They talked a little while longer about other things, until Leon finished his coffee and announced that he had to call their visit to an unfortunate halt. “I’m afraid I have an engagement, but we will see each other again soon, no?”
Sam rose to his full height, towering over the other man. Despite his superior size and strength he felt young and foolish next to this worldly man who had accepted the metal part of himself with grace and ease. Maybe someday Sam could do the same and not think of his new arm—of his heart—as something alien and wrong, as a betrayal by those he held so dear.
“Of course,” he replied, accepting the handshake. He didn’t even wince when Leon closed his chromium fingers over his, engulfing Sam’s hand in both of his. The metal was warm where it had cradled the coffee cup but cold everywhere else.
“Thank you,” he said as they walked to the door together. “I appreciate you taking the time to see me and offer advice.”
The older man smiled. “I am here whenever you find yourself in need of a friend. I hope you always know that. You are a good man. You’ll do the right thing where your friends are concerned, and they will thank you for it.”
Sam smiled. How long had it been since he’d felt as though someone understood him so well? “Good day, Leon.”
A brief nod of dark hair. “Samuel.”
Sam left the building, clomping down the winding stairs and out into the fading afternoon. He felt happier than he had for some time. He’d return to Mayfair and he’d make the others see what Finley Jayne really was. Then they’d see that he was right and not an idiot. They’d see the truth and Finley would run straight to Jack Dandy where she belonged.
He only hoped he could get rid of her before she hurt someone.
After the museum, Jasper left to talk to some of his own contacts, agreeing to come by later that evening. Griffin returned to the house to find Emily and Finley in the cellar laboratory with the waxwork Victoria. Their eager faces made the ride down to the cellar in that tiny box of a lift almost worthwhile.
“Did you find anything?” they asked almost in unison.
“I did,” he replied, glancing about the room. “Sam still gone?”
Emily nodded, worry plain in her big eyes. She looked like a waif swathed in her goggles and apron. Her clunky boots seemed too large for her feet, the goggles too big for her head. Even the ropes of her bright copper hair seemed out of proportion. Beside her, Finley looked like an Amazon warrior, with her leather corset, short- sleeved shirt and black knickers. The heels of her black leather boots looked sturdy enough to grind a man’s bones to dust.
“What did you discover?” Emily asked.
Griffin turned to her, ashamed to have taken even a moment to admire Finley when he should have been concentrating on the matter at hand. “It was The Machinist. We found his oil. The night watchman got some of it on his wound and it healed him—much faster than it should have. He has Organites, and he puts them in the oil he uses on his automatons.”
Emily’s brow furrowed in concentration. “I don’t know how the wee beasties could possibly benefit a joint lubricant, but I’ll run some tests.”
“Wouldn’t you have found the Organites in the other samples?” Finley asked.
Emily shook her head, ropes of hair swinging around her shoulders. “They have to have something to draw energy from in order to live, plus they imitate whatever they’re attached to. The sample would have to be fresh for me to detect them, otherwise they’re dead and look like the very stuff suspending them.”
Griffin wasn’t entirely certain how much of that Finley understood. Hell, he wasn’t even certain he understood and he’d grown up knowing about Organites and how they worked. “Tests sound like a good idea, Em,” he said.
“Come see what we found,” Emily suggested, gesturing to the wax figure.
Griffin was astounded when they pointed out the missing eyes and the supposed caliper marks. “I doubt very much you’ll find those eyes have been sold. I’d say he’s building an automaton.”
“Of Queen Victoria?” Finley’s tone was so incredulous a slight smile curved Griffin’s lips.
“Yes,” he replied. “He could take it to one of the jubilee celebrations, pretend it’s a novelty, part of the fun and then blow it up.”
“But why?” It was Emily who asked the important question. “What would be his motivation for such random violence?”
Finley shrugged. “His crimes have been pretty random so far.”
“No.” Griffin scowled, a million thoughts racing through his head. “They only seem random because we don’t know what he’s up to.” He wished Cordelia were there. She was always much better at putting together puzzles than he was, but she had gone to Devon to see what, if any, damage had been done to the caverns on his estate —and find out more about this mysterious groundskeeper of his who suddenly vanished. It seemed obvious by now that it must have been The Machinist, but he needed to be certain.
“What about Dandy?” Finley asked. When Griffin looked at her, she seemed to have trouble meeting his gaze. “If this Machinist is such a criminal mastermind, surely Dandy should know
For a moment—and just a brief one—Griffin wondered if Sam’s suspicions of Finley were correct. He really knew nothing of her. Didn’t know her at all, and yet…
He couldn’t bring himself to believe her a villain.
“No,” he said firmly, cursing silently this time when he saw her gaze drop to the floor. “I mean…” What did he mean? He cleared his throat. “I sincerely doubt Dandy will tell us anything even if he does know. There’s truth behind the saying ‘honor among thieves.’ It’s very possible the two of them might do business together. He won’t jeopardize his own standing in the underworld. He already took a big risk bringing the waxwork to us.”
Finley crossed her arms over her chest. “It wouldn’t hurt to ask.”
Griffin’s clenched his jaw all the same. He didn’t want Finley anywhere near Jack Dandy, not because he was worried about her, but because he was worried Dandy’s “liking” for her was reciprocated.
He swallowed the taste of jealousy building in the back of his throat. “All right,” he acquiesced. “Ask him. But arrange to meet him somewhere. I don’t want you going to his address alone. The Machinist knows who you are, and might still be watching you—or Dandy. I don’t want to give him an opportunity to go after you.”
She didn’t look half as afraid of that idea as she would have when she first arrived at his house, but it was obvious that the thought hadn’t crossed her mind, and that it scared her. “I will.”
Emily’s head suddenly jerked, as though an idea had literally slapped her in the face. “I know someone who might be able to tell us something.”
“Who?” the other two chorused.
Her eyes narrowed shrewdly. “We found The Machinist’s oil at other crime sites. In fact, we found it in the automaton that attacked Sam.”
Griffin nodded. “That’s how we theorized The Machinist was behind the metal’s malfunction. But you said you didn’t know what he’d done to the machine,” Griffin reminded her, keeping his tone gentle so she wouldn’t mistake his words for spite.
“That was before I’d realized I developed the ability to speak machine.” With that, she stomped across the lab, boot soles hitting the floor with determined slaps as she headed toward the large iron vault in the top corner of the laboratory.
Griffin filled with unease. “Em, what are you doing?”
“Something I should have done long before this, but I was too much a coward.” She unlocked the vault, spinning the wheel to open it. There was a hiss—the venting of steam as the gears of the vault’s mechanism turned—and then a loud
Inside was the automaton that had attacked Sam. Seeing it almost froze Griffin’s heart in his chest. It stood like a great iron man with a box-shaped body, one long arm with a large scoop of a hand, heavily treaded wheels and a small navigation dome where a head would be.
“Emily.” Finley stepped forward, obviously not wanting the little Irish girl to get any closer to the
