“Barings. It has to be Barings.”
My statement was received with uncertain reactions on the faces of my companions. They were all tired, understandably, for our search for answers had occupied several hours already. Charlotte, who’d joined during the intervening hours despite my initial reluctance, seemed the most convinced of the three. Benjamin merely shrugged in neutral fashion. Francis, for his part, heard my declaration with a skeptical grimace. “And why would that be, Kingsley?”
“It’s the only target that makes sense.” I stabbed one finger at the map. “The tunnel Hermiter is digging leads west, and Barings is placed in a nearly direct line along that path. Allowing for some small margins of error, the criminals could come up beneath the floor of the bank with very few obstacles.”
Francis met my gaze with a heated glare of his own. “I can see that, but there are half a dozen other banks along that route with far less security. Why would Devonshire attempt to rob the most difficult bank when there are other, simpler prizes to take?”
Charlotte answered the question, a slight hesitation plain in her voice. “Perhaps it has to do with the reason he needs the funds in the first place? A smaller bank would not have as many valuables available, am I correct?”
Benjamin nodded, and replied in Charlotte’s own voice. “Correct.” Then he turned to Francis and began to mimic the ifrit’s words. “The other banks are simpler, but with less to take. Devonshire would attempt to rob the most difficult bank.”
I tapped a finger on our map, indicating the Barings building once more. “That is absolutely correct, Benjamin. Devonshire does not plan small operations.” Taking in the rest of the possible victims with a gesture, I continued. “The other banks, as you mentioned, have less security. In fact, I would wager that Devonshire’s thugs could simply tunnel into their vault directly, rather than simply infiltrating the bank. They would not need the weapons, the gunpowder, or perhaps even the secrecy to rob any of them. Barings is different.”
The others nodded their understanding. Barings had been a merchant bank during a time when the business of usury was still quite new in London. It had weathered wars, panics, revolutions, and Changes with equal steadiness, and few disturbances had managed to shake the foundations of the institution very much at all. As a result, Barings had become a pillar of certainty in our very uncertain world. An investment with Barings was a sure, secure one that the investor could count on to grow over the years of their life. Only the great banks of Switzerland were safer, and many believed that it was not by a grand amount that the Swiss were ahead.
The men of Barings had taken great pains to prepare their bank for any eventuality. Their property had been bought decades past, and each and every banker or accountant who was allowed to work for them was thoroughly examined to ensure they fit qualifications of skill and of trustworthiness that the Government would fain have tried to imitate. Guards hired by Barings were of a similarly refined nature; many consisted of former Army men, drawn from divisions that had won merits of honor on the battlefield. All were rather well armed and trained, and there had never been any real success in subverting or overcoming them. It would be an irresistible target for a man such as Devonshire.
Yet Francis seemed far from convinced. He shook his head stubbornly. “That doesn’t mean that Barings is definitely the bank Devonshire plans to rob. There are plenty of other banks with the same level of security. Why wouldn’t he rob any of them?”
Charlotte raised an eyebrow, as if amused by the ifrit’s intransigence. “Not the most convincing argument, my dear.”
Before Francis could return an indignant retort, Benjamin broke in, using the ifrit’s own words to reply. “He wouldn’t rob the other banks. Devonshire plans to rob Barings.” Benjamin began to shift his words, obviously relaying information he had managed to overhear in his efforts as an information broker; the voice was clipped and businesslike, likely that of an accountant. “A significant amount of properties are invested in many of the banks in Bishopsgate, but none of Devonshire’s personal accounts—legitimate or otherwise—are placed in the vaults at Barings.”
Benjamin sat back, satisfaction clear in his expression. I wondered for a moment how he had managed to extort that particular piece of information from someone. In any case, it was clear that he had been investigating Devonshire’s activities on his own despite my efforts to keep him from becoming involved. Not that I had been successful anyway. I looked to Francis. “Will you be satisfied now? If he robbed another institution, he might hurt some of his own interests. Barings is a clear prize for him.”
