The Diamond Conspiracy: A Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences Novel (35 page)

She smiled just a fraction. “Our operatives are shipshape and Bristol-fashion, and have been taking real care to follow your orders. There have been a few”—she paused for a moment—“naysayers on that count, but nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Bloody Bruce,” Eliza said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Never could take orders from a woman.”

“Pardon me for asking, sir,” Cassandra said, looking at the new arrivals, “but we have patrols on the perimeter, guards at each entry point, and the estate wired with alarms. How did you—?”

“Our escape plan if conditions called for it,” Sound said. “Æthergate travel. Courtesy of the R&D office.”

“And that’s why he’s director,” Lachlan chuckled. “Shall I go ahead and gather everyone up?”

“Probably best,” Sound replied. “Well done, Cassandra. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“Very good, sir,” she replied, then excused herself from the room.

Alone once again in Sound’s Whiterock office, the director shared a glance at the three of them. “So, are we ready to speak with the troops?”

Out of the corner of her eye Eliza saw Sophia tense just a little. “Yes,” she and Wellington replied.

“Good.” The director smoothed his moustache a little as he turned to Sophia. “I will serve as your champion, signorina. Have no fear.”

“Sir,” Eliza said, “what about our”—she was about to say “time travel” but caught Sophia crooking her eyebrows—“escape from the Restricted Area?”

“Æthergate technology is hardly alien to our people, Miss Braun,” the director said, loosing a wink only she and Wellington could see.

Descending down the stairs, they could hear a commotion from the grand hall that lifted her spirits. Apparently, more agents had found their way to Whiterock. When the four of them came around the corner, they were greeted by elation and applause.

“I don’t think this ballroom has seen a crowd like this since one of my mother’s parties,” Wellington remarked. “She would be thrilled at this turnout.”

Eliza thought that the outfits were not quite as splendid as they would have been for a grand social occasion, but the number of them present certainly lightened her heart. The operatives who had first arrived at Whiterock were all in attendance. She was able to see that immediately, but the crowd had more than doubled since then. Eliza recognised many of the faces all beaming back at her: Commander Constance McGee of the Ministry Shock troops, Robert Smith from the India branch, and Matthew Flowerdew, who’d been in deep cover in Brazil, were the ones she was able to pick out immediately.

“Eliza!” a strong female voice boomed out.
“Kia ora!”

Eliza blinked, hearing the familiar greeting of her home. She turned to see the Maori woman, who had always served as an inspiration for Eliza, pushing her way through the press towards her. She could scarce believe it. “Director Murphy?”

Aroha Murphy, head of the New Zealand office, embraced her with what Eliza believed to be all the love from her homeland. Then in one smooth gesture she pressed her nose and foreheard to Eliza’s, causing their breaths to mingle. Eliza felt a lump in her throat; the
hongi
brought back a flood of memories from New Zealand.

“So glad to see you safe,” her mentor said, her smile bright and just as Eliza remembered.

“Likewise.” She smiled. She took a good look at her, chuckling lightly as she touched the woman’s feather cloak. “Still wearing a
kahu huruhuru
against the clothes of a
pakeha
, I see.”

“Some things in the world remain constant, Eliza,” Aroha said, running her fingers through her salt-and-pepper hair. “Aotearoa misses you. We have saved a place for you there, when you are able to come home.”

Eliza took a breath at the sentiment. New Zealand seemed even further away than it had before. Quickly, before she became lost in memories, she turned to introduce Wellington to Aroha. Instead, she was delightfully taken aback at seeing Lady Caroline grabbing him for a very uncharacteristic squeeze. The outpouring of emotion was entirely informal, and rather un-British, but she found herself enjoying it. When they had left, the group at Whiterock had been demoralised, kicked about, and just lucky to be alive. This larger gathering had the air of an army, a well-trained, tight-knit unit of talented specialists ready to serve for the betterment of the Empire.

“Eliza Doo!” Barry Ferguson grabbed hold of her.
Soditall,
Eliza thought, returning the hug of her childhood friend. “Great to see you,” the young agent practically shouted in her ear. “I had a few bob on the fact you were still alive.” He glanced around. “Won’t tell you who bet the other way.”

“Please, everyone,” she heard Sound call out over the throng, “agents, please, come to order.”

