Twin Speex: Time Traitors Book II (44 page)

Clem scooted closer to the door in anticipation of it opening. As the coach screeched to a stop, the woman whipped her hand out and, quick as a snakebite, grabbed Clem just above the knee. She yelped and tried to bat the woman’s hand away, but her hold was too tight.

Squeezing her knee in a painful grip, the woman leaned in close, her face only inches away from Clem’s. She hissed, “Be careful, missy, or you’ll be next.”

The door opened just as Clem’s next blow knocked the woman’s hand from her knee. The cabbie let down the stairs and handed her out.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice and hand shaking as she handed him her share of the fare.

She looked back over her shoulder as the coach pulled with a jerk out into the street. The woman sat back, her face now in shadow, but Clem could still see the dull shine of her hat through the window.

She drew in a deep drought of chill night air and started her walk home, all thoughts of her romantic tryst gone in a bout of fear and confusion. Who was that woman, and what did she mean?

Clem was suddenly glad that she had once again failed to tell Reginald about what was really going on. She was grateful that their ardor had swept all thought from her mind, thankful that it had gotten too late for her to try and explain.

Clearly there was much that she did not know. She would have to call Ettie and warn her of this new and confusing development. Aside from the hospital incident, which had been harrowing, to be sure, Clem had felt the dangers of this venture as somewhat removed from her. Until now, she had never been a direct target. Whatever the woman had meant, it was certainly an audacious move. A mixup she might be, but she was still the daughter of a nobleman and under the protection of another.

She rounded the corner onto her block and walked through the wrought iron gate that led up to the house. No lanterns lit the doorway, and Clem fumbled in her bag for the key. She pulled it out and looked up searching for the lock. Her heart lurched hard against her chest. The door was slightly ajar.

A prickle of warning went up her spine as she pushed it open. Clem walked into the dark foyer with its hall leading down to the dining room and the staircase curving up to the second floor.

“Uncle? Aunt?” she called out tentatively.

No answer came and no servant responded with lights and reassurances. Clem stood there in the dark, her arms hanging limp as the strength drained out of them. The woman’s words echoed back to her with heartbreaking clarity.

“
Be careful, missy, or you’ll be next
.”

*

Ettie swung her legs over the edge of the bed, the silk sheets slipping off her naked back. She looked over her shoulder. Charlie slept, his breathing deep and even. She stood up, careful not to wake him and reached for her clothes. She stepped into her trousers and walked to the mirror. Her blurred image stared back at her as she pulled the soft cotton undershirt over her head. She could see the reflection of the bed and Charlie’s nondescript form under the covers.

It had taken a long time for them to get back to this point in their relationship. And still, she didn’t entirely trust him. The place where they had met, back in another dimension, seemed impossibly far removed from this present reality. She had felt no shifts, not even the disorientation of overlapping dimensions, in the last several days. It was becoming more difficult for her to focus on that time before, to pull it up from the depths of her imagination.

Charlie murmured and moved in his sleep. Ettie turned to face the bed waiting to see if he would wake. He didn’t, but still she stood looking at him. Tonight was the first time they had been together since she had read Odette’s journal.

She wanted to believe it was just one of those “tomorrow we might be dead” things, but knew that wasn’t the truth. Since early on in their relationship, she had needed him like she had needed no other man. That was why his betrayal had cut so deep, why it had left her with the lingering taste of doubt and suspicion, even though he had proved his loyalty many times over.

Ettie walked into the darkened living room with its magnificent view of Central Park. She looked out over the vast expanse of trees remembering Odell’s reaction to her news of a new boyfriend—Charlie, the club owner. She smiled to herself as she recalled Odell’s struggle to contain any comment. He had little use for the glittering social life of a certain set of New Yorkers and felt club owners and promoters to be particularly useless. Ettie shook her head in amusement, missing her brother.

She felt a chill and grabbed a chenille throw from the sofa, wrapping it around her. Tomorrow would bring with it danger, and she felt her throat and chest constrict with panic. Was she leading everyone to their deaths?

