Susanna Gregory - The Piccadilly Plot

Hyde opened his mouth to reply, but then closed it again, indicating that this notion had not occurred to him. ‘We shall see,’ he hedged stiffly.

‘There was another clue, too,’ Chaloner went on. ‘The note that enticed me into the strongroom was in your handwriting. I recognised it when Oliver showed me the inventory of missing materials you had made. It was a nice touch: small jaws, death and darkness.’

‘I did write those words,’ acknowledged Hyde, puzzled. ‘I have an elegant hand, and Oliver asked me to pen them as part of an anonymous love poem to his woman. Curious phrases to express passion, but each to his own. However, I doubt he left such an intimate item in the vault.’

‘Oliver does not have a woman,’ said Chaloner, recalling how the assistant architect had twice alluded to being at home with no one but his pet. ‘And then there were the muddy footprints on the cellar stairs that same night. Most were human, but there were an animal’s, too. They told me that Oliver had been there with his ferret shortly before I was locked inside.’

Oliver scowled when he saw he was cornered. ‘I only wish you had died there, as I had intended,’ he snarled. ‘Then we would not be having this ridiculous conversation.’

‘Died?’ echoed Hyde, shocked. ‘No one is supposed to die! And no one is meant to be shut in the strongroom, either. It is designed to be airless.’

‘It would have been deemed an unfortunate accident,’ said Oliver, malice suffusing his gloomy face. ‘If the lack of air had not killed him, the rats would have done.’

‘ Rats? ’ cried Hyde in bewilderment. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Hyde’s note would have suggested otherwise,’ said Chaloner, ignoring him.

Oliver sneered. ‘It would have been eaten. Along with most of you. But if not, no one could have proved it came from me. Hyde wrote it, after all.’

‘Stop!’ shouted Hyde, increasingly appalled. ‘Murder has no part in our plans. We will come to an arrangement with Chaloner. Every man has his price, and my father is a wealthy man.’

Oliver smiled, but his eyes were icy cold. ‘You think we can let him go, do you?’

‘It may have escaped your notice, but I am the one holding the gun,’ said Chaloner, while Hyde gaped at the assistant architect in disbelief.

Oliver’s grin widened. ‘And it may have escaped yours, but I have workmen at my disposal.’

He gestured around him, and Chaloner was horrified to see the barrels of several weapons jutting through holes in the panelling. He counted at least four. Reacting quickly, he darted across the room and grabbed Hyde around the neck, putting the dag to his temple and using the younger man’s body as a shield.

‘I still have the advantage,’ he said. He would have preferred Oliver as a hostage, but the man had been too far away. ‘Order your people to stand down, or I will kill your accomplice.’

Oliver had predicted his move, and had ducked behind the desk, out of Chaloner’s line of fire. ‘Do it, then,’ he said viciously. ‘I do not care. And then we shall dispatch you . You have been nothing but trouble ever since you came back from Africa. It will be a delight to end your life.’

Hyde had been thrashing about furiously, trying to free himself from Chaloner’s grasp, but he went rigid with shock when he heard Oliver’s words.

‘What?’ he gasped. ‘We are in this together, Oliver, so you will care if I am harmed. And you can put me down, Chaloner. You will not shoot me: you would not dare.’

‘He might not, but I shall,’ called Oliver from under the table. ‘We do not want anyone else knowing what we have installed here. And as you gave me your original drawings the other day, the only other record is in your head. In other words, you have gone from helpmeet to liability.’

‘Liability?’ squeaked Hyde in confusion. ‘No! I am your partner . And Chaloner has the plans, anyway — he put them in his coat. He will give them to you in exchange for my life.’

‘We shall take them from his corpse,’ said Oliver disdainfully. ‘You cannot bargain with them.’

Chaloner released Hyde abruptly. ‘You should choose your associates more carefully — you are about to become the victim of your own deceit.’

‘What do you mean?’ Hyde’s voice was unsteady with rising panic.

‘I cannot imagine these secret passages and spyholes were your idea,’ said Chaloner, thinking him a fool. He took a step towards Oliver’s table, but the click of more guns being cocked stopped him from taking another. ‘Did Oliver come to you with the notion, claiming they would work to your father’s advantage?’

‘Well, yes he did,’ conceded Hyde. ‘But-’

‘Who commissioned you?’ Chaloner asked of Oliver. ‘Buckingham? Lady Castlemaine? Which of the Earl’s enemies is so determined to harm him that he went to all this trouble?’

‘You will just have to wonder,’ replied Oliver, keeping his head well down. ‘Now drop the gun. You cannot hit me from where you are standing, and if you try, my friends will shoot you.’

More men had gathered in the doorway; Chaloner recognised the sullen woodmonger Vere and the labourers who worked under his supervision. All were rough, ruthless individuals who would happily commit murder for money. He knew he was unlikely to survive the encounter, so with nothing to lose, he aimed at where he thought Oliver’s chest would be and pulled the trigger. There was a loud report, and splinters flew from the table, but it was a sturdy piece of furniture, and Oliver’s startled yelp said he was unharmed.

Immediately, there was answering fire from the spyholes, which had the men at the door wheeling away in alarm. Fortunately for Chaloner, the angle of the apertures prevented them from aiming properly, and most missed, although one nicked his shoulder, causing him to drop to his knees. Hyde hurled himself to the floor and covered his head with his hands.

‘Stop!’ shouted Oliver, as there came the sound of weapons being reloaded. ‘You will damage the panelling, and Pratt will demand to know what happened. We cannot afford questions. Come in here and grab them — without bloodshed, if possible. We do not want stains on the floor.’

Men poured into the library to lay hold of Chaloner and Hyde, but although Chaloner managed to club one with the now-useless dag and disable another with a kick, it was not long before he was subdued. Then Vere relieved him of gun, sword and daggers. Wiseman’s scalpel went undetected, though, tucked as it was in his cuff.

‘You cannot do this to me!’ shrieked Hyde. ‘We have been working together for months, and-’

‘Shut up,’ snarled Vere. He looked at Oliver, who was inspecting the shattered desk, obviously amazed that he had escaped unharmed. ‘What do you want us to do with them?’

‘Put them in the strongroom.’ Oliver dragged his attention away from the table. ‘And this time, mount a guard outside to ensure they do not escape. While they suffocate, we shall concoct evidence that proves Hyde has been stealing his father’s bricks, and that Chaloner locked him in there to teach him a lesson.’

‘And became trapped himself at the same time?’ asked Vere doubtfully.

‘When they are dead, you can bury him in the woods. Everyone will assume he fled London when he realised his antics had brought about Hyde’s demise.’

‘No!’ whispered Hyde, while Chaloner went cold at the thought of being shut in the vault a second time. ‘Please, Oliver. I will not tell anyone what … There is no need to kill me.’

Oliver laughed, and Chaloner was stunned by the change in the man. Gone was the glum, shambling fellow, replaced by something far less attractive.