Hatshepsut's Collar (The Artifact Hunters #2) (13 page)

Loki laughed, and Jackson choked on his beer. She had forgotten he was there and could hear every word. At least the women grasping and sliding over each other in the ring kept Miguel distracted.

Loki grinned. “So you’re willing to admit it would be mind-blowing?”

“Of course, I have a soft spot for you.” She gave him a wink.

He stroked her palm again. “I have a very hard spot for you.” His eyes darkened and the humour dropped away.

Cara pulled her hand out of his grasp; his flirting pushed far enough and started to test her comfort level. “You can stop it now. You’re making Jackson blush.”

He chuckled and pushed his arms straight, leaning away from Cara, giving her much needed room to breathe. “How is the lion enjoying being part of Victoria’s zoo?”

An apt description she thought, given the way Nate paced his cage. “He doesn’t enjoy being curtailed. He said to tell you it was time to find your Wagner recording.”

Loki’s eyes widened and he chortled at some private joke.

Cara was tired of all the secrets and games being played. “Can you please tell me what it means?”

His black eyes glinted with amusement. “I once promised Nate if he was ever in deep trouble, I would swoop in with an airship blaring Ride of the Valkyries.”

Cara’s mind leapt to the obvious conclusion and she nearly blew beer back out her nose. She dropped the mug onto the table top with a thud. “He expects us to use an airship to rescue him from the Tower? It’s HMRAS headquarters, over a thousand men