Buffalo Bill Wanted! (14 page)

Desmond peered inside, then stepped in. “Doesn't seem to be anyone here, but it is fairly dark—”

The copper was just strolling into a smugglers' den! Wiggins darted forward, followed by his friends. Even though his eyes weren't used to the dimness inside, he spotted several people in the large, echoing room.
Desmond must have been dazzled by the sunlight not to see them,
he thought.

Five of the figures retreated into the deeper shadows. Two came forward. Wiggins saw familiar faces—Zeke Black and Chinless Ed Gorham. He pointed at the American gangster. “That man is a wanted fugitive from the United States.” Wiggins glanced over his shoulder, sincerely hoping that Inspector Desmond had brought a gun.

Instead, he saw that Desmond had retreated to the warehouse door —and was closing it. “So, you found out about that too,” the inspector said. “It seems you've discovered all our little secrets, except one. I work with these people.” His voice grew harder. “Or, more precisely,
they
work for
me
.”

Zeke Black closed in on the Raven Leaguers, his initial look of surprise turning into a scowl. Beside him, Chinless Ed Gorham held up a small pocket pistol.

Wiggins and his dismayed friends turned to face Inspector Desmond. He leaned back, arms crossed, blocking the door that led back to sunlight and safety.

“Oh, I'm not the chief of this operation,” the rogue policeman said mildly. “There are others whom I work for. They told me how you and Mr. Holmes had already involved yourselves in their business.”

“You—” Jennie choked on her words. “You're a police officer. But you work for people who have plotted against the
law
?”

“Against the Crown,” Desmond corrected her. “We have a shared interest in keeping things as they were meant to be, keeping people in their proper places—unlike our American cousins, with their foolish democratic notions.”

Owens's eyes narrowed. “And the proper place for most folks is
down
?”

“Good lad. You know what I mean, right enough.” Desmond's lips twisted beneath his immaculately trimmed mustache. “People over here are picking up ridiculous American ideas. The last thing we need is our nations coming closer. That's what a popular American like this Cody creature could achieve.”

“So you went out to get him and his Indians in trouble?” Dooley asked.

“Cody's sudden celebrity caught our leaders by surprise,” Desmond admitted. “They wanted to dampen the public's admiration for Cody, and that meddling constable gave us the perfect opportunity. After we dealt with him, our political connections worked to exploit the situation.”

Desmond sneered. “They often used that idiot Pryke to stir up the rabble. A small investment to rent the beginnings of a mob, and he certainly set the lower classes afire. The man overreached himself, however, shooting his mouth off about people who were not to be mentioned. His punishment helped fan the anti-American flames to a gratifying height, though.”

“You mean after Pryke mentioned the ‘higher-ups' that day we saw you,” Wiggins asked, “you had his head broken?”

He suddenly felt angry with himself.
I should have seen this,
he thought.
When we first approached him, Desmond told us he'd already heard that the gun had gone missing from Buffalo Bill's Wild West. But Nate Salsbury, who knows everything that goes on at the show, said he hadn't mentioned it. So where did Desmond find that out?

Now Wiggins realized that the information could only have come from Constable Turnbuckle's attackers.

“You four have shown unexpected ingenuity,” Desmond said, “although it put you in the middle of another of our ventures. At first we gave all the credit to Sherlock Holmes.”

Dooley suddenly stepped forward, his face a pale mask. Obviously, he'd been putting Desmond's hints together. “These people you work for —
they
had my brother killed to keep their secrets. I felt better because the man who did it got caught, but he died in his cell. Was that because of your precious bosses too?”

“You mean Bruiser Rowley?” Desmond gave Dooley a cold smile. “He knew too much. And that murder charge might have pried some information out of him if he weren't silenced. You should thank me, boy. I
personally
dealt with your brother's murderer.”

Dooley looked as if he were going to be sick. Desmond didn't even appear to notice. “My expectations were for more of an executive role in the organization. Instead, I found myself involved in a duel of wits with a bunch of children.”

His handsome face took on a hard and cruel expression. “That charade I staged by the docks should have scared you off, or at least persuaded you to give me the information I wanted.”

