DangerbyDalliance (19 page)

Kemmer paled and sweat stood on his upper lip.

Footsteps echoed in the outer office and Johnson appeared in
the doorway. “Well then, what do we have here?”

Warren pinched the bridge of his nose. Some of the tension
drained out of him. With Johnson here they would get to the bottom of this.

“Officer, these two men just barged into my office babbling
about me not being able to take Miss Rigdon’s device to pay her taxes. They are
interrupting our meeting, when all I’m doing is working late, doing my duty for
Queen and Country. Please remove them and I won’t press charges.”

Johnson’s brows shot up. Warren had always liked how the
man’s green eyes carried a spark of laughter, even in the direst situations. He
was very good at his job and one of Archer’s closest friends.

Johnson studied the scene and bowed to Sarah. “Miss Rigdon,
I presume. I am Detective Inspector Johnson from the Metropolitan Police.
Latimer sent me a message saying I may be of help.” He pulled out a pencil and
his small notebook. “Would you be so kind as to tell me what happened and why
you are here at this late time?”

Sarah studied Johnson for a minute. He let her, keeping his
mien amenable and calm. Finally she took a deep breath. “Circumstances I am not
prepared to go into have led me here to hand over my father’s latest
invention.”

“Ah, is this the magical machine that will make it possible
for everyone and their dog to ensure that the money they are handed is
legitimate?”

Sarah said, “No,” in the same instant Archer said, “Yes.”

She clenched her jaw. “Mr. Latimer did not see the necessity
to inform me that the machine now fulfilled its original purpose.”

Warren winced. Chunks of ice dripped off every word.

“When I brought the machine to Mr. Kemmer I was unaware of
its true value.”

Johnson scribbled a few notes and whipped back and forth on
his feet.

Warren frowned. He looked like an overeager puppy and he
knew no one who was further away. What kind of game was he playing?

“Very good. Mr. Kemmer, why were you so determined to
collect something that was a pile of junk you forced poor Miss Rigdon to come
by at this time of night?”

“I was being a gentleman and a good citizen by helping Miss
Rigdon to pay her taxes.” Kemmer straightened his shoulders. “I had to work
late. I only told Miss Rigdon that I would be at the office the whole night and
she could drop it off at any time convenient for her. In no way did I force her
to come this late.” He lifted his chin. “Of course, now that I am aware of the
true value of the machine I will wait for Miss Rigdon to pay her taxes from its
proceeds. I will even waive the additional charges for being late.”

Johnson made a production of taking more notes. Kemmer
relaxed and a smirk appeared on his lips. The detective nodded to the bottle of
scotch and the half-full glass. “Looks like you were enjoying your evening.”

The smirk grew.

Movement out of the corner of his eye drew Warren to Archer.
His friend watched the production with a sharp frown.

“As I said numerous times now, I enjoy my position, but a
man deserves some pleasure while fulfilling his duty.”

Johnson nodded. “Absolutely, sir.” He looked around the
office. “Nice place you have here. My tax office isn’t half as big.”

Kemmer relaxed more and his posture grew cocky. “I do what I
can with what Her Majesty supplies me with.”

The detective nodded again. “Good for you.” He turned his
back on Kemmer and walked along the shelves. “Nice collection.” He nodded at
some of the big leather tomes.

“It is important for a man in my position to have all the
relevant laws and bylaws at hand.” Kemmer pursed his lips and tapped his foot.
“Detective Inspector, can we please bring this to an end? I still have a lot to
do.”

“Certainly, sir.” Johnson whirled around and pinned Kemmer
in place with the force of his gaze. “Can you explain why your office delivers
a statistically higher number of fake banknotes to the Bank of England than any
other tax office in the city?”

Here we go.
This was the Johnson Warren had expected.

Kemmer froze. The smirk disappeared. “I have no idea what
you are talking about.”

“When I was here a few days ago I found a fake note and
residue of ink on his desk.” Sarah’s clear voice cut through the tension.

Archer stilled.

Johnson turned to her. “Would you mind showing me where?”

Sarah stepped over to the far end of the desk and lifted a
couple of files. “Right here.” She rubbed her fingers across the surface and
they came away stained.