Francis held out a moment longer, and then threw up his hands in defeat. “Fine, then! I can’t possibly keep fighting all of you at once. What does it matter, anyway? We plan on stopping the plot short of their goal, do we not?”
“We do, Francis, but remember that we cannot simply be satisfied with stopping this attempt alone.” I stood and began to pace. “He may not be satisfied with one attack; we might need to be prepared to foil him in other plots. Further, any hints as to his ultimate goal would be helpful in our cause.”
“Which begs the question, Kingsley.” Charlotte lowered her cup, her expression intent. “What is Devonshire’s aim in all this? He has exposed himself to considerable risk in attacking Barings, despite his preparations. Your description of him tells me he is not a pauper; whatever he is planning must cost quite a lot to put into motion. What could it be?”
My mind went back to the clues I had uncovered in Hermiter’s office—the clues she had taken such pains to destroy when she discovered I had them. “I’m still not entirely sure, but Hermiter, at the very least, may have been in communication with the French. Perhaps they are involved in this scheme as well. He has also been communicating with mercenaries, though I do not quite remember the name. It was something Italian.”
Benjamin spoke up, his expression worried. “Italian mercenaries? With the French?” His voice changed, growing deeper. “Were they the Condottieri Accaniti?”
I blinked in surprise. “Yes, that was the name! Who are they?”
My friend’s face darkened, and he continued in that same deep voice. “Mercenaries. Very skilled. Infamous. Veterans of the New War.” He paused. “Expensive, but well worth it.”
Francis glanced from me to Benjamin and back. His face was troubled. “I do not like this direction, Kingsley. Robbery is one thing, but treason…” He shook his head. “Are we entirely sure not to approach the constabulary?”
“We have no choice, Francis.” Charlotte laid a hand on his arm. “As Kingsley said, if we stop him this time, there is no guarantee that we will be able to the next. We need to put an end to the whole thing at once. That is the only way to keep him from trying again.”
I nodded, though my soul felt a chill. The possibility of foreign mercenaries under Devonshire’s thrall was terrible enough; the prospect of what he would do with them was a thousand times worse. “You are right, Charlotte. We can involve the constabulary and all the rest later. Right now, we need to know how to stop them, and when. Would they strike at night, or during the day?”
Francis snorted, sending a flurry of sparks. “During the day, I’m afraid. Otherwise they wouldn’t have needed those guns.” Then he looked toward me. “You mentioned that you had a way to track the woman in charge, didn’t you? Some sort of device Daniel made?”
“Yes. The Delphic.” I tapped a finger on the compass. “You think Hermiter would go there personally?”
Charlotte answered for him. “Yes. After all, her character seems rather straightforward, from what I’ve heard.” She sipped at her tea again and looked over at Francis. “Do you think this Daniel might be able to construct another device to help? Something to keep the criminals incapacitated?”
Francis looked back at me, and I nodded without hesitation. “If there is anyone who can help, it would be Daniel. He already has several flavors of sedative we can use. If we go now, we can—”
“Go now? At night?” Benjamin’s words, though in my voice, were incredulous. “Daniel can help later. Right now, you need rest.”
I glanced at the nearest window. It was much darker outside than I had expected; apparently our deliberations on our future plans had taken up a good portion of the night. When I looked back at the others, it dawned on me that Roger had been put to bed hours before. I had to have been pouring over maps and notes for far later than could be considered wise.
Francis must have seen the belated realization on my face, and he shook his head ruefully. “Go to sleep, Kingsley. I will set out to collect our young inventor in the morning. We will need to have you fresh and ready by then.”
Thus persuaded, I was quickly shown to a room and rather forcefully deposited inside. There, I slept well, though the discomfort caused by the cot Francis and Charlotte had been kind enough to lend to me should have been more than sufficient to disturb a normal night’s repose. Unlike most nights, however, I remained untroubled by nightmares of the Academy’s fall and my own failures. That night, I dreamed peacefully of Devonshire’s doom, and the redemption of my life. It was, perhaps, the best sleep I had ever had in my life.
