The Friday Society (16 page)

Cora nodded. “Yes.”

“Well, then, there you go. Money. Usually the motivation for most crimes.”

“How old are you?” Cora leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest.

“What . . . I . . . twenty-one. Just. Why, what does it matter?”

“You talk as if you’ve been on the job a long time, but I know the rules, and you can’t have been an officer more for than a couple months.”

“What’s your point?”

“I don’t trust your experience, is all. Quite frankly I don’t think you know what you’re doing.”

Officer Murphy sputtered at her candor. He ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it up further and seemed to be having a private conversation with himself, nodding his head about and sighing a few times. Finally: “Miss, you’re young. Younger than I am, and not an officer and . . . well, I’d call you a bit of a troublemaker, quite frankly. I’ve taken your statement about the girl, and I think it’s time for the two of you to leave.” He rose. This time it was clear that he wouldn’t be sitting down again. It was also clear that they should be standing up. So Nellie stood.

Cora didn’t.

“Alice.”

“What was that?” said Officer Murphy.

“The ‘girl’ has a name. And it’s Alice Foster.” She stood finally and slowly began to put her gloves back on. “Thank you, Officer Murphy. And I apologize for my comment. You clearly, in your short time in this job, have come to exemplify all that we expect from the police.”

There was another sputter, and Cora turned and left. Nellie took it to be her cue as well, but she felt so bad for Officer Murphy, and she couldn’t just leave him like that. He hadn’t been mean on purpose. He was just doing his job.

“Thank you for speakin’ with us,” she said with an apologetic smile.

Officer Murphy nodded.

She turned to leave and heard him blurt out, “Name!”

She looked back at him. “I’m sorry?”

He had a dejected expression on his face, his shoulders drooped, and his hair even seemed to have lost its frustrated enthusiasm. “Your name. I . . . forgot to get your names the other night, and now this time and . . . I just wanted your name.”

Nellie smiled. “That was Miss Cora Bell. And I’m Nellie. Harrison.”

“Nellie,” repeated Officer Murphy. “I’m . . . Jeff. Jeffery. Jeff.”

Nellie felt a little flutter in her heart at the name and quickly turned to follow Cora before she felt anything stronger. Not that there was anything wrong with a flutter. But it probably wasn’t the time or place.

Cora was pacing impatiently outside the station.

“I’m sorry that he couldn’t help,” said Nellie softly.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ve been taking care of myself for seventeen years, and I can take care of this.”

“Oh . . . good . . .”

There wasn’t much more Nellie felt she could say.

They parted ways. It was already past supper time, and the sun had fallen low behind the rooftops, cloaking the city in shadow and giving it its premature evening look as it did every night. Still blue in the sky, but dark in the streets.

As Nellie wound her way home and reappeared in her square, she remembered her meeting with Mr. Staunch and Mr. Proper and thought back to what Cora had said about Mr. Carter. Also about what she’d said about taking things into her own hands. . . .

There were no two ways about it: she’d have to take her investigation to a whole new level.

25

A Gap Between Two Buildings

M
ICHIKO STARED BETWEEN
her feet at the ground so far below her. Her heart was still racing, even though she’d stopped herself just in time. She couldn’t get over the idea that she’d almost plunged to her death. It didn’t feel at all like she’d prevented the inevitable. Rather her imagination was so vivid that a version of herself in her mind’s eye was falling fast toward the pavement, picking up speed, and then . . . then . . .

“Silver Heart!”
Hayao called out to her across the chasm. He’d so effortlessly leaped across the space between the two roofs that it had seemed perfectly possible for her to do it, too. But as the moment had approached, as the ledge had gotten closer and the space looked wider, Michiko doubted herself. Gripped with a sudden fear, she’d pulled to a frantic standstill, fighting her own forward momentum and thrashing to a pretty impressive stop just in time. Fortunately, she had years of balance training to help her.

It was the same problem. The same every time. She could never really embrace death, face it head-on. She could never commit herself as much as was demanded of her. It wasn’t for a lack of desire. But in the moment she failed herself. Every time.

“I . . . can’t . . .”
said Michiko, truly embarrassed to admit defeat to her student. This had been a bad idea. A master was not meant to seem weak, to seem fearful. She was doing this all wrong.

