The Nobleman and the Spy (20 page)

Karl showed that he was on his guard when he spoke to Reese in a low voice as they walked out of the house. “I recognize the carriage driver. He sells flowers next to the train station and offers travelers lifts.”

The hack driver jumped down to grab Karl"s bag of the clothes he"d collected from Lord Merridew"s house.

“We must go quickly,” Smelter insisted. “The train.”

Reese didn"t have time to go upstairs for his gun. He should have carried it with him day and night. How utterly stupid lust had made him. Even if he had the chance to hunt down a weapon, he didn"t want to leave Karl alone with a “friendly soul” like Smelter and the village hack driver.

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They climbed into the carriage and set off for the station. They didn"t speak to one another during the short ride. Smelter sat with a glazed half smile on his face, as if he was thinking of pleasant though slightly embarrassing memories. Karl watched Smelter, a thoughtful expression on his handsome face. And Reese watched them both. He longed for his gun. Or for the blade he often carried. Or a good stout stick.

They pulled into the station as the train arrived.

“You pay, Herr Reese,” Smelter ordered rather than requested. He grabbed Karl"s arm. “We must hurry.”

Reese had the coins out and thrown toward the driver almost before the words were out of Smelter"s mouth. Was this an attempt to slow him down so he"d miss the train?

Reese easily caught up with the other two, and they ran toward the first class compartment.

Smelter moved quickly for a man of his build—and for a man constantly peering around the platform. Fear, Reese thought. Smelter ripped open the door to an empty compartment and hurried Karl in, pelting in after him. He almost shut the door in Jonathan"s face. But he beamed as Jonathan entered the train and slammed the door behind him.

“Gut, gut,” Smelter gasped. “We made it.” He collapsed against the velvet cushions across from Reese and Karl and gave a little sigh of contentment. “I only hope that driver managed to get your bag to the proper place, Your Excellency.”

The train"s whistle shrieked and lurched into motion. They"d been underway for a couple of miles when the conductor entered and collected the fare from Smelter, who hurriedly pushed the money at him.

“Now we can relax at last,” Smelter said and smiled at them both. But Reese had no intention of doing anything of the sort. He looked around the compartment, searching for anything that might work as a weapon. The heavy brass lantern on 138

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the wall, he decided. He moved so that he could feel the heat of Karl"s body next to him, as ready as he could be for whatever they"d find in London. Or on this train.

Karl watched Jonathan, wondering if Smelter could sense the tension in the man"s stillness. The good doctor seemed to lapse back into his normal chatty self as the train swayed toward London. He beamed at Karl, then at Jonathan, who only stared back, unblinking.

“This train is quite good,” Smelter said. “It travels at speeds of nearly forty miles an hour, did you know? We shall reach London in less than an hour.”

He reached for the curtains and covered the windows to the corridor.

“Ah, that is good.” He sighed. He dipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out a silver flask. A familiar sight to Karl, who"d frequently taken a few swigs of the excellent brandy Smelter carried. It was a joke in their retinue: Smelter and his restorative flask was the first line of defense against cold evenings and boring events.

“Your Excellency? Herr Reese?” Smelter held out the flask, smiling broadly.

As always, he offered it to Karl first. Karl took it absently.

“No,” said Jonathan, plucking it calmly from his hands. He aimed an absolutely humorless smile at Smelter and watched the doctor as he said, “We need to stay completely sober, Your Excellency.”

“Of course,” Karl said.

Jonathan held out the flask to the doctor. “But go ahead, Doctor. If your nerves are overset, you should probably take some. A medicinal dose, I think you"d call it?”

His voice was quiet.

The doctor shook his head vigorously. “Oh, no, no. You are quite right, Herr Reese.” He eagerly reached for the flask. But Jonathan didn"t let go of it.

“You still seem quite worried, Herr Doctor,” Jonathan said. “I think it would be best if you drink some of this. Don"t you, Your Excellency?”

