Rivals in the City (12 page)

He would not be tricked that easily. “Miss Quinn?” he repeated, in a faintly puzzled tone.

“Your associate, of course, in the firm of Quinn and Easton. The senior partner, one might presume.” She leaned forward, planting one elbow on his desk in a gesture of confident intimacy. “I was surprised to find the nameplate missing, but I believe you are still in business?”

James swallowed hard. “That depends upon who asks.”

“Someone who wishes you both well,” she said. The words were accompanied by a small smile that did not seem particularly reassuring. “I see that my name is unknown to you; that is a credit to Miss Quinn’s discretion. But I assure you, I have known her since her girlhood, and I am well aware of her distinct talent for discreet observation and detection.”

James’s thoughts were racing. Was this Mary’s connection from Scotland Yard? But what role could a middle-aged woman play there? “How may I assist you today, Mrs Frame?” he asked quietly.

She pursed her lips in thought, and James realized with surprise that she was very beautiful. “I wanted to talk to you today about Mary’s current assignment. At the risk of boring you with information you already know – but how else can I demonstrate that I, too, have knowledge worth sharing? – this is the third day of her watch over Newgate Prison.”

James held perfectly still.

“I do not believe there has been any sign of Mrs Thorold in the area, although Mary had some unconfirmed suspicions about me. Not entirely surprising,” she added, “given my constant attendance at the jail over the past few days.” She paused. When he remained silent, she gave the merest suggestion of a shrug and resumed speaking. “I am inclined to believe that the surveillance of Newgate Street is a waste of time. I doubt that Mrs Thorold would take such a large risk to clear her name. It would be simpler for her to establish a new identity and proceed unimpeded by her husband’s history of disgrace.” She looked at James. “I can see the question in your eyes. This might all be interesting, but what has it got to do with you and Mary?”

James half-smiled despite himself. “I can neither confirm nor deny anything, Mrs Frame.”

“Such wise circumspection.”

“Pray continue your … narrative.”

“I am here today because I believe you are now the person best placed to watch for the reappearance of Mrs Thorold.”

“Oh?”

“Have you already accepted the commission for the proposed alterations to the vaults of the Bank of England?”

James raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”

“There’s no need to play the fool with me,” she said amiably. “I know you attended a confidential meeting with the Court of Directors of the Bank of England. I also know that, despite the relatively small stature of your family firm, and your rather startling youth, you personally were offered the contract. No tender, no competition. It would be rather difficult – impossible, even – to decline such an opportunity, don’t you think?”

“If all that were true, it certainly would,” agreed James.

Felicity’s smile was quite feline. “Oh, I do appreciate your discretion. Let me explain: Mrs Thorold holds an account at Coutts Bank under the name of Fisher. Yesterday, a woman attempted to make a large withdrawal from the Fisher account. Because the account was flagged for watch, the bank attempted to delay her while calling Scotland Yard. The woman became suspicious in her turn and left the bank empty-handed before the police could arrive.”

James was intrigued. “Did nobody at the bank try to stop her?”

“The woman injured two guards and escaped down a side street. There was a brief chase, but they very quickly lost her trail.”

“So there is no possibility she will attempt to access that account again.”

“Precisely. But the very attempt suggests that Mrs Thorold is in need of funds. She is not the sort of criminal to stoop to common burglary: she operates on a more grandiose scale. I now believe that she will attempt a large-scale theft. Your project offers a spectacular opportunity.”

“Surely the project is
too
spectacular?” argued James. “The Bank of England is one of the most secure buildings in the country.”

“Not while it is under construction, with its hoard of gold roaming the countryside.”

“Even if it is necessary to move gold from its vaults for the period of construction – and it might not be so – the gold will be heavily guarded. Such a theft would require extensive planning, a large team of criminals working together and an informant on the inside, at the very least. Not to mention a means of transporting such a large amount of gold and melting it down. If I were Mrs Thorold, I would look to jewels or cash – something easily smuggled on my person.”

