mock sweetness.
“You wound me, luv.” But there was humor in his voice. “’Ow about you come ’round for dinner some night. Just the two of us.”
It wasn’t a good idea. Jack Dandy was dangerous and tricky. He was also very intriguing… What was that saying about keeping your enemies closer than your friends? She wasn’t sure which category Jack fell into, but the notion of keeping him closer didn’t bother her as much as it should.
What kind of girl was she? She was attracted to Griffin, but Griffin was way out of her sphere. She was also attracted to Jack, who was also out of her sphere, but in a much different way. But Jack also had information, which she needed.
“All right,” she agreed. “I’ll come to dinner. When?”
“Don’t you worry nuffing about that right now. I’ll let you know when. Now, you pass on to his dukeness that whispers in this part of the world say that The Machinist’s plannin’ something for the twenty-second.”
“Planning what?”
“I don’t know what,” he sounded terse. “Do you know ’ow much bother it was just to find out that? The Machinist ain’t exactly loquacious when it comes down to his nefarious undertakings.”
There was something strange and almost lyrical about those educated words uttered in that thick Cockney. Finley shook her head. “Sorry, Jack. I was just hoping for more. I appreciate you ringing me. Honestly.”
“All right then.” He sounded mollified now. “If I hears anything else, I’ll let you know. And, Treasure?”
“Yes, Jack?”
“Be careful, will ya? I employ a very fine cook and I ’ate for you to miss out on what will be the meal of your lifetime because you’re dead.”
Finley smiled—at both his words and his tone. He might have coated it with caustic wit, but she heard the genuine concern in his voice. “I would hate for that to happen, as well. Don’t worry about me.”
He sighed exaggeratedly. “Not sure as I ’ave much choice in the matter.” Then, abruptly, “Right. I’m off then. I’ve a menu to plan, don’t I? Let me know how things turn out.”
The connection broke before Finley could say goodbye. Bemused, she hung up and then went off in search of Griffin to let him know that whatever Garibaldi had planned he was supposedly going to do it in three days.
Griffin was sifting through all information he’d managed to find in his father’s notes about Garibaldi when Jasper entered his study. Not much to help them find the villain, but it provided some insight into the man’s mind.
He glanced up from his father’s handwriting—his father had been worried that Garibaldi might do something rash to prove to Victoria how important the Organites were to modern science. “Jas, what’s wrong?”
Jasper rubbed one hand over the back of his neck. “I just wanted to tell you that whatever you need me to do to help you get this Machinist fella, I’m in.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” His acquaintance—no, friend—looked distracted. “Is there something else you’d like to discuss?”
The cowboy met his gaze. “You know, I’ve done some things in my life that I ain’t proud of, and I haven’t always been a decent sort of man. But working with you these last few days…well, I feel like I’m on the right side for a change, and I just wanted to say thank you.”
Griffin couldn’t have been more surprised if Jasper had shot him. “Uh…you’re welcome.”
Jasper shrugged. “Listen, about why I came to England…”
Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by Finley’s arrival.
“Oh,” she said, spotting Jasper. “I’m sorry, Griff. I thought you were alone. I’ll come back later.”
“No,” Jasper said. “It’s good, Miss Finley. I’m done.” He shot one last glance at Griffin before pivoting on his heel to walk toward the door.
“We’ll talk more later?” Griffin asked.
Jasper looked over his shoulder at him and shrugged. “Sure.” Then he brushed past Finley and left the room.
“What was that all about?” Finley asked as she came to stand beside him. She was looking at the door as though she kept expecting Jasper to return.
“I couldn’t tell you,” Griffin replied with real honesty. “What do you need?” It was perhaps rude and abrupt of him, but he wasn’t in the mood for patience today.
“I spoke to Dandy,” Finley confided, turning toward him. “He says he heard that Garibaldi has something planned for the twenty-second.”
“The twenty-second?” Griffin mulled the date for a moment. Bloody hell! He gaped at her. “That’s the day of Her Majesty’s jubilee procession through London.”
The gravity of that realization filled Finley with dread. “It will be next to impossible to find him in that crowd. But what can he do? He can’t very well walk his creation right into the throng, can he?”
“No, but he could waylay the queen at some point. If he means to make a statement, such a venue would be the perfect spot. What if he puts a bomb in the bloody thing? He could pretend to offer the automaton as a gift to Her Majesty and then detonate it. Or he could kidnap the queen and put the mech in her place. God knows what he has planned.” And there was no way to find out.
“What do we do?”
“It’s only three days till the procession. It’s imperative at this point that we warn the queen. Hopefully he’ll reclaim his toy from the house in Covent Garden and lead us to his lair. Otherwise, we’re useless.”
“What about that contraption of yours?” She pointed at the Aether Engine. “Can’t you use that, or your powers, to find him?”
“It doesn’t work that way. Don’t think I haven’t tried—many times.”
“So we don’t know what he’s going to do, or how he’s going to do it, but we know what date he’ll do it on and that the Victoria automaton will be part of it.”
Griffin’s mouth tightened. “Exactly.”
“Well,” she said with obviously forced lightness, “that’s still something, isn’t it?”
Griffin raked a hand through his hair. “If we don’t find him beforehand, we’ll find him that day. I don’t care if one of us has to hide in the boot of Her Majesty’s carriage. We will prevent Garibaldi from seeing his endeavor to completion.”
They had to. The fate of the monarchy—of the entire country—depended upon it.
Chapter 21
The next two days were taken up with rigorous training and preparation. Emily worked in the lab on various weapons with the assistance of Griffin, a small automaton and her mechanized cat, since she only had the use of one hand. Sam and Finley sparred twice a day, and when she wasn’t sparring with Sam, Finley worked with Griffin on controlling and completing the amalgamation of her shadow self. Jasper practiced shooting with the electro- disturbance pistols and ordinary guns, and experimented with just how fast he could be while Cordelia timed him. The cowboy misfit had become a part of their group quickly, and no one questioned his right to be there.
Warning had been delivered to Buckingham Palace that The Machinist might strike on the twenty-second and security was stepped up around Her Majesty, who sent along her hope that Garibaldi would be arrested prior to that so that “We may continue with our plans.”
All this activity did nothing to take Griffin’s mind off the fact that they were essentially waiting. Waiting for The Machinist to reveal his hand so they could make a preemptive strike.
On the eve of the twenty-second, as Griffin left Emily to her devices in the laboratory so that he might confer with his aunt, the small apparatus in his jacket pocket began to click and clank. His heart kicked against his ribs as he freed the contraption and looked at it. It was to power on once the mechanism the remote portion was attached to began to move—Emily called it “motion sensitive.” Once it came on, it would stay on until it was shut down. The rectangular device in Griff’s hand had a built-in compass that pointed in the right direction and the audio signal emitted by the tracker became louder the closer you got to the tracker. The alarm meant that The