“Yes, you can. You are doing very well. Just try it again, and remember to focus on your goal. The ledge, the left hand down, kick out the legs before you, let energy pull your body down. Like we’ve been doing.”

This running thing of Hayao’s had proven to be far more complex than just taking off and following one’s feet. He had a whole philosophy that went with it, one that was very similar to the samurai’s and that Michiko assumed had been partially influenced by his old samurai master at the stall in the market. A great deal of it was about mental conditioning. Focusing on self-discipline, being able to take action despite how one felt physically and, especially, emotionally. That same stillness in the center, that same focus on the task. Goals weren’t an end; they were what propelled you toward the next challenge.

Hayao saw the world around him in a different way than everyone else, saw paths where others could not, examined corners and noticed the overturned apple crate, the exposed rough brick wall. He created steps out of discarded elements and structural supports. He had explained that when he walked, he didn’t pay attention to the people, but to the spaces between them.

Michiko could relate to all this. It made sense to her. And as they’d run along the deserted streets together, at times stopping and examining potentially better ways to launch oneself, only to turn around and try again, she’d thought she was picking the whole thing up quite quickly. She had started to feel confident. So much so that Hayao had taken them up onto the rooftops of the city.

The London skyline was like a forest—no, a jungle. Chimney pots, some decorative, some purely practical, could appear suddenly and unpredictably underfoot. Gothic spires made way for neo-Classical domes, which then made way for a straight clear runway. Round then sharp. Flat then beveled. Hayao saw all these sudden changes as something helpful, not as impediments. And, as he worked out a particular path for them to follow and practiced it a few times before teaching it to her, Michiko could see how much easier it was to run fast with the help of her body weight and different heights than along a flat surface.

Hayao must have been impressed with her, but he was also a boy of fourteen and easily excitable. That must have been the reason he’d thought she was ready, her first night out, to jump between two buildings. Not a small gap, mind you, but a wide alley.

“It’s simple because this roof is higher. So you let yourself fall. Push forward and fall down. Much easier than jumping up.”

He had yet to teach her that.

Michiko was feeling good. Her heart was pumping, energy was flowing, and she felt this new skill would help her defeat the man she had started to call the Fog. It wouldn’t help her in fighting him—for that she would rely on her much more finely honed samurai technique. But the running would help her scour the city until she finally found him.

So she’d agreed to the jump. Hayao had talked her through it, explained the angles, where she should put her hand in order to launch herself. It was all moves she’d been doing for the last couple of hours.

Hayao had gone first, completing the jump perfectly. It had looked easy. He’d grinned at her from across and below where she was standing, and Michiko rolled her eyes at his pride. She’d have to work on that with him.

She walked to the far end of the building and allowed her mind to empty, to focus on nothing but the task before her. It was the same way she’d focused on those three foolish men the night before. This was familiar to her. This was natural.

Running. Running with focus and intention. Not anticipating, but knowing what was to come. In the moment.
Run. Run. Fast. The edge is approaching, the path is clear. Run. Run. Fast.

I can’t.

That’s when she’d come to a flailing halt.

“Yes,”
said Hayao
. “You can.”

He had such faith in her. This boy who barely knew her. He was in awe of her. You could see it even in the way he taught her, which was always done with reverence. The same way one would teach an elder about a new scientific discovery. She wanted to share his faith in her.

“
How?”
she called out. “
How can I do it?”
Teach me. Help me.

“Because I know you can. Trust me. I wouldn’t ask you to do something I didn’t think you were ready for.”

Looking at the boy, his hair sticking up at odd angles, his eyes a little too wide apart, and a grin full of crooked teeth, she saw the least likely person she’d ever have trust in. But then again, those who had once seemed worthy of her respect had proven themselves to be the least trustworthy. Her parents. Her sensei, Kyoshi Adachi.
Callum.

Okay, little monkey. I’ll trust you.

Giving herself over to the idea, she returned to the far end of the building.
Focus, focus as you know how to focus. Trust.
A deep breath.

