Dawn's Early Light (23 page)

Eliza honestly didn't know if she should feel flattered or disappointed by that.

“I knew there would be severe consequences and challenges introducing a prototype in the field without proper testing,” he said with a faint sigh, “but nevertheless, I will bear this responsibility as would Odysseus when returning his soldiers home.”

Bill tipped his head to one side. “Was that English you just spoke?”

“Yes, Bill,” Felicity began, “there's this incredible resource at OSM headquarters called a library. You should indulge in it sometime.” And Bill bounced in his chair as Felicity flinched in hers. Eliza had delivered a few kicks under the table to Wellington in her time, and knew the signs very well. Bill cleared his throat, loosing a dark glare at Felicity. “Now then”—and she laid out a napkin across her lap as two porters appeared with fresh breakfast plates—“shall we begin this morning's agenda properly?”

“Yes, let's.” Eliza glanced over at her partner, who immediately began cutting into his ham and eggs. His eyebrows popped upwards as he took in what was sure to be the smoky taste and delicate texture of a robust cut of meat. “Not my usual breakfast, but when in Rome, yes?”

Wellington took a sip of tea and then dabbed at the corners of his mouth just before addressing the table. “Upon reviewing my notes and cross-referencing them with Felicity's, we've taken a closer look at this ‘Extravaganza' Edison has been conducting. Its stops, so far, have all been along the eastern seaboard. Cape Henry in Virginia, Ocean City in Maryland, the Rehoboth Beach Camp Meeting Association in Delaware—”

“What the hell is Edison doing?” Bill asked, his interest piqued. “Collecting seashells?”

“Coastal towns offer a variety of variables and elements,” Wellington offered. “Air currents, water currents . . .”

“Potential targets, both stationary and moving ones,” Eliza interjected.

“Exactly. Edison is truly a genius, and as geniuses go there is a methodology to his own brand of madness.” Wellington took a quick bite of eggs, a quick sip of tea, and flipped forwards a page. “Following his appearance in the Outer Banks, he was scheduled for a stop in Chicago, yes?”

Felicity nodded, adding, “But shortly after North Carolina, Edison cancelled that appearance.”

“Understandable,” Eliza said.

“And now we are headed to the Arizona Territories,” Felicity replied. “Flagstaff, to be precise, and that just so happens to be the last stop for the Extravaganza. No pomp. No circumstance. No dates or appearances after Flagstaff.”

“So he hightails it to Detroit after the Outer Banks, and then heads to Flagstaff.” Bill scratched his beard, mulling over the notes shared. “Guess the original plan was head on out to Chicago, do the dog-and-pony show, meander over to his base in Detroit, pick up the dynamo. Remind me what we found at Currituck again?”

Felicity motioned to Wellington, and flipped a few pages back in his journal. “It was the prototype targeting system. As Edison left it behind so callously, we can only assume that it was more of a proof of concept. They just wanted to see if it could be built . . .”

Felicity's words faded as Eliza's attention turned to the fact that Felicity was reading from Wellington's
private
journal. She flipped through it as if she knew it intimately.

“Lizzie?”

Someone asked Eliza if she was dizzy. She was feeling a little lightheaded now that she thought about it . . .

“Eliza?”

It was Wellington. What the hell did he want?

“Eliza, are you well?” he asked.

There was . . . real concern in his voice?

“I beg your pardon?” she asked.

“Bill asked what your thoughts were on why Edison would be going to Flagstaff. He went to a variety of coastal cities to read variables affecting firing solutions. Then he went to the Outer Banks to perfect a targeting device. Detroit was where Edison procured a power source. What does he need from Flagstaff? A desert town, yes?”

“The A.T. is beautiful country, but Flagstaff seems a bit out of the way, even for A.T. standards,” Bill said. “It's a far cry from Phoenix, but it's not Glenwood Springs, Colorado, either.”

“So,” Wellington said, pressing his fingers to his lips, his eyes still studying his Currituck sketch. “What do we do now?”

Eliza closed her eyes for a moment. She needed to clear her mind. She needed to stay focused.

She so desperately wanted to kiss Wellington. Bill was a mistake. She knew that now.

