The best laid plans can be overturned by the smallest of mistakes.
History has borne witness to that unfortunate truth many times over the passage of years. Generals, sure of their victory, are destroyed by a single misheard order or a simple turn in the weather. Emperors, full of wealth and power that few could have imagined, are ruined by an ailment of the liver, or the bitterness of a family feud. Great visionaries, carried to the heights of scientific achievement and technological advancement, are left poor and forgotten thanks to a lack of financial acuity or social finesse.
The Distillation is one of the best examples of this incontrovertible fact. It held such promise for us all—the glowing dream of a new age, the numberless untapped possibilities for development and exploration—and yet it’s one small flaw was enough to overturn all of it. The Change that it brought laid waste to our shimmering visions of civilization and order, bringing chaos and disruption in its wake.
My own life has been often marked by this natural law as well. I had laid so many plans—dreams of fame, of self-discovery, of success. Yet time and again, things turned my fortune away from those delusions, miring them in the doldrums of reality. My ambitions faded, and though I denied it many times, I felt betrayed by the very winds of Fate that had brought me to London from my family home. Time after time, I felt myself crippled by the whims of poor fortune and the untrammeled mischief of circumstance.
Yet no betrayal was more severe than my continued defeats at the hands of Lord Devonshire. When I sought to save a school full of innocent children, he turned that victory to ash by profiting from it. I thought I had managed to turn the tables on him when he tried his hand at larceny, but my attempts to catch him in the act only resulted in freeing him from the burden of evading the law. I found myself convicted of his crimes, hunted for the theft he so brazenly had committed, and had I not been able to rely on the actions of those dearest to me, I would have been executed on his behalf.
So now, I found myself at an impasse. I could find no way forward in my investigations into his actions, and it seemed that even to make the attempt would invite still further disaster in my future. Surely, after so many catastrophes, it would have been wiser to abandon the course.
Those who would have assumed such a decision on my part know very little about me indeed. I remained determined to bring Devonshire to justice, whatever the cost might be to myself. He had spent far too long abroad in the world, bringing pain and misfortune on those I cared for, and his machinations had nearly robbed me of the chance to save Patricia’s life. For that fact alone, I had sworn that he would not escape me again.
And the first step in service to that grand crusade, of course, was to rob a man in plain daylight, while half the local constabulary loitered nearby, unawares.
I would not have said that it was the best of plans, but there are times for wisdom, and times for daring. Much as I had tried to use both in my life, this was an occasion for little of the former, and a large helping of the latter.
The target of my adventure was a man known as Harold Aberforth, a man of some repute among the lawkeepers in London. He’d received much of the credit for the capture of the Dollmaker, a murderer who had stalked the streets of Whitechapel some months before. Few knew of the role I had played in the murderer’s capture—not a surprising circumstance given my own troubled relationship with the law—but Aberforth had been of some assistance during the case, and had seemed an honorable man besides.
None of which helped him very much as he got into the carriage and froze, eyes widening at the sight of my pistol.
“Get in, Mr. Aberforth, get in.”
A flicker of chagrin entered Aberforth’s expression, and he heaved himself into the seat across from me. There were at least twenty of his fellow lawkeepers outside the door, but he didn’t bother calling out to them. Given the standards—professional and ethical—of his fellow officers, the most he could hope for is that they would aim for me as well as him when they opened fire. “To what do I owe this honor?”
I adjusted the bandana over my face carefully. It had been Patricia’s idea, but concealing one’s features was always a good detail to include. “I only wanted to have a chance to discuss things with you privately, Mr. Aberforth. I hope I have not caught you at a bad time.”
Aberforth’s eyes narrowed for a moment. As he studied me closely, the carriage started forward with a jerk. The motion swung the door shut on its own, and the automatic gears drove the conveyance ahead, guided by the efforts of the driver. Hopefully, none of the nearby lawkeepers would notice the fiery red hair under that driver’s hat; Patricia was nearly as hunted as I myself these days. Her assistance in my escape from the clutches of the law had not gone unnoticed, though she hardly seemed to notice or care.
We continued in silence for a moment. I was careful to keep my pistol trained on the inspector. He was a good man, and while not overly reckless, still possessed enough courage to make a foolhardy move if given an opening. Once we were well away from the watch station, I let out a quiet sigh. “I wish we could meet under more pleasant circumstances, Mr. Aberforth, but times are what they are. If you could hand over your pocketwatch?”
Aberforth’s frown had grown substantially. Then his eyes widened. “Kingsley? Hector Kingsley?”
