A Dangerous Liaison With Detective Lewis (21 page)

High atop the odd parallelogram-shaped vehicle, a wheel rotated and the hatch opened. This time, Fanny reached out for Rafe’s hand. In the darkness it was hard to make out much more than the head and shoulders of a man. Fanny squinted. Bearded with a wild crop of unkempt hair, partially pulled off his face. Broad—almost burly—by the look of his shoulders.

The shadowed figure pulled a whiskey bottle out and took a long slurp. He wiped his mouth on his shoulder sleeve. “Well now, lass, ye wouldn’t be Francine Greyville-Nugent by any chance?”

Fanny squinted at the unkempt man. “And what kind of straggly, disheveled, reprobate wants to know?”

“Hoo-hoo!” The man drained the bottle and tossed it into the field. “Feisty one, ain’t she, Detective Lewis?” The drunken sot rested his chin in the palm of his hand.

“She asked a simple enough question.” Rafe placed his hands on his hips. “Who are you?”

The stranger stared at Rafe for a moment and then focused his woozy gaze on Fanny. “Ye probably don’t remember me, lass, but yer father and I, bless his dear departed soul, were fast friends for a time.” The man disappeared down inside the belly of the beast and popped up a moment later with a new bottle. He popped the cork. “Where was I? Ah yes, fast friends—before we were rivals.”

“Bloody tippler.” Rafe cursed under his breath. “Mister—?”

“Professor Hamish Mulvaney Minnow.” The man
tipped an imaginary hat. “At your service. Or should I say—to your rescue?”

Rafe nearly choked. “Minnow?” He pulled the wire from a jacket pocket and checked the name. “Bollocks.” He rolled his eyes and raised his voice. “Professor Minnow, Scotland Yard has ordered me to place you under protection.”

“You . . . are going to protect me?” A perpetual grin broadened. “Well now, that remains to seen, Detective.” The burly man tossed down a crumpled paper.

Rafe unfolded the note. “It appears we both received a cablegram from Scotland Yard.”

“Been searching for the two of you since yesterday.” Minnow took a hefty swig. “Meantime that throat o’ yers sounds a mite scratchy.” He learned out of the hatch and offered the bottle. “Better yet, why don’t you and the lass join me inside? We’re headed for Glasgow, are we not?”

With a bit of guidance from the professor and Rafe behind to catch her, Fanny climbed the machine and dropped down into the hold. She stood in a narrow corridor surrounded by endless tubes and levers and switches. The steerage cabin was lit by a single arc lamp in the ceiling. A long tubular steam engine compartment appeared to take up the rest of the craft, with some kind of lookout post in the rear.

“Right behind you.” Rafe’s voice, comforting under the circumstances.

Fanny edged forward. “Professor Minnow, what sort
of—I distinctly hear the hiss of a boiler on board, but the toggle switches?”

“Steam conversion, lass. There’s a dynamo electric generator in the rear of the ship, under the gunner’s seat. Powers the searchlight and the onboard lamps.” Minnow threw a lever and, with a shudder and hiss, the vehicle started up again. “Have a seat. You can be my navigator.” The large man gave her a wink and patted the space beside him.

Fanny hesitated.

“Come now, I could use another pair of eyes.” She marveled at how he could see anything out the narrow slits for windows, bladdered or not. She crawled into the cabin and lowered herself onto a thinly padded bench. “Not that I have to worry greatly about us running off the road.” He winked. “Built for a rough ride, she is.”

“Might there be a view out the rear?” Rafe yelled over the rumble of the engine. “I’d like to keep a lookout for the dark-suited blokes.” He leaned farther in. “You wouldn’t by any chance know who they are?”

“You’re the detective, Mr. Lewis, not I. You’ll find a chair underneath the Gatling gun in the stern,” Minnow called over his shoulder. “As ye pass by the furnace, shovel in a bit of coal, would ye?”

Fanny squinted through the mechanism in front of her. She could swivel the apparatus from side to side and imagined that in daylight one could scan a wide range of terrain. The dark gray road before them wound its way across a flat plain. Far ahead, she could see dots of light. “Professor Minnow, those lights ahead—”

Minnow squinted through the crack. “We’ll be upon the Clyde and the Port of Dundas shortly.” He turned to her with brow raised. “And soon after?”