She was running again. She gathered strength and confidence as her legs carried her past and over obstacles. She was running fast. So fast. The ledge approached. She felt that familiar fear. Fear of her own mortality. No, she couldn’t do it.

Then she saw Hayao, his face screwed up in concentration, watching her every move and nodding at her progress.

Trust.

Run.

Run.

Fast.

Run.

She was in the air, nothing beneath her feet, just her body suspended. Flying. She was flying. And she didn’t feel scared. For the first time she could recall, she felt sure and so happy. She felt no fear.

She landed next to Hayao and performed an
aikido
roll as the momentum from her flight kept her body weight moving forward. The roll took her back to her feet and to stillness.

Michiko turned to Hayao, who was smiling even more broadly at her, if that were possible.

“How did you feel?”
he asked, running over to her.

Michiko returned the smile.
“Free. I felt . . . free.”

26

Break and Enter

K
ENSINGTON
G
ARDENS WAS
heavenly first thing in the morning. The picturesque paths were free of nannies and prams, the Round Pond and its surrounds empty except for three sleeping swans, with the only sound the faint wind in the trees. And the morning light danced over everything in a relaxed manner that suggested it was in no rush to proceed with the day.

Nellie made her way contentedly along the Broad Walk to the high street, and eventually turned back up Kensington Palace Gardens Road—a private street nicknamed “Millionaires’ Row,” gated to vehicles but open to foot traffic. It was a gorgeous street, lined with trees that soared above and canopied overhead. The neo-Classical homes, all unique in their own magnificent extravagance, were protected behind tall wrought-iron fences and white stone pillars, but their height and size still left them susceptible to preying eyes.

Nellie’s were rather probing this morning as she wandered down the street, careful not to draw any particular attention. When she reached number eighteen, she stopped and stared at the building behind its carefully crafted number plate. It was, like the palace the street was named after, made of red brick accented with white. It towered, four tall stories, the bottom three displaying tall white windows, and the top, a sloping roof through which smaller windows peeked out and on which five chimneys proudly stood sentinel. There was no sign of life in the house, though Nellie imagined the servants were moving about, preparing for breakfast and airing out the living spaces. She saw a few drapes twitch as she gazed, which confirmed her suspicions.

She knew she was too early. But she’d arrived now on purpose. Her plan was simple, and it relied on her patience. Wait until Mr. Carter vacated the property, then slip inside.

Foolhardy, perhaps, for anyone but her. Your average robber probably would have thought her totally barking mad for trying to slip into such a place during the day, but Nellie was a whiz at making herself invisible. She understood how helpful a shadow could be, how she could make herself smaller by turning one way or the other, or crouching, or bending to mimic whatever she was hiding behind. How many times had she had to slip out of the Magician’s boxes, or bend herself up out of the spectators’ line of sight, or conceal herself in plain view in the audience? Too many to count. She could hide.

She could also do wonders with a rope. Scale the sides of set pieces, lean out and over, swing across a vast auditorium. And there wasn’t a lock she couldn’t pick.

So for her, the trick was not in getting into the house or keeping out of sight, it was waiting for Mr. Carter to head out to the bank for the day.

Nellie had learned a fair bit about Mr. Carter in the last couple days. While Cora had set out to talk with him, Nellie had been asking around town, finding out where he lived and how he made his money. He was an MP. But he was also a banker. And a pretty successful one at that. Knowing he had a day job made life easier for Nellie, who felt quite confident she could then poke about his home office without being interrupted. After all, who went into a man’s private office?

Nellie glanced around and, when she was sure no one was about, quickly removed the long black coat she was wearing to hide her dark blue Magician’s-assistant costume. She’d been inspired the other night by Michiko’s having a special outfit in which to disappear into the shadows. And besides, there was no way she could be sneaky in a long skirt. You needed mobility to break into someone’s home.

She hid the coat under a bush and without pause made a running jump at the lowest branch of the large tree before Mr. Carter’s estate. She pulled herself up by her arms until she could hook her legs over, bringing herself up to a sitting position. She then reached for the branch above and carefully stood on the one currently supporting her. She swung off it and propelled herself to a higher branch, hooking her knees over it. She continued on this way until she was neatly hidden from view.

Now there was nothing to do but to wait.