His eyes narrowed. “Now is the time to reconsider your situation. I assure you, young Wiggins, mine is the winning side. We've used this operation to bring in a number of useful agents unknown in this country.” He nodded toward Chinless Ed, standing guard beside Zeke Black. Then he turned his gaze to the group of men hiding in the shadows. “We've also moved many ‘clients' out of Britain, creating a web of people who will do our bidding all over Europe.”

“You dress like a posh bloke and talk about ‘we,' ” Wiggins shot back, “but to the real posh blokes, there's not much difference between you and Pryke and me. They're using you to get what they want so they don't have to dirty their own hands.”

Black and Gorham tensed, ready to punish Wiggins for his bold words. But Desmond stopped them with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You flatter yourself for the small part you played in thwarting my superiors' last little effort.”

Wiggins's eyes grew wide. “You were part of that?” he asked.

Desmond grinned. “I played a small part too,” he admitted. “But I'm to take a larger hand in our next project. When all is ready, we'll unleash a stroke that will bring this city to its knees.”

Chapter 15

INSPECTOR DESMOND FLICKED THE END OF HIS NEATLY trimmed mustache. “By the end of our campaign, we will be masters of the British Empire. You have a chance to establish a position for yourselves, depending on how forthcoming you are in the course of our next chat.” The rogue policeman turned to Zeke Black. “You and Gorham make sure our visitors are properly secured.”

Desmond started walking away, then glanced over his shoulder. “And Black—no mistakes this time, eh?”

The roustabout's surly face went red with anger, but he said nothing until Desmond had moved out of earshot. Then he turned to Chinless Ed Gorham. “Keep the gun on them, you.
I'll
tie them up.”

The American's face went as red as his companion's. “Now, wait a minute, Zeke. I can tie knots.” Gorham had a flat, nasal accent when he spoke, along with a whining tone in his voice. With his receding chin and ridiculous mustache, he would have seemed comical, except for the look in his eyes—and the pistol in his hand.

“I put in two years on a riverboat,” Zeke Black replied. “I know the ropes.” He didn't bother to hide the contempt in his voice. “And Desmond just told me to get the job done right.”

“Aw, Zeke, don't start with that again,” Gorham complained, his voice getting whinier.

“You worked on a riverboat?” Even getting tied up couldn't dampen Dooley's curiosity. “In the Wild West?”

“Nah,” Black replied, “on the Saskatchewan River in Canada. That's where I come from. Knocked about quite a bit out West, both north and south of the border.”

“All of it honest work, no doubt,” Wiggins said sarcastically.

That actually got a laugh from Black. “Maybe not. But it all made plenty of money for me. I was good enough in my line of work that—certain people—approached me to get involved in what they called ‘a profitable enterprise.' All I had to do was get a position with the Wild West show.”

He smirked. “It was easy enough getting around that fathead Cody. Although his partner was harder to buffalo—Salsbury is nobody's fool.”

“Goody for you.” Jennie spoke up. “Too bad you and your friend weren't as good with a real buffalo.”

Her comment made Chinless Ed twitch. “Say, I paid a bundle to get out of New York. Figured I'd be sailing in style, not hiding out as the tender to that monster. Zeke got him on the wagon, but I didn't know what to do when he handed me that rope. It wasn't my fault—”

“It was
all
your fault!” Zeke Black barked, jerking on the ropes as he tied Wiggins's wrists. Wiggins winced in pain. Any chance of wriggling out of those bonds had just gone out the window.

The Canadian outlaw glared at the New York gangster. “You spooked the stupid beast when we got to Earl's Court, making that copper notice you. Then, when I told you to lie low while we got the buffalo into the corral, you go and steal a gun—
Buffalo Bill's
gun, no less.”

“I carried an equalizer every day of my life since I was ten years old,” Gorham replied. “It's like I was naked without one. So when I saw the Colt sitting out there in the middle of that fancy tent—” He broke off at the look Black gave him. Then, pulling himself together, he began waving around the gun in his hand. “Besides, it came in handy enough when that cop came after us. Not that I'da knowed he was a cop in regular clothes.”