Kemmer looked less happy, but he still showed no signs of
worry. “I make my own ink from powdered pigment.” He waved at his desk. “I
don’t see any fake notes.” He looked at Johnson. “Thirty-four people work in
this office alone. Any one of them could have exchanged the real for the fake
money. There is no way for you to prove that it was me.”

Warren agreed. They needed to catch him red-handed. Filled
with helpless anger he studied the office. There was something that had
disturbed him since he’d entered. Something was just off. He walked out of the
office and studied the front room. He walked along the length of the office
wall before stepping back into the office.

“What is it?” Archer stood in the center of the room
watching Kemmer.

“The dimensions are off. The office is smaller than it
should be.”

Archer’s brows rose. He disappeared through the doorway and
returned a minute later. “You’re right. How did we miss that?”

Warren shrugged. “We weren’t expecting a secret hideaway in
a tax office.”

Johnson came to stand beside them. “Can you think of a
better place?”

Glad he had something to focus on, Archer set his
engineering mind to work.

“He’ll probably need about six feet in width to have enough
room for the press and the paper,” Sarah said.

He gritted his teeth. He wanted to believe that she did what
she did to support her father, but why on earth would she waste five years of
her life assisting with something she had no confidence in? She’d made it more
than obvious a number of times her father dreamed big, but never delivered. And
now Archer was supposed to believe she learned how to print false money to help
her father in a fruitless endeavor?

He pushed all that aside and focused on the room’s
dimensions before stepping back into the front room. Johnson and Warren gave
him space. Standing in the doorway he realized the shelves along the right
office wall were a front. Somewhere in there had to be a mechanism that would
open the door to the secret compartment.

He studied Kemmer. The other man had remained behind his
desk, the only outside sign of worry the slow tapping of one finger against the
tabletop. The bastard was very sure they wouldn’t find the entrance. “Detective
Inspector, you may want to contact your office and ask for some constables to
bring sledgehammers. We will probably have to break through the wall.”

Kemmer slammed his fist on the desk. “You can’t do that.
This is my office.”

Johnson leaned against the shelves. “This office and
everything in it belongs to Her Majesty. It is not a private residence and
therefore does not require me to ask for permission to search it.”

He stepped beside Archer, turning his back on Kemmer, and
said in a low voice, “I cannot involve the department until we have tangible
proof. At the moment all I have is my bluffs.”

Sarah stepped up to the shelves. “Or you could just use
common sense. All of these books are tax codes, appropriate for this office.”
She tapped a blue leather spine. “But this one has dimensions that are slightly
off from the rest of the books.” She moved as if to pull the book off the
shelf, but she couldn’t. Not completely. Instead the book folded back as if on
a hinge and a
snick
echoed through the room.

Kemmer paled and jumped to his feet. “I know nothing of this
hidden room. Don’t you find it convenient that Miss Rigdon knew exactly where
to pull? After she supposedly found a fake note on my desk? It is clear to me I
am being set up as the victim.”

Archer studied her. Her beautiful face was sheet white. Her
blue eyes filled with clouds so dark he expected them to drown her any minute
now. She’d clasped her fingers together and stood beside the open door, her
chin high and her expression shuttered.

He suddenly realized she’d stopped defending herself.

When they had first walked in she had looked at them with a
mixture of relief and fear, but most of all hope, as if their presence would
help her lift the weight off her shoulders. Her body had turned to him and
she’d stepped closer, seeking his support.

But with every exchange, every word spoken, she’d pulled
back.

She no longer looked to Warren and him for help and had
wrenched down a barrier far stronger than anything they had already
circumvented.

Had he made a mistake?

If the consequences of her actions only concerned him,
Archer would have taken the risk, would have chosen her above his duty. But
with the whole of London and possibly the rest of the country at stake he
needed proof of her innocence.

He stared at Kemmer. “Don’t try to clear your name by using
her as a scapegoat.” He nodded at the bookcase that had become uncoupled. “What
would you like to gamble that we will find your fingerprints all over the tools
in there?”

Kemmer cleared his throat. “I believe it is time for me to
contact my solicitor.” He sat back down and opened one of the drawers of his
desk.

Archer jumped toward him. “No!”

But he was too late. Kemmer had pulled a long-barreled
pistol and pointed it at Sarah.