Bill tipped his head to one side. He looked at Wellington as if he'd suddenly sprouted a third arm out of his forehead and was offering to pour Bill a coffee with it. “Well, how about we take this train to Flagstaff, find Edison, and stop him?”

“The four of us?” Wellington asked.

“Naw, I was thinkin' just Lizzie and me. You and Felicity can watch.”

“Bill,” Felicity chided, “is there a problem?”

“Yes, there is. I don't appreciate Johnny Shakespeare here telling me that we can't do our job.”

“That's not what he's doing, Bill.” Eliza could feel tensions of all kinds rise suddenly; and with everything that had unfolded since their meeting in Norfolk, they all needed to be working together. Even with her differences, she knew that. “Wellington is simply—”

“Too cautious for this line of work,” Bill bit back.

“Mr. Wheatley,” Wellington said, giving a curt nod and returning to the ham and eggs remaining on his plate, “have you ever faced the House of Usher?”

“The OSM ain't no stranger to these Ushers.”

“I'm not asking OSM. I'm asking you.” His eyes were still on his breakfast as he said again in an affected drawl, “Jus' little ol' you,
pardner
.”

Looking up from his plate, Wellington held his gaze with Bill for what seemed like a small eternity. Felicity looked back and forth between them nervously while Eliza fought the urge to reach underneath the table and touch his leg. Wellington was apparently pushing back. Hard.

He finished the last bite of ham and with a small piece of bread began mopping up the remains of yolk on his plate. “So I thought,” he said.

Wellington shot a look at Eliza. She was still trying to clear her own head, so that she could offer some help. Where was this sudden venom coming from?

Of course. He had seen them kiss.

The archivist gave her a pained look before turning his focus back to Bill. “The House of Usher is an organisation not to be taken lightly in any way. Their resources appear limitless, and from what we can tell, their reach is everywhere.”

“Not everywhere,” Eliza said, giving Wellington a playful nudge. “They are not in Antarctica. Not anymore.”

Wellington chuckled, and Eliza suddenly realised how long it had been since she had made him smile.

He gathered himself by taking a sip of tea and continuing, “With the exception of Antarctica, they have a global reach, and their goal is to plunge the world into an unholy chaos. We still don't know if they intend to place themselves into power or if they are simply a living contradiction as organised anarchists.”

Felicity laughed this time, but as no one else found Wellington's words amusing, she coughed and busied herself folding her napkin on the table. The rosy blush on her cheeks was far too fetching in Eliza's estimation.

“Whoever they are, they're damn crazy,” Bill growled. “Who would want the whole world turned into hell?”

“Some look forward to a world lost in fire and madness.” Wellington waxed, stirring his tea, staring into its depths. “They picture a bigger, better world, rebuilt from the ashes. This, Mr. Wheatley, is what makes Usher far different from other secret societies.”

“How so, Johnny Shakespeare?”

“They have no vision of a better world, or even a Utopia. Their Nirvana is seeded with wild mania.” Wellington looked across at Eliza, and she felt as if the words were meant for her alone. His hazel eyes were the most serious she had ever seen them, and that chilled her. “The House of Usher simply have nothing to lose.”

Bill finished off his coffee, and then looked at Wellington. “All the more reason we need to move on Edison the minute we get into Flagstaff.”

“But we still have no idea what his endgame is, Bill,” Felicity spoke suddenly. She was, apparently, on the side of the Ministry. “Even if we get him back to Washington to stand trial for his crimes, that still doesn't take into account his political connections. He is a man of influence, as you well know.”

Bill didn't look at her, but Eliza saw him tense up on that. “I most certainly do.”

“We can't play our hand so quickly,” Felicity replied softly but firmly. “We need to find out why he is doing all this.”

“Perhaps,” Eliza began, “this would be a good time for reinforcements.”

Bill's eyes darted up to hers. “You calling in the Calvary, Lizzie? How's that not playing our hand?”

“Before we pull into Flagstaff,” she said, now looking over to her partner, “I think we can send an æthernet to the Ministry. We're going to need additional logistics.”

