” Dugan said in horror. “How will we stop them?”

Just enough golden fur showed at the torn-off leg for Wink to know it wasn’t Liam. Her racing heart slowed a tad, enough to make her hand steady. “I have an idea.” She turned the dial on her stun gun up to full charge and shot the still-twitching dog.

When the electrodes hit the metal, there was a zap of electricity and then a crackle. Sparks burst from several of the joints and the dog’s frame went lax, its limbs hanging loosely in their sockets.

Connor pulled the dog off the pile while Wink extracted a screwdriver from her tool belt. She opened the dog’s faceplate to reveal a once-beautiful collie. “It’s dead. Now we know—we can stop them with electricity, but we may well kill the man or dog inside. It depends on how far gone this one was when I shot him.”

“Maybe a lower charge,” Connor said. He and Jamie began the grisly task of sorting through the remaining bodies, all of which were already dead. None were Liam or Eamon Miller, thank goodness. Neither were any of the dogs a large silver-and-black wolf.

On the bottom of the pile was a dented box—perhaps four inches by three and two inches deep. Several buttons and dials covered the surface, and a steel rod poked out the top.

“Radio waves,” Wink whispered in awe as she unscrewed the box and studied the wiring. “Oh, my goodness, they’re using radio waves instead of wires for the controls. It’s brilliant—I had no idea this was possible.”