Patricia would be disappointed in the ineffectiveness of my paltry disguise. I nodded quietly. “I’m afraid so, Mr. Aberforth.”
The inspector gave a sudden, sharp laugh. “You may not believe me, Mr. Kingsley, but I have been wanting to speak with you.”
“You, and half of London’s lawkeepers.” It was impossible to keep the amusement from my voice. “I’m sure my head would look rather fetching next to the Dollmaker’s on your trophy wall, but that is not the reason I sought you out today.”
Aberforth waved the words away impatiently, as if shooing a persistent gnat. “Oh. Not for that, Kingsley. We both know you are innocent, whatever that fool Hollsworth says.”
“Innocence isn’t something that saves a man these days.” The cool words brought a frown to Aberforth’s face, but I continued before he could respond. “Now, if we could return to the business at hand?”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Aberforth nodded, his frown disappearing. “I must admit, I hadn’t expected to hear from you so soon. You move quite fast, Kingsley.”
I blinked. “I do try, Mr. Aberforth. A useful habit for a wanted criminal, you see.”
Aberforth coughed into his hand. “Yes, quite.” He leaned forward, earnestness stamped on his expression. “The reason I wanted to see you, Kingsley, was that I had a job for you.”
Surprise was clearly determined to reach both of us this day. I examined the inspector closely, watching for signs of deception. “A job? I must remind you that part of your job is to take me into custody at the earliest opportunity.”
“Technically, yes. More accurately, I have a responsibility to protect the city from those who would harm it.” Aberforth sat back, his features turning grim. “I trust you’ve heard of the impending visitors from France?”
I nodded slowly. The Empire of France had been very public about their desire to send new ambassadors and representatives to their embassy in London. There was a lively debate about whether those very much unwanted guests should be shot outright, or merely dumped into the Thames. “I have heard of it. What does it have to do with me?”
Aberforth lowered his voice, a cautious step quite unnecessary in our current situation. “They are not only ambassadors, Mr. Kingsley. The Dragon himself is coming, along with several members of his court.”
For a heartbeat, I almost couldn’t breathe. The Emperor of France, coming to London? A city he had once ordered destroyed from the air? What could have possibly convinced the madman to make the journey?
I must have voiced that last question unawares, as Aberforth responded. “He wants to extend the terms of the Armistice. To make a new peace treaty. As such, he is not simply coming to visit the city, or even to inspect his embassy. He is going to meet with the Queen and negotiate a lasting treaty between our nations.”
It was the sort of grand pronouncement that automatically aroused my suspicions, but I forced my own skepticism aside. “Again, Mr. Aberforth, what does that have to do with me?”
“I have heard…whispers… that there is some sort of plot afoot.” The inspector shook his head. “I do not know if it is the French attempting to target the Queen, or others targeting the Emperor. It doesn’t matter. I only know that someone is planning an attack during the peace negotiations, and that it is my responsibility to stop it.”
I heard the sheer determination in his voice, and slightly lowered my pistol. Such passion was difficult to fake, and Aberforth had never struck me as an able deceiver in any case. “Have you not had any success convincing your superiors? I would have thought that your words would carry some weight with them, since Whitechapel.”
Aberforth shook his head. “They require evidence, and all I have heard are rumors. Even then, most of my informants have died soon after passing the information to me. Yet I am convinced of the threat. There is a plot, and you are the only one I can rely on to put an end to it.”
His words brought a chill that seemed to blow straight up my spine. An attack on the French embassy, at a time when not one, but two reigning monarchs were in attendance? Such an event was a dramatic risk to all who were involved. There would be a substantial possibility for chaos in the aftermath, even if the attempt was thwarted. Who could benefit from such a disaster? Who would have the audacity to…
The answer flared to life instantly within my mind. I spoke with careful lack of urgency. “These rumors…did they ever mention anything about the people involved? About who was organizing the mission?”
“No.” Aberforth gave me another emphatic shake of his head. “Whoever is behind this plot is too well organized. I don’t even have a name, just the mention of some mercenary group they might have contacted.”
Another hint, leading directly to the man I suspected. “These mercenaries would not happen to be the Condoterri Accaniti, would they?”
Aberforth’s head came up. His eyes were sharp as he gazed at me. After a long pause, he spoke, slowly. “Yes. I have heard the name mentioned. How did you come by it?”
“I have been pursuing an investigation of my own, Mr. Aberforth.” Wheels were spinning in my head. For too long, I had not had the slightest notion of Lord Devonshire’s plans. Now, at last, I had a possible answer. It was hard to contain my excitement as long scattered puzzle pieces began to fall into place. “I believe we might very well be able to help one another.”
