Scotland Hard (Book 2 in the Tom & Laura Series) (3 page)

BOOK: Scotland Hard (Book 2 in the Tom & Laura Series)
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“Who is it and what do you want?” A sour female voice enquired. Whoever she was, she made no attempt to unbolt the door.

“I have the packages. Open the door before I kick it in.” Saunders sounded incensed.

“Oh, it’s you. I might have known.” Her words were followed by the sound of bolts being drawn.

As soon as the door opened, Saunders pushed Tom and Laura through it.

“Take care of them,” he said curtly and followed them into the house.

They could see little of their host in the light of the candle she carried. She wore a tatty nightgown indicating she was a servant. She was more a dark shadow than a person.

“Come along.”

She led them upstairs to their rooms, putting Laura in the first they came to, and Tom in the second. She closed the door on them as soon as they were inside. Tom thought he heard a bolt being slid into place.

He was far too tired to investigate and struggled to get partially undressed and into bed in almost total darkness. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Tom dreamed that someone woke him to make him drink something sweet, and then his sleep became even deeper.

3.
  
Tricky

 

The Laws of Magic

The Laws of Magic were discovered by Sir Isaac Newton. He believed his research would be censured by the Church and kept it a closely guarded secret. After his death the majority of his notebooks were destroyed by the vicar of his parish in the mistaken belief that they described a form of witchcraft.

Fortunately, Sir Isaac’s most important work, Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Magicis, was well hidden and would later be discovered by Lord Magus and form the basis of today’s Military Magic.

 

The Laws of Magic

There are seven and only seven magical talents.

No person can possess more than one of the magical talents.

All the branches are equally represented in the population.

Talent will grow or fade at sexual maturity.

- from A Short History of Military Magics by Sir Anthony Barrett

 

Tom woke to a soft rustling sound. It brought him instantly awake because it sounded as if someone was creeping up on him. The room was bathed in the dull grey light of morning as the curtains to his window were open.

His eyes snapped open and he saw a ripple flow across the tapestry covering the wall. He could almost hear the shuffle of feet and certainly saw where hands pushed at the fabric.

The second thing that Tom discovered was that he was lying on the top of his bed covers without a stitch of clothing. His mother would have been horrified at his lack of decency. The New Victorian man kept his body covered at all times, as nakedness was known to lead to strength sapping perversions outlawed by God. Some took this edict to mean that even bathing should be undertaken clothed, though his mother had never been that strict.

His bed was of the four poster kind. It had drapes and a tent like hood. The drapes had been tied to the posts so he could see around him. He didn’t remember getting fully undressed the previous night, though he had a strange half memory of being given a drink.

Sitting up and hastily pulling a sheet over his groin, Tom called out, putting as much authority into his voice as he could manage.

“I know you are behind that tapestry. Come out at once.”

Whatever Tom had been expecting, it wasn’t the boy that stepped into view with a sheepish grin on his face. The child looked to be no older than ten or eleven.

“I wasn’t hiding from you, guv’nor. If I ‘ad been ‘iding you’d never ‘ave known I was there.”

Tom was fascinated by the boy’s hair and eyes as both were an intense black. Despite the grin on his face, this gave the child a devilish look. The boy shivered despite the fact that it wasn’t particularly cold in the room. He wore a thin white nightshirt that Tom immediately envied, any form of clothing would have been welcome at that moment.

“Me name’s Tricky and you is Carter,” the boy told him, being very matter of fact about it. “I ‘ave things to tell and I don’t ‘ave much time.”

“You have me at a slight disadvantage,” Tom replied courteously. The boy didn’t seem to present any obvious threat. “You haven’t seen my clothes, have you?”

Tom could see nowhere in the room that his clothes might have been placed. Apart from the bed, the tapestry, and the curtains open against a solitary barred window, the room was devoid of any kind of furnishings.

“We don’t ‘ave time for that. You ‘ave to listen to me,” the boy said insistently.

Tom decided that he might as well humor the lad. He had nothing pressing to do, though the need to relieve himself might become a problem in the near future.

“You and the binder girl, Laura Young, ‘ave been caught like rats. We kids are trapped too, waiting to be auctioned off to the ‘ighest bidder. You ‘ave to ‘elp us escape.” The boy stared at Tom with eyes so dark they seemed to trying to swallow his soul. Tom was convinced of the boy’s sincerity. That only left one question, from which house for the insane had Tricky escaped, for he was certainly mad.

“And how do you know all this?” Tom asked, to keep the conversation going while he located his clothes. Staying in bed was no longer an option. He jumped off the mattress and went over to the door. However, a quick turn of the knob informed him it was locked.

“You’re not listening, mister,” Tricky said, a little urgency creeping into his voice. “I was stolen from me ‘ome by these men, taken away by blokes who said they were from Military Magic, but they lied.”

Tricky took a deep breath and then continued his explanation at breakneck speed.

“I’m a Farseer, but I’m kinda broken. Instead of seeing things far away, I can only see things that are close up. I can see inside locks and pick them. That’s ‘ow I found the passages in the walls. That’s why Mam and Dad call me Tricky.”

Tricky licked his lips nervously and waited for Tom’s response.

Tom moved to the window while he listened to the boy. Looking out, he saw fields and grazing sheep. Beyond the first mile or so the fields became forest that stretched to the horizon. Tom tried to remember their arrival at the house the previous night, but his memories were a blur. He had been so tired after the journey he could barely remember the cab and Saunders, let alone what followed it.

“They calls themselves the Brotherhood,” Tricky said a little desperately. “I come to you rather than the binder, because they said Mister Stewed might ‘ave turned her.”