The din had settled by the time Eliza joined Wellington at
the end of the ballroom. Staying very close to Sound was Sophia del Morte. Undoubtedly, that was the safest place for her to be at present.

“I must say it is very good to see you all,” Sound began, “though I am sad to find some faces missing from this crowd.”

A soft murmuring arose but no one interrupted as he continued.

“Cassandra here tells me that you have all been hard at work, fulfilling the instructions I left with her . . . at least mostly.” His gaze drifted to Bruce, who at least had the good sense to look ashamed. “So, where to begin? We set out to secure the Archives. We managed to secure more than half of the finds you and your predecessors returned from the field. Sadly, we were besieged and Miggins Antiquities was lost.”

A long silence followed as that ill news sank in. It was Agent Flowerdew that broke it.

“The bloody Department,” he swore, tugging angrily on his beard.

“One would assume,” Sound said, his face set in a dispassionate mask, “but at least now, we have discovered our true enemy, and this is where things get particularly peculiar. Even for a merry band like ours.” Perhaps that should have brought a round of questions, but the remnants of the Ministry were hanging on every word by now. “He calls himself the Maestro, a manifestation of the Duke of Sussex come to life.”

“Sussex?” barked Bruce. “That wanker?”

“That
wanker
as you so elegantly put it has ensnared the Queen in his nefarious plot. Dark times threaten us, my friends, but Fortune has smiled upon us. One of the Maestro’s hirelings has defected to our side.” He held out his hand and gestured to the assassin. “I will now turn this address to Sophia del Morte.”

Eliza gave a start at the collected flash of metal. Remington-Elliots. Rickies. Crackshots. Shanghai Surprises. It was a wild collection of armaments that, seconds ago, were not there.

“That was impressive,” Wellington whispered in her ear.

“Much better response time than at the Red Lion,” she added.

Sound was already in front of her, his hands up in front of him as if he could fend off bullets. “Now I know many of you
know her dossier, and yes, some of you might have even tangled with this lady, but she brings us valuable inside information. She also comes to us at significant risk.”

“As significant as the risk we’ve shared with her in the past?” Lady Caroline asked, the Egyptian-made “Ra-gun” still and steady in her grasp.

Eliza had always liked Lady Caroline, and this moment just affirmed that.

“She brings to us secrets that could very well tip the scales in our favour.” Sound continued with a slightly sinister smile on his face, “So, to offer a variation on an Arabic proverb, our enemy’s friend . . . is now our friend.”

“Acquaintance,” Eliza grumbled, “never friend.”

Her sentiment must have carried as a ripple of laughter crept through the ranks. It was enough of a relief of tension that agents holstered their weapons. Eliza enjoyed her kick into touch, but a cold glare from Doctor Sound robbed her of her grin.

“Tell us what you know, Signorina del Morte,” Sound urged.

To her credit, though, pale as she looked at knowing those collected before her would happily send her to her grave, she stood straighter and replied, “Your duke and queen are not in their proper minds,” Sophia began. “They are under the influence of a mad doctor. A man named Henry Jekyll.”

“Jekyll?” a mechanical voice called out.

The masked figure, Agent Maulik Smith, worked his way through the ranks of agents. Anyone else under Maulik’s “stare” would be unsettled, but Sophia was as a statue.

“You are certain it is Doctor Henry Jekyll?” he asked again, the rasp of his respirator underscoring his words.

“You know this doctor?” Sound asked, with a tilt of his head.

Maulik looked over to the director. “I made his acquaintance at the Water Palace in Rajasthan. A young man of considerable talent, but he had a reputation of testing ethical boundaries. Safe to say, when I caught up with the good doctor, he was”—he tapped his fingertips together, then continued—“not himself.”

Now Maulik had Sound’s rapt attention. “How so?”

“My Queensbury Rules emptied a full clip into him. He
should have been cleft in two.” Maulik shook his head. “Barely left a rash on Jekyll.”

“He accomplishes what you describe through serums he is still attempting to perfect,” Sophia broke in. “These formulas, while making their subjects susceptible to suggestion, also increase strength, senses, and—in the case of your queen—restore youth.”

“Youth?” Eliza glanced at Sound, who did not appear at all surprised by this development. “Our queen has her youth back?”

