Elizabeth Thornton (39 page)

Hugh was in the suite upstairs when he heard Abbie’s scream. They’d returned to the hotel only moments before, where they found Harper slumped on the floor, and beside him, a powdered wig and the gold jacket that distinguished the hotel’s footmen. Harper had a nasty
wound low on his shoulder, and he’d lost a great deal of blood, but it was the blow to his face that had disabled him. He was breathing; he would live. That’s all Hugh wanted to know.

He ran to the window in one of the small bedchambers and flung it wide. In the courtyard below, lanterns flickered, but it was too dark to see clearly. The stable door was open and two ostlers had wandered outside. They were watching something, but Hugh couldn’t make out what had attracted their attention.

“Take care of Harper,” Hugh yelled to Tom, then he raced from the room.

As he hurtled down the stairs, he cursed himself for a fool. He’d underestimated Nemo. He should have kept one step ahead of him by switching hotels every night. He’d been out of the game too long. In his prime as a spy, he never would have missed the fact that the hotel footman had not worn gloves.

There could be no margin of error this time. If he hesitated or moved too quickly, Abbie would pay.

Abbie
.

His lungs were burning when he burst into the courtyard. Two maids were standing in the porch, but there was no one else there.

“Where is the woman who screamed?” he asked harshly.

One maid pointed to the carriage entrance. “ ’Er man took ’er away,” she said. “She looked that terrified, didn’t she, Maeve? I wouldn’t like to be in ’er shoes when …”

Hugh ran back the way he’d come, through the front door and onto Gloucester Street. He had his pistol in one hand, and he reached into his boot and retrieved his
knife. A pistol allowed a man only one shot before he had to reload it, and if that shot missed, it could be fatal.

He ran the length of the hotel and flattened himself against the wall at the entrance to the arch. He welcomed the rain. There were no pedestrians about and only a few hackneys. If they’d come through the arch, he would have seen them.

He held himself back from going into the tunnel. But his thoughts tortured him. Abbie could be dead or dying. Nemo could be slitting her throat at this very moment. He’d count to ten, and if they weren’t out by then, he was going in.

Then he heard the shuffle of feet on cobblestones and he braced himself. Just before they came out of the arch, he charged. His target wasn’t Nemo, but Abbie. The element of surprise was on his side, and his body slammed into hers, sending her staggering back before Nemo could react. But Hugh had left himself open, as he knew he would. He checked his momentum, but he was off balance. Nemo’s knife flashed out and sliced into his arm, then he kicked Hugh in the ribs and Hugh went down.

Pain exploded through his body, but he rolled onto his back and tried to bring up his pistol. “Run, Abbie, run,” he roared.

Just as he pulled the trigger, Nemo’s booted foot connected with his hand and the shot went wild. The useless pistol clattered over cobblestones and came to rest beside Abbie. She got to her feet.

“Run, Abbie,” Hugh roared again. “Run.”

She was standing there in a daze. Didn’t she see her danger? Why didn’t she run?

Nemo laughed. “Yes, Abbie, run, because when I’m finished with—”

Hugh lunged with his knife and drove it deep.

Nemo stumbled back with the knife embedded in his thigh. A look of amazement crossed his face, but it quickly turned to fury. Hugh tried to rise. He made it onto one knee, but Nemo was faster. He got behind Hugh, grabbed him by the hair and dragged his head back exposing his throat. He raised his knife.

“No,” said Abbie tonelessly. She came out of the shadows, and the pistol in her hand was aimed straight at Nemo’s heart. She cocked it. “No,” she said again.

Nemo smiled and shook his head. “You won’t kill me, Abbie. I’m the only one who knows where your brother is. What will happen to George without me? He’ll die.”

He raised the knife, and without hesitation, Abbie pulled the trigger. The gun jerked up and the bullet blasted into Nemo’s brain. He staggered back, hit the wall with a thud, and slid to the ground.

Abbie went down on her knees in front of Hugh and put her arms around him.

