A Study in Darkness (18 page)

“Why should I explain myself to the likes of you?”

“You began this topic, Mr. Keating.” She turned pale, but didn’t cry or tremble. The Cooper girl was brave.

His anger turned to avarice, and the instinct to collect her—the way others bought horses or hunting dogs—pushed away his wrath. In purely rational terms, Alice had served her purpose and was a bullet spent. Evelina Cooper was fresh ammunition, with her own share of mechanical expertise, impressive intelligence, and far more wit and beauty than any of his male operatives. Keating had done his research. She had had an usual upbringing, to say the least, and had done an excellent job of hiding it—a large point in her favor.

And without meaning to, Tobias had handed over the girl as surely as if he’d put her in handcuffs. He’d compromised her, and that flutter of guilt and alarm was all Keating had needed to make his move. Now there was no need to woo Evelina Cooper with flattery and invitations to after-dinner conversation among the mechanical savants. He only needed to convince her that serving the Gold King was her only possible choice.

And once she was accustomed to his service—and he could make that happen very, very quickly—she would be conduit to a great deal of information. What her uncles did. What really went on at Hilliard House. And she had known the Gypsy who took his device, had she not? According to his information, they had been childhood sweethearts, raised together in the circus. The Cooper girl could be extremely useful, not just on her own account, but as bait in his plans to retrieve Athena’s Casket.

Now Keating watched her face, enjoying the look of helpless rage.
Good
. She was far too self-possessed for his liking, and he needed a way past that armor. But then her look turned suspicious, and he knew he hadn’t made any headway at all. “What war?” she asked in a low, tense voice.

It was a fair question. He studied her, wondering how much to say. That was always the trick with underlings.
They had to know enough to make intelligent choices, but it was unwise to tell them everything. “How much do you know about the Steam Council?”

Her eyebrows lifted. “I know what most people know. Your names and districts. I know that you are generally regarded as the most powerful, with the Blue King second, and Green third. Then there are the Scarlet King and the Violet Queen, and then the Black Kingdom. I don’t know much about them.”

The Black Kingdom ruled London’s underground passages. Where they fit in the hierarchy of kings was an open question. “No one does. They don’t matter, at least not yet.”

She waited, her expression almost blank. In a strange way, she reminded him uncomfortably of Striker. Fear widened her eyes and sped her breath, but there was a similar self-reliance that he found disconcerting. If he wanted results from her, he would have to treat her as firmly as he would a man.

But first, he had to prepare the ground. “The Steam Council is held together by mutual self-interest. Together, we are strong enough to run our companies without interference. There are forces in the Empire who do not appreciate what we do for the good of the nation.”

“Those the newspapers refer to as rebels, you mean,” she said evenly, but he could tell there was a barb hidden in the polite words.

It rankled, and he set down the pen with a firm click on the desktop. “Yes. The council’s unity keeps them in check, and so the Empire remains at peace. Do you understand me so far?”

“Perfectly.”

“Good. Then you will understand my problem. King Coal—the Blue King—is making a move against the council—against me, to be precise. My own residences are too well guarded to make for an easy target, so his intention was to begin his campaign by attacking someone who has done me a conspicuous service. Your uncle’s masterstroke in the matter of the forgery ring is still fresh in the public mind. In addition, Holmes has locked up many of the Blue
King’s best men with proofs so decisive that nothing could sway the outcome of their trials. In other words, the Blue King dislikes your uncle sufficiently that his murder was an obvious choice.”

Evelina’s jaw tightened, the color draining from her face. Keating felt a surge of petty satisfaction. “Sit down, Miss Cooper,” he said, waving at the chair on the other side of the desk.

She complied. “You said that you hired the bomber. Where does the Blue King enter into this?”

“Elias Jones, the man I hired, was the Blue King’s operative, and the bombing was originally the Blue King’s plan. I bought Jones off and altered the bomb so that it still exploded, but not at full strength. I don’t want your uncle dead. I can bluster my way around a scare, but a death means I have no choice but to retaliate at full force.”