Suspicion clouded Aberforth’s expression, but when he saw I did not intend to explain further, he looked away in clear frustration. “You should take care, Mr. Kingsley. People who have been running across such hints have had a habit of disappearing from view. Only a few of them later reappear—mostly in the Thames, or in some constabulary morgue.”
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I nodded slowly. Devonshire had always been excellent at tidying up loose ends. Perhaps I was the only exception, and had it not been for Patricia’s help, I would likely have found my way to the grave rather quickly as well. “Your warning is noted, Mr. Aberforth. Though I am not sure how I can help you. After all, I am not exactly going to be welcome at the peace conference.”
“Not as Mr. Kingsley, no.” Aberforth reached under his coat and drew out a small envelope. It was tied very securely and fastened with an unfamiliar seal. “It turns out that many of the surrounding nations have decided to send ambassadors to the conference as well, under cover of a festival celebration that the Queen will soon announce. One of them, a prince of some small duchy in Germany, will be unable to come. An illness of some kind, I believe.”
An eager sort of understanding crept over me as I looked at the seal on the parcel. It looked suspiciously similar to a coat of German arms. “And I suspect he neglected to inform his hosts of his misfortune, then?”
“You are correct, sir.” Aberforth grinned. “I am told that this princeling is very rarely seen and quite unsociable. No one would recognize someone who happened to intrude on the gathering on his behalf.” Then his expression darkened. “I am sure that the plotters are using similar ruses to board the vessel. Otherwise, there would be no chance of achieving their objective.”
My gaze still locked on the parcel, I nodded in mute understanding. After their treachery in the New War, the nation of France had been denied the ability to have a permanent embassy in British soil. Despite that, a presence was required in order to renew the Armistice with our hated foes on occasion, and so the Queen had allowed a sort of compromise.
The embassy was a gigantic airship, a vessel nearly the size of a palace on its own. Emblazoned with the arms of France, it was moored over the Thames, where it could be considered a non-threat to the boroughs of the City. It remained as a stark reminder to the citizens of London of all the horrors that other French airships had visited on their home—as such, its isolation was almost as much for the safety of the French as much as for London, considering the continual parade of vandals, rioters and worse that would have assaulted their refuge.
Getting aboard the vessel, and remaining undiscovered as a member of foreign aristocracy, would be a difficult task. Ferreting out Devonshire’s minions, who would likewise be concealed among the guests, would be still harder. There was even a chance the arch-criminal himself would be in attendance—and meeting him in such a lethally constrained location would not bode well.
Yet this was a chance that I could not let pass me by. Even though I had suffered repeated, ignominious defeats at Devonshire’s hands, he remained an enemy I could not let go and would never forgive.
So despite reason and wisdom advising strongly against the matter, I nodded. “Very well, inspector. I would be honored to take the case.”
He pulled the parcel back when I reached for it. “I am aware, Kingsley, that this identity would be a lifeline for you. With it, you might flee London and reach the continent. If you do so, and there is truly a plot against the negotiations, I will pursue you to the ends of the earth. No matter the cost.”
I blinked. Then I laughed. “Do you know, Mr. Aberforth, that the possibility did not even occur to me?” He looked at me with some skepticism, and I shrugged. “I did not run at the Academy, and I did not run from the Dollmaker. You can rest assured I will not run from this fight, either.”
I held out my hand, and with some reluctance, he handed over the documents.
“You’ll find everything you need in there. Papers to verify your identity, your invitation to the celebration aboard the embassy, and permission to bring attendants, should you find allies.” He paused, apparently choosing his words carefully. “You might find yourself out of your depth if you choose to act alone.”
The words nearly tricked another laugh from me. “Do not concern yourself, Mr. Aberforth. I will bring some friends along.” At least one of them would be going whether or not I wished her to, of course. Patricia would never allow herself to be left behind, especially not now.
Aberforth relaxed slightly. “Good. I expect to hear from you as soon as you find evidence we can use, or as soon as the negotiations have concluded safely.” He brushed his hands across his lap, as if cleaning his pants of dust. “Shall we let you off somewhere?”
“Ah.” Things had now become quite inconvenient. “I’m afraid not, Mr. Aberforth. I still need to relieve you of your pocket watch, and then we will leave you on the next street corner.”
Confusion reigned in Aberforth’s expression. “What do you mean? You can’t be—”
“I’m afraid I am serious, Mr. Aberforth.” Placing the parcel of documents on my lap, I readjusted my aim with the pistol. “It is an unfortunate necessity, but I assure you, it will only help me to do my duty with regards to your other case. And—” I motioned with the pistol, “—you can even testify that I took it from you by force.”
