Will Thomas - Fatal Enquiry

“I see your difficulty,” he said.

I thought that was a bit of an understatement myself. I paid my bill before stepping out into the cool of the evening. The moon was scudding between clouds and a few stars peered out, twinkling remote and unconcerned. In Charing Cross Road, I saw a betting establishment, and though I’d never even thought to enter one before, I walked in. It was nearly deserted at that time of night. On the wall was a chalkboard, giving odds on various games. I crossed to a small window where the bookie sat.

“What are the current odds against Cyrus Barker?” I asked.

“Five to one,” he responded.

I reached into my pocket. “Ten pounds in his favor.”

“It’s your funeral, mate,” he said, trading the bill for a slip of paper.

Outside again, I hailed a cab and sat back, feeling discouraged. The advice Forbes had given me kept rattling around in my head. Get out of town. You’re not safe.

At home again, Mac opened the door and let me in. We barely exchanged words. If anything, he looked more dispirited than I. As I walked down the hall, the telephone set in the alcove jangled. Mac and I shared a look of dread as I picked up the receiver and put it to my ear.

“Barker residence,” I said.

There was a crackle at the other end of the line, and then a low voice spoke.

“Good evening, lad.”

Suddenly, Mac glued himself to my shoulder and listened in behind me.

“Sir!” I cried. “Sir, how are you? Where are you?”

“I’m safe and in good health. Let us leave it at that. I understand you were attacked by Nightwine and have been in hospital yourself.”

“He held me hostage briefly, but I managed to escape. I have so much to tell you! Nightwine’s being aided by a daughter, Sofia, about my age. She’s the one who has been committing all the murders with a parasol containing a hypodermic needle. She came to the offices last week asking for our help, claiming he forced her to kill for him.”

“Is she Russian?”

“Yes! Her family name is Ilyanova. How did you know?”

“Nightwine told me once years ago he’d been sent down from Sandhurst for seducing the daughter of a Russian count. When I first heard O’Muircheartaigh’s package had been delivered by a young woman, I speculated he had brought along an accomplice.”

“She kidnapped me from the hospital while I was drugged, sir, and nursed me back to health. Perhaps she thought you might rescue me.”

“You’re fortunate to be alive,” he said.

“Did you ever get hold of some money? Tell me you haven’t been starving yourself.”

“I’ve eaten today, thank you,” he said, which wasn’t what I had asked. “How is the agency and the house?”

“Mac is here with me, sir. A gang broke into the house and locked him in his room. They stole the cash reserve.”

“Hello, sir!” Mac shouted right by my ear.

“Good evening, Jacob. Is Harm well? The intruders have not put him off his food, have they?”

“He’s fine, sir,” Mac said, unable to resist a curl of his lip. He took no pleasure in being caretaker of his master’s dog. Mac had been held hostage, but the Guv seemed more concerned about his prized Pekingese. I felt his weight shift as he crawled off my shoulders and went back to work with a despondent air.

“Where is Nightwine’s daughter staying?” Barker asked.

“In Praed Street, sir, at a private hotel called the Albemarle.”

“How are you recovering from your injuries?”

“Healing up well enough, sir. Is there anything in particular I should be doing until your return?”

“I’m not going to risk sending you out to be injured further.”

“I look worse than I feel,” I assured him. “I’ll be right as rain in no time.”

“I was going to send you looking for Nightwine’s maps of Tibet, but you should stay home and convalesce. I won’t risk injuring you further.”

“I’m fine, sir. When shall you be coming home? Soon?”

“Soon enough, Thomas. The trap is almost prepared and set. Cheerio.”

“Trap, sir?” I asked. “What trap?” But he had rung off. In frustration, I pounded the wall in the alcove with my fist before putting the receiver back on the hook.

“‘Stay home and convalesce,’ he says. ‘I’m nae gang tae risk injurin’ ye further, laddie,’ he says.”

I eased myself down on the first step and rested my injured chin on the palm of my hand. When this case began, I’d have done anything to get out of work. Now he was giving me carte blanche to sit about reading all day, but all I wanted to do was to help bring down Nightwine.

“Blast!” I cried. If our employer had called to reassure us, he had in fact done anything but.

Outside it had begun to rain again, and thunder rumbled overhead. Harm came in from the garden, pushing open the door with his short muzzle. He regarded me with the same remote detachment his master often did.

“What are you looking at?” I demanded.

The dog snorted and waddled off, oblivious to the anxiety in the house.

I found Mac in the front hallway with the door open, polishing the knocker and doorknob with another of his homemade solutions. It was good to see him quite his old self again, hale, hearty, and full of his usual energy, particularly since I wanted to talk him into doing something he would be reluctant to do.

“I say, Mac, could I see you for a moment?”

“What do you mean?” he asked suspiciously. “You’re looking at me now. You want to talk; then talk.”

“Yes, but I want us both seated.”

“Seated? Have you ever once seen me seated in this house? This is where I work.”

“Just come inside and sit for a few minutes. That blasted doorknob can wait.”

“So now you’re an expert on doorknobs? All right, I’m coming.”

We went into the parlor and sat on the sofa. It was the least-used room in the house and had been decorated by a professional in the latest style. We almost never came in here, and didn’t stay for more than a minute or two when we did. Mac sat down warily, as if perching on a satchel full of dynamite.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Do you recall Mr. Barker saying he wanted those maps of Tibet?”

“Of course I do. He said it over the telephone not fifteen minutes ago.”

“Nightwine told me yesterday that he had given most of them to the Foreign Office already, but not the important ones, the ones hardest to get.”

“What of it?” he asked. He was as skittish as a colt. I’d have to say this just right if I were to convince him.

“I know where they are. They are either in a room where I saw him studying them earlier, or in the club chamber where he sleeps. If I could go in disguised as a servant, I might be able to search for them. Chances are, we’re talking about small scrolls, not large ordinance maps. They might even fit up my sleeve.”

“You’re not in a condition to do much more than sit right now, Thomas. Remember, you were in hospital all last week. Besides, your arrival was witnessed by several people. I doubt you could go in without being spotted.”

“You’re probably right. If only someone could go in for me who knew what to do, someone who could make a more convincing waiter than I.”

“Oh, that’s subtle. Whoever could you mean?”

“The security in that building is very lax,” I assured him. “Barker and I strode right through the front door.”

“And because of that, it is not going to be so easy now.”

“Barker would suggest going through a back door, I suppose,” I went on. “He always favors the back-door approach.”

“They’re not stupid, Thomas. They’ll be watching for fellows like me.”