“None of the challenges you cite are insurmountable obstacles,” returned Felicity. “Mrs Thorold has worked with a gang before. She has the intelligence and audacity to plot such a scheme. And the potential payout is precisely the sort of thing that would attract a woman of her ilk. If the job were successful, it would be her last. She could vanish once again and never return to England.”

James thought about this. “Let us suppose you are correct,” he said, slowly. “If Mrs Thorold lost access to the Fisher account yesterday, she must only be starting to plan a new theft.”

“She may have been plotting something all along, and this recent failure has given the scheme a new urgency.”

“Either way, she would want to act swiftly, within the next couple of months, at most. How on earth could she have heard about the Bank’s need to expand its vaults?” He knew he was committing himself, but he continued nevertheless. “This is extremely recent information. I met with the Bank only yesterday.”

“The Directors would have been discussing it for some time. There’s that inside contact…”

“A rather lofty inside contact.”

“Is it so impossible?” demanded Felicity.

“It is certainly far-fetched. Fantastical, even.”

“So were her previous crimes: she organized an international pirate crew that attacked her husband’s merchant vessels. She must also have extensive black-market contacts, since she was able to dispose of valuable Eastern artefacts on a regular basis. And she is ruthless. Although I need hardly remind you of that.”

“No,” agreed James, an involuntary shiver travelling the length of his spine. Mrs Thorold had been responsible for the deaths of dozens, perhaps hundreds, of Lascar sailors in her piracy schemes. She had murdered with her own hands an elderly Chinese man and a child of ten. She had then attempted to kill James in an arson attempt that failed only because the building was too damp to burn.

Felicity broke the silence. “Are you still so sceptical of my theory?”

“It remains a theory,” said James. “If we accept the possibility that she has been planning this theft for some time, do you think she was instrumental in the choice of Easton Engineering?”

“Quite possibly,” said Felicity. She sounded entirely unconcerned. “It carries with it a certain sense of poetic justice.”

James frowned. “What evidence have you that any part of this theory is likely? What other potential thefts or crimes have you considered? Or, perhaps, where else need you search?”

“This is where my indiscretion ends,” said Felicity. “I can assure you that I am diligently casting a broad net, but I shall not attempt to prove it to you. Think of the matter this way, instead: if I am grasping at straws and proposing wildly unlikely schemes, you are safer than you know. The expansion of the vaults will go ahead, Mrs Thorold will never turn up and you’ll be handsomely rewarded for a straightforward contract.” She leaned forward and fixed James with a look. “But would foresight change your course of action? If you knew me to be correct, would you then decline the contract?”

“So you are merely informing me of a theoretical possibility? I appreciate your concern, Mrs Frame, and shall certainly be alert to the potential reappearance of Mrs Thorold. Should I recognize her, I shall report the matter to Scotland Yard immediately.” James paused, gazing steadily across the desk. “Or is there something else you require of me?”

A small smile. “You are not slow, Mr Easton. I should like you to report any sightings – whether suspected or certain – to me, as well.”

It was what he’d expected to hear, and yet he was nonplussed. “Just like that?”

“Would you believe any explanation I offered?”

“Try me.”

“Yours is not the only detective agency in London with an active female partner, Mr Easton.” Felicity paused. “Surprised?”

“Not nearly as surprised as I might have been, before I met Miss Quinn.”

She nodded. “I have been connected to the Thorold case since its inception over two years ago. It would be immensely satisfying for my organization now to bring this case to a conclusion. To that end, I should like to offer you a retainer for any services you may be able to provide.”

James frowned. “You sound as though you’re in competition with Scotland Yard.”

“Hardly; we act as independent assistants to the Metropolitan Police. Many hands make light work, and all that.”

“And you were empowered by the police to act in the first Thorold case?”

“Certainly.”

“What a fascinating insight into the work of the Yard.” James glanced out of the window behind him, then back to Felicity. “What is your relationship to Miss Quinn?”

“That is a question you must ask Miss Quinn yourself,” said Felicity. “Mysterious as that sounds, I assure you that she and I remain on good terms.

