Phoenix Rising (26 page)

She crooked an eyebrow. “And the rest of you lot?”

All of the children looked at the floor. The little girl—Serena, Eliza had called her—shuffled her feet, sticking her bottom lip out in a pout. She seemed heartbroken.

“So I see.” Eliza nodded curtly. “Well then, hot baths for the lot of you . . . after breakfast this morning. You're going to need your strength. So go on, tuck in.”

The children could not have moved faster if crushers were on their heels. They had scooted themselves up to the table when Alice reappeared with more platters of piping-hot eggs, porridge, bacon, kippers, kedgeree, and toast. Eliza smiled, her eyes twinkling slightly as she watched the street urchins wait for their plates to arrive before them.

“Remember, don't eat too fast lest you make yourselves sick,” she said.

“Yes, mum,” they answered in muffled unison, their cheeks already stuffed with food.

The little girl forced down her mouthful before the others, and said, “Miss Eliza mum, may I go first with a bath once my breakfast's all done?”

“Certainly you may, Serena.”

The child lightly chewed the lip that was displayed in her earlier pout, and then asked, “Can I have my bath with them roses like yours?”

The boys chuckled, but were quickly silenced by a look from Eliza.

“I'll have Alice prepare the bath accordingly.”

Wellington looked at the agent, perplexed.

Eliza shrugged. “It's a touch of hero worship.”

He was about to speak when a subtle waving of a hand and a slow headshake held his words at bay. Whatever she was up to, these urchins were part of her plan.

“Oi!” another boy exclaimed, his mouth full of bread and marmalade. “ 'Oo's the toff?”

Wellington raised an eyebrow, both to the child and Eliza's stifling a laugh. He frowned, hoping her plan would begin sooner than later.

“This is Wellington Books, Esquire. He is my . . .” She considered him for a moment, and then continued, “. . . my new partner. We are working on a rather tricky puzzle.”

“Saving the world again, Miss Eliza?” the elder boy asked.

“Perhaps, Christopher. I'm hoping you and the lads will be able to answer the call of Queen and Country.”

“Yes, mum,” chirped the youngest boy before slurping down the rest of his tea.

“Mr. Books,” Eliza motioned to the children, “these brave subjects of the Queen are the Ministry Seven, my eyes and ears on the streets of London.”

“As well as your chamber pots, by the collected whiff of them,” Wellington snipped.

“Oi,” barked a lad next to Christopher, “come over 'ere and say that! I'll knock yer blimmin' teeth in!”

Eliza inclined her head to one side. “And Liam could do so, I assure you.” She looked back to the boy and motioned him to resume his seat. “Mr. Books has a few names I want you all to hear.” She then turned to Wellington and asked, “Would you mind reading off the names of the couples we just heard about?”

Wellington looked between them, his mind spinning. What was this woman up to? He cleared his throat and read off the Phoenix Society's candidates, his brow furrowing more with each one.

“All right,” she began, “out of those four couples, who would you all consider to be the thickest?”

Without looking up from their food, the Ministry Seven replied in unison, “The St. Johns.”

Eliza looked over at Wellington for a moment and then asked, “Are you sure—”

“Coo, mum,” replied a skinny lad who, while filthy, managed to have the most brilliant blond hair Wellington had ever seen. “That couple makes Alice's porridge here look like chicken broth.”

She bent at the knees to get closer to the boy, bringing herself to his eye level. “Now, Colin, why do you say that?”

“Trust me, mum,” Christopher said, his mouth now twisted into a wry grin. “It's no exaggeration. If the St. Johns are out, it's a good day for us.”

“Here now,” Colin piped in, seemingly enjoying the attention. His smile widened as he returned back to his host. “We had them picked for right marks and so we went to liberates them of the lady's purse. I make the grab but my fingers do brush the lady's wrist. She turns on me and I knows I's a gonna'.”

Eliza nodded. “Indeed.”

“I'm supposed to try and make for the catch,” Christopher said, “when the lady says ‘Well now, fancy that, lad. I has a purse like that!' Then the bloke turns about and I's expects him to grab at Colin and take him to the peelers. He looks at the purse and then at Colin, and then says ‘Well, now, I say, you can't have the purse without the matching gloves, son, so here.' He then hands Colin a few quid so he can go and buy the gloves. ‘Don't keep your mum waiting, lad.' And they left Colin there, standing with the purse and the quid in his hands.”

“Sounds as if you were just lucky,” Eliza said.

“Tell him how many times, Colin,” prodded Christopher.

“Three times.” Colin said, “Each time, I was in a hurry and the like. Just saw the purse, went for it, and didn't realise it was the same couple. As God and St. Peter are my witness, each time, we had the same words. The very same.”

Wellington scoffed. “Good Lord, that is thick! They must be extremely well-off to attract the Phoenix Society.”

“Right then,” Eliza said with a nod to Alice. “Ministry Seven, your country calls. I have a job for you.”

Everyone paused in their wolfing down of food, and smiled to one another. All except for Serena who continued to stare at Eliza with wide-eyed admiration. From the elation in all their faces, it was going to be an exciting day for them.

“All thickness aside, this one is going to be tricky, but don't worry,” she said as Alice returned to the parlour, “I'll make this worth your while.”

Alice cradled in her arms a wide, flat box that opened with a soft creak. Wellington felt his eyes pop wide at the sight of the diamond necklace catching the light filtering into the atrium. With a slight shrug, Eliza presented the stunning creation to Christopher.

“What's the game then?” Christopher asked.

Eliza tipped her head to one side and then smiled, “Blind Man's Bluff?”