“After all we have witnessed in recent days,” the director said to Eliza, “you would dare to doubt such a thing?” He silenced the other sceptical agent by holding up his hand. “I have seen Victoria myself, as young and vibrant as she was the day she took the throne, but considerably different in temperament I am afraid.”

“Your queen mentioned rallying the Empire, something she says is desperately needed,” Sophia continued. “Her and the Maestro’s plans will unite all the corners of the Empire during her Jubilee celebration.”

“Where is the Jubilee going to be held?” asked Eliza.

“St. Paul’s Cathedral,” Shillingworth offered. “It’s been in all the papers for months.”

“Right then, so the Jubilee is where the Maestro and Her Majesty intend to carry out their mad plan.” Eliza tried to remain calm, but the idea of the Queen of England being in league with the Maestro had temporarily disturbed her focus. “What is in sight of St. Paul’s?”

“The river, the financial district . . .” Wellington’s voice trailed off. “She’s unlikely to want to destroy any of those and bring down the Empire with it.”

“The East End,” came a small voice from behind them.

All heads turned back to the great hall’s doorway. Eliza craned her neck to see who had spoken, and her breath caught in her throat.

Quickly, Eliza shoved her way through the agents. When she broke out of the crowd, Serena in her turn leapt away from the Ministry Seven standing by the door, and wrapped her arms around Eliza’s neck. The New Zealander held the child close, making no effort to stop her tears from falling.

“You came back, Miss Eliza,” Serena whispered in her ear, sounding very vulnerable.

“Of course I did,” the agent said. “I promised you I would, and I keep my promises.”

It had only been a few days for Eliza, but for the children it had been far longer. Over Serena’s shoulder, Eliza looked up at the Seven. They were clean, but their eyes were shadowed. No one mentioned the name “Callum” but it hung between them nonetheless.

“The Queen hasn’t made her dislike of that end of the city a secret, now has she?” Christopher’s soft tone was full of sadness, keeping everyone to silence.

Eliza looked up to the eldest of the Ministry Seven. What a difference one year had made with this young man. The resolve in his eyes had only grown stronger over all those months.

“No, she has not,” Doctor Sound replied, glancing down at his shoes as if embarrassed to mention his once-friend’s attitude. “She told me to cut back on the investigation into the Rag and Bone Murders, and she may have muttered something about the poor deserving it.”

Eliza knew that Victoria would not be the first monarch to massacre her own people, and if she was mad and controlled by this Jekyll, then she was not herself. It made sense too; in her early days Victoria had struggled fruitlessly against the rule of Parliament. The people had turned against her once, so in her mind, warped by Jekyll’s serum, they could do it again.

“Perhaps,” Eliza broke in, wiping any sign of tears from her face, “she means to kill two birds with one stone; unite the people, and get rid of a London eyesore. When I was a little girl, there was a large earthquake in Canterbury.”

“Everyone, Maori and white man alike, pulled together to help those displaced,” Aroha said. “Nothing knits a nation together like a calamity.”

“And there is surely no better time,” Sound said in a low, serious tone, “to have a crisis than on the happiest day for the Empire.”

“She will never need Parliament ever again,” Wellington whispered in horror. “Like her ancestors she can be absolute monarch.”

For a moment there was silence as they all contemplated what the Empire would look like if that happened.

“We still have time.” Barry stood up near the back and broke the spine of the chilling silence. “The Jubilee is still a month away.”

“I believe Ferguson here is right,” the director said, causing the energetic agent to sit back down hurriedly. “I had you all training for a reason and now we have the details. Now the time has come to apprehend this Henry Jekyll and return order to the Empire.”

“Before you rally your troops,” Sophia interrupted, her smile slightly crooked, “you should know I delivered certain plans I stole from the Phoenix Society to the Maestro.”

“Doctor Havelock’s Mechamen?” Wellington blurted out. “I thought they had been lost in the destruction of his estate!”

The assassin’s smile was chilling. “They most certainly were not. I saw to that. The Mark II and Mark III Mechamen the Maestro has built are magnificent and deadly.”

“I see,” said the director, showing no sign of deflation. He then produced his pocket watch. “Fortunately for us, a weapon from one of our allies we will need in the coming fight should arrive . . . any minute . . .”