When I woke the next morning, the house was quiet, save for the rhythmic ticking of an old grandfather clock. I lay silent for a moment, reconciling the difference in my current position compared to that of my own room. There was no movement in the Pryor’s normally active residence; from what Francis had told me, their home was a near-constant flurry of activity, with Roger running and playing while Charlotte attempted to instruct him in his lessons. Even during relatively calm moments, the entire family apparently rehearsed the plays Charlotte was in the midst of writing, with Francis and Roger enthusiastically acting out the parts of the leads and Charlotte directing them. Neighbors had occasionally complained of the noise, but Charlotte had so far been able to win them over to her side more often than not. More belligerent complainers were confronted by the ifrit himself and decided to let things lie.
Curious as to the apparent absence of the others, I rose to investigate the situation. I had been given a room in the rear of the house, on the lower floor where Francis had assured me that I would remain relatively undisturbed by the goings on of his family. As I made my way through the kitchen and then out into the entry hall, I heard the faint noise of someone humming a jaunty tune in the parlor where we had made our plans. In pursuit of that tune, I meandered into the room.
There I found Benjamin lounging upon the couch. His arms crossed behind his head and his usual smile upon his lips, he seemed as if he had not a care in the world. Both feet hung over the side, and one of his boots jerked and danced in the air in time with the song he hummed. I smiled to see him so carefree, and was about to retreat from the room without disturbing him when he looked over and caught me. He grinned and sat up, his face full of mischief. “Kingsley! How pleasant to see you this fine morning.”
The fact that his words came to me in my own voice did not bode well for me. It was a certainty that my old friend had hatched some new scheme of mischief and was on the edge of declaring me an accomplice. All the same, I nodded to him in what I hoped was a pleasant manner. “Thank you, Benjamin. It is good to see you as well.” I looked about me, hopeful to see one of the other occupants of the house who might serve as a lifeline in such desperate circumstances. “Where are the others?”
“Mrs. Pryor has taken Roger on a tour of their relatives outside the city. Francis believed it would be safer for them until it is all settled, and Charlotte agreed.” I wondered for a moment when he had heard me mention Francis’ wife by name and thus acquire my words, but I was given no time to dwell upon the oddity. He continued. “Francis himself is on his way to fetch Daniel from his shop; I imagine that Audrey will come too, once she hears that you and I are here. She never has gotten over the visit to your apartment, after all.”
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I made a valiant effort to ignore the manner in which his eyes twinkled with amusement. “Of course. Then we are meant to simply await their return?”
“Indeed we are—but worry not!” He drew out a heavy book from the cushions of the couch. An instant feeling of dread, inspired by a vague familiarity, fell upon me as he dusted off the cover and sat the tome in his lap. “I have a very good way in which we might pass the time. In fact, I dare say we could occupy the next couple of hours quite easily, wouldn’t you say, Hector?”
Though dread still lay heavy upon me, I stepped closer to confirm my suspicions. It was a large book, worn from heavy use and spotted by the effects of weather, accident, and the fingers of many different people. The cover was still sturdy and unbroken, however, and the bright letters that spelled its title were all-too-easy to comprehend. The English Dictionary by Edward Farnesberry. Deep inside, a tiny little portion of my soul ran screaming for refuge. “No.”
Benjamin smiled even more broadly than he had before. “Oh yes, Hector. Yes indeed.”
“Indefatigable. Indefensible. Indomitable. Indomitable. Industrious. Industrious.” I looked up, desperate for a reprieve, but Benjamin merely motioned for me to continue. A sigh escaped me despite all I could do to restrain it, and I returned my eyes to the page. A third tally mark lay next to the word, and so I said it again. “Industrious. Inelegant.”
