Scotland Hard (Book 2 in the Tom & Laura Series) (10 page)

The journey took almost two hours as they made their way through heavy
London
traffic. They ended up in a quiet leafy suburb to the north of
London
. They watched Saunders pay off his cab and enter an imposing mansion.

Cam
paid the cabby the money they agreed and he wished them good luck in their venture before setting off at a fast clip back towards the centre of town.

Cam
looked at the large detached house in dismay. The good news was that it appeared Saunders lived alone. There was no one to greet him at the door when he arrived. It was starting to get dark and they saw a couple of windows in his house light up as he moved around inside.

The companions found a hiding place in the bushes at the bottom of the drive. It was getting colder as evening set in and
Cam
stomped her feet on the ground in an attempt to get some circulation going in them.

“Are we going to spend the night out here?” Daisy asked with some trepidation. They were dressed in town clothes and not for any kind of hike.

“Should I go and look for an inn?”
Arnold
asked. “We could come back in the middle of the night and break into the house while Saunders is asleep.”

This idea did not appeal to the girl, but they could think of nothing better. It was therefore something of relief when a coach in War Office livery pulled into the drive and stopped in front of the house.

They moved closer using the bushes as cover of in the hope of overhearing the conversation. The soldier driving the coach knocked loudly at Saunders door and waited impatiently for someone to open it.

“What can I do for you, sergeant?” They heard Saunders ask.

“Urgent dispatch for you from the Director of MM3, sir,” the sergeant said handing Saunders a letter. “He said that I should bring you back to
London
with me.”

Saunders tore open the envelope. He scanned its contents and looked up at the sergeant.

“Ah yes, but not unexpected under the circumstances,” Saunders said gravely. “I’m afraid two of our young agents have been found dead in the
Thames
. There’s going to be a stink over this one, sergeant, you mark my words. Trelawney may not survive as the Director of MM3 by the time this is all over.” He turned back towards his house. “I’ll just get my hat and coat and be right with you.”

The three young spies looked at each other in horror. There was no doubt in their minds over who the dead agents were. While they were still digesting the news, Saunders returned and got into the coach. The sergeant set his horses trotting with a crack of his whip. The coach sped off down the drive at considerable speed.

“What do we do now?”
Cam
asked in despair. “Tom and Laura are dead and we have failed them.”

11.
      
Corpses

Sir Ernest Trelawney got out of the cab and paid the driver. Fog obscured the buildings around him, reducing them to an oppressive set of looming shapes. If it had not been for the gaslight burning brightly at the top of a lamppost he would not have even been able to see the cabby well enough to pay him.

Foghorns boomed from ships on the river. Trelawney was in the heart of
London
’s Docklands, a considerable way downriver from the War Office. Everything from sleek tea clippers to filthy barges carrying coal from
Newcastle
made their way to these docks. It seemed that bodies came this way too, floating upriver on the evening tide.

Trelawney would have given a great deal not to be down at the docks this evening, but it was his duty and he knew he could not shirk it. He had failed his two young friends and it was certain he would pay the price for his failure with his career.

He arrived at the docks much later than originally intended. The Secretary of War in person had summoned him to the House of Commons to explain himself and his conduct. Sir Sidney Herbert had been fuming when he had walked into his office.

 
“How could you allow this to happen, Ernest?” Sir Sidney shouted as Trelawney walked into the room. “You do realize this could result in Military Magic being moved out of the War Office and into the Admiralty? Do you want magic to be put in the hands of sailors?”

“I did not plan on this happening,
Sidney
,” Trelawney replied wearily. Sir Sidney handed him a large glass of brandy and the men sat to talk. “I thought I had taken all necessary precautions.”

Sir Sidney Herbert was a tall thin man who had celebrated his fiftieth birthday only a couple of months before, but looked much older. He was renowned for his skills in the management of war and as an orator in parliament. To Trelawney, Sir Sidney looked more haggard than usual; the disaster that was the Crimean War had taken a lot out of the man. The news of the death of a young Class A would not be helping the disposition of his liver.