Hugh let out a shaken laugh. “I thought that was my pistol, Abbie. I thought it was useless.”

“No. I found it in a carriage. I was waiting for the right moment to use it when you attacked me.” Tears were streaming down her face. “It’s not over yet, is it, Hugh? There’s still one to go.”

His head drooped on her shoulder. “We’ll get him, Abbie. Then we’ll get George.”

A
t Lord Merkland’s stately home in Chelsea, all the gentlemen in his great dining room rose and gave the Prime Minister a standing ovation when he entered with his host. This was an all-male gathering of the Prime Minister’s closest friends, old school chums and university cronies who, on this date every year, chose one of their own to whom they wished to pay tribute.

It just happened to be Lord Liverpool’s turn, thought Richard Maitland cynically. It was the only thing that explained why they were honoring such a lackluster gentleman, even if he was the Prime Minister.

Bishop Ferrier gave the blessing, and when the amen was said and Maitland sat down, he realized he was sweating. He tried not to stare at any of the footmen; tried not to look at the glass door to the terrace that was slightly ajar to allow a breath of fresh air to enter that stuffy room. He had to appear natural. He couldn’t give himself away. But he wished to hell it was all over.

He’d taken no more than a few sips of the turtle soup when Sir Giles stood and left with a footman. A few moments later the footman returned, and Colonel Langley
left the room. Maitland’s pulse started to race when, moments later, the footman returned for him.

They were in an anteroom, and Langley was looking grim. Wordlessly, he handed a note to Maitland. Maitland read it slowly. It was signed by Hugh Templar, and in a few, terse sentences stated that Nemo had been captured, that he was lodged in Newgate Prison and wanted to trade his life for information that would rock the British government.

“I’ll get the Prime Minister,” said Giles. “He should be told.”

“No!” exclaimed Langley testily. “Let’s think about this. This is Lord Liverpool’s night, and I’ll not have him disturbed without good reason. Richard, what do you make of this?”

Maitland said, “Templar must have used the girl as bait. He’s a clever bastard. I’d better see to it.”

This produced a dry laugh from Langley. “I know how much you dislike these dress-up affairs, Richard, but I want you to stay and make sure Lord Liverpool is well guarded. That goes for you, too, Sir Giles. Richard, how many men are patrolling the grounds?”

“Thirty.”

“Keep them close to the house. I’ll go to Newgate.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sir Giles,” said Langley, “give my regrets to Lord Liverpool. Tell him I shall save those school anecdotes for another occasion, and I won’t spare his blushes.”

Giles chuckled. “Yes, sir.”

Maitland saw the colonel to his carriage. As soon as it pulled away, he looked at his watch. It was only eight o’clock.

Abbie squinted down at the watch that was pinned to her coat. “I can’t see a thing,” she said. “Daniel, do you know what time it is?”

“No. But I don’t think we’ll have long to wait.”

“What if we’re on the wrong track? What if George is not here?”

He patted her shoulder. “Let’s wait and see if this plays out the way Tom said it would.”

“Yes, but—”

“Shh!”

They were concealed in the shadows of an ivy-clad gazebo that overlooked the Thames on one side and a Palladian mansion on the other. Their eyes were trained on the house. Lights shone from the kitchen windows, but other than that, the house was in darkness. There were caretakers in the house, Tom had told them, but the gardeners who patrolled the grounds had been replaced by Hugh’s men.

“How can Hugh be so sure that George is here?” she whispered. “And why didn’t Hugh come for us himself? Why did he send Tom?”

“I don’t know any more than you. Patience, Abbie. It will soon be over.”

“Where did Tom go?”

“He’s with Templar.”

“Yes, but where is Hugh?”

“I don’t know.”

They’d been waiting here for an hour, and she was chilled to the morrow, but there was nowhere else she would rather be. Pray God, they would find George alive and the nightmare would be over.

Abbie clutched Daniel’s arm. “Look,” she breathed out.