“Oh. Yes, of course.” Wellington pushed his spectacles higher up his nose, cleared his throat, and gave a tiny sigh. “Thank you for the warning.”

“Sounds fine to me,” Bill said, rising from his own chair, “but if Edison gives me a reason, I will not hesitate to bring him in—with whatever force is necessary.”

“Agreed,” Felicity replied.

“Just give us until meeting our reinforcements before you do anything rash,” Eliza said, batting her eyelashes just a fraction and angling her chest appropriately. “Please.”

He pressed his lips together and squeezed out an, “All right then.” Bill put his hat back on, tipped it to the ladies with a wicked little smile to Eliza, before shouldering his bag, and leaving the table without another word.

Wellington rose from his seat as well. “I believe I will see to my own appearance. Miss Lovelace here makes me feel quite in the shade. Ladies, if you will excuse me.” He closed the journal and, after locking it, made for the exit.

“You are most fortunate, Miss Braun,” Felicity said, watching him leave with a little gleam in her eye. “He really is such a charming individual.” She pushed her plate forwards slightly and said, “Well then, I suppose I should get ready for Flagstaff.”

“We have some time,” Eliza said, quite impressed her own tone was so pleasant. “I'd like to talk to you for a moment.”

“Oh?” Felicity asked, “About our case?”

“It pertains to our case. In a manner of speaking.”

Eliza placed her hand in her lap and fixed her gaze on Felicity's. She was quite beautiful, quite pleasant to the eye, and rather sweet. This acknowledgement left Eliza with two options: a right hook to her jaw or just blurting out what was on her mind.

“I am a bit concerned of your intentions concerning my partner, Wellington Books.”

Felicity blinked a few times, then made a quiet “Oh . . .” as she sat back in her seat, glancing down. Her cheeks grew slightly red and her posture deflated as if she wanted to sink into the floor. She appeared most embarrassed.

“Come, come, Felicity. No need to play the blushing maid with me. It's just us girls, after all.”

The blush then, as quickly as it arrived, disappeared. Her eyes grew slightly darker, and suddenly the librarian was a statue of cold civility.

“You are quite right,” Felicity said, leaning forwards into a far more assertive posture. “Miss Braun, my intentions are only of interest to myself and Mr. Books, and should hardly be of concern to you.”

Eliza could now easily see her behind a fine oak desk, tomes stacked high on either side of her, demanding payment for late returns with the same stare that bore into her now. It was fortunate that Felicity's dark eyes were not daggers for Eliza would have thought herself in imminent peril. This librarian, perhaps a novice in the tactics of spycraft, had been hiding this particular spine of steel beneath all that charm, demureness, and benevolence. It was one of the few times that Eliza had misjudged a person. An error she would not make twice.

Perhaps she herself was not as educated as a librarian or even an archivist, but she had just as much pepper in her personality. She leaned forwards on her elbows, her own eyes narrowing. “Oh, but they are, make no mistake. I am very solicitous of Mr. Books' feelings and his well-being. If his confidence or trust is compromised in the field, then our partnership is working at only half-strength. We cannot afford such a risk when dealing with the House of Usher. I assume you cross-referenced that much just now.”

Felicity crooked an eyebrow. “We're still talking about Wellington, correct? Because it sounds as if you are referring to yourself.”

Eliza tipped her head a bit lower. “If you want to play hard, then I can play hard. What's your real game?”

“My
game
, Miss Braun?” Her expression remained composed, but Eliza noted the librarian's hands were turning white as they clenched on each other.

“Oh, dearie, you really have no idea who you are facing presently, do you?”

“If this is a battle of wits, Miss Braun, then I would say, for the first time, you may be outgunned.”

“But this is a problem with you and I competing for the same man. Only one of us is aware of the competition.” She would not lose her temper on this ninny of a girl. At least, not yet. “Stay away from Wellington. He is not for you. Not now, not ever.”

Felicity's lips pursed. “Is that a fact?” She unlaced her fingers from each other, and made a steeple with them as she asked, “And you know this from the close company you two have been keeping?”

“We've been through a lot together.” Eliza's eyes narrowed. “I've known Wellington a bit longer than you.”