“Officially the
British Empire
has four Class A’s and that makes us the most powerful nation on Earth,” Sir Sidney said, stating the obvious. “But you and I know that we actually have five of them, or rather we did have five until Laura Young’s body was found floating headless in the Thames. When this fact comes out the government is very likely to fall. Do you realize how serious this situation is?”

“Of course I do,
Sidney
,” Trelawney replied angrily. “It is worse than you know. MM3, and probably all the departments in Military Magic have been infiltrated by the Brotherhood of Knights. They took Laura and Tom from us and killed them.”

Sir Sidney did not seem impressed by Trelawney’s speech. “There is no evidence that the Brotherhood of Knights exists. It is much more likely that a Hungarian agent killed your charges.”

“I instructed Charles Drake to pick them up from Paddington. You know his record and his loyalty. Someone managed to kill him in his home with his own sword. Laura and Tom were picked up in his MM3 cab. They would have suspected nothing.”

“Then you have a Hungarian spy in your department,” Sir Sidney snapped back. “There is no need to invoke this imaginary band of thieves.”

“I am sure that Snood was working for the Brotherhood. There was a commission to kill young Carter placed by Lord Humphrey. The Hungarians do not do such things.”

“Snood is dead and we only have your
opinion
that he attacked Carter. And Laura Young is dead.” Sir Sidney sighed. “The Prince Consort is furious. He had barely been briefed by his son about the episode at Hobsgate before we received word of the bodies. The Queen herself will be on our necks before very long, and let us not forget about the Prime Minister. He owes his life to these two young people. What do you plan to do about it?”

“I have some agents out in the field. Their job was to find Tom and Laura without alerting the Brotherhood. I must get word to them to return to Hobsgate and their studies. I have all my other agents scouring
London
for clues. James Saunders will lead the team. He has a score to settle with whoever killed Drake, as Drake was one of his men. You know how good an agent he is and I can assure you he will be highly motivated.”

Sir Sidney nodded in approval.

“I am going to order all the other Military Magic departments to release as many of their men to you as they can. I will try to keep a lid on this for as long as possible, but when this story gets out, heads will role. Yours will be the first on the chopping block. Find out who did this, Ernest, and bring them to justice. Go out with honor rather than in disgrace.”

Trelawney stood in the fog and wondered if he would have any honor left even if he did succeed in finding those who killed Laura and Tom. He sighed loudly and began walking through the docks to where the bodies were waiting for him.

“Beheaded sir,” the Doctor told Trelawney as the blankets were lifted from the bodies.

“I could have deduced that for myself,” Saunders snapped irritably. Trelawney put a hand on the man’s shoulder. There was no point in taking out Laura and Tom’s deaths on the Doctor. He was only doing his job

“Those are the clothes they were wearing,” Trelawney said dismally. In truth, neither body looked like them despite being the right height and build. However, he knew that this was wishful thinking and being decapitated is bound to change the way a person looks.”

“Who found the bodies?” Saunders asked, with only a little more civility than in his previous statement.

“That would be me, sir,” a man in a civilian uniform answered. “I’m the harbormaster and I always look for debris floating into the dock at high tide.”

“Bodies floating up here are a common occurrence?” Trelawney asked in surprise.

“We usually get more dead dogs than anything else, sir. Bodies usually end up in the Royal Docks. From the poorer parts of the city itself, you understand. In this dock, we get the flotsam and jetsam from the estuary, and that can sometimes be logs which do damage to the ships if we leave them. So I always do an inspection at high tide.”

“Is this fact common knowledge?” Trelawney asked.

“I knew about it,” Saunders replied. “There was the case of a young woman who committed suicide on the mudflats and her body turned up in these docks. It was in all the papers.”

“I must have missed it,” Trelawney admitted. “Which begs the question, did whoever killed Tom and Laura intend that their bodies should wash up here?”

“Perhaps, sir,” Saunders said thoughtfully. “But I very much doubt it. If they wanted the bodies to be easily identified they would have left their heads on them.”

“My own thoughts exactly. Why do you think they have taken the heads?”

“For payment most likely,” Saunders replied sagely. “If they are freelance assassins, they would need to prove they have killed their targets.”

“This wasn’t done by a freelance assassin,” Trelawney stated.

Saunders frowned at Sir Ernest’s assertion. He looked Trelawney straight in the eyes.

