Saving the Scientist Page 26

  The lamps were still lit. Edison’s automatic butler gleamed in the flickering light of the two large kerosene lamps at either end of his vast work table.

  Not thinking, she grabbed a rag off the nearest bench and approached it, rubbing the cloth over the head and face, erasing smudges and fingerprints from the polished brass.

  Despite her fears, Ada smiled at the blank-faced automaton. The cheerful-looking creation seemed so at odds with his creator. Edison’s cheer was hidden deep inside him, beneath layers of intensity, focus, cynicism… even fear.

  Ada stopped. The rag fell from her fingers.

  He was afraid. Not like ordinary men. He had no fear of pain or death.

  He feared intimacy.

  As did she.

  She sank down on the nearest stool. It was all so clear.

  Even as a laugh escaped her, tears formed in the corners of her eyes. What a foolish pair they were. Both too afraid of heartache to find joy.

  She sighed. The sound was as deep and shaky as she felt.

  No wonder they’d never suit.

  A clatter at the door, then Nelly’s breathless voice rang out. “‘E was never there. Mr. Edison never made it to the chemical works.”

  She felt as if she couldn’t breath. Her vision blurring, Ada bolted down the hall to the front of the offices.

  Worry lines etched into his handsome face, Burke stood in the center of the room, taking charge. “Nelly, send a telegram to my station. We need men here now.”

  Meena grabbing her coat off the peg. “We should spread out, search the area.”

  Burke stopped her. “I’ve got patrol officers for that.” He thought for a moment. “Might be best to start at this chemical shop and work backwards.”

  “Good idea.” Spencer stood shoulder to shoulder with his wife. “Meena and I will tackle that.”

  Ada rushed into the room. “I’ll go with you.”

  She didn’t like the worried look that passed between Spencer and his wife. She knew she wasn’t going to like what they had to say.

  “That won’t do,” Meena said gently. “We know the area. We know my cousin. Whoever’s out there wants you. If it comes down to it, you’re our only bargaining chip.”

  “I understand.” Ada rubbed her hands together as the muscles in her shoulders tightened painfully. “But another set of eyes…” her voice trailed off. The set of their faces told her better than words that her argument wasn’t working.

  She hung her head. “I understand. You can’t be worrying about me.”

  “Besides,” Meena added, “I’m hoping he stopped by the local pub for a pint.” She tried to smile. “Then I can kill him myself.”

  A shaky laugh escaped Ada’s lips.

  Spencer and Meena and Burke were throwing on their overcoats, preparing to leave.

  “They should be armed,” Spencer said to the Inspector.

  Burke nodded. “Not a bad idea.”

  Spencer nodded. “Nelly, Henry, you stay with Mrs. Templeton.” He pulled a revolver from a desk drawer. “I have a bad feeling our man is out there. If he snatched Edison, it’s only because he’s been watching us. All of us.”

  Nelly cocked her gun and caught Ada’s eye. “Don’t worry, Mrs. T, I can shoot the eye outta a potato at twenty paces. Ain’t no bruisers gonna get past me.”

  At the slight girl’s boast, Henry’s eyes widened, making Ada laugh. She treasured that second when the blanket of fear lifted for an instant before dragging her down again.

  “Bolt the door behind us,” Meena ordered as she and the men slipped out into the night.

  * * *

  Henry had been staring at the door so long Ada wondered if he’d fall into some sort of trance, as if he were trying to will Meena and the men back inside.

  “They’ll be all right,” he announced finally, with all the fake bravado a young, strong boy could muster.

  He checked the revolver again, squinting down at the bullets nestled in their chambers as if he hadn’t done the same thing eight times already. That done, he grabbed the door handle and pulled, rattling the door in its frame as he tested the deadbolt.

  Again.

  Nelly tensed. She left off the delicate work of brushing the ink and lint from the typewriter keys. “Leave off,” she ordered. “You’ll make us all crazy.”

  “Sorry.” He sank down in the chair next to her telegraph machine and reached out a finger to spin her fountain pen around and around on the blotter.