Tom moved from staring out of the window to staring at Tricky. Thoughts flashed through his head at lightning speed.

“You are sure they said Stewed and not Snood?”

Tricky shook his head. “Stewed, Snood, who cares? If she’s working for them we can’t trust her.”

‘If Snood worked for the Brotherhood, and they were held by them now then that meant…’


Have you heard the name Saunders mentioned? James Saunders?”

Tricky detected the eagerness in Tom’s tone and screwed his face up as he tried to remember. “They said Jimmy was goin’ to bring you ‘ere.”

Tom said a rude word under his breath and then a far ruder one a moment later. Saunders must be the leak in MM3 that Trelawney had been looking for, and he had delivered them here himself. That would explain why he had been so annoyed when Laura saw through his disguise.

“Jimmy’s one of them, ‘im and a bloke called Smee,” Tricky said. “I’ve heard them talking through the walls, but I ain’t tall enough to see through the spy ‘oles. The auction will ‘appen soon now that you two are ‘ere.”

Tom stared at the tapestry lost in thought and Tricky shook him to get his attention. “There’s three of us,
Alice
is the oldest, she’s thirteen and she’s a Telepath.”

It took some effort for Tom to get his mind into focus. The revelation about Saunders had shaken him to the core. If the Director of Operations of MM3 worked for the enemy, getting free wasn’t going to be good enough. They had to find out everything he could before they could act.

“Slow down, Tricky,” Tom said, pulling the boy’s hands off his waist. “Who
exactly
is holding us captive? And where are we?”

“Dun know where we are, somewhere out o’
London
in the country, I think,” Tricky said in a voice that suggested he thought Tom was wasting time. “The ‘ouse is run by Bertram Smee. Lord of the manor, ‘e calls ‘imself. ‘E’ll whip you soon as look at you. I got some marks…” The boy started to raise his nightgown, but Tom stopped him. They could look at bruises and share stories about whippings later. What Tom needed right now were answers to more immediate questions.

“Who are they holding captive and why, and while we are at it, just how long have you been held here?”

Tricky sat on the bed and adopted a thinking man’s pose, hand on chin.

“Bin ‘ere near on three weeks,
Alice
a week more than me. We got the testing for talent that everybody ‘as. These men as come round to me ‘ouse said we’d passed the tests and they brought us ‘ere. They said we’re ‘ere for more tests, but I’ve ‘eard them talking and they’re not part of the military, they’re planning on selling us to the highest bidder.”

It would be so easy to imagine the boy was being paranoid, but Tom knew he wouldn’t be locked in the room and left without his clothes if that were the case. Tricky’s story even made some sort of sense. Military Magic tested children for magical talent and the more talented were sent to special schools. The Empire needed the services of every one of them in its endeavors to grow.

If Saunders had infiltrated MM3, which was responsible for managing the most talented magicians as well as intelligence work, it would be easy for him to arrange the kidnap of some of them. The bureaucracy of the Empire was so complicated that it was possible nobody would notice; especially if he covered his tracks behind him. Complaints from parents would probably come to Saunders desk. Tom dreaded to think how Saunders might deal with any truly persistent parent. There was only one problem with this theory as far as Tom could see.

“Who does the Brotherhood work for? The Hungarian Empire? The French?”

Tricky sneered. “They does it for dosh. The Brotherhood ain’t working for anyone, but number one.”

‘Was it just about money? Was it that simple?’


Who are the other children?”

Tricky counted out on his fingers.

“There’s me, Alice and Ebb, short for Ebenezer. We’re all a bit odd, magically speakin’.
Alice
’s a telepath who can send messages into anybody’s ‘ead. She shouts a lot. Ebb’s a Precog, but only for five seconds ahead, but real reliable like, an’ all the time.”

“How did you get in my room and where’s Laura?” Tom asked. As he asked his questions, Tom saw the boy wince as if he had been hit hard on the head.

“Got to go, someone’s comin’,” Tricky said urgently. “I wish
Alice
‘ud learn to whisper and not shout at me.”

Tricky was back behind the tapestry before Tom could react. Tom thought it was a stupid place to hide and went to drag Tricky out. When he lifted the tapestry the wall behind was free of the boy. All he saw was wooden paneling from floor to ceiling.

Tom might have begun tapping the wood to try to find the secret passage, but he heard the sound of his door being unbolted and decided that lying in bed was a better place to be found, rather than tapping on the walls like a lunatic. He was still naked and there might even be a woman on the other side of the door.

He pretended to wake as the door opened. A butler in his fifties held open the door as a young maid entered the room. She carried a tray laden with food, her head was down and she stared at the floor as though it might jump up and bite her if she glanced away.

“Good morning, sir. I trust you enjoyed a fine night’s sleep,” the butler enquired as though he might be interested in the answer. He was immaculately dressed, clean-shaven and well spoken.

“I seem to have mislaid my clothes,” Tom said apologetically. “You don’t happen to know where they I might find them?”

The maid giggled and then went silent as if she sensed the frown the butler bestowed on her, though she certainly couldn’t have seen it. She tensed her neck as if waiting for a blow, but it did not come.

“Your needs will be attended to shortly, sir,” the butler told him gravely. “If sir is in need of relief you will find a night jar beneath the bed. I’m afraid I must leave you now and be about my duties.”

The maid placed the breakfast tray at the bottom of his bed and backed away. As she ducked under the butler’s arm he clipped her head with his free hand. The girl uttered a small cry of pain as she disappeared from sight.

Tom was planning to ask about Laura, but the butler left the room and the door swung shut behind him. Tom heard a bolt being pushed home and knew he was locked in again.

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