Archer, Warren and Johnson all drew their own guns.

“Ah-ah-ah!” Kemmer shook his head. “You don’t want to do
that. This gun is just off the line from Holland & Holland, not even
available for the general public. It has an extended barrel and a modified
trigger, one that isn’t pulled but goes off when I no longer hold it down.” He
wiggled the tip of his index finger, demonstrating how he held down the
trigger. “She dies if you kill me and I let go.”

Sweat trickled down the side of Archer’s face. For a second
his knees weakened.

She could die.

Johnson carefully stepped sideways, attempting to get behind
Kemmer.

He gestured to Warren to remain still as Archer moved in the
opposite direction of Johnson, trying to give Kemmer something to focus on. But
the other man guessed their plan to surround him and slid sideways until he
could see the whole room and had shelves and the wall at his back. “Miss
Rigdon, please come closer.”

“Don’t move, Sarah.” If Kemmer got his hands on her he would
use her as a shield, making things even more desperate.

She froze after her second step and looked between him and
Kemmer.

“How do you expect to get away?” Johnson asked. “You have to
get past three guns and even if you get through the door we will be on your
tail immediately.”

Kemmer chuckled. “Is this where I am supposed to tell you
all my plans and give you opportunity to counter them?” He dropped the smile,
his face deadly serious and filled with no emotion whatsoever. “Miss Rigdon
will accompany me until I am out of reach. If you follow me I will kill her. I
have always planned for this day.” Inhuman rage spread across his features as
he looked at Sarah. “And for all the trouble you have caused me, Miss Rigdon, I
will ensure you and your father lose everything. The photographs I mentioned
will make their way to
The Daily Mail
.” He briefly rubbed the right side
of his chest with his free hand.

Johnson spoke up and asked Kemmer more questions but Archer
stopped listening, desperately trying to find a way to get Sarah to safety.

His hand steady, never moving an inch off Sarah’s chest, the
tax man replied as he walked toward her. She moved backward, her arms wrapped
tightly around her father’s device. She hugged it like a security shield.

A shield.

Archer calculated the angle Kemmer had on Sarah.

It could work. Rigdon had used dense metal for the outer
shell that would be enough to stop a bullet. If Kemmer had pushed Holland to
hand over this amazing pistol before the talented gunsmith had had the
opportunity to ensure the load calculations were ideal, the long barrel would
mean the bullet’s velocity was compromised. Which in this case meant that Sarah
had a workable shield in her father’s machine.

That was a huge if.

But they were running out of time. Sarah had nearly reached
the door and Kemmer was only a few steps away from her. “Sarah, I used the
shield mechanism your father installed in the scanner to identify the ink.”
Archer prayed she would understand.

She frowned at him, keeping her steps measured as she walked
through the doorway and into the front room. Like a parade they all followed.
“The shield mechanism?”

“Yes, it only required minor adjustments on my part. I just
wanted you to know, so you could hold the knowledge your father is a genius
close to your heart.”

“How sweet.” Kemmer smirked. “Any other last sweet nothings
you want to send her way before we leave?”

Sarah bit her lip. Then her expression cleared. Her eyes
widened. The stark fear in the pools of blue nearly killed him. For a moment
she only continued her slow backward walk.

He cursed, sure she hadn’t understood. He was just about to
say something else that would hopefully be more obvious when she adjusted her
hold on the Banknote Verification Device until his covered her chest and the
upper half of her abdomen.

For a second the barrier she had pushed down around her
lifted. The trust and pain in her eyes just about drove him to his knees.

He lifted his gun and aimed. “Now!”

Four shots rang out. Three of them hit Kemmer in the chest,
but Archer already raced to Sarah. The force of Kemmer’s shot had pushed her
back a couple of steps. He caught her and tugged her arms open, forcing her to
drop the device, before pulling her against his chest.

There was blood on her sleeve. He growled.

“Archer!” He looked up and met Warren’s worried gaze. “Let
her go. We need to see if she is all right.”

He exhaled and slowly unlocked his arms.

Sarah immediately stepped back. Warren stopped her with a
gentle touch to the shoulder and held out his hand. “Please let me see, sweet.”

She gave him her arm and he pressed a handkerchief against
the seeping blood. Warren ripped open the arm of her blouse. “It is only a
graze.”