  Nelly clucked her tongue like a harried governess and grabbed the thing out of his hands.

  Ada sympathized with the boy’s need to fidget. She was having trouble controlling her own urges. She longed to be in Edison’s workshop, tidying or arranging or fiddling, but it wouldn’t do to leave the younger ones alone in the front office.

  “We could do with some tea.” Ada headed for the hotplate next to the sink in the small galley-style kitchen behind the desk area.

  “You never did say where you’re from,” Ada heard Nelly say. “And don’t pretend it’s the East End. Yer accent barkered off days ago.”

  Itching to hear his reply to such a pointed observation, Ada turned quietly, wanting to watch the exchange without reminding them of her presence.

  Henry stared hard at the back of the door. “I can’t say.”

  The fear in his tone tugged at her heart.

  Nelly huffed. “If ya don’t trust us by now, ya never will.” She turned her attention back to cleaning. “Fine by me.”

  “If I told you, you’d be in danger.”

  Nelly looked up at him from the level of her typewriter keys. Henry likely missed it, but to Ada, the hitch in her shoulders spoke of hurt.

  “We’re always in danger.” Nelly’s tone was light. “Won’t change a thing for me.” Her brush swept back and forth over the metal strikers with quick, short strokes. “But if you ain’t smart enough to see the league could help, y’don’t got brains enough t’last out there, anyway.”

  Now Henry puffed up like a pigeon. “I’ve been out there for weeks, living off nothing but my wits. Ever since—” He cut himself off.

  Instead of pushing, Nelly surprised her. “You ‘ave been showin’ an uncommon skill for following Mr. Edison’s directions.” She pointed the brush at him. “Maybe they’ll let you stay. Our league gets about important work. Helping folks and the like. Lots of bang up adventures.”

  Ada smiled at the thought of the pint-sized dynamo chasing down hulking thugs.

  Water rumbled in the kettle as it came to a boil. Ada took her attention off the younger two while she measured out the tea and filled the pot. Meena’s prized Darjeeling hit the water and bloomed into full fragrance, taking a little of the tension out of the air.

  “Cor, that’s a hell of a thing!” Nelly was squinting at the front windows. She flew across the room and pressed her nose to the glass. “Smoke. Down at the corner.” She gestured toward the far end of the street. “Could be Mr. Edison. It’s just the kind of signal he’d send up.”

  Ada pushed away from the counter and headed for the front just as Henry scooped up the revolver. “I’ll investigate,” he said.

  Ada grabbed his arm. “Wait. Let’s think this through.”

  An obstinate grimace turned down his lips, and he started to pull away, but a breath later, he relaxed in her grip and nodded.

  “Mr. Edison never just hairs off,” Ada explained. “Hardly ever, I mean,” she corrected herself.

  Figures ran past the window, some running toward the billowing gray smoke, some running away. All of which added to the sense of urgency pushing her to follow.

  They should do something.

  She pressed her own nose to the window, laying her cheek against the cold glass and squinting down the street. There was smoke, a great deal of thick gray smoke. But no flames.

  Her heart gave a silly little stutter. It could be a smoke bomb. Exactly the sort of thing Edison would carry.

  It could also be a trap.

>   Ada bit her lip and turned away from the window. She stared out over the empty desks, trying to come up with a logical plan. Edison and his friends knew what they were about. The Restitution League obviously invested in the best. The best equipment, the best training, the best plans.

  They’d get themselves out of any trouble.

  It was her job—her only job at the moment—to keep Nelly and Henry safe.

  But it could be Edison out there, trying to gain their attention. What if the others were unaware of his signal? Meena and the men could be anywhere in the city by now.

  Perhaps it came down to the three of them.

  When Ada looked up, both Henry and Nelly were watching her. And though the strain of waiting was clear on their young faces, they were willing to let her take charge.

  “All right. We’ll go.” Ada grabbed their hands and squeezed, wanting to emphasize her point. “But we stay together. No matter what.”

  Nelly grinned.