“Blind Man's Bluff?” asked Colin through a mouthful of pastry. “Nah, peelers will see right through that. Three Blind—”

“—Mice isn't right for the St. Johns,” interjected the little girl, her expression now shrewd and impeccably sharp. “Sorry, Miss Eliza mum, but if this is a game of Who's Your Father? I'm thinking we're going to need something a touch more . . .”

“Sophisticated,” interrupted Eliza. “You're absolutely right, Serena.”

That acknowledgement made the little girl as radiant as the sunlight dappling the atrium's tiles.

Wellington found himself completely void. “Pardon me, but while I wait for your charming Comedy of Errors to conclude, I think I'm going to help myself to a fresh pot of tea.”

A huff caused him to start. “You stay right there, gov!” insisted Alice, her legs giving a few quick puffs as she headed for the kitchen. “I'll have the kettle on straightaway.” She made no complaint that this was the
third
pot of the morning.

Eliza's mouth opened as if she were about to correct Alice again, but Liam's words cut the silence quick. “Oi, I think the toff is onto something.”

“I beg your pardon!” Wellington spluttered.

“Wha . . . ?” Christopher's eyes went back and forth between Colin and Wellington. “You can't be serious, Liam? The Comedy of Errors? It's been a while.”

The soft laugh grabbed everyone's attention. Eliza rested her hands on her hips, considering Wellington as she said, “If what I have heard tell, the Comedy of Errors was even before my time. Makes it all the better.”

“Wow,” another boy whispered before saying to Liam, “if Comedy of Errors was before mum's time, that makes it—”

“Another word from you, Callum,” Eliza warned without looking at him, “and I promise you'll get the same rose-scented bath as Serena.”

The little girl giggled.

“That's gonna get complicated, mum,” Christopher said, his expression was wary and uncertain.

“An admirable bluff, Christopher,” Eliza said, smirking slightly, “but the compensation you have already pocketed should very well cover the risk.”

“She's got you there, Chrissy,” sniggered Colin.

Christopher hissed at his compatriot, but his sharp turn caused the jewelry to clatter in his coat. The younger was absolutely right.

The whistle from the kitchen caused Wellington to straighten his stance, his hands lightly brushing the wrinkles from his trousers. “You lot have me at a loss, but I have a fresh cup of tea on the way so I honestly don't care. Miss Braun, when you are done holding class, perhaps we can—”

“Welly, the Comedy of Errors is a confidence game where the Ministry Seven here will carefully and cleverly plant stolen merchandise in the St. Johns' home, and then, with thespian skills rivaling the performers of the London Opera, will mistake the St. Johns for their ringleaders. While they are detained by the Constable, the evidence and eyewitnesses will mount high enough that the St. Johns will be detained for all the weekend, while you and I pose as the St. Johns at their scheduled appointment.”

“Miss Braun,” Wellington raised one hand, “the St. Johns will most likely call their solicitors and slip as quickly out of jail as these urchins get them in it.”

“We are detaining a couple hand-selected for joining a secret society—a secret society that take their desire to stay secret very seriously, as we have recorded here. Do you think the St. Johns, socially challenged as they are, will complain? To anyone?”

Wellington opened his mouth to speak, paused, and then cleared his throat. “Good point, Miss Braun.”

“So, Ministry Seven, do we have an accord?”

“I like it when you talk all fancy like that, mum,” chuckled Colin.

“When do you need it done, Miss Eliza?” Liam asked.

“Before lunch, hence the big breakfast.” Christopher gave a nod to Eliza. “Well done. Now finish up, and Alice will see
to your baths.
” All of them groaned in protest. Eliza continued, “At one o'clock, I'll expect you back here with proper announcement cards and, as you're loading up their apartments, keep an eye out for this emblem. Books?”

Wellington flipped through the journal and came across a sketch he had made of the Phoenix Society emblem. The children gave it a hard look and then turned back to Eliza.

“If you find anything bearing that, bring it to us.”

“As it is on your word, Miss Eliza,” Christopher stated, “it's done.”

“Excellent. We will see you here promptly at one. Now finish your breakfast.” Eliza looked over to Wellington. “Shall we?”

Wellington blinked. “Shall we what?”

“Work. You know, Welly? The Archives? Keeping up appearances and all that?”

He blinked again. That's right. It was Friday morning. “Oh, well, yes.”

“I'll even make you a fresh cup of tea at the Ministry.”

Wellington rolled his eyes. “Lovely.”

As they walked to the door, he cast a glance over to his shoulder.

“The Ministry Seven?” He shook his head ruefully. “I suppose I do not need to list how many protocols and regulations you have violated just in
giving
them any such name!”

“Sometimes, Welly, when an agent is in the field—particularly when the field is the Great City herself—you need to break convention. The Ministry Seven are very good at what they do. They have provided Harry and myself with fabulous intelligence. We gave them that name so that they might feel included. A part of the great machine that is the Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences.”

“But Ministry Seven?” Wellington exclaimed. “Miss Braun, the Ministry would hardly endorse—”

The impossible woman actually wagged her finger at him. “They are
my
sources and do outstanding reconnaissance for your Queen and Country. Besides—there is never a situation that diamonds can't fix.” She clicked her tongue suddenly, as if remembering something. “I would have liked to introduce you to all of them. I missed the twins. Those two are so bloody quiet. That is what makes them so good at slipping into impenetrable hideouts, you know.”

He could see in her eyes she would brook no further argument on the children—he would have to learn to pick his battles. “Which reminds me,” Wellington began as he opened the door for Eliza. “That necklace. Where did you ever get a treasure like that?”

“Assignment in Egypt.” She sighed heavily. “Raj. He was a lovely man: dark skinned, finely toned muscles, and such romance. And from the gifts he bestowed upon me, he found me rather charming, too.”