Keep Vera safe.
—Sorokin
The room sat in silence for a drawn-out moment. The DPS had recently extricated Lord Chelmsford from a blackmail scheme. The Mastiff, employing members of his criminal enterprise and forcing the hand of Mr. Sorokin himself had threatened the Russian ambassador into lying about Lord Chelmsford’s career as a barrister, most specifically his work on the Radlett murder forty years earlier. They’d not managed to sort out why that particular case had been chosen.
“The Mastiff used the Russian ambassador to try to bring down Chelmsford, yeah?” Martin said. “And the resurrection men the Mastiff’s using now left a mark on the walls of the Russian Embassy chapel, yeah?”
Nods around the room.
“Maybe he hasn’t given up on blackmailing the ambassador either,” Martin said.
“His blackmailing of the ambassador was entirely meant to bring down Lord Chelmsford,” Elizabeth said. “But why? Lord Chelmsford isn’t active in government right now. Had thishappened six years ago, I might understand. He was Lord Chancellor then.”
“If we knew what the Mastiff’s end goal was in regard to Chelmsford,” Stone said, “that’d tell us a lot about why he might be targeting the fella.”
“It’s something to do with the Radlett murder,” Barnabus said. “That was the focus of the blackmail before.”
“That case was important to Chelmsford’s career,” Hollis said, “but it’s hardly the entirety of it. It’s not even the bulk of it. He was granted his barony on account of many other things. That case, while well-known, is likely of very little importance to Chelmsford.”
“Then,” Fletcher said, “we need to sort out why it’s importantto the Mastiff.”
He was right, of course. Everyone—from Martin to Kumar, Stone to Hollis, Brogan to Elizabeth—looked as convinced as Barnabus felt. The Mastiff’s connection to that murder and that trial was the key.
“How do we find that out?” Kumar asked. “We can’t exactly ask the fellow directly.”
“We could ask Serena,” Brogan said. “She likely learned a great many things about the Mastiff.”
“I’d not advise pressing the matter yet,” Barnabus said. “In my experience, women who have only just escaped abusive and dangerous situations need time to feel safe and secure again. She’ll not reveal secrets yet, and I can’t blame her for that.”
There were no arguments.
“While we wait and while we search, we need eyes on Chelmsford’s house,” Fletcher said. “I can have my urchins judge the weather from the outside. But we need one ofuson the inside.”
“I can do that,” Martin said. “I’ve experience working in fine houses. Might be enough to get a position there.”
Elizabeth looked to Brogan. “Have you the means of getting word to Mr. Sorokin? He apparently knows someone on Chelmsford’s staff. He might be able to get Martin a position.”
Brogan shook his head. “We haven’t the first idea where he is.”
“Never fear,” Fletcher said. “The Dread Master’ll know how to get word to him.”
Get wordtoMr. Sorokin. Or the Dread MasterwasMr. Sorokin. Though Barnabus’s primary guess had always been Stone, the secretive Russian was quickly proving himself as likely a candidate.
“That leaves only one matter,” Fletcher said. “Soon enough, the Mastiff’ll begin killing people just so he can have them dug up. Might be doing it already. This fight is growing and swelling, and I don’t know how we thwart ’im.”
“The Tempest is coming,” Stone said, arms folded across his chest. “It’s a fight we’re unlikely to win, and he knows it.”
“There’s some merit to Gemma’s theory,” Barnabus said. “The Tempest might be a person.”
“Whatever or whoever it is,” Fletcher said, “it’s coming, and we are all that stands in its way.”
“And we do not relent,” Elizabeth said.
“And we do not forget,” Hollis said.
“We are the Dread Penny Society,” Fletcher said. “This is what we were made for.”
BodiesofLight