  Henry nodded solemnly, as if allowing any other emotion would suggest an unseemly frivolity.

  Ada glanced around the kitchen area for something to use as a weapon. The paring knife just fit down the center of her corset.

  Henry had the revolver. Mimicking Edison’s swagger, he stuffed it in the waistband of his trousers. The familiar gesture squeezed her heart.

  Nelly hefted the small wrench she’d used to take the front off of her typing machine. Her small hands made the tool look bigger than it was.

  “Makes a good cosher,” she explained.

  Ada led the way out the door, peering cautiously up and down the street before setting out. The cold night air bit the lobes of her ears and stung the tip of her nose, but she paid the frost little mind.

  If all went well, they wouldn’t be out long enough to worry about their lack of overcoats. Ada slid her hands between her upper arms and her sides, hoping to keep her fingers limber enough to grab the paring knife, should it come down to it. Both Nelly and Henry were blowing on their cupped hands, sending plumes of thin white steam out in front of them as they hurried down the pavement toward the billowing smoke.

  By the time they reached the source of the smoke, a small crowd had gathered. Windows in the surrounding flats had been flung open. The residents leaned out over the sills to watch the goings’ on.

  Now that they were closer, Ada could see that the smoke poured out of a broken window on the ground floor of a vacant shop across the street. It was thick and gray and curiously odorless.

  There was no fire. No heat. No smell of burning wood. Just a bitter, chemical tang to the air.

  Exactly the sort of diversion Edison would create.

  Ada’s heart lifted. He would have set off the device in order to mask his escape.

  The persistent clang of a brass bell signaled the arrival of a fire wagon. It stopped on the far side of the building. Though just across the street, the image of the horses and the firemen moved in and out of view as the smoke swirled around them.

  It didn’t take but a moment for the uniformed men to uncoil a long line of firehose and pour water through the broken window. The smoke dissipated instantly.

  Three firemen approached the front door of the small shop. One smashed the window with an axe, and they disappeared inside.

  Ada held her breath. Hoping. Praying. Wishing with all her might they’d emerge with Edison, all patting each other on the back over a job well done.

  “Nothing here.” One of the men hurried out the front, a paint can held high. “Place is deserted. Just this, chief.” He continued on to the fire wagon.

  Ada sighed. “False alarm.”

  Disappointment added weight to the worry that pressed down on her shoulders as she and her companions trudged back to the office. After the adrenaline, and the elation of hope, it was as if the rest of their meager energies had been sucked straight out of them.

  Walking back took twice as long as hurrying out had done. It felt even longer. They’d just reached the office when a slender figure came up behind them.

  Ada gasped. Her hand went to the bodice of her gown.

  Henry tried to shove Nelly behind him and reach for the revolver at the same time.

  Nelly raised her wrench to shoulder height, a fearsome scowl on her delicate face.

  Hands out in a protective gesture, the figure stumbled back. “My apologies.” It was a woman’s voice. High and thin and soft with youth. She couldn’t see the woman’s features as she held a kerchief to her mouth and nose.

  The woman grabbed Ada’s arm, sagging against her. “Wasn’t that the most frightening thing? I could faint dead away.”

  Though the young woman was almost her own height, Ada held her up, propping her own arm beneath the woman’s elbow. She couldn’t leave the poor thing out on the pavement.

  And they did have tea.

  It couldn’t do any harm.

  Henry shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt to offer her a chair and a glass of water.”

  “We’ve got tea,” Ada offered. “Come. Sit. Get your feet back under you.”

  “Thank you,” the woman whispered.

  She continued to lean on Ada as they waited for Henry to unlock the door. They filed in, but before Ada could lock the deadbolt behind them, the woman pulled away.

  Light eyes glittered above the kerchief. Though her eyes were the only features Ada could see, she could have sworn the woman was laughing.

  A bony wrist, and hands too big to be ladylike, swept beneath her cloak. Then she lunged, a canister spraying some sort of mist aimed straight at them.

  The scent of almonds, mixed with an odd sickly sweet odor spread through the air.