“Then why have the bomb at all?”

“That is where things grow more complex. Pay careful attention to this part.” He paused, waiting until she looked up from twisting her fingers in her lap. “To put it simply, Blue can’t know that I’m on to him.”

“Wait.” Evelina raised a hand. “I just want to be completely clear. The Blue King sent Jones, who pretended to be a client. Under his original orders, Jones was to leave the bomb, then detonate it once he was clear of the building?”

“The bomb had a timer. I replaced that when I reduced the charge.”

“And you replaced it with a device of Mr. Roth’s design.”

Keating’s eyelid ticked in annoyance. Of course she recognized Tobias’s work. But then again, that kind of knowledge was one of the reasons he wanted her talents. “Yes. Less was left to chance that way. But the operative was to carry out every other aspect of the job as if he were in the Blue King’s employ.”

“Including questioning my uncle at gunpoint?” A sharp edge crept into her words.

“Yes.” Because Keating wanted the answers every bit as much as his rival.

Over the summer, he had begun to entertain suspicions
about Mycroft Holmes’s involvement with the so-called Baskerville group—and Sherlock’s, for that matter. The detective might have served him well once, but was far from a willing employee. The only reason Keating had left the two brothers at liberty was that he had something in mind for each of them. But that was information he wouldn’t share with Evelina.

Instead, he waved a defeated hand. “Unfortunately, in the end, the operative botched the job and vanished. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Miss Cooper?”

“I’m afraid not, sir.”

He frowned, unable to tell if she was lying. Jones was a weasel, and had probably bolted for a hole somewhere, afraid of facing either his old master or his new one. But Keating had men searching high and low just in case. “At any rate, there you have the broad strokes of the picture. The Blue King wants a war. Unfortunately, he started it at your uncle’s address. Fortunately, I secretly averted it.”

“Thank you for informing me.”

“I am merely setting the stage for the important part of our discussion.”

He rose from the chair and paced the room, her wary blue eyes following him. There was more he hadn’t said. The rebels’ true strength remained a mystery. If the Steam Council fractured, it put them all at risk if a rebellion turned out to be more than a few angry mobs. However, giving the
appearance
of a rift in the council—presenting a weakness that would serve as bait—could draw the rebel leaders out where they could be captured and questioned.

Once the rebels were gone, he could turn his attention to crushing the other council members without risking a war on two fronts. But all this required a complicated dance—luring insurgents into the open while conducting a war without committing his forces too soon. He still wasn’t sure how that last part was going to play out. Each member of the Steam Council had to be distracted—Green with money, Violet with intrigue, and Scarlet with women. Reading had already been asking about Imogen Roth like a dog licking its chops in hope
of scraps. But King Coal—the Blue King—was a deadly old soul, and a much craftier opponent. He would not be so easily fooled.

Ultimately, Keating wanted that war—a war for control of the whole Empire—but he also wanted a guarantee that he would win. And winning was where Miss Cooper came in. “You said you wished to make amends, and I will hold you to that.”

She regarded him levelly, but the skin around her eyes and mouth was tight with apprehension. “I’m sure you shall, sir.”

“The first service I need from you is simple and well within your scope. Consider it an exercise to limber up your faculties. I need to see how well you perform.”

“First service?” The words were precise.

He ignored them. “I need you to deploy your uncle on my behalf. There is information I require about the Blue King’s resources. It should not surprise you that all the steam barons have makers on their staff, just like I have Mr. Roth. Those makers create machines. While most of us are proud to show off our talent and the richness of their inventions, King Coal is not. But if he is planning war, this makes perfect sense. Why show his cards, so that we can mount an effective defense? Ergo, I want to know who and what he has at his fingertips.”

“Can’t you find that out from whatever men you’ve bought from the Blue King, like Elias Jones? They work for King Coal. Don’t they know who his maker is?”