Then why have I never heard of you?
wondered James. The woman’s story was coherent enough, if rather far-fetched. She was intelligent, confident and charismatic, which made her seem all the more dangerous in his eyes. But there was a problem somewhere… “I notice that you allowed Miss Quinn to observe you outside Newgate Prison,” he said slowly, “but did not reveal yourself to her. Wouldn’t that have been useful, if you are looking for many hands to lighten your work?”

“And now you come to the heart of the matter,” said Felicity, sweetly. “Miss Quinn is a talented observer, and her services were swiftly requested by another party connected to this case. Had I been able to meet with her quickly enough, I should have invited you both to join with my efforts. Unfortunately, I could not, and as a result am asking you alone instead.”

James blinked. “How many independent agencies are working on this case, apart from the Police?”

“Two.”

“And you do not collaborate? Whyever not?”

“That would require a long explanation, and we do not have time. I am well aware of how curious my request may sound, Mr Easton. But in the end, I am not asking you for much: only to continue with your usual work and to inform me if and when you encounter Mrs Thorold.”

“I dislike hasty decisions,” he replied. “And in this case, I must first consult with Miss Quinn. I am not at liberty to accept your offer at this moment, even if I were so inclined.”

Felicity tilted her head. “Are you and Miss Quinn so very scrupulously united on all fronts?”

He bristled at her tone. “We are equal partners in the firm.”

“I take it, then, that Miss Quinn would never take a third party into her confidence without first speaking with you?”

James narrowed his eyes. “What are you insinuating, Mrs Frame?”

“You ought to know, Mr Easton, if your precious partnership is so pure and sturdy.” She examined the back of her black gloves for a long second, before fixing him again with that green gaze. “I speak, of course, of Miss Quinn’s sudden intimacy with the young Chinese man.”

James swallowed hard.

“But you knew all about that,” she said, in velvety tones. “Did you not?”

James remained silent. He composed his expression to be calm and indifferent. Judging from the gleam in Felicity’s eyes, it was imperfectly so.

She rose elegantly, withdrew a calling card from her reticule and placed it neatly on his desk. “You may contact me at this address at any time of day or night.”

James stood mechanically, half a moment too late for perfect politesse.

“Good-day, Mr Easton. I look forward to hearing from you.”

Thursday, 18 October

Burton Crescent, Bloomsbury

When Mary’s bell rang at two minutes before eight in the morning, it was hours too early for a social call. Not that she would expect her cousin Lang to know that. Mary, at least, was still dizzied by their unexpected reunion and needed time to adjust to the news. As a result, she descended the stairs with some trepidation. When she opened the door, she blinked in mild surprise to find not Lang, but Anne Treleaven, on her doorstep.

Anne sat down in the drawing room, kept her hat and gloves on and came straight to the point. “Mr Thorold died at midnight; Angelica received word from the jail first thing this morning. She is there now. Mrs Thorold now has no reason to enter Newgate, and you may discontinue your assignment.”

Mary nodded, her thoughts leaping irresistibly to James. She couldn’t wait to tell him. Surely she could do so before Saturday, in some discreet way? Two and a half days seemed an interminable wait.

But Anne was still speaking. “It remains possible that Mrs Thorold is in town and simply didn’t get to her husband in time. I have taken the precaution of having Angelica followed until her return to Vienna in case her mother decides, for some reason, to make contact. However, I am here to ask if you would accompany Angelica about town for these few days, help her with making arrangements and generally smooth her way. She needs a friend and you are the obvious choice.”

“A friend? Or a confidante?”

A hint of a smile. “The two roles go together, do they not? Your thinking is clear, Mary: Angelica is nearly alone in the world. After an event such as this, she is likely to talk of her family and her mother, and we need more information – much more – if we are to locate Mrs Thorold. I propose having you stay at the Academy, sharing a bedroom with Angelica. That is easy to explain: we are genuinely short of space, and the room has two beds. Any clues you are able to glean would be most gratefully received.”