His Clockwork Canary

finagled each gold dial, although Willie’s ears rang with the sounds of childhood bantering and laughter. Where Wesley was concerned, the bad times had outweighed the good, yet this moment only the good resonated. Rattled, she pushed Wesley from her mind, but her angst remained. She realized she’d been anticipating the sound of hostile footsteps . . . or an explosion.

Simon tweaked the last dial and tripped a switch.

A compression valve hissed and groaned.

Eli utilized a compact bolt cutter and the iron lock clanged and thudded to the ground.

Sweat trickled down Willie’s back as they cautiously swung open the iron-grilled gate. No explosion. No footsteps. They shone their lights on a toddler-sized coffin.

“Seems small for an engine,” Eli said.

“Remember,” Gentry said, “I saw the plans that inspired this engine. Ain’t size that matters. It’s the inner workings.”

“I’m dying to see it,” Amelia said. “Imagine. An engine that enables people to soar through dimensions.”

“We can gawk at it later,” Willie said, anxious to meet with Strangelove and to vanquish the villain from their life. “Let’s just get it out of here.” She grabbed a handle just as everyone yelled, “Wait!”

Startled, she paused, but she’d already shifted the coffin and . . . “Oh, no.” She heard a beep and then another. “What is it?” She looked around the vault, along with everyone else.

“It’s a goddamned bomb,” Phin said. “Here. Time detonator. What jolly good fun,” he said with sarcasm. “Six minutes, fifty-five, nope, fifty-four seconds.”

“Crikey,” Amelia said, “we’ll never make it out in time with the engine.”

Simon dropped to his knees. “Eli, give me your tool belt. I’ve seen this sort of mechanism before.”

“I can help,” Phin said, stooping alongside him. “Wrangled some demolitions during the war.”

“Ladies, run like hell,” Simon said. “Gentry, Eli, grab the coffin. Get as far from us as possible. Just in case.”

Sick to her stomach, Willie stared down at Simon. “I cannot leave you.”

He cast her a confident, earnest look. “I cannot save us whilst you’re here.”

Amelia tugged at her brace. “Come on, Canary. My brother knows what he’s doing.”

Breaking free, Willie dropped next to Simon and framed the sides of his mud-streaked face. “I love you, Simon Darcy.”

“And I you.” Eyes dancing, he smacked a kiss to her mouth, then jerked his head. “Meet you topside, pet.”

Heart battering her ribs, Willie flew out of the vault and down the corridor alongside her sister-in-law. Gentry and Eli were close on their heels, carrying the precious coffin between them. Amelia slipped in the muck of the sewage duct and Willie easily righted her with the aid of the Thera-Steam-Atic Brace. It would seem Simon’s recent adjustments had afforded the brace an intensified means of strength. Willie’s eyes burned as she thought about her husband’s kindness, his genius, and she prayed to God his brilliant mind didn’t fail him now.

“Haul butt, ladies,” Gentry ordered from behind. Indeed, the cowboy and his crewmate fairly lifted Willie and Amelia off their feet as they whisked the coffin from the duct, up the moss-covered stairs, and through the rusted garden gate.

Lungs burning, Willie fell to her knees as the frigid fresh air chilled her sweat-soaked clothing. She checked her time cuff.

“What time is it?” Amelia asked, chest heaving from exertion and angst. “How long has it been?”

Willie sleeved tears from her eyes. “Almost six minutes.”

“Crikey.”

Gentry squeezed Willie’s shoulder. “He’ll prevail.”

“How do you know?”

The man smiled down at her. “He’s a Darcy.”

As much as she wanted to trust in Gentry’s confidence, Willie’s world tilted as she braced for an explosion. She could not imagine her life without Simon. Envisioning his handsome face, she whispered a plea and prayed for a miracle. “I cannot change the world without you, my love. Come back.”

“What time is it?” Amelia asked.

Willie could scarcely breathe, let alone move.

Gentry checked his pocket watch, as did Eli.

Amelia nabbed Willie’s wrist, squinted at her time cuff, and squealed. “They’re clear!” The young woman scrambled to the gate, yelled down.

Willie pushed to her feet, green with the collywobbles.

“They shouted back!” Amelia called over her shoulder. “Simon and Phin are on their way!”

Gentry flashed Willie a kind smile. “Never underestimate a Darcy.” He winked, then looked to Eli. “Let’s get this coffin to the dinghy before some copper spots us. We look like a pair of damned grave robbers. Come on, ladies!”

Willie palmed her forehead. Simon was alive. She thanked her lucky stars. She swore to tackle life along her husband’s side. Freak and Vic, united forever and always. She glanced at her timepiece, then over her shoulder at Westminster Bridge. Would Wesley be alone? Would Strangelove be lurking? Or perhaps he’d hired a gunman. She remembered the first time they’d met, a murky memory of Strangelove and the whispered word: assassin.

Palming the bag slung over her shoulder, she verified the welfare of the memory disk.

One last obstacle. One more life to be saved. Then and only then could she embrace the future.

CHAPTER 36

Exiting the claustrophobic bowels of the catacomb and sewage tunnel, Simon had considered himself the luckiest bloody bastard on earth. This night alone he’d coldcocked the famous Sky Cowboy in defense of his sister’s virtue, saved his wife from the clutches of a Mod’s mind, located Briscoe’s clockwork propulsion engine, and, along with Phin’s help, disabled a ticking bomb. In addition to saving their lives, he’d ensured the well-being of a historical architectural treasure—Westminster Abbey.

In his somewhat dazed and euphoric state, it occurred that he’d spent the last few hours flirting with the kind of danger his brother, a secret agent for the Crown, no doubt faced every day. For once Simon’s timing had been bang-on, and that constant nagging impulse to make his mark upon the world had been miraculously snuffed. In the instant he’d pushed through the garden gate, hugged his sister, then laid eyes upon his wife’s beautiful tearstained face, Simon had imagined himself quite content spending the next few years engineering enhanced prosthetics and aiding Willie in the peaceful emancipation of Freaks.

He had not considered even an ounce more of excitement this night. So when Willie spewed an astounding tale of blackmail and deceit regarding a devious and powerful noble who went by the name Strangelove, Simon could not believe his ears.

“I never should have buckled under his threats,” Willie said, her sole attention on Simon even though the others listened intently. “But given the circumstances at the time, I could not afford involving the police. Please know I never truly intended to betray you. I thought I was protecting you as well as my family. I thought I could handle Strangelove, that I could somehow manipulate the situation. Then later, I worried if I told you, you’d be angry. That you’d never trust me again. That you’d . . .”

Her breath hitched and Simon pulled her into his arms. “You thought I’d leave you. Dammit, Willie.” Simon dropped his forehead to hers, tucked her shaggy hair behind her ears, and willed his temper even. “Why tell me now?”

“Because I’ve changed. I don’t want to go it alone. I don’t want to endanger my brother’s life, but I no longer want to surrender the ACC to Strangelove. What if he can access the data? What if he’s a threat to the world? He swore once I complied he would leave me and mine alone. But I don’t trust him.” She placed her hand over Simon’s heart. “I trust you.”