“Glasgow.” Fanny smiled. She wasn’t sure why she felt such elation. Maybe it was because she had formulated a plan. Orders or not, if Rafe continued on with this ridiculous plan to try for London, she would just have to take matters into her own hands. Once they were in the city, she would slip away and catch the first train back to Edinburgh. She neither wanted nor needed the protection of Scotland Yard, and she had certainly put Rafe through enough. She tried adding up the number of times he might have been killed or injured these past two days and quickly lost count.

Fanny sighed. All this dangerous life-risking behavior of his was having its effect. She was being won over, completely and utterly. And she wasn’t forgetting how his body nestled with hers, or how heavenly his mouth felt when he lightly brushed his lips over hers. A warm heat prickled up her neck to her cheeks. She fanned herself. “Boiler keeps it nice and cozy in here.”

Minnow steered the behemoth with handled sticks that rose up from the floor. “A bit too cozy on a summer’s day, if you take my meaning.”

She had detected his meaning the moment she sat down beside him. The man needed a bath, sooner rather than later.

“What ho!” Rafe’s shout traveled through the inner workings of the landship. “Three riders brandishing weapons approach from the north.”

Minnow unhooked a speaking tube from the ceiling. “Release the lever at the side of the chair—you and the gun will pivot. Let me know when you’re in position.”

Fanny peered out of her window slit. She made out three men—likely the ones who’d chased them down and left them at bottom of the mine-shaft. If anything could scare these blokes off, it would be a Gatling gun pointed at them.

“Aimed and ready, Professor.” Rafe’s voice sounded far away and tinny.

“Now then, listen carefully. You’ve got no real accuracy, lad, so fire well above their heads. I’ll not have ye bring down one of God’s finest four-legged creatures.” He winked at Fanny. “I’m a gambling man by nature.” Minnow returned to the speaking cone. “A long-odds filly as fast as the wind and as pretty as you please financed this here rig, so watch yourself.” Minnow crossed himself. “Fire at will, Detective.”

Minnow turned to Fanny. “You’ll want to cover yer ears, miss.”

IT TOOK ALL the strength Rafe possessed to keep the gun firing and not let it spin wildly out of control. Empty shells spewed out of the repeater and dropped to the floor. He was so preoccupied with the unwieldy mechanical gun, he forgot to let up on the cranking mechanism. Only when the barrel began to smoke did he become alarmed. “I’ve got a very hot gun back here!”

“Let up on the crank, Detective.” Instantly, Rafe let go of the handle. His entire body throbbed from the release of tension in his arms and back. He squinted through a haze of smoke. The natty blokes had turned tail and were retreating at a gallop.

Rafe loosed a battle cry of triumph. “This is a fine war machine you’ve made here, Professor Minnow.” He sat back in the rotating chair, released the lever, and spun around, scanning the terrain. Flickering lights from several cottages a ways off meant they were approaching civilization.

Glasgow. He removed a stack of folded wires and found the decoded address of the safe house. 19-B Oswald Street. Undercover Special Branch men would offer shelter and help get them safely out of town. He hoped for a cozy room in a nice, out of the way hotel. He hadn’t slept much in these last two days, and all he could think about was a bath, a bed, and a dram. He swallowed, remembering how thirsty he was. “Professor Minnow, you wouldn’t by any chance have anything to drink up there?”

“Pressure’s down, laddie. Stoke the fire and I’ll send the lass back with yer reward.”

Rafe removed his jacket and shoveled coals into the furnace. His gaze followed the funnels and pipes from furnace to boiler. Inside the horizontal cylinder the steam would drive the pistons—which in turn cranked the wheels of this great beast. Rafe wiped a bit of sweat off his brow with his sleeve. “What a marvel.”

“Thank you very much for the compliment, Rafe.” Fanny dipped her head through the hatch. She held a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a covered container in the other.

He reached out for the metal pail. “Water?”

She handed it over. “Somewhat tepid I’m afraid, but it’s liquid.” He poured the water down his throat and splashed another handful over his face. Fanny leaned against the hatch opening. “Once again, Detective Lewis, you saved the day.”

Rafe grinned. “Not me. This machine—this beast is the absolute future of war. And I, for one, am very glad Professor Hamish Mulvaney Minnow is on our side.”

“He’s quite the character.” She ducked her head into the rear compartment. Rafe took her by the hand. “Have a go at the gunner’s post.” Ignoring her protests, he climbed up into the chair and pulled her onto his lap. He placed her hand on the crank and released the lever. “Sight through the notch here.”

While Fanny took aim over a sea of dark grass, Rafe rotated the turret. “My word, this is excellent. Will the gun do a full rotation?”