She drew in several deep breaths and calmed herself. There was nothing else to be done. Their investigations had not revealed the unknown villainess, or her purpose behind the attacks on Ettie’s family. What they had discovered was a people, trapped and tortured, who needed their help. If, through helping them, they could wreck the mechanism that was distorting her world, even better.

Reuniting with her brother seemed a dream that was fading further and further from her waking consciousness. She had to focus her mind and efforts on what was now, what she could realistically achieve. Ettie had no real hope that what they were planning would right the world, but it was all she could think of to do.

Ettie heard a rhythmic clicking sound on the polished hardwood floor just outside the door. This apartment was one of several that Charlie had scattered throughout the city. It had a well-guarded entrance; nobody could get through who wasn’t known. But Ettie knew that sound: the clicking of dog claws on a bare floor.

She dropped the throw to the ground and threw open the door before the terrified girl’s knock could fall. Beatrix burst into the room throwing herself on Ettie with doggy abandon. Clem’s abandon was less doggy, but just as enthusiastic. With them came an appalling smell.

When Ettie had disentangled herself from both girl and dog, she was able to stammer, “What… my God, Clem! What has happened?”

Clem stood in all black: black slacks, black jacket, black boots, and a black hat pulled down over her ears. Even Beatrix was dressed like a ninja. Sporting a black knit sweater, her face and other exposed parts had been rubbed with charcoal.

“That dog is getting coal dust all over my rug,” a voice mumbled sleepily from the bedroom doorway. He wrinkled his nose. “Good God! What is that smell?”

Beatrix immediately sat and looked at Charlie with the intense expression of someone trying to solve a puzzle. It was the same look, Ettie noted, with which Bea had always regarded Odell. Bea had a tendency to greet people, known or unknown to her, with aggressive affection, except her brother and Charlie. Ettie always before assumed it was a show of respect, recognition that her antics would not be welcomed. Now, she believed that Bea just couldn’t figure them out.

“Sorry,” Clem replied, her voice so shaky that Charlie waved aside her apology and strode into the room.

“What is it?” he demanded, all traces of sleep gone from his voice. “What has happened?”

“They’ve taken Uncle Matthew and Aunt Abigail!” she declared and then burst into tears.

Ettie and Charlie exchanged a quick, concerned look.

Ettie put her arm around the distressed girl and led her to the couch. “It’s okay, Clem, just tell us what happened.”

Clem wiped the tears from her cheeks and swallowed. “I didn’t go straight home when I left the rooftops. I thought I’d go see Reginald, maybe tell him what was really going on…” her voice trailed off as she looked up to see the tension reflected in both their faces.

“But I didn’t tell him… I… we… we got sidetracked,” she stammered, “and after a little bit I went home. A woman at the cab stand asked if I was going to the Upper West Side and if I’d share a cab with her.” She swallowed again. “Well, she wasn’t what she seemed, and right before I got out she warned me to be careful or else!”

Ettie looked up at Charlie who was standing in front of the huge picture window, the night sky opening like an abyss behind him. He looked grimly back at them and asked, “You didn’t recognize her?”

“I’ve never seen her before in my life!” she cried. “But that doesn’t mean anything, does it? Sir Knightly could have hundreds of people we don’t know about roaming the country abducting old couples!”

Ettie tightened her arm around the girl, and Beatrix’s large head rested on her knee. The dog’s grave eyes were fixed on Clem’s face. Ettie had never known Clem to lose her courage, not even when badly frightened. But it was clear to both her and Charlie that the young woman was barely hanging on to her nerve.

“How do you know they were taken?” Charlie asked, his voice a deliberately calm monotone.

“When I got home, the place was dark as a cave, no lights, no servants, nothing,” she replied, leaning forward to hug Bea and rubbing her face in the dog’s soft ruff. When she straightened up again her cheeks were smeared with black soot, but she was more composed and continued, “I called out and ran through the house. I wasn’t really thinking straight. The woman’s words kept running through my mind—I’d be next. Finally, I reached the upper floor where the servants’ quarters are, and that’s where I found Rolf and Bea.”

“Rolf?” Ettie questioned.

“He’s Schreiber’s grandson,” Clem explained, “the butler.”

