Anne Perry - A Christmas Odyssey

“You mean if we’re dead!” Squeaky snapped.

“I would prefer not to have put it so crudely, but yes,” Henry agreed. Then he turned back to Crow. “Do you know of such a place? Perhaps friends who owe you a favor? I am willing to pay; that is not an issue. I will write an I.O.U. that my son will honor, should that become necessary. Surely in your professional capacity you are acquainted with undertakers?”

Crow smiled, almost a baring of his teeth. “A few. It will take me at least half an hour to see to it.”

“Then you had better begin,” Henry urged. “In the meantime we will consider what weapon we can create that will be of use to us in battle against Shadow Man.”

Crow picked up Rosa’s body again. He staggered a little under her weight, although she was slight.

Squeaky realized how far he had carried her already, without a word of complaint or the request that someone else take a turn.

“We need a good weapon,” he said unhappily, although a fearful idea was beginning to take shape in his mind. He did not want to look at it, not even for an instant, but it was there, undeniable.

“Crow!” he shouted.

Crow stopped. He was almost at the next bend in the passage. “What?”

“Bring some matches,” Squeaky called. “Lots of them.”

Henry stared at him. “Fire?” he said hoarsely. “For God’s sake, Squeaky, we don’t know anything about the airflow down here, or which tunnels lead to which others. We could end up killing everyone.” His voice cracked. “We could end up setting fire to half of London!”

“I’ll bet that little bastard Ash knows,” Squeaky said darkly. “You shouldn’t have let Crow take the girl’s body. You gave away the one thing we could have bargained with.” How could Henry be so clever and so stupid? Squeaky would never understand some people.

“We already used it,” Henry pointed out.

“Well, we could’ve used it again, if you hadn’t let Crow take her!” Squeaky protested.

“No, I couldn’t. Quite apart from the morality of it, it isn’t very wise.” Henry smiled. “How can a man trust me if I’ve already cheated him once?”

Squeaky was obliged to concede that there was a certain logic in that. “Do you wish me to go and look for the little swine?” he offered.

“There is no point. You won’t find him if he doesn’t want you to.”

Squeaky swore. He really needed more words if he was going to continue in Henry Rathbone’s acquaintance. Everything he knew was insufficient to express the pent-up emotions inside him, the rage, the pity, the sheer, blind frustration of it all. Not to mention the fear!

There was a tiny sound behind him and he swung around. Ash was standing no more than a couple of yards away.

“Don’t creep up on people!” Squeaky shouted at him. “You could get yourself killed like that.”

Ash looked at him in disdain. “Not until after you’ve killed Shadwell,” he replied. “You need me until then.”

Henry looked at him. “We don’t intend to kill Shadwell, just to rescue Lucien, and Sadie if she wishes it.”

Ash leaned on his cane. Henry offered him a hand to steady himself and he took it, reluctantly. “Same thing,” he said. “He won’t give up, and he knows these tunnels and passages far better than you do.”

“Then you are quite right when you say that we need your help,” Henry agreed. “We need to have some form of plan by the time Dr. Crow returns. He has gone to take Rosa’s body to where it will be safe, and buried properly, if we find that we cannot do it ourselves.”

“I know.”

Henry opened his mouth to say something, then changed his mind. “Do you know these passages well enough to help us?” he said instead.

“Of course I do,” the man replied. “What is your plan?”

Henry smiled ruefully. “We have very little yet. We wish to rescue Lucien and Sadie, and prevent Shadwell from following us out. The only weapon we have is fire.”

Ash pulled his grotesque face into an even more bizarre grimace. “Then we must get Lucien out. We can set fires that will trap Shadwell so that he cannot follow you. Sadie will not come. Lucien may. You must be prepared for any answer, and willing to leave them, or you will be burned as well.”

“We know,” Henry agreed.

Henry dug around in his pockets and found a piece of paper on which Ash could draw a plan of the tunnels, steps, and passages through buildings where Shadwell would likely be, along with the direction of drafts, and so the way fire would travel.

“We’ll have to wall him in,” Ash explained. “Here.” He pointed to the end of a network of pathways.

“Doesn’t he have an escape door, a back way out?” Squeaky asked. “I would.”

Ash smiled. “That way.” He put his fingers carefully on the paper. “Into the sewers.”

“As long as we get Lucien,” Henry said quietly, his face pale. “We may have to forgo getting Shadwell too.”

Ash touched the paper again. “If we set fires here, and here, and maybe here, too, then we’ve got him. You’ll need to collect as much rubbish as you can, stuff that’ll burn easy.” He smiled. There was something ghastly about it, and Squeaky found himself turning away from the sight. “I know where they keep the oil for the lamps,” Ash went on. “And the tar for the torches along the tunnels where they can use a flame. We’ll have a fire to make hell proud.”

B y the time Crow returned they had collected oil, tar, several piles of tallow candles, and as much old wood and rags as they could find without robbing people whose attention they could not afford to attract.

They crept forward together. Ash led the way, tapping his stick on the ground to make certain of it so his nerve-dead feet did not trip him. He was followed by Henry, Crow, Bessie, and Squeaky, all carrying or dragging behind them roughly made sacks of candles, pieces of wood, tins, bottles, and jugs of oil, and buckets of tar. When they reached the places the man showed them, they very carefully laid their fires, sometimes with a fuse made of torn and knitted rags soaked in oil, aided by a little tar. There was no time for error or for waiting and watching.

With shaking hands Squeaky lit a match, held it as still as his trembling hands would allow, then touched it to the rags. It ignited immediately. The flame raced along it and caught hold. He jerked back, watched it for another moment to make sure it was not going to die, then ran as fast as he could to the second site to set it burning too.

He knew Crow was doing the same with the other fires.

Henry, Bessie, and Ash made their way to the heart of Shadwell’s territory, expecting to meet him around every corner or through every door or archway.

When they finally did, it was deeper than they had been before. They crossed a last threshold into a clean, stark cellar with doorways to both the right and left, and one to the back. The last must lead to the sewer, the other to the tunnel where the fire was already approaching. Shadwell was sitting in an armchair with Lucien in a chair opposite him. Sadie stood casually by a table with a cabinet next to it, filled with tiny carved wooden drawers.

“What now?” Shadwell asked, rising to his feet. “Have you changed your mind? Come to give me the girl and take Lucien in exchange? I’m afraid you cannot do that. You see, Lucien is right. He is of far more use to me than she could ever be. You made your bargain and it stands.”

“I came back to ask Lucien if he wishes to leave,” Henry replied. “You too, for that matter. Although I have no idea where you might go. I doubt there is a place for you above the ground.”