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Karl noticed that Smelter had gone pale. “I need to keep my wits about me,”

the doctor said, sounding angry now. “I was wrong to turn to drink for comfort.”

The anger was more like fear, Karl realized, his heart sinking. “Smelter. I order you to drink some. Now,” he commanded.

Smelter snatched the silver object from Jonathan and uncorked it. But Karl, watching closely, saw he didn"t open his lips as he put the thing to his mouth.

Bloody hell, as his uncle would say. Karl reached deep into his coat pocket.

But as he pretended to drink, Smelter reached into his own jacket pocket. A moment later, he tossed the flask away. It bounced, and the contents splashed on the seat, filling the compartment with the heavy scent of brandy. In his shaking hand, he held a pistol pointed at Karl.

Old instincts kicked in, and Karl twisted sideways and down as he lunged across the divide between the seats, the kitchen knife he"d drawn from his pocket in his hand. Next to him Jonathan kicked out. There was a heavy thud, and Smelter shouted in pain.

Jonathan was absolutely silent as he slammed his fist into the doctor"s back, toppling him to the floor. Smelter lay on his stomach. The gun slid into the corner near the window, and Karl scooped it up. He searched around for the knife and saw the handle lying on the floor. It had snapped off. A shoddily made thing, he reflected as he yanked the blade from the wooden seat beneath the cushion. No way to hold it now, so he shoved it under the seat.

He sucked in a deep breath and forgot the knife as he watched Jonathan deal with the doctor.

Smelter howled as Jonathan, still without a word, his face expressionless, rolled him over and pinned him. He gripped the doctor"s fat throat and slammed the back of his head against the floor. “Who hired you?”

Smelter cried out. “I can"t… I don"t know.”

Jonathan lifted his head by the hair and smashed it on the floor with an audible
thump
that made Karl wince. “Who?”

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“I"ve never seen his face,” Smelter gasped.

Again his head cracked against the floor. Karl opened his mouth to protest, but held his breath. This was the side of Jonathan he"d seen on the battlefield—grim, determined, deadly, but effective.

“Talk, or I"ll throw you off this train at the next bridge.”

The doctor began to sob, tears streaming down his cheeks and into his ears.

“I"m telling you the truth. The man who hired me communicates with me by notes.”

“Left where?”

“Delivered by courier or sometimes by my contact.”

“Who is your contact? What does he look like?”

“I don"t know his name, I swear,” Smelter wailed as Jonathan lifted his head again. “I can describe him.”

“Then do so.” He hauled the shaking fat man up by his collar and threw him back onto the opposite seat.

“Tall. Blond, er, thin. With a scar on his forehead.” From his hesitation, Smelter was clearly inventing these details.

While Karl held the gun on the doctor, Jonathan searched the man for more weapons. Then, barely out of breath, he sat down next to Karl. “Talk,” he ordered.

“How long have you been working against me?” The hand Karl held the gun with may have been steady, but his voice shook. He straightened his back and tried again. “Answer me, Smelter.”

“I did not wish to. I did not! They came to me.” He fell silent.

Jonathan asked, “When were you first approached?”

The doctor blubbered and gasped for breath, wiping his streaming eyes and nose with the cuff of his shirtsleeve. When Jonathan leaned menacingly toward him, he gulped and began to speak in German, his English apparently deserting him under stress.

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“A little over a month ago, before we left Prague. I was in a certain club, enjoying a fine young lady"s company, as it were, when I was snatched from the bed, blindfolded, and taken I know not where. My captors never took the blindfold off as several men questioned me, then told me the part I must play in the conspiracy against the erbgraf"s life.”

“And you went along with this, why?” Karl still trembled, his blood raging through his veins at the betrayal.

“They threatened my family. I had no choice.”

“He"s lying,” Jonathan remarked almost conversationally, also in German.

“No, no. I swear it"s the truth,” Smelter wailed. “I was told the erbgraf must be eliminated, and it would happen while we were in London. More information would be forthcoming and I should wait for a missive. They let me go in front of my house.”

“You could have told my father and me the truth. We would have protected your family.”