They nodded in unison and Clem continued, “Well, Rolf had been out walking Bea and rounded the corner just in time to see two large, black carriages pull away from the house.” She cleared her throat, concentrating hard on rubbing the big pit bull’s ears. “When he got to the house, everything was the same as when I arrived; the door was open and everyone was gone.”

“Who is everyone?” Ettie asked.

“They don’t have very many servants, live-in, that is; there’s Schreiber; Rolf, he serves as footman and all-around helper; Mrs. Greene, she’s the housekeeper; and Grumpy is the cook.”

“Grumpy?” Ettie couldn’t help herself.

Clem smiled tremulously, some of her old mischievousness returning. “Yes, I think originally it was French or something, like
Groompie
,” she tried with a French accent, failing miserably and giving a shaky laugh. “But I’ve only known her as Grumpy.”

“No one else?” Charlie prompted.

She shook her head. “The day staff would have gone home by then.”

Charlie came closer and sat down next to Clem on the other side of the sofa. “Did anyone follow you here?” he asked with an intent look on his face.

Ettie could tell he was worried. So was she. How compromised were they?

“No,” she replied with certainty. “You see that’s why we’re dressed like this.” She indicated both herself and Beatrix.

“Yes, I did wonder,” Ettie admitted, smiling.

“Rolf was pretty upset. He kept saying, ‘Why didn’t they use the plan?’ I didn’t know what he meant and it took awhile to get it out of him. Seems Uncle Matthew and Aunt Abigail had an escape route built into the house.”

Charlie huffed admiringly. “Just like old Matthew.”

“Let me guess…” Ettie laughed. “…through the sewers.”

Clem nodded. “Partially. Most of it was through a connecting network of cellars. We emerged several blocks away from the house. But I took the precaution of disguising us as best as possible and taking as many side streets as I could. You told me to come here if there was any trouble. So I did. I don’t think anyone followed us.” Her forehead creased in a worried frown.

“You did right,” Charlie reassured her, then asked, “Rolf?”

“He was with us until we emerged from the sewers. Then he went off to a safe house Uncle Matthew had set up. I wrote the direction down.”

She stuck a grubby hand into her pocket and pulled out a notepad-sized piece of paper. Clem clutched it convulsively in her hand and began to shake again.

“Before we left, I went up to the roof. You know, just in case. Maybe they were hiding in the shack up there.” Tears started in her eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks. “When I went inside, the receiver had been wrecked, completely destroyed. That’s when I knew for sure it was Sir Knightly. Somehow, he’d found out about Uncle Matthew’s spying devices.”

Ettie hugged the crying girl tightly, and Clem buried her face in her shoulder. She and Charlie looked at each other over her head.

Eventually, Clem looked up and dried her tears. “What do we do now? Do we cancel the operation?”

“Not a chance,” Ettie replied unhesitatingly.

They both looked at her startled.

“He thinks we’re weak, that we’ve been routed… that we’ll fall back and regroup.”

“Well, shouldn’t we?” Charlie responded. “Without Matthew’s intel—”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Ettie insisted. “We have to do the unexpected for this to succeed.” She looked at them with fierce determination and declared, “We move tonight.”

Bea barked her approval.

Thirty-Two

GABRIEL FELT THE warmth of her pressed up against his back and her arm wrapped around him. He took her hand in his and tucked it up under his chin, closing his eyes to go back to sleep.

“Do you remember that winter we spent in Cornwall?”

Her voice wafted over him, and he could feel her breath on his neck.

“Um-hm,” he answered sleepily. “You couldn’t stay indoors, and it was so warm by the fire.”

“We warmed ourselves just fine.” She laughed. “Even without the fire.”

Gabriel smiled, remembering that long ago winter. It was the first Christmas after they were married, and he wanted to take his bride somewhere beautiful and romantic. The cottage belonged to a grateful client of his uncle’s, who was more than happy to lend it out to the newlyweds for a fortnight.

He hadn’t told her where they were going. It was easy to keep her in suspense now that he had access to a private coach. Caroline’s coach, to be exact.