The Janus Affair: A Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences Novel (2 page)

Chapter One

In Which Miss Braun Protests Her Innocence and No One Is Fooled

W
ellington had excelled in debate and the oratory arts during his time at university. His previous experiences in discussing imperative issues and pressing matters of Queen, Country, and Empire had never involved an opponent quite like the one standing over him. The fact that they were holding this debate on the
very public
platform of the York train station where they had been forced to make an emergency stop seemed to make little difference to his opponent, employing an unknown but hardly unsurprising strategy in keeping the upper hand with him: passionate contradiction.

“No.” He tried to murmur as covertly as possible.

“Yes.” Her retort was nowhere near as subtle.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Miss Braun—”

“Oh, come on, Welly—”

On hearing that nickname—the nickname that worked like Paris’ arrow to Achilles’ vulnerable heel—he dared to look up. Those sapphire eyes of hers could easily bend his will as would reeds in a strong winter wind. This time, however, he had steeled himself.

“Miss Braun, I can say it for you in the Telegu dialect of India—
Kaddu
. I can say it for you in Nepalese—
Ahaa.
The Nandi dialect of Kenya?
Achicha
. A Mandarin variation?
Bu dai.
Or would you prefer your homeland’s Maori dialect?
Kao
. Pick a language that you tend to grasp better than the Queen’s English because I think I am clear as crystal when I say
No
!”

“But Welly—”

“Yes, I know, we were right there.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, screwing his eyes shut . . . and he instantly regretted the now habitual gesture. The fresh sunburn on his face brought an extra sting. Exactly what had happened on the train, and how it had caused such damage to both himself and his colleague, was a matter he planned to investigate, once he had calmed Eliza down.

He stood, and suddenly the need to pace overcame him. Perhaps he also needed to calm his own nerves. No matter how hard he squeezed his eyes shut, that woman bursting into the carriage car still remained etched in his memory. The scarlet in the stranger’s skin revealed to him she had been exposed to the elements, either for a prolonged period or in a brief intense burst at high speeds. He had caught the recognition in her eyes along with Eliza’s reaction just before all went dark in their car, followed seconds later by the crackle of electricity. Thin bolts of blue, white, and violet danced around her figure, caressing her body’s curves and crevices. Then came the flash, followed by the wild panic of passengers. When the car’s lights flickered back to life, the stranger was gone.

A stranger to him, perhaps, but not to his Ministry compatriot.

Those closest to the lost woman were left not only horrified, but also slightly burned. Most assuredly, this affair would fall under the Ministry’s jurisdiction. Or, more to the point, it would fall under a London field agent’s jurisdiction.

And here was Eliza’s point of contention, as it always had been since her demotion. She was, officially, no longer a London field agent.

Wellington stepped aside as a man working the levers of his Portoporter steamed towards the door. “Eliza, now you know it was sleight of hand and quick thinking that managed to keep our hides as well as our jobs with Doctor Sound last time.”

“You forgot cleverness. The tale we spun was quite clever,” Eliza stated proudly, pushing her dark russet hair back into a braid that had come loose.

“Be that as it may, we were—and no doubt, still are—held under scrutiny, with that whole Phoenix Society brouhaha. It is imperative we remain on our best behaviour, a feat that you did not exactly manage effortlessly with your shenanigans in Edinburgh.”

Eliza huffed. “Tosh, Wellington. Had I shown up for the meeting, I think that would have caught Doctor Sound’s attention.” She snickered. “Now if I had shown up early, that would most assuredly make him wonder what the game was.”

“And there we are, missing the point. Once. Again.” Wellington clicked his tongue as a thought—a new strategy—came to mind. “Consider then how compromised this occurrence would be if the Director deemed it proper for you to investigate.”

Eliza’s brow furrowed. “Come again, Books?”

“Much like our previous little adventure outside of the Archives, you are the last person who should investigate this case due to your attachments to it!” He returned to the bench and considered her for a moment. “She knew you!”

“She knew me a little. There is a difference.” She rubbed tentatively at her own rosy skin. “I think we will need to get some of that wonderful Ministry cream they issue in the tropics. I fear I may tan.” She winked at him, when any real lady would have been horrified at the prospect.

“Don’t change the subject,” he warned, his eyebrow crooking slightly. “That woman who disappeared in a ball of lightning right in front of our eyes knew your name—and I want to know how.”

She finally took a seat by Wellington on the bench, her hands smoothing long azure blue skirts. He secretly wished she would wear dresses more often. The look did suit her quite well. “All right, I confess, I had met the girl previously. We had a few pints at the pub with the Edinburgh Suffrage Chapter, talked a bit about the forward progress of women in our society, and she was making overtures towards me—”

“Well, there’s a shock,” Wellington snipped.

“Not like that! She was making overtures to me about speaking at her Women’s Society back in London. Her name was Lena Munroe.”

“Eliza, must I remind you, you are no longer a field agent. You are my partner and protégé within the Archives. Our responsibilities and priorities remain there.”

As if on cue, movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He recognised the form instantly.

“Welly?” Eliza leaned forward. “Welly, you’ve gone ashen. What is it? Do you have the vapours?”

With the scent of oil, metal, and steam filling his nostrils, Wellington took in a deep breath and brought himself back to his feet. Eliza was still talking to him, but he really didn’t take in the words. They made no difference now. Eventually, her head turned to see whom had grabbed his attention.

“Agent Books.” Doctor Sound beamed. “And our beloved Agent Braun! Archivist and junior archivist.”

Eliza quickly rose, and Wellington noted her smile seemed eerily relaxed and charming—even though she loathed the use of her new official title. “Sir, what brings you—”

“Oh do not think me a simpleton. An incident occurs on the White Star’s prototype hypertrain, the same hypertrain that you and your mentor here happen to be riding on, and you believe that it wouldn’t warrant my attention?”

