Heart of the Nile by Will Thomas

Author:Will Thomas
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

CHAPTER 15

When my temper had cooled, I tapped the trap overhead and ordered the cabman back to Whitehall.

“It’s your shilling, sir,” he answered, shrugging.

Barker said nothing when I returned to our chambers. He stood by his newly arranged smoking cabinet and stuffed his pipe. Sometimes after a day in Craig’s Court Rebecca tells me I reek of tobacco, though I haven’t smoked. Working with the Guv has its advantages and disadvantages.

“Did you enjoy your ride, Thomas?” he eventually asked.

“It was fruitless. I was out looking for Mrs. Addison’s shooter.”

“He is about his business and we are about ours,” the Guv said. “However, I believe it is inevitable we shall meet again.”

“I hope so,” I replied. “If it’s that miscreant I shot in the foot, I’d like to renew our acquaintance. I wish there was a way to know where he went.”

Barker looked at me levelly.

“Of course!” I exclaimed. “The hansom cab headquarters in front of Scotland Yard. Sorry. I’m a bit rattled today. Shall I go there now?”

“You can, lad,” he said. “But only to deliver a message. The driver of Mrs. Addison’s shooter won’t return until after his shift.”

“Perhaps he started this morning,” I said. “It’s worth the effort.”

“It is,” he agreed. “We must leave no stone unturned.”

“I’m off again, then,” I told him, donning my tweed coat. “I won’t be long.”

I stepped out the door only to be pushed back in by a firm hand.

“What’s your hurry?” Detective Chief Inspector Terence Poole asked as he entered our chambers. It wasn’t really a question. With a sigh, I turned about.

“Afternoon, Cyrus,” he said. “You’ve got a bloody mess by your front door. Thought you should know. How is your client?”

“Well enough, Terry,” Barker rumbled. “She is sedated in Charing Cross Hospital. The bullet grazed her temple.”

Poole shrugged. “Perhaps, but she’s bled all over a public thoroughfare. It’s your shop and you’re responsible.”

“It’s hardly a shop,” I said.

“Then you won’t mind cleaning it up.”

Somewhere in London, someone was having a fine day. Unfortunately, it wasn’t me. I went to the lumber room and retrieved a shovel.

“You’ve redecorated,” I heard Poole say to the Guv.

“Someone did it for us!” I called.

“The rooms were tossed while we were at Charing Cross,” Barker explained. “Jeremy was knocked on the head.”

“You chaps are having a lively time of it,” our friend observed.

“One of them was dressed as a constable.”

All the humor in Poole’s face evaporated immediately. “What?”

“You heard me,” Barker answered.

Poole sat in the visitor’s chair, perched on the edge. “Tell me, Cyrus. Tell me everything, and spare nothing!”

Barker did as he was asked. The Yard takes impersonating an officer of the law very seriously. A lord’s son at Cambridge dressed for a pantomime once found himself in a cell for as long as he could legally be held for thumbing his nose at ‘A’ Division. Worse still, Mrs. Addison’s attack was nearly in sight of New Scotland Yard itself.

Terence Poole frowned. “One man, you say?”

“More than one, I should imagine,” Barker answered. “He was professional.

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