Quinn huffed. “I don’t like it. You need to be careful, partner.”
“I will.”
Quinn stroked his beard. “Well, at least I know Lionheart is keeping tabs on you. And how is Sir Richard?”
Breaking the news to Quinn that I’d thrown over Edwin for Lionheart had not been easy. I knew Quinn didn’t entirely agree with my choice. I hoped he’d come around, in time. “Quinn, I…”
Quinn patted me on the shoulder. “I only want you to be happy, Clem. I really do. But poor Grand-mère.”
“She took it worse than Edwin, I think. I suspect it was more the idea of losing Willowbrook Park than Edwin that actually bothered her.”
He laughed. “Just be careful, partner. Lionheart has stayed alive this long for a reason.”
“I trust Richard.”
Quinn nodded slowly. “I should go back inside.”
“I’ll be back to see my Izzy again.”
“Izzy?”
“Izzy. Short for Isadora, right? She looks like an Izzy.”
“If you say so, Auntie Clem.”
I chuckled.
Quinn opened the door and got out.
I slid into the driver’s seat.
Quinn hung on my door a moment longer. “Watch your back. This jumble of a mess stinks. God knows what they are up to now,” he said then closed the auto door.
I waved to him.
Quinn walked to the door of his house, giving me one last wave before heading inside. Pulling a lever, I activated the engine of the auto then pulled out onto the Twickenham street. As I drove off, I mulled over the details of the case once more. Quinn was right. Something was wrong here. I only hoped I figured out what it was before it was too late.
Chapter 2: The Boatswain Museum of Mechanicals, Clockwork, and Aether Aviation
I left Twickenham, arriving at Hungerford Market just before ten o’clock. The new museum, funded by the London Tinker’s Society, was located a block away from the ever-busy marketplace. It seemed like all of London had turned out to celebrate the opening. Of course, Londoners didn’t care much about the obscure tinkers, clockmakers, or engineers whose works would be on display in the new museum. It was the Hall of Aviation that had brought out the crowd. More passionate about aether sports than rugby or football, it was the airships that drew people in. Brits loved airship racing.
I pushed through the crowd, stopping in the edibles aisle to grab a scone. I was late, but how could I resist the allure of butter and sugar? Nibbling my clove-and-orange pastry, I made my way to the museum.
A platform had been set up at the base of the stairs leading into the museum. The crowd assembled behind wrought-iron security barriers placed between them and the stage. The perimeter was guarded by the Bow Street Runners. Some palace guards had already arrived and were in position on the platform.
I eyed the setup.
The stage was secure. It was a lot of security. Everywhere I looked, I saw uniforms. Victoria didn’t usually travel with so much detail.
I flashed the badge on my vest to the constable then headed up the steps toward the museum. Agent Fox was at the door.
“Martin,” I said, giving him a nod.
“You’re late, Louvel,” he said with a grin.
“No, I’m not. Want a bite of scone?”
He shook his head. “No, thanks,” he said with a laugh. “Hunter and Agent Harper are inside.”
The wind whipped up the steps and under my cloak. I shuddered. “Bloody cold for March, isn’t it? Shouldn’t it be warming up by now?”
“Better get used to it.”
“And that’s because?”
“Since you were late—of course, you’re not late, right?—you missed the briefing. You’ve been assigned a spot on the platform with Her Majesty. In the cold. In front of the crowd.”
“Oh, no. They did not.”
“Oh, yes. They did. I guess that’s what you get for not being late.”
I chuckled then turned and headed inside.
“Hope the scone was worth it,” Agent Fox called. I could hear the smile in his voice.
I took another bite. The scone was good, but it was not worth getting stationed in front of the crowd. I touched the scar under my eye. It wasn’t that visible anymore, but still.
I gazed up at the front of the museum. It really was an extraordinary structure. A massive clock trimmed the entrance above the door. The gears, exposed behind glass, turned and clicked. The moving cogs also powered a carousel of armored soldiers just outside the door. Like the figures on a cuckoo clock, they rotated, each figure taking a turn to face the crowd. The clockwork soldiers, dressed in an array of armor from different time periods, saluted the crowd when it came to the front. The massive structure looked like a living clock.
I headed inside.
Suspended from the ceiling above the main foyer was a massive planetary orrery. The planets, situated on metal arms, slowly circled around the sun, the constellations moving on metal bands. It was an impressive sight. Also on display in the main lobby was an antique airship. The burner on the balloon of the old, one-person craft had been lit. The ship was aloft several feet off the ground but was tethered down by ropes. The airship swayed. It was an extraordinary work of aviation history—if one liked that sort of thing.
Glancing around the room, I spotted a number of Bow Street Runners, palace guards, and other secret service officers in their tell-tale black suits. But on the balconies of the upper levels of the museum, I saw red capes.
Why had Victoria asked for us to be there? What was going on? How was this related to the India case? I suddenly felt very annoyed. Whatever was happening, it was being kept from us field agents. Edwin had pulled Harper in for the task to help him with detail, which was fine. Harper had taken over all the communication between Edwin and me ever since All Hallows. It had seemed easier just to avoid one another and let Harper be the intermediary. It worked. Edwin and I never saw one another. I could avoid feeling like the worst human being on the face of the planet, and Edwin could avoid heartbreak. But the side effect was that I didn’t know what was going on beyond my beat. Now everything was just…murky.
“Clemeny,” Harper called.
I looked up to see Harper, Hank, Cressida, Pippa, and Edwin at the entrance of the Aviation exhibit. Harper waved for me to join them.
Edwin looked up when he heard Harper call my name.
My stomach clenched when our gazes met.
I smiled lightly.
Edwin returned the gesture—briefly—then looked away.
I swallowed hard, stuffed the last bite of scone into my pocket for safekeeping, then joined them.
Harper was pointing to her clipboard. As I approached, Edwin stepped closer to her, suddenly taking an intense interest in the papers thereon.
“You’re late,” Harper scolded me.
“No. You said ten.”
“Exactly. It’s ten-thirty,” Harper said.
“Your clock is wrong,” I replied.
Harper pointed to the massive clock that made up the entire wall behind me. “Why don’t you tell that to the London Clockmakers Society?” she said with a shake of the head, but I also saw her grin.
“The auto gave me some trouble. And it’s a bit of a drive from Twickenham.”
“So it has nothing to do with those crumbs on your shirt?” Harper retorted.
The others chuckled.
“Did you at least bring us something to eat?” Hank asked.
“Sorry.”
“Figures,” Harper said with a light laugh. She then turned to Edwin. “Okay, Edwin, as I was saying…”