A figure carrying a lantern had come round the side of the house. This is what they’d been waiting for, and
Abbie’s breath caught in her throat as her excitement mounted. The figure did not enter the house as she’d anticipated, but turned aside and disappeared behind a clump of dense shrubbery. Her breath came out in a rush.

“Then … if George isn’t in the house, where is he?”

Daniel said, “I hope to God Templar knows what’s going on. Perhaps I should—”

He broke off when two other figures came round the side of the house. The one with a lantern lifted it high.

Daniel let out a relieved breath. “That’s my cue,” he said, then, “On no account are you to leave the gazebo, do you understand, Abbie? When we find George, I’ll come for you.”

“I understand.”

“You’re on your honor. This is no place for a woman!”

“I know.”

“You have your pistol?”

She held up her pistol. “I never let it out of my sight now.”

“Good girl!”

When Daniel slipped away, she leaned against a post and took several long breaths. The weight of the pistol in her hand was beginning to strain her wrist, so she cradled it in the opposite arm as Harper had taught her.

Tears pricked the back of her eyes. She would never forget her horror when Nemo had plunged that knife into Harper’s chest. Thank God Harper was recovering. She wasn’t sorry she’d killed Nemo—she, Abigail Vayle, who wouldn’t allow the servants to lay mousetraps when the mice were eating her out of house and home. And if she had to do it over, she’d shoot him again.

She hoped Colette would somehow know that she hadn’t let her down.

She began to tremble. It wasn’t only Harper she was
thinking of. She remembered the line of Hugh’s throat when Nemo had dragged his head back. Hugh had had a lucky escape. The arm that Nemo had knifed was practically useless. Then what was Hugh doing here, directing a dangerous operation, when he should be in his bed?

The minutes dragged by like hours. She grew restless and began to pace. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Why hadn’t Daniel come for her? What was keeping him?

The wave of terror that suddenly engulfed her made her body clench. “No,” she whispered. George couldn’t be dead, not now, not when they had such high hopes of finding him alive. It would be too cruel. She couldn’t bear it.

Then what was keeping Daniel?

She stewed and fretted for a little while longer, then she went after Daniel.

Their quarry was easy to follow. He crashed through the underbrush like a panicked buffalo, and he held the lantern high to guide his steps. Hugh let him get well ahead before he cupped his hands and hooted like an owl. Silence. Then the others came out of the shrubbery and joined him.

“Douse the lantern,” he said.

After this was done, they struck out along the path that was overgrown with ivy and bramble bushes, but not as overgrown as it had once been. This area had been used recently. All in all, it was a very clever setup. Lord Merkland’s house, where the dinner had taken place that night, was practically next door, only half a mile along the road, and this was an ideal hiding place for an assassin who had to disappear in a hurry. After killing the Prime Minister, Nemo could have slipped away in the confusion and
reached this place in a matter of minutes—long before a proper search could get underway. And no one would have given this property more than a cursory search. It was above suspicion, considering who owned it.

When their quarry halted, so did they. They had come out at the old, underground icehouse. At Hugh’s signal, they silently fanned out.

There was a short flight of stairs down to the door to the icehouse, but they could still see the man with the lantern. He rapped on the door and gave the password.

It was Colonel Langley’s voice, harsh, breathless, but unmistakable.

The door was opened a crack.

“Nemo has been taken,” said Colonel Langley, “and he’s squealing like a stuck pig. I want the boy out of here. I don’t care where you take him, just get him out of here and get rid of him. Without him, they can’t connect us to Nemo. What are you waiting for? Don’t you understand? The game is up. Get the boy, and don’t leave any evidence that will get us all hanged.”

Hugh was sure that if there had been more light, he would see tears in Daniel’s eyes and Giles’s too. George was alive. By the same token, he knew he would see an expression of utter horror and grief on Richard Maitland’s face. When Hugh had laid out all the facts for Maitland this morning, he refused to believe that Langley was a traitor until he’d seen the proof with his own eyes. Well, now he’d seen it.