At that moment, the door swung open, and Francis, noble Francis, stepped through. In an instant I was on my feet, the book slammed shut in my hands. “Benjamin, it appears we must delay this debt until another time. I apologize for the necessity.”
Benjamin laughed quietly, but Francis looked slightly disgruntled. “He caught you at last, did he? I’m glad, and had I known, I would have delayed a bit longer. You’re quite overdue to read to him; I cannot count the times I’ve had to hear about your tardy payments to the man.”
His complaint rang true, yet before I could speak a word in my defense, Daniel appeared at his shoulder. The artisan looked a little cross, as though he were outraged as well. “Here you are, Kingsley! Do you realize that Patricia has half the constables in the city out looking for you? She’s been worried the Dollmaker has gotten to you, and she’s half mad from your little disappearing act!”
Benjamin stood up, his smile interested. “She is now, is she?” He looked back at me. “That is quite indefensible of you to worry her so, Hector.”
Francis broke in again, his tone even more exasperated. Sparks had begun to dance about his fingers. “One moment. She’s hunting the Dollmaker? Hector, you said she was busy, but how you could allow her to risk herself so, I cannot understand—”
“Enough!” The shout managed to bring silence back to the meeting, and I shook my head. “We can sort through all of this confusion once we have settled the business at hand. Daniel, is Audrey here as well?”
Daniel frowned. “No. I thought it best to leave her at home, considering the activity we will indulge in. After all, I doubt our mother would have considered bomb making a particularly good skill for a young girl to acquire. I asked her to watch over the shop for the time being.”
I grimaced. “I do not know if that would be a safe decision, given our current situation. Are you sure Lord Devonshire would not be able to take her captive? He has attempted to before.”
The artisan’s face grew grim. A dangerous light sparked in his eyes. “After my experiences with Devonshire’s men, I took the liberty of installing a system of security measures in my home and workshop. They are considerably effective in countering any attempt to enter the shop without authorization; Audrey knows each of those systems extremely well.” Daniel smiled, but there was little humor and less kindness in the sight of his bared teeth. “She also knows precisely what she and I would have suffered at Devonshire’s hands had we not been rescued by you, Kingsley. I trust she would be able to employ them effectively.”
“Against most intruders, perhaps, but these would have been sent by Lord Devonshire. He would be prepared for such measures, and hire the appropriate mercenaries to counter them.” I attempted to keep the tone of my voice conversational, but it was impossible to prevent the concern I felt from entering my words. “Though I have full confidence in your abilities, surely we should take more care in situations where such a man might seek to bypass your defenses.”
He chuckled. “Who says Devonshire hasn’t already tried?” Daniel must have recognized some portion of my surprise, and he waved a hand as if he dismissed the entire matter. “Apparently the man still has some ill intent toward Audrey and me for our part in the whole plot at the Academy. His thugs try the doors and locks every so often, but I have taken great pains to … discourage … further attempts. I’ve heard they call the workshop the House of Horrors now.”
Benjamin laughed and slapped Daniel on the shoulder. Francis merely looked disgruntled; from his stance I almost suspected he had hoped someone would get kidnapped so as to provide an excuse for another inflammatory rescue. I coughed into my hand and struggled against my own impulse to chuckle. With some effort, I returned again to the present matter. “I stand corrected, Mr. Summervale. Has Francis told you what we require you to do for us?”
Daniel nodded. “He did, though he wasn’t very forthcoming on why you would need a sedative bomb of that size.” The artisan looked around, but neither Francis nor Benjamin spoke up to clarify the reason. We had agreed the night before that the less Daniel knew, the better it would protect him if our plans went awry. At this point he could only say that he had provided a nonlethal weapon to men he trusted would not use it for nefarious means. Anything more detailed could easily turn against him and his sister.
When I remained silent, Daniel sighed. “Very well. I trust that your case is involved in this, Kingsley? Then I will do the work, but you must be very certain that you handle this equipment carefully. The mechanics of the device will be very delicate, and in a concentrated dose the sedative could just as easily be fatal.”