Aberforth’s face darkened with anger. “You can’t be suggesting that you would shoot me after everything we just discussed. Why in the world would you want a pocket watch so badly?”
I paused for a moment, and then decided that some candor between allies was somewhat warranted. “Not so much the watch itself, Mr. Aberforth, but the key located inside it.” Aberforth’s expression went blank, and I favored him with a small smile. “Yes, we know it will unlock the compartment inside your luggage. Do not worry; we will leave the majority of your belongings untouched.”
“How comforting.” Aberforth’s voice was flat and furious. He eyed my pistol with sullenness and then drew out his watch. The inspector freed it from its chain with a yank and handed it over to me, where it joined the parcel in my lap. “What possible benefit my possessions would lend you are beyond me.”
“What indeed.” I tapped the watch, making sure it had the engraving I had been alerted to on its face. Then I shrugged. “Either way, Mr. Aberforth, you can be secure in the fact that I will take your offer of employment. However, I would give you a warning.”
A hint of humor crept into his infuriated expression. “Should I be careful of highway robbers, Kingsley?”
“No. Although that is always good advice, I suppose.” I leaned forward. “Be more careful with your investigations. Your informants are not the only ones whose lives are in danger, and the man I suspect is behind this scheme would not hesitate to add you to his list of victims. I would not want to have to avenge your death, as well as the other injustices he has committed. Take care to keep your loved ones safe, wherever they might be.”
Aberforth’s anger faded as the carriage moved on. His normally analytical look returned, even as I continued to hold my pistol on him. “Are you not putting yourself in danger as well, then?”
“I am in trouble enough already, inspector.” I smiled again, this time a little warmer. “Do not worry. Even if I am caught, I will not implicate you—in fact, I doubt I would even have the chance before our enemies finish me off. Either way, I will be at the negotiations as agreed; your luggage we will leave in front of my old apartments. You understand?”
The inspector nodded slowly, and I leaned back. I pulled the cloth back over my face. “Good. Time for your daring escape, then.”
He blinked. “What?”
Instead of answering, I yelled in a thick, rough accent. “Don’t ye move, or I’ll shoot!” Then I lowered my voice. “Jump out now!”
Surprise colored Aberforth’s expression, and his eyebrows climbed high on his brow. “What are you doing? Why should I—?”
“Stay still, confound ye! Blast!” I shifted my aim and fired into the back of the carriage, hitting the wood paneling just over his head. He ducked out of pure reflex, and I roared again. “Sit back down ye blasted watchman!”
I fired again, and this time my heart skipped a beat as Aberforth nearly threw himself into the path of the bullet. It barely creased the cloth on his coatsleeve, and then he tore the carriage door open. A moment later, he had thrown himself into the street, tumbling across the cobbles as I leaned out and brandished the gun at him, as if to go after him.
The carriage driver had other ideas. Gears whirred in distress as the driver poured on speed, rumbling along the street at a breakneck pace. I swung back inside, barely avoiding a bruise as the door swung back into place. It wasn’t the most comfortable escape, given how little the carriage appeared to buffer the jolts of the cobbles, but it was a fast one. We had rounded the nearest corner before Aberforth had even regained his feet.
My next few moments were far from pleasant. The carriage took the next turn only a few moments later, still moving at a dangerous rate, and I thought I could hear the wheels groan in protest as we careened drunkenly down the next thoroughfare. There were whistles now, as some watchman or another responded to the pistol fire, but we had a significant head start. It could only have increased as the carriage once again took on more speed.
The next corner was sharp enough that I actually slid across the bench toward the opposing side. Only a desperate grab kept both watch and parcel from slipping away from me, and I grunted as my pistol clattered to the floor. When I tried to recover it, another turn nearly sent me flying head over heels.
The whistles were closer. Perhaps I had chosen my spot poorly, given how quickly they were approaching, but it couldn’t be helped. Another turn, and this time I felt a jolt as the carriage made contact with a street cart of some kind, sending merchandise spilling past the carriage windows as we carried on our way. I had nearly recovered from the shock when we made yet another turn, almost as sharp as the last.
Then I felt a sudden burst of deceleration that pressed the wood into my back. The carriage came to an almost complete stop and then reversed its motion. Shadows filled the carriage as we carefully backed into a small alleyway, literally almost too small to fit. There could barely have been a handsbreadth of space between the wheel and the wall.