He spoke softly in her ear. “Three hundred sixty degrees, Lieutenant.” She jumped and accidentally cranked a spray of bullets into a field alongside the road.

“Sorry, Professor, Fanny got carried away.” Rafe removed her hand from the gun’s trigger mechanism.

She poked him in the ribs. “Not exactly carried away. You whispered in my ear.” Fanny moved to slip off his lap. “It tickled.”

“Don’t go.” He held on to her arm. “Rest here a moment.” He encouraged her to lie back against his body.

She shot him a look over her shoulder. “For a little while, then I must return and assist Professor Minnow.”

“Call me Hamish, and take yer time, lass.” Minnow’s voice barked through the speaking cone dangling overhead. “The river now lights our way. Fix your turret north-northwest, Detective Lewis, and have a look.” Rafe released the lever at the side of the chair and rotated the hand crank.

“Look, Fan, as lovely as can be,” Rafe said softly. The river Clyde snaked a silvery path through the darkened landscape. The road they traveled would soon take a turn and run alongside the broad waterway.

“In London, I often walk home along the Thames. It reminds me of home—the path along the firth that connects Lochree with our deer park.”

She rested her head back against his shoulder. “Rafe?”

“Hmm?” His breath blew softly across the delicate hairs of her temple.

“I want to apologize for my very rude behavior, back on the road.” She hesitated. “All that screaming and fisticuffs and such.”

“I’m quite recovered, Fan.”

“In fact, you’ve been so wonderfully kind and devoted these last few days, I believe you deserve a bit of tribute.”

Rafe turned her in his arms. “A few trial credits, perhaps?”

“Oh yes, a fistful.” A slash of brow came together. “But you are not yet entirely forgiven.”

“I will strive for entirely before we reach London.” He stole a quick kiss and then another.

“Rafe, when we reach Glasgow, I shall return to Edinburgh. You may carry on—catch and arrest the natty blokes and the dastardly man with the initials BVM, if the monogram is indeed the man behind this”—Fanny jerked upright on his lap—“ghastly business.” Her brows crashed together.

“Rafe, there was a man last year—rather an eccentric fellow. I’ve only seen him once. He was speaking to an unlawful assembly of millworkers. I believe his name was Bellecorte Mallory. I have no idea what his middle initial might be. Father called him a crackpot.”

His slight uptick in pulse rate signaled an important clue. “Good God, you may have just given us our first big break in the case.”

She leaned back against his shoulder. “Rather a woolly bear sort, with a bit of drool around the mouth. Mr. Mallory hardly seemed the type to be plotting the grisly demise of the most prominent citizens of the industry.”

“Mild-mannered but half-mad anti-progressive gathers around him a close-knit group of misguided souls—”

“The size of an army.” She sniffed.

“And these minions join in his scheme to rid the world of steam engines and motorized machines by eliminating their fiendish creators.” Rafe rubbed the top of her head with his bristled chin. “Seems irrationally . . . reasonable.”

“What is not reasonable, or rational, is how my dilemma
continues to endanger innocent citizens, to say nothing of the burden I place on you.”

“Fanny—”

“In protecting me, you put yourself in great danger. I shall return home, hire my own private horse guard, batten down the hatches, and wait for this whole bloody business to be over.”

Rafe exhaled. “No, you will not.”

“
Yes
, I will.”

Rafe sighed. “No-o-o-o, you will not.”

“Ye-e-e-s-s, I will.” Fanny chewed her bottom lip. “How impossible you are.” She slipped off his lap.

Rafe snorted. “
I’m
impossible?”

“Detective Lewis,” Minnow’s voice squawked from overhead. “Port of Dundas, straight ahead, and I’ll be needing to head upriver apace. You’ll be wanting to get Miss Greyville-Nugent to safety while I park this here Iron Lady in a storehouse.”

Rafe and Fanny moved forward into steerage. “Meet us at 19-B Oswald Street.”

“Know the area well.” Minnow rose from his seat. “Down the lane from Ivory Black’s—a fine gaming establishment.” The professor gestured upward and Fanny started up the ladder. “I’ll see the lass safely down while you stoke me a few more, Detective.”

Dutifully, Rafe shoveled coal before he climbed out of the leviathan landship. Skipping the last few footholds, he jumped to the ground. Good God. He craned his neck. Hamish Minnow was a mighty-sized Scot, the
kind built for wielding a claymore or tossing a caber. Reasonably tall in stature, Rafe found he had to step back a bit to make eye contact with the giant. “My orders are to escort you and Fanny to London.”