“Of course, Mr. Summervale. You can be certain that we will handle the device with care.” Despite my attempt at reassurance, Daniel still seemed to be pondering something. Impatience rose within me, and I tilted my head to the side. “Is there something more, Mr. Summervale?”
“Yes, Kingsley, there is.” Daniel’s lips drew firm, though his voice still seemed a little nervous. “If you want me to help you with this case, you need to return to your efforts with Patricia. I cannot be responsible for helping you continue to leave her to hunt on her own. The dispersal device will be ready once you get back.”
I grunted in surprise at his bold demand. “Mr. Summervale, Patricia can take care of herself. I wonder that you should lecture me about the safety of a heavily armed mercenary while your own sister waits at home alone.”
My rebuke seemed to have next to no effect upon its intended recipient. Daniel folded his arms. “Audrey is as safe as I could make her, but this conversation is not about safety, Kingsley. It is about friendship. For instance, the reason I left my sister in the shop is so I could tend to the needs of a friend who requested my help.” He paused, as if to let the impact of his words set in. Unfortunately, I felt the pressure of my conscience keenly; it was almost a relief when he continued.
“In any case, I cannot see what use you would be around here. As I understand it, your plans are made, and Francis will be more than capable of defending me if the need arises. Benjamin will be able to gather what information we might require. Unless you mean to stoop to the role of my mechanic’s assistant, you have no purpose in staying here—but you do have one waiting for you there.” He raised an eyebrow. “Do you have any objections?”
I had none, of course. It was unclear to me when Daniel had grown to become my voice of conscience, but he had served his role rather admirably. Any argument I made could not have seemed to be anything but small-minded and petty. “No, Daniel, I will go. Though I see little purpose in the distraction; after two days of work, all we have as a reward are vague clues, dead ends, and the occasional explosive trap. She would do far better, in my opinion, to leave the entire business before it grows riskier still.”
“An explosive device?” Francis’ eyes lit up, and an errant spark orbited his head for a moment. “You never mentioned anything about an explosive device. I thought I smelled something on you when we found you, but I assumed it was just a paltry byproduct of whatever false thing you put in the criminal’s carriage. No, no, don’t just tell me. Let me guess. May I?”
There was no chance to respond before he leaned in and sniffed, his nose crinkling with the effort. When he straightened, there was an expression of forlorn disappointment upon his face. “Nothing left. The rain weakened it, and the fire at the warehouse covered it all up. To say nothing of the rest here; Charlotte has put some sort of mechanism all throughout the walls to keep soot and such from reaching me. How can I guess it from this lack of clue?”
His eloquent mourning was overdramatic in the extreme; one might have thought him a tragic martyr by his tone and demeanor. Under more normal circumstances, I might have ignored his frantic behavior, but at the least I needed to calm his obsession so he could focus on the mission at hand. I drew out the fragmented canister that had once contained the Dollmaker’s surprise for us. “Perhaps you will find this object a bit more fragrant. It was once a piece of the bomb I managed to lead us into while we were hunting for the man.”
Francis snatched the offered fragment away before I could complete the motion of handing it to him. He sniffed at it carefully, as if it were something fragile and hard to capture. “A dry fire? No, there is no powder to speak of; it always leaves a trace behind. Chemical then, but not kerosene or oil of any kind. A pity. Petroleum can create the most beautiful flame…”
Francis trailed off, and he glared at me. “What kind of game is this, Hector? Is this some sort of test you have set for me? I cannot place the scent at all.”
I shrugged helplessly. “It is no trick, Francis. That canister is the only piece left of the bomb that nearly killed me. Perhaps the Dollmaker has simply decided to use some exotic material for his mischief.”