“How can you be so certain of that?”

Trelawney waved at the doctor to cover up the gruesome remains. Then he stared straight back at Saunders and uttered one word.

“Drake.”

Tom held a goose feather firmly against a block of wood and sliced the end of it with the sharp edge of the ploughshare. He examined the resulting quill pen critically.

“It’s not very good, I’m afraid.”

“It will have to do,” Laura said grimly. She dipped the end of the quill into the juice and thought hard about the bind she was going to create.

“I’m going to try and turn everybody in the house into mice,” she announced. “It probably won’t last for more than a couple of hours, mainly because I don’t know the people involved and because blackberry juice is not a good ink for binds.”

“It don’t ‘ave to last long,” Tricky said with a broad smirk on his face. “Not when I bash ‘em with a broom.”

“We are not going to kill anyone,” Laura said, shocked at the suggestion. “We must be fairly close to a town or village and as soon as we can find one, we will report these villains to the authorities.”

“Tricky might have a point,” Tom ventured. “If the people change back too soon we might be caught before we can get to a town.”

“Might I remind you, Thomas Merlin Carter, that your pretty little maid is in that house and one mouse looks very much like another. I will not kill innocents and that is final.”

“What kind of Spellbinder are you anyways?”
Alice
asked contemptuously. “I thought Spellbinders loved to kill the enemy. Not much use ‘aving one that gets all squeamish on you.”

Tom felt his anger rise.

“Laura is the kind of Spellbinder who insisted that we come looking for you so I could cure your wounds, rather than the sort who would have left you to rot.”
Alice
backed away, surprised at the strength of his anger.

“I wuz only askin’,” she said meekly.

“There, it’s done,” Laura said triumphantly. All of them crowded around her to look at the elegant Latin script on the paper.

“I think we had better go quickly,” Tom said urgently.

“What’s the rush?” Tricky asked.

“Laura’s spells don’t usually smoke like that,” Tom told him. A haze of steam rose from the light purple ink on the paper

“Hold these,” Laura ordered and Tom took the candle-holder and pen she gave him. “We will go now and when this sheet catches fire I will stop and write another.”

“How far away do you think we will get?” Tom asked her in a whisper the children couldn’t hear.

“I don’t know. That ink is very poor, worse than a pencil drawing. But I can’t draw a spell because I don’t know how many people there are in the house or who they are. I suspect the house must be filled with people. My binds are usually strong and even with this ink I would have thought it would have lasted for at least a day if there were only six or seven people in there.”

“There are more than two dozen people in the ‘ouse,” Tricky told them, having overheard some of their whispering. “They ‘ave gathered for the auction. It was why I got caught. There were too many people wandering aroun’.”

“Then we had better get a move on then,” Laura suggested.

“I know they are still alive,” Daisy told Cam and
Arnold
, stopping their anxious conversation instantly.

“Precog’s sometimes get it wrong,”
Cam
reminded her.

“You are an Empath,” Daisy reminded
Cam
. “What would you say was Saunders emotion when he read that letter?”

Cam
was a Grade 4 Empath, which meant that she could sense people’s feelings as they related to her. However, Daisy had suspected for some time that
Cam
was better with her gift than she believed.

“I thought he was feeling satisfied mixed with an undercurrent of fear. Why do you ask?”

“I saw his satisfaction from here, and I’m no Empath,”
Arnold
said.

“Why would a member of the Brotherhood of Knights feel
satisfied
that their bodies had been found?” Daisy asked.

Cam
thought about it and the answer was obvious.

“Because he wanted them to be found,”
Cam
said excitedly. “The bodies must be decoys to stop MM3 from looking for the real Tom and Laura.”

“I bet the bodies have been mutilated so no one can be certain who they are,”
Arnold
put in.

“But wouldn’t Trelawney see right through it, just like we did?”
Cam
asked, her words falling like iced water over them.

“Perhaps, but with Saunders at his side to keep telling him he is wrong…” Daisy pointed out.

“Let’s get into this damned house and find Tom and Laura,”
Cam
said, her resolve restored. She strode out of the bushes and towards the front door. Saunders had left the gas lamp burning on the front porch, so she could see clearly as she set about picking the lock.