How did Morton find us?

"Master Rainbow!" Gardena said. "Whatever are you doing here?"

I turned to her, astonished. "You know him?"

"Why yes. He works for the Harts." She climbed into the carriage, and sat across from him. "He's a friend of my father's."

"How remarkable!" The footman helped me inside, and I sat next to Gardena. I told Morton, "I didn't know you and Miss Diamond were acquainted."

"I didn't know you and Miss Diamond were acquainted either," Morton said. "Although I haven't been to call on the Diamonds for some time."

The footman shut the door.

Gardena said, "So I take it the two of you know each other."

I glanced at Morton. "We've been introduced."

Gardena appeared perplexed.

"I've been tasked with your protection, my dear," Morton said to no one in particular, "so here I am."

Gardena beamed at him.

It was clear Tony had asked him to follow me. "I hope your companions are well?"

"Indeed," he said, and the way he said it made me think they were alert to the fact that I might try to slip past them.

Morton's presence was a major impediment. He surely gave Tony's men a contingency plan if he didn't return after a certain time. They would send one of our outriders to search for him, and not finding him, return and inform Tony.

This was not going to end well. Perhaps I could tell Tony that Gardena changed plans at the last minute — as long as Morton played along.

Gardena's expression became shrewd. "Evidently, Master Rainbow is a widely traveled man."

Morton grinned. "I do meet with many in my travels, although I haven't had the pleasure of visiting the Clubbs."

"I'll have to introduce you," Gardena said, then blushed.

"Miss Diamond is being courted by the Clubbs," I said. "The heir, to be precise."

Morton's eyes grew wide. "Indeed?"

Gardena began chattering in great detail about her meetings with Lance Clubb.

I gave up the idea of reaching Anastasia before she left. It was clear she planned to leave the city before her forgeries were discovered. But why stay in the city a moment longer than she had to? Why not leave earlier, hiring me instead to sell her belongings and send her the money?

Perhaps she never wanted me to know where she was going.

That hurt; she was one of the few friends I had in Bridges.

"You're so quiet," Gardena said. "I hope all is well?"

Anastasia helped Frank Pagliacci. "I recently learned that a friend may have betrayed me." I couldn't help but notice Gardena's flinch and Morton's evaluating gaze of us both.

I wondered what Gardena had done, why she sounded so contrite, so remorseful, at Queen's Day dinner. Why she had begged Tony to tell me something important, and if it was so vital, why he failed to do so. Why Tony thought she was in such terrible danger. Why Jake Bower thought I could gain a great deal of money from his information. What Thrace Pike thought was happening which upset him so.

I was missing something — as usual. Something important, something I should be able to deduce.

Gardena wasn't in love with Tony; she never acted as if she loved him in all the years I had known her. She seemed more irritated with him than anything else. She had never treated me badly nor acted jealous of my relationship with him. And instead of moping or doing the other things a woman in love with someone she couldn't have might do, she was happily accepting suitors. "I don't know why she's done this. I can't even find her to talk with her."

Gardena put her hand on mine. "I'm sorry." She gazed out of the window, and we held hands the rest of the way there.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

***

The carriage pulled up in an alleyway near the Plaza on Market Center. Morton, Gardena and I went into the side door of an office building, then up several flights of stairs to the roof. Five men stood there, all tall, very dark, and handsome. Or the oldest would be, if he wasn't scowling. They wore black business suits and top hats, looking a bit too dapper for this sort of work.

He gestured at me. "Why did you bring that creature here?" His brothers shifted, glancing away, embarrassed.

"For shame, Cesare!" Gardena said. "This is Mrs. Spadros, my friend, who has risked her life to assist me."

Cesare smirked. "This is a Pot rag dressed in your finery, Gardena, nothing more." His gaze went past me, and he tipped his hat. "Afternoon, Master Rainbow. So my sister has ensnared you into this farce as well."

Morton seemed amused. "My pleasure, sir."

We were near the bank; from there I could catch a taxi-carriage. "Very well. If my services are no longer required, I'll —"

"No!" Gardena said, grabbing my arm. "You must stay. Please don't leave. Cesare, you will apologize to —"

"I'll do no such thing." He turned to me. "Have I said one inaccurate word?"

I chuckled. "Not one." I turned to Gardena, who appeared mortified. "I find men who speak their minds refreshing. I see you two are much alike."

"No." Gardena glared at her brother. "We are nothing alike."

I sighed, turning so I might face them all. "Are we here to argue, or to capture your blackmailer?"

Morton's eyes went wide.

I did neglect to tell him what he was getting into.

Gardena turned to me and said, "What shall we do next?"

Why did she think I would know?

