The Chemickal Marriage

pistol and fire through the glass. But no shot came. Chang glanced at Madelaine Kraft, then at Mahmoud, whose hand made a polished revolver look like a toy. The third man he did not know, crowded in the opposite row of seats, between boxes tied with rope.

‘That is Mr Kelling,’ explained Mrs Kraft.

‘You’re Cardinal Chang!’ The angular Kelling pushed himself back into his seat, all elbows and knees. He wore the clothes of a clerk, but there was a bandage around his wrist and a deepening bruise across his jaw.

‘Difficult day all round,’ observed Chang; then to Mahmoud, at the window: ‘Sit.’

‘Not while you –’

Before Mahmoud could finish Chang’s hand was around Madelaine Kraft’s throat. ‘Sit or we’ll start settling things the wrong way.’

‘Mahmoud …’ Mrs Kraft said gently. The dark man shoved the pistol into a pocket of his long coat and perched on the very edge of his seat, poised to fling himself onto Chang. Kelling did not stir. Chang released his grip. Mrs Kraft stretched her neck and studied Chang. He found the scrutiny unwelcome.

‘Robert Vandaariff will die,’ he announced, ‘but without care his death will only deliver his world, everyone’s world, to idiot children. Your desire for revenge risks disaster.’

Madelaine Kraft raised her eyebrows at his hard tone. ‘You’ve changed.’

‘Not at all. You no longer have anything I want.’

‘I don’t have the same thing.’

Chang let this go; there wasn’t time. ‘Tell me what you’ve planned with Schoepfil.’

She smiled at him. ‘Who is that?’

‘Are you so confident?’ Chang asked. ‘You were cast into a pit, and saved by the rarest chance.’

‘Which is why –’

‘Why you should realize your enemy is as strong as ever – no, far stronger, with the wealth of the world to ensure his safety. He searches for you, even now. Recovery makes you an especially rare species, to be displayed in a jar of spirits, post-dissection.’

‘Take him in hand!’ Mr Kelling whispered to Mahmoud. ‘He is vital to Lord Vandaariff’s plans!’

Chang slapped the metal head of the cane into a box, just wide of Kelling’s hand. Kelling yanked the hand into his lap.

‘Bronque and Schoepfil ransacked the Old Palace today,’ Chang said. ‘Michel Gorine is not two carriages away, beaten to pieces – he will gladly inform you of your error.’

Mahmoud made to stand, but Mrs Kraft only tilted her head. ‘Michel’s opinion is not mine and never was.’

‘How did you sway Schoepfil?’ Chang demanded. ‘What do you know about the Comte?’

‘Vandaariff is our enemy, Cardinal, and you need my help as much as ever. Each man braces his fear against his love. What you love may change. But if you love still, your fear remains.’

‘Where is Michel?’ asked Mahmoud. ‘How badly is he hurt?’

Chang leant close to Mrs Kraft. ‘I have seen it now dozens of times, people who think they can enter this arena and remain unscathed –’

‘But I don’t think that,’ replied Madelaine Kraft. ‘And I am not unscathed – any more than you. Lord Vandaariff’s own ticking clock.’

Chang prevented himself from slapping her face. When he looked up – when he had controlled his rage – he saw Mahmoud on his feet with the pistol in hand.

‘I saw her die,’ Chang said to them both. ‘I felt Angelique’s mind. You gave her to him. If you think I do not blame you – if you think I will forget it – you are wrong. And if you think, whatever happens at Harschmort House, that I will lift a finger to save your cold-minded souls, you could not be more deluded.’

Chang turned for the door, then spun round, slashing Mahmoud’s weapon to the floor. The dark man clutched his wrist.

‘I have done this,’ whispered Chang. ‘I know. This was your one chance. It’s gone.’

Upon exiting the compartment Chang once more darted to the side of the glass, but no bullet came. Pfaff smiled at Chang’s seemingly unnecessary movement.

‘And Mrs Kraft reckoned such a smart one. Well, she’ll be dead again soon enough. Us too, unless we leg it. Come.’

Pfaff retreated down the corridor. At its end he hopped the coupling to the small brake van. In a corner, atop a trunk, sat a bent fellow in overalls, his lank greying hair like last year’s rotten straw. With the coupling separating the brake van from the final carriage, there was no chance of being overheard.

‘This is Downie,’ said Pfaff, ‘an old friend who permits my trespass.’ Downie did not seem to hear. ‘This is Cardinal Chang. Don’t cross him, he’s a hard one.’

Downie blinked his dull eyes and swallowed. An opium eater.

‘We’re nearly to Packington,’ said Chang. ‘The train will be crawling with soldiers.’

‘Already is, in front.’

‘What’s your errand, Jack? You mentioned orders.’

‘And betray a client’s trust?’ Before Chang could advance, Pfaff shook his head. ‘You never did keep an ounce of humour.’

‘You took her money. You broke your bond.’

‘Bond. You have no idea what I have done, nor does she.’ Pfaff’s eyes gleamed. ‘And nor does she, either.’

‘You’re a fool to cross either of those women, Jack. And a fool to cross me.’

‘But I haven’t! We’re here, aren’t we? What else would Miss Temple desire?’

‘And today with that goblin of a doctor?’

‘What else do you expect? If I am to play a part –’

‘You’re a liar.’

‘I am not!’ Pfaff sighed, like an actress preparing to sing. ‘How can I convince you?’

‘You tracked the Contessa from the bankside to the Seventh Bridge – you presented yourself, she enlisted you to her side –’

‘She believes so.’

‘And what do you believe, Jack? That you can find your own path? Against Robert Vandaariff? Against her?’

But at his hard tone Pfaff went cold. No matter where Pfaff’s loyalty truly stood, jealousy formed a barrier he would never see beyond. Chang tried another tack. ‘Two of the men you hired for Miss Temple disappeared at Harschmort. One died in St Isobel’s Square wearing an explosive waistcoat – perhaps the other was shredded at the Cathedral. Vandaariff has turned Harschmort into a fortress. Obviously Bronque believes he can force an entrance with his men –’

Pfaff tossed his head. ‘Bronque.’

Chang was painfully aware of time. ‘Jack, we reach Packington in minutes.’

Pfaff threw a knowing smile to Downie, whose gaze had not shifted from the floorboards, and then, as if this much delay had made his point, nodded agreeably. ‘Right. You were exchanged for Miss Temple because he knew the Contessa would keep Miss Temple safe, and he’d get another crack at them both.’

‘But why would the Contessa keep Miss Temple safe?’

‘Why do cats play with mice before they dine?’

‘Is that something you memorized from a play?’ The words came out sharpened by impatience. Chang wanted to knock Pfaff to the floor and kick him to tears, yet whatever errand Pfaff had been charged with by the Contessa might well make the difference to Miss Temple’s survival. Chang was stranded between enemies over which he’d no control.

And what did Chang have to match them? His own strength. The knowledge of Trooste, the hope that Gorine could sway Mrs Kraft – or Mahmoud – to sense, and the intelligence of Cunsher to get each to the right place when their skills might make a difference. But every arrow of antagonism streaking towards Harschmort must be allowed to continue its flight if there was a chance that Vandaariff and his works would be