“What happened?” Owens asked.

“He showed a badge as we left the show grounds, by the stable bridge.” Black shook his head as he tied up Owens. “Just when I would have passed Chinless Ed along the chain and been rid of him.”

“Well, what kind of luck was it that the guy would recognize me from a cartoon in a magazine? ” Chinless Ed protested.

“Bad luck!” Zeke burst out. “That's the only kind of luck you brought with you from America.”

“And then the stupid gun turned out not to have real bullets in it,” Gorham went on. “I laid the guy out with the butt end. Should have finished him when he was down.”

“It's not every day a copper gets shot in London, ” Black responded, “even with blank bullets. If we'd killed him as well, the police would be tearing the city apart looking for us. Better to leave him as we did, in no shape to talk and with the law looking for some savage.”

You're
the savages,” Dooley cried as Zeke moved past him. “Silent Eagle saved lives that day. But you people take 'em—coppers', kids', even my brother's! ”

Dooley spat in Black's face. The angry cowboy laid him flat with a backhand slap. Jennie let out a shriek and jumped on him. Zeke easily flung her back and raised his hand to strike her as well. Wiggins and Owens tried to kick out at him till Gorham pressed his gun barrel to Wiggins's temple.

“Won't bother me one bit to do you in right now,” the American growled. “And this gun's got real bullets. So don't move, either of you.”

Zeke quickly grabbed Jennie and tied her hands. “Soon enough, we'll find the Indian and do for him.” He gave the ropes an extra-vicious tug. “After all the noise in the newspapers passes, we'll take care of Turnbuckle so it looks as if he died in his sleep at the hospital. Then everything can go back to business as usual.”

Wiggins's insides went cold. If that was the plan, things didn't look good for the Raven League. They'd be the only ones who knew about the smuggling ring besides the people running it. These ruthless men weren't likely to let Wiggins and his friends live to tell the tale.

Black didn't realize what he'd given away. He was busy giving Gorham dark looks. “So far, the police have been looking in the wrong places because of that little trick I learned from the Indians up in Saskatchewan.”

Dooley stared. “
You
scalped the copper?”

“It sure wasn't him.” Black jerked his head in Gorham's direction. “Between that and leaving Cody's gun beside the copper, it should have been enough to keep everyone's eyes on the Americans.”

He scowled. “While I was doing the job, I asked Chinless over there to do one little thing. ‘Get rid of that magazine,' I said. He could have burned it or taken it away to dump in the Thames or chuck on a trash pile. What does he do? He tosses it onto the railway embankment to be found by you. All my hard work comes to nothing, and Desmond cuts up nasty about
me
making mistakes.”

Gorham was busy waving his revolver again. “Don't call me Chinless!”

One of the criminals waiting to be smuggled out of the country came over. He was handsome in a skinny, foppish sort of way. Blond hair tumbled into his blue eyes as he stood by Gorham. Wiggins recognized him, having seen him around various thieves' dens in the East End—Gentleman Jeremy Clive, the jewel thief who'd killed someone during his last burglary.

“I say, old boy,” Gentleman Jeremy said in his posh voice, “from a business viewpoint, these witnesses are deuced inconvenient. Better to do away with them now and leave them to the Thames after we go—”

“If they're that inconvenient, why don't you do it yourself ?” Inspector Desmond reappeared, leering at Gentleman Jeremy, who drew back.

Desmond shook his head. “Rather leave it to the servants, would you? Actually
doing
the job might distress your gentlemanly sensibilities?”

Clive retreated to the other skulking fugitives as if Desmond had whipped him.

Zeke Black hustled the members of the Raven League into a line as Desmond turned back. “Neatly done,” the inspector told him. “Gag them as well.”

“I thought you wanted us to talk,” Wiggins said.

“Oh, I do indeed,” Desmond replied. “I'm reasonably sure you know where Silent Eagle is hiding —probably because you put him there. But everything in its place, and this isn't the place where I'll be asking you. I've just exchanged messages with the higher-ups. We'll move our chat to another house, a bit quieter. No traffic on the river or streets outside.”