Something about the words bothered me as I said them. They ran contrary to nearly everything I knew of people. When a criminal sets out to make a bomb—or any form of explosive, really—they are typically not thoughtful enough to go searching for unusual components. A bomb maker was far more likely to reach for pieces and fuel that remained easily at hand, if only to minimize the risk of discovery. In most cases, after all, a bomb is a trap, and any trap is useless if not kept secret.
This canister, then, must have been something the Dollmaker had within easy reach. It therefore had to be a clue to his identity, or at least a portion of his existence. I considered it again for a moment, still clutched in my old friend’s hand, and remembered my interrogation by Ms. Hermiter. “Do any of you know why Ms. Hermiter would believe me associated with a resurrectionist? When she found that canister, she thought I had been consorting with one.”
Daniel raised an eyebrow. “A resurrectionist? I thought they disappeared once the study of anatomy was fully accepted.” He reached out and took the canister from Francis, who let it go grudgingly. As he pondered over the fragmented canister, Benjamin responded, in Daniel’s own voice.
“Most resurrectionists disappeared. Some continue.”
I nodded solemnly, though I was reluctant to broach the subject with Daniel. His more innocent outlook on the world was precious, in its own way, and I would have preserved it if I could. “Once Parliament allowed doctors to legally obtain cadaver, the demand for graverobbing did decrease. There are other uses for corpses that the government has been unwilling to sanction, however, and so the practice of resurrection men continues. The involuntary study of Changlings, for example, or the use of cadavers in experiments that involve medical tools or the Distillation in general.”
As I shifted in my seat, I noticed that I was not the only one who looked disturbed; the possibilities of what the Distillation might do if exposed too frequently to a dead person was an uncomfortable concept. There had been enough disastrous incidents involving the Distillation in the name of science that I remained firmly convinced that Parliament’s decisions in the matter were correct. I restrained the urge to change the subject and continued. “Thus we find that the detestable profession continues, on an even more secretive and despicable level. Though I do not, of course, know any such men personally.”
None of my friends appeared to notice how fervently I had voiced my denial of that fact, but Daniel nodded absent-mindedly. His fingers probed the cylinder, and he tentatively sniffed at the metallic surface, though with far less fervor than Francis had done. When he straightened, his face had grown grim. “This mystery, at least, I can solve for you, Kingsley. The chemical this canister once contained had traces of formaldehyde.”
“Formaldehyde? Why, I’ve never heard of it before. What kinds of explosive involve that chemical? Does the fire burn bright?” Francis’ excited babble was embarrassing in the extreme, though in his enthusiasm he seemed utterly unaware of it. Daniel shook his head.
“Typically, no one uses formaldehyde in an explosive. It is toxic to work with, and would often not create nearly the kind of blast you could expect from even simple alcohol.” Daniel turned his gaze to me. “Formaldehyde is found in many other projects. It is frequently used as a preservative in medical colleges. For cadavers.”
My eyes widened. Realization dawned. “Of course. Which is why Ms. Hermiter would draw her errant conclusion regarding my associations; though I wonder why the Dollmaker would…”
Another mystery unraveled in my mind’s eye, and I found myself momentarily robbed of speech. The possibilities spun into delightful picture of my future, and my dumbfounded expression easily yielded to a smile.
I became aware of my friends again. The others simply stared at me, waiting for me to finish the sentence I had started; I did not, half-afraid that some reasonable objection would rob me of the victory that now hovered on the edges of my horizon. Instead, I bowed deeply and addressed them. “My friends, I must bid you a fond farewell for the time being, though I would be glad if Benjamin would accompany me for part of the way. Daniel, may I entrust you with the future of our plans? I believe we will require your device quite soon.”
Daniel stared at me, eyebrows raised. He was rather plainly curious, but for once propriety seemed to have found purchase on his tongue. “Of course, Kingsley. You will go and help Patricia with her work, then?”
“Mr. Summervale, my dear friend.” My smile grew. “I do believe I will. After all, where would a hunter be without an investigator at her side?”