“Well, it is late, Doctor Sound,” Eliza said. “We didn’t anticipate you being awake.”

“Oh, normally at this hour, I am enjoying a deep sleep after a delightful hot toddy. Strangely enough, I have been having a right bother of a time falling asleep ever since you left London.” Sound turned his attention to Wellington as his expression darkened. “Happens with every trip the two of you undertake, I’ve noticed.”

Wellington watched Eliza loose a wink, as her back was now to Sound.

Doctor Sound checked his pocket watch, nodded, and then said, “Well, I hope you can regale me with the astounding events that occurred on your train ride home.”

“But of course,” Wellington began, about to return to the bench, “After we—”

The Director cut him off. “Perhaps we could walk as you give me your unofficial report.”

“If you don’t mind, sir,” Eliza added, “It’s lovely to be stationary after the long—”

“I insist.” Doctor Sound’s brows furrowed.

Wellington and Eliza shared a look; and then with the tiniest of shrugs, the two followed the Doctor down their platform.

He shot them an appraising look. “If I didn’t know better I would think both of you had gone to the Indies, not Scotland.”

Wellington managed not to raise his hand to his face. “Sir, it appears whatever happened had some unusual side effects.”

“I hope we don’t keel over before luncheon,” Eliza replied brightly. “My friend Marie in Paris is working on some—”

“I also hear,” the Ministry Director cut her off curtly, “that you were engaging in some social time with suffragists while you were in Scotland?”

“Yes, sir, but strictly on my time. Not the Ministry’s,” she reassured him.

Wellington added, “I saw to that, Doctor.”

“I’m sure you did. And this is where you met—”

Eliza cleared her throat. “Lena Munroe, sir. A suffragist from London. There was a ladies’ group from the City giving support to an Edinburgh chapter. Strength in numbers and all that. I only met the girl a couple of times, but she was quite outspoken.”

“Perhaps one reason you two got along so well, Miss Braun,” Wellington muttered from beside her.

Her elbow never failed in finding a pressure point that could steal his breath. Blinking back tears, Wellington remained quiet as a church mouse while Eliza continued. “We met for breakfast along with many of the other ladies from both the London and Edinburgh groups.”

“And was this breakfast why you missed the meeting at Deputy Director Wynham’s office?”

He saw the muscle twitch in Eliza’s jaw. She dare not tell him what she’d been actually up to, and that the previous day had in fact been when she met with Lena. This, Wellington surmised, was his cue; and unsettling as he found it, it was proving easier and easier to lie for Eliza. “Yes, sir. I was already there—”

“So he told me in a wireless.”

“Ah,” Wellington gestured to Eliza and said, “then he told you that Agent Braun really didn’t need to be there. It was really only a courtesy, since we already had what we needed from their archives.”

“The wireless was hardly that detailed.” Doctor Sound then turned back to Eliza, stopping hardly by chance at their train car. “So, Agent Braun, you and Agent Books here collect your case files from the Scottish branch, you board the train, and then—”

“And then we settled in for the ride home. I had no idea Miss Munroe was also sharing the hypersteam with us.” Eliza motioned to where she had seen the suffragist appear. “She burst into our car, saw me, and looked as if she would break down and cry.”

“More out of relief than out of despair, Doctor Sound,” Wellington offered. “I do not mean to sound cheeky saying that, but it was true. This woman recognised Agent Braun here, and looked awash with relief.”

Doctor Sound furrowed his brow. “Relief?”

“Yes, sir. It appeared as if she wanted to tell us something”—Wellington took a deep breath and then motioned along the car—“but then—”

“But then, all hell broke loose,” Eliza chimed in.

“Really now?” His eyebrows were up again. “And the Gates of Beelzebub just happened to open in the car that two agents of the Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences occupied?” Doctor Sound pursed his lips. “Fancy. That.”

Wellington gave a light shudder.

Eliza lifted her chin slightly. After spending months with her, Wellington had observed this usually happened a moment before she did something dangerous. “Sir, I know how this may look—but I can assure you this is completely coincidental.”

“Agent Braun, you are, indeed, a force of nature. You do not command the arctic winds to plunge Old Blighty into a harsh winter nor do you call upon the sands of the Sahara to blind the ancient home of the pharaohs. Nay, you attract mayhem, chaos, and anarchy wherever your delicate feet tread. Around you there is no such thing as coincidence.”

“Why do you think it is always me, Director?” Eliza protested. “It could be Books. My father always told me to beware the quiet ones!”

“Yes,” Wellington grumbled. “In my spare time outside of the Archives, I tend to get into the occasional pub brawl or even the odd boxing match, to work out the tensions.”

Eliza blinked. “You? Boxing?”

He turned to look at her. “The tension just so happened to arise last summer when I was assigned a charge in my Archives. Do you think that is coincidence?”

“A tiny one.”

“That will do, the
both
of you,” Doctor Sound said, his voice remaining calm, though effectively cutting through the clamour of the train platform. The Scarborough Dasher chugged past them into the station, bathing the area for a few moments in steam. The Director seemed to revel in the atmosphere. He drew in a great breath before continuing. “Whether you meant to or not, you attracted a great deal of attention to yourselves in this fateful moment. From what I have managed to gather from eyewitnesses is that the woman was quite a sight, her eyes fixed upon you, and that was when the screaming started. The screaming, and the
lumières fantastique.”

“Doctor Sound,” Eliza began, and Wellington’s stomach felt as if it were gripped by a metal fist. “As Agent Books and I were present during this obvious peculiar occurrence, perhaps you could allow us to be lead investigators on this case?”