Smelter shook his head. “I know how these kinds of things work. I could not take that chance with my children"s lives.”

“Describe the man you met with here in England,” Jonathan said.

Smelter"s complexion began to fade from bright red to merely pink as he began to calm down. “I only saw a little of him in the dark. I"d received a note to meet him near Lord Merridew"s house. He told me where the…device would be and how to set it on the night of the party.”

“Would you recognize him if you saw him again?”

“He was of medium height and build. Completely nondescript. I don"t know if I could pick him out of a crowd.” He looked at Jonathan. “I might have described a man like you, eh?”

“Then you are quite useless to us.” Jonathan shifted in his seat, and Smelter cringed. “Your Excellency, is there any reason I should not kill this man?”

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Karl understood intimidation was Jonathan"s tool and felt chilled although he backed his move. “Perhaps later, Mr. Reese, but right now I think we must keep him alive. He could yet prove useful.”

“Then I must at the very least tie him up so he can"t scamper away. Have you a pocket handkerchief I might borrow?” Jonathan rose and bound Smelter"s wrists with one kerchief rolled into a tight coil. He used another pair and the doctor"s tie to bind his ankles together. Then Jonathan looked at Karl and nodded at the door.

The men left their prisoner trussed in the traveling compartment and stood in the corridor of the swaying train car to discuss the situation. Karl kept a hand on the door. If the train slowed at all, he"d have to make certain the doctor didn"t try to escape by the outside door.

“He"s lying,” Jonathan said again. “But not about everything. When I heard him outside your uncle"s house that night, arranging payment, I thought he was in charge. But now I believe he"s a pawn. He knows who hired him, and he fears the man.”

“I know,” Karl agreed. “Smelter is not such a good liar. I should have recognized something was wrong with him before. He"s been quite twitchy for some time now. Poisoning me… I wonder how fast acting the stuff was?” He shook his head. The thought of how close he came to drinking from the flask made him swallow back a surge of nausea. “And if it was obvious he"d drugged me, how would he deal with you, I wonder?”

Jonathan must have noticed his moment of queasy fear. He touched Karl"s arm. “Never mind him.” Jonathan"s dark brows drew together. “The question is not only who stands to benefit from you and Lord Merridew"s death, but who is powerful enough to frighten Smelter more than the threat of death?”

Another prickle of fear touched Karl"s neck. No, he wouldn"t let himself even consider panic. “We"ll ply him with more questions,” Karl said. “But this time, let me do the talking.”

Jonathan smiled. “You"re saying I lack finesse?”

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Karl reached out and gave his hand a quick squeeze, reassuring himself of Jonathan"s presence. God, he"d like to pull him into his arms and hold him for a moment, but this wasn"t the time or place for such a demonstration. “A little honey to sweeten a bitter brew is all I"m saying.”

Jonathan sobered at Karl"s choice of words. “He would have killed you just now. Don"t forget that. The fat bastard is dangerous.”

They returned to the compartment and closed the door behind them, then once more took their seats across from Smelter. The plump man"s face was shiny with sweat, and he stared at them like a mouse facing a pair of cats.

“I didn"t wish to become involved in such a horrible plot, Your Excellency. You must believe me. It is not poison. Just a-a way to make you sleep.” He looked at them pleadingly. Jonathan shook his head, just once, and Karl understood and silently agreed. Smelter lied about what was in the flask.

Jonathan would be the one to threaten Smelter. He"d cajole. “Yes, Herr Smelter, I know,” he said soothingly. You"ve always been loyal to me and my family—until now. Do you have any idea who might be behind this? Perhaps there is a clue in your memory, a voice, a phrase, some indication of who stands to gain from my demise. Or why they"d target my uncle"s house.”

Smelter shook his head, his jowls wobbling. “I do remember one voice, very deep, and he spoke in Russian, as they all did. He said something about striking a blow against two countries in one dramatic gesture, leaving a calling card, so to speak. He ranted about a glorious cause and other anarchic babble.”