  Chloroform.

  Arms up, Ada sprang at the woman, clawing at the canister of gas. “Run!” she yelled at Nelly and Henry. “Run!”

  But even as the warning left her lips, Henry’s legs folded beneath him. Eyes wide with fear, mouth open in surprise, he melted to the floor. Nelly staggered back a few steps as if she were making for the back of the building, but she only made it a few feet before collapsing.

  The last thing Ada heard before her brain ceased to function was an odd, high-pitched laugh.

  “Bugger all. That was easy.”

  Chapter 26

  “Let her move,” Edison prayed. “Please let her move.”

  He’d been laying on the cold tile next to Ada’s unconscious form for hours, it seemed. In reality, he had no idea how long it had been since their captors dumped her into the storage closet.

  Fingers shaking, he brushed a dark curl off of her face. At least her breathing was deep and regular. The space was too dim to assess her color. Only a sliver of yellow lamplight seeped in from beneath the door, offering just enough light to make out her general details.

  Having just been overcome himself, Edison believed she’d be all right. But the sight of her still laying exactly where the two guards had thrown her, threatened to overwhelm him with fear.

  A fear like the oozing black poison that made him cringe every time he imagined Robbie waking up in Newgate. Alone.

  He shook his head, as if he could shake off the awful, helpless dread.

  The raw tang of anger suited him better. He liked fury. It energized him. Invigorated him. Pushed him to action.

  He propped himself up on one arm and studied her face, searching for any sign that she was rousing.

  “Come on, sweetheart.” He traced a fingertip across her cheekbone. Her skin seemed warm enough. That had to indicate something, didn’t it?

  His finger trembled as he drew it down her soft cheek.

  “Satan’s arse.” He swore softly and curled his fingers into his palm.

  He wasn’t afraid. Fear was for the weak, the incompetent. He had a woman to rouse and an escape plan to form.

  He glared at the flimsy door of the storage closet. One blow with his shoulder would splinter the thing wide open. But he’d seen at least three men, each with a revolver in his hand. One looked to be police issue, wh
ich could mean their nemesis had corrupt peelers on his payroll.

  And he had Ada to protect.

  He nudged her shoulder. Her eyes remained closed, but she did wriggle away a few inches, as if he’d annoyed her in her sleep.

  At least she was responding.

  “Ada,” he said sharply. “Ada, wake up.”

  She moaned, rolling away from his voice with the sluggish energy of one still deep asleep.

  Having made progress, he persisted. “Sweetheart, come on. Time to get up.”

  A soft sound, almost a snore, was her only response.

  She had to wake up. Their captor wouldn’t leave them for long. He shivered.

  Even if she did rally, the danger was far from over.

  Because of him.

  He slammed his fist down hard enough to numb the edge of his hand. He shouldn’t have run off.

  All because he couldn’t face emotion. Couldn’t face watching Ada walk back into her old life.

  Without him.

  As if moving would chase away his thoughts, he sat up and took her limp hand in his.

  There, in the dark, next to her unconscious form, the feelings hit him like a canon blast. He loved her. Loved her with his whole heart. Loved her with a strength he’d never felt before, as if his soul were hers to command.

  “It’s for the best,” he murmured, almost unaware that he was speaking. “You deserve more. You’ll find a better man than me. You will, you know.”

  He stared up at the ceiling, at the cobwebs tucked into the corners above the door. The bleak surroundings seemed only fitting.

  “I know you don’t believe it, but it’s only because you gave up looking.” He slid his palm against hers. “You deserve a man with an unscarred heart.”

  Her fingers twitched.

  He looked at her face.

  Eyes open and clear with consciousness, she was watching him. He sucked in a breath, fighting the urge to flee. How long had she been—?

  Ada struggled up onto her elbows. Though her neck seemed too weak to hold up her head, her gaze was clear. Clear and intently focussed on him.

  Edison tried to swallow, but his throat had seized up. He slipped his hand off of hers slowly, carefully, as if yanking away would serve to draw more attention to his ill-timed blathering.