His Clockwork Canary

Twisted up with emotion, Simon kissed Willie’s forehead, then glanced over her shoulder at Clock Tower. “Less than thirty minutes to midnight. Not much time to devise a plan.”

Phin crossed his arms and regarded the former air marshal with a cocky expression. “Tangling with all those Wild West outlaws, you’ve no doubt encountered hostage situations. Any bright ideas, cowboy?”

“I can think of one or two, Casanova.” Gentry pulled a communication gadget from his pocket, and after seeing the one Strangelove had given to Willie, Simon decided he really needed to start shopping the black market.

“Tell them the weather could get rough,” Willie said when she heard Gentry speaking with his chief navigator aboard the Maverick.

“Hold,” Gentry said into the device, then turned his attention to Willie. “What do you mean?”

“Wesley’s supernatural gift. He can manipulate the weather. He’s been known to stir up violent storms when angered. If he’s anxious because Strangelove threatened him . . .” Willie hugged herself against a blast of frigid wind. “Blizzards, whirlwinds, hailstorms.”

“The Stormerator,” Amelia said, wide-eyed.

“That’d be an all-fired coincidence,” Eli said.

“What are you talking about?” Simon asked, pulling Willie close.

“Trouble in the form of a bastard sky pirate and his secret weapon,” Gentry said. “Your brother a good sort, Amelia?”

She dipped her chin. “Not really.”

“Think he’d use his gift for ill gain?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“But he’s still my brother,” she rushed on. “And he’s still being threatened by Strangelove.”

“Honey,” Gentry said, tugging his brim low. “My gut says you’ve been hornswoggled. Eli, take the dinghy and hide the coffin in the Maverick’s cargo bay. Amelia, go with him and ready Peg.” He spoke into the communicator. “Watch for a shark in a storm cloud, StarMan, and prepare to tussle.”

Phin checked his personal arsenal and Amelia jammed her Remington Blaster against Simon’s chest. “That derringer won’t cut it with Dunkirk and his men, Simon. Listen to Tucker, and crikey, shoot to maim.” She shocked Simon further by pulling Gentry down for a swift yet passionate kiss. “Hell of a honeymoon, Mr. Gentry. You owe me.”

She raced off to join Eli, and Simon marveled at his little sister’s transformation. She’d always been fearless, but smitten by a man? The equally besotted look on the former lawman’s face went a long way to quell Simon’s reservations regarding their whirlwind marriage. Although, good God, his own nuptials had been remarkably spontaneous.

He noted Willie’s worried expression and strapped the blaster over his chest. Giving her hand a reassuring squeeze, he nailed Gentry with a look of fierce confidence and commitment. “I’ve studied the designs of Westminster Bridge as well as Clock Tower and all of Parliament and the Abbey. I know every crook and cranny.”

“Then I’m in dire need of your intellect, Darcy.” He looked to Phin. “Amelia says you’re a crack aviator.”

“Nice to know she thinks I excel at something.”

“Catch up to her and tell her you need to borrow her pa’s dig. With your military training I could use you in the air.”

“Right, then.” Phin dipped into his coat and handed Willie his cherished Knuckle Shocker Stun Gun. “For backup,” he said. “I tweaked it a bit so it might actually pack the wallop Reggie intended.”

Phin raced after Amelia, and Willie looked up at Simon, eyes bright. “Somehow it feels like your father is with us.”

“He always was my greatest champion,” Simon said, heart squeezing. He looked to Gentry, inspired and ready to kick arse. “So what’s the plan?”

•   •   •

Bicycles were all the rage in London. Willie had pedaled more than a few, but none so furiously as the one “borrowed” from a passing citizen by Simon. Fortunately, Westminster Bridge was just down St. Margaret Street and to the east of Clock Tower. Unfortunately, an ominous fog was barreling toward her, obliterating the skyline and landscape, and obscuring even Willie’s most excellent night vision.

She steered onto Bridge Street and at once was consumed in the dense, swirling mist. She knew the House of Commons and Clock Tower stood to her right, but she could not see either of the magnificent structures. Her mad dash became a perilous crawl as she strove not to veer into a random vehicle or a midnight-strolling pedestrian. Although, from the deafening quiet, Willie would swear she was alone in the world just now. She took comfort in knowing Simon and their band of musketeers were out there, somewhere, poised for a joint rescue and ambush.

Gentry had doled out direct instructions and Willie had thought his plan most sound, except they’d anticipated a violent storm of sorts, not this insidious, all-consuming pea soup. It occurred to Willie that even though she’d asked for help, she might be going it alone after all. How could anyone help her if they couldn’t find her? The fog was not only blinding but disorienting.

A slight incline alerted Willie that she had reached Westminster Bridge. Her heart hammered against her chest as she now walked the bicycle whilst squinting through the supernatural veil in search of the glow from a streetlamp. Big Ben rang out, the first of twelve chimes, and never in her life had the Clockwork Canary been more aware of the time.

She saw it then, the hazy glow of three connected lamps atop the first pole. She quickened her stride, tempered her anxiety. This was her brother. Her blood. Even though they’d been at odds most of their life, surely he would not harm her. She’d hand over the memory disk as Gentry had instructed. Wesley would return to the Flying Shark and when he did, Gentry and crew would follow. The element of surprise was on their side and Gentry assured her and Simon that, in addition to reclaiming the Aquarian Cosmology Compendium, he would capture Strangelove. If the bastard was not on board, he would determine his true identity—information known to her brother as well as Captain Dunkirk—and hunt the man down. He strongly believed that the villain who’d masterminded the attempt to steal away Amelia’s targeted invention was the same man who’d manipulated Willie in a bid to bamboozle Simon.

Spying the second streetlamp, Willie slowed, her bootheels sliding over the icy road, her mind replaying Gentry’s instruction. “Give Wesley the disk. He’ll take it to Dunkirk. Lead us to Strangelove.”

Unless Wesley absconded with the disk himself.

She spotted her brother, leaning insolently against the lamppost, shrouded in a veil of fog and an arrogant manner. He looked much as he always had, dressed in ModVic attire, shocks of red hair stabbing out from underneath a purple fedora.

The last chime of twelve faded and Wesley’s mouth quirked. “On time, as always.” He held out his hand. “Fork over the goods, Sis, and I’ll pass it on to Strangelove.”

“The way you were supposed to pass my letter on to Simon?”

Wesley blinked.

Willie allowed the bicycle to tip over as she moved closer to her traitorous kin. “Why, Wesley? Twelve years ago, I entrusted you with an important letter, with my heart. You said you would take it to the rail station. You promised you would give it to Simon, but you didn’t. Why?”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, then shrugged. “I was saving you from your knobhead self. You’re a Freak, Mina. You’re meant for another Freak. Stick to your own kind and someday Freaks will rule this world.”

“You’re crackers!”

“I’m smart. Which is more than I can say for you. You could be capitalizing on your gift, yet you drudge away in a Vic’s world, looking after the old man even though he barely provided for us.”

“What are you talking about? We never wanted for anything.”

“Didn’t we? They doled out attention and affection with an eyedropper. They moved us all over hell’s half acre and then some. Dad was obsessed with Mom. Mom was obsessed with protecting some twentieth-century