Archer exhaled again, gripping the edge of the front desk.
“Thank goodness.”

“I would like to leave now.” The impersonal tone of Sarah’s
voice hit him like a fist.

She had taken a step back from Warren and pressed the cloth
against her arm.

“We need to take you to the doctor,” Warren said.

She shook her head and lifted the handkerchief. “The
bleeding has mostly stopped.”

“I have called for reinforcements.” Johnson joined them. He
studied Sarah before looking at Archer. “How did you stop his bullet?”

Archer walked over a couple of steps and picked up the
device. The bullet was lodged in the base. He showed it to his friend.

Johnson whistled. “Goodness me, that was close. Does it
still work?”

Archer’s brows rose.

“Kemmer is dead. There is no way for us to get any insights
or coconspirators from him. Your device is still the only working thing we have
to protect the economy.”

“Warren, will you stay with Sarah while we see if the
prototype still works?”

“I will come with you.” Sarah wound the kerchief around her
arm and straightened her shoulders. Some color had returned to her cheeks, but
overall she looked exhausted and worn down.

And she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

“Let’s do this.” Johnson strode back to the office and into
the secret room. They followed him.

The narrow compartment ran the length of the wall. Two
presses, a stack of paper and three tubes of ink filled the limited space.

Archer picked up a couple of £5 notes and went to the desk.

“Sarah, would you please set up your father’s machine?”

She took the device from Johnson and initialized it for him.
He fed each note into the slot on the left. It took only a few minutes. Each
note had the red light flare up. “These banknotes are all fakes.”

Johnson pulled a note out of his pocket. “Try this one, just
as a control case.”

Sarah did and the light flashed green.

“Excellent, it is still functioning.” Johnson turned off the
machine. “I appreciate your help in closing this, Latimer. The Houses will be
very relieved.” He slapped Archer on the shoulder. “And well done for getting
this machine all sorted. I’ll take it back with me just so no one else tries to
make off with it.”

Beside him Sarah made a move as if to protest but then
stopped. “If this is all, Detective Inspector, may I please go home?”

“Certainly, Miss Rigdon. You have been incredibly brave. We
would not have been able to bring this to a close without your help. In the
name of Her Majesty and the Metropolitan Police I would like to thank you for
everything you have done.”

“You are welcome.”

“Would you like a constable to take you home?”

She grimaced. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but
being seen with a police officer would not help my reputation in any way.”

Johnson chuckled. “Of course, Miss Rigdon, I understand
completely.”

“Take the steam coach,” Warren said. “It is just outside.
Archer and I can find our own way home.”

She stiffened but nodded. “Thank you.” With a final nod to
Johnson she walked out of the office.

Archer followed her a few steps and found her beside
Kemmer’s body. Pale and with a grimace she made as if to bend down.

“What do you need?”

She stiffened and didn’t look at him. “He has a photograph
cartouche in his inside pocket.”

He walked up. “Yes, he did say something about sending
photographs to
The Daily
Mail
.” He knelt beside the body and dug
out the cartouche. “Who is in these photographs?” he asked as he rose to his
feet. He held out the cartouche and she took it, very careful not to touch him
at all.

Sarah looked over his shoulder and didn’t reply.

“Kemmer said he wanted to ruin you.”

She continued to ignore him, staring straight ahead.

Realization dawned. “He had images of us together, didn’t
he?”

No response.

His stomach tied itself into knots. “That is how he made you
hand over the machine.” Archer reached out to take her hand. She twisted out of
the way.

“Sarah, I am so incredibly sor—”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

She finally met his gaze. It was like a punch to the face.
Her eyes were a dull blue, with all life, all vibrancy and vitality removed.

“You did what you had to do and I am now doing the same.
Goodbye, Archer.” She turned away and walked out onto the street where she
climbed into the steam coach.

Archer watched her walk away, his dreams in tatters at his
feet. And it was his own damn fault. He’d held his fantasy in his arms and then
destroyed it with his doubts and suspicions. Had wrecked his chance at a
family.

“I will see you at the house.” Warren strode past him.

Shit, he is furious with me.
Archer rubbed his hands
over his face, suddenly incredibly tired and feeling as if lead weights covered
his body.