Once we had fully entered the alley, the carriage ground to a halt. The gears spun for only a moment more before they too clattered to silence. I waited, hearing the whistles and shouts grow closer. They passed us by a moment later, obviously still searching for our maddened flight.
Even as I sighed in relief, I heard a knock at the front of the carriage. I opened the small panel which would allow me to speak to the driver. “Yes, Patricia?”
She looked back at me, still careful to keep her head down. The hat concealing her red hair was a little loose after the jolts of our escape. “About time we let him off. I was beginning to worry that he had gotten the gun off you.”
I snorted. “As if I was going to allow that to happen.”
“Did you get the key?”
“I did, Patricia.” She smiled then, as she sometimes did when I said her name. I had not inquired why she did so, but it was a mystery to me. “Here it is.”
“Good.” She nodded and then dropped down from her perch. I heard her walking around to the side, and then the door opened. “Did Aberforth give you any trouble over it?”
“He wasn’t especially pleased, but he did give us something else, despite that fact.” I handed over the parcel as I stepped down. It was simple enough to give her a decent explanation as we walked to the back of the carriage. She was beaming by the end of it.
“So old scaley-face is going to be in the embassy, is he?” Patricia adjusted her hat slightly to better cover her hair. “At least that tells us where we can find him.”
“More than that, it tells us where we can fight him.” I reached up and began taking down Aberforth’s bags. The key made quick work of the combination lock on each item, though it seemed the good inspector had merely been transporting clothes for some reason. “If he aims to disrupt the negotiations, it would be a perfect chance to reveal him for what and who he is.”
“Dangerous though.” She frowned. “You aren’t planning on going alone, are you?”
“Never, my dear.” She looked up, and I felt my breath catch. A slip of the tongue. I coughed into my hand as she smiled again. “Where did your informant say the documents were being hidden?”
“He didn’t. Just told us that Aberforth would have them in his bags.” Patricia was still smirking a little, but she let my indiscretion pass without further comment. “I would have expected them to be tucked away in some kind of secret compartment.”
“How would Hollsworth know that Aberforth had such a compartment, though? If he wanted an unwitting carrier for his correspondence, he couldn’t rely on Aberforth to have a bag specially designed for the purpose.” I paused, thinking the problem over. “Unless…if he had gifted the bag to him, for some excuse or another…”
There were three suitcases. Two of them were clearly of the same set, an old battered pair of bags covered in leather that had rather definitely seen better days. Beside them was another bag, far less worn. In fact, it was the next thing closest to brand new, with a subtle shine to the leather and a brass handle.
Nothing had been in the third bag but a bundle of clothing and a parcel or two. Both packages looked to be nothing more than mementoes of days spent in the pursuit of one criminal or another. I took a closer look at the inside of the luggage, hoping to find some clue as to where Hollsworth would have concealed the secret letters.
It wasn’t long before I found it. The back of the luggage was far thicker than the front was, and it seemed far shallower in depth than the other two cases. Another moment longer, and my search had turned up a small, nearly invisible handle, built right into the lining of the suitcase. I pulled on it, and a compartment no bigger than a letterbox clicked open.
Inside, there were a handful of letters. They looked to be neatly written, and Hollsworth’s fastidious hand was readily apparent. I tucked them away into my pocket, grinning at Patricia in triumph. “We have what we came for, Patricia, and more besides. Let’s get moving. Francis and the others will want to know what we have found.”
Patricia nodded, and she took out a small vial. I instantly recognized it as a concoction that Francis was fond of, and I put out a hand to stop her. She glared at me, and I drew back. “No help for it, Hector. Aberforth will just have to endure it.”
She stooped and tossed the luggage into the open door of the carriage. Once all of it was inside, she unscrewed the vial and stuffed a small rag into the opening. Then she struck a match against the nearby wall, lit the makeshift fuse, and hefted the mixture inside.
It shattered immediately, and there was an instant roar as flames flooded around the inside of the carriage. Patricia darted forward and yanked on the controls of the carriage. The gears in the rear of the vehicle ground to life once more, and it began to rumble forward, blindly surging ahead along the narrow alleyway, even as the alchemical fire burned merrily in its guts.
I watched it for a moment, hoping both that there would be no particularly inflammable buildings in its path, and that Mr. Aberforth would forgive the harsh loss of his belongings. Then Patricia thumped me on the shoulder, and we both turned to run, leaving the burning evidence of our misdeeds to its own devices. Patricia laughed as we ran, and it was hard not to join her.
Perhaps the winds of fortune had finally changed in our favor, at last.