I shrugged. I was a Watcher for many years as a teenager in the Pot, although we never shot anyone. We only watched for those we might steal from and signaled to the ones lying in wait below. "If I planned to capture someone, I would place someone on each of the roofs around where the meeting is to be, with a pistol at least. Although if you think you might really want to shoot him, a rifle would be better. Then at least two armed men close to you in case the man does something upsetting."

Her brothers looked at each other, impressed.

Cesare said, "She's not going anywhere near that spot."

Quadrant-men were so predictable. "Then this is a perfectly safe place to wait. Although I fail to see why the man should come forth when he sees she's not there."

"Oh," Gardena said. "My maid is down there, dressed as me."

I gaped at her, appalled. "You would put a maid into such danger? For shame, Gardena!"

She frowned at me in puzzlement. "She's only a maid, Jacqui. And my brothers will be there."

I let out a breath, exasperated. These people didn't see servants as anything but disposable. "Then why are we here?"

Gardena seemed put out. "Why, in case I recognize the man, I can identify him." She opened a letter. "It says he will be, I quote: 'dark of skin, wearing brown, carrying a brown briefcase'. I'm to give him the money in exchange for the briefcase of information."

Morton chuckled. As usual, he wore brown, a medium chocolate brown, but he carried no briefcase, and no one would ever say he was dark of skin.

I peered over the edge into the busy Plaza; at least 500 men wore brown. "Well, that narrows it down."

Men wearing brown had become the bane of my life. I had been followed by men in brown for the whole month of January. Every man in the city seemed to be wearing that color this season. Few carried briefcases though, as it was a Saturday, and offices were closed.

Gardena peeked over and laughed.

Morton said, "How may I help?"

"I could use a man on the roof over there," Cesare pointed across the street. "Can you whistle?"

Morton grimaced. "Not well." He took a small mirror from his pocket. "Perhaps this will suffice?"

"Perfectly." The two men shook hands; Morton tipped his hat to us and left.

Her brothers conferred with each other, then Cesare remained with us, peering at the crowd on the Plaza, while the rest went downstairs. Two of them took positions near a woman dressed in one of Gardena's gowns carrying a large satchel and the other two went to separate roofs.

"I had the pleasure of meeting your son," I said to Cesare. "He's a beautiful child."

He frowned at me. "What?" Then he glanced at Gardena and back at me. "Oh. Yes. Thank you."

An odd reaction for a man whose child was just praised. But he did seem rather distracted. Gardena's face showed nothing.

"Oh, by the way," Cesare said to Gardena, "Master Clubb wrote me this morning. Your package is on its way."

Gardena and I both said, "Oh?"

He chuckled. "Indeed. Should be loaded into the cargo hold as we speak."

Already? "What's this, Dena? I thought it would take longer."

Gardena pulled me aside. "He doesn't know it's a person. Lance knows a person is going, but not who. You said you wanted it secret."

On a first name basis with Master Clubb already, are we? "Well, I did, but I thought they would need training or something. I wanted to say good-bye to my mother before she left."

She smiled. "I'm sure she'll write once she gets there."

I knew they were being smuggled out, but I never imagined this. How long would Ma be in there? Would she be safe?

The clock struck half past two, and I wished for some shade. Wearing a navy blue dress to a rooftop gathering was a mistake. "What time was this man supposed to arrive?"

"Shortly," Gardena said.

Cesare called out, "There he is!"

Two of Gardena's brothers held a dark-skinned man in brown who clutched a leather briefcase to his chest. The man's eyes were frightened, and his mouth moved rapidly.

"Let's go," Cesare said, so we hurried down the stairs.

The stocky young man wore a suit which was too large for him. From his face, so much like Ferti Hart's except a very dark brown, I saw that he had the same impediment. "The man said give it to her," he yelled, almost in tears. He appeared more upset by not being able to hand it to the maid than by the two men holding him.

I ran to them. "Let him give it to her."

The man handed the briefcase over to the maid, then blubbered, "Thank you pretty miss. He said give it to her and I would do good."

I peered at him. "You did do good. Tell me about the man."

"He was nice. He told me to give it to the lady. Only her."

Gardena's brothers stood around the open case, frowning. "What do you make of this?"

I turned to them. "What?"

Cesare held up an envelope. "It's addressed to you."

To me?

I told Morton, "Let him go. He's not your blackmailer."

Morton snorted, and one of Gardena's brothers laughed. For a moment, I hated them both.

"What's a blackmailer?" The man glanced from one of us to the other in bewilderment as a crowd of bystanders gathered.

"It's nothing," Morton said. "You did well. You can go home."

I stalked over to Cesare, furious at whoever used that man in this way, and snatched the letter from him. Inside the envelope was a photo of my lock-box with the jewels in it, and a note: "BOOM".

The whole world became silent.

Explosives. Timers. Clock parts. Anastasia thought her package was a clock ... because it was ticking.

I stared at Morton. "He's going to bomb the zeppelin."