“No. He’s kept his plans secret even from them. That’s why I need someone with your uncle’s talents.”

She blinked. “My uncle can’t just walk into the Blue King’s territory. How is he supposed to find this out?”

He could detect fear in her voice, and anger, but also curiosity. It was what he’d wanted to hear. There were some who could not look at an impossibility and resist the urge to find a way around it, no matter how distasteful the situation. From what Tobias Roth had said, and from what he’d been able to learn about her involvement in the forgery case, Evelina
Cooper was every bit as addicted to puzzles as her uncle.

But there was no point in letting her know exactly how pleased he was with how the conversation was going—and that he actually wanted her, and not Holmes, to spy on the Blue King. She was the better tool, and it wouldn’t take long to make her see it. And that would neatly serve two purposes: he got his information, and it got Evelina miles away from Tobias Roth.

And, if he was very lucky, she would—all unknowing—draw the pirate Niccolo into a trap. Scarlet’s airships were all very fine in a battle, but when it came to catching a man, they couldn’t hold a candle to the enticement of a pretty girl—especially since the chit didn’t even need to know that she was staked out like a goat to lure the tiger.

God love her, Alice still hadn’t figured out that he’d meant to leave her unchaperoned all those long summer days.

KEATING GAVE HER A LOOK THAT SAID SHE WAS ASKING A
stupid question. He was pacing, looking down on her. She wanted to stand up and even out their heights, but she wasn’t sure her legs would hold her.

“Holmes is a master of disguise, a virtuoso of ruses and deceit,” he said. “Tell him to get the information on the Blue King’s forces, but keep it secret and keep it silent.”

Anger spiked, loosening her tongue. “Forgive me if I am being slow, but why not ask him yourself?”

“For two reasons. From what I understand from Mr. Roth, your expertise in clockwork and mechanics is greater than your uncle’s. Your evaluation of his findings is key. And you are far more vulnerable. If I apply pressure to your uncle, I need to exert effort. Holmes is a difficult and irritating man, and the last time I requested his assistance he tried to refuse. But if I apply pressure to you, he will undoubtedly rush to your rescue at once. It’s so much more efficient this way.”

That was too much. Evelina’s anger drowned under a flood of remorse, bringing a sting of tears to her eyes. But when she spoke, her voice was filled with horrified incredulity. “The Blue King has already tried to kill my uncle. I can’t ask him to walk into danger.”

Her uncle might have the ability to disguise himself as one of the ragged men who wandered the London docks, but no disguise was perfect. He was a fine actor, but he was gentry. Sooner or later, he’d make a mistake. And then, once he was in King Coal’s hands, a bomb might have been the merciful option. She’d heard the stories.

“Don’t put him in danger.” She was pleading now, a catch
in her words. Fear crawled up her back, running cold fingers up her neck and through the roots of her hair. “Please don’t.”

“Oh, Holmes is safe and secure for now.” Keating stopped his pacing and lowered his voice to a dark whisper. “I’ve had his house surrounded by my men. Every door and window is watched, every delivery, every letter. No one is going to reach him without my permission, so he is perfectly safe.”

He’s got Baker Street under surveillance
. That meant there would be no chance to sneak her uncle away for a long visit abroad.

“You’re going about this all wrong,” she muttered. “He’s not the right man for the job. You need a maker, and someone who understands the people there.”

Since the steam barons had forbidden the sale of parts to private citizens—they didn’t want the rabble finding ways to generate their own power instead of buying it—a black market had sprung up. She’d gone to such places often enough with her grandfather, looking for this or that part to repair something at the circus. The first trick would be to find that market—it could be a shop, or the back of a house, or a tavern, or even a literal market—and then figure out who were the gossips. However much secrecy King Coal kept around his plans, makers loved to talk, and if something interesting was under construction, the place would be abuzz with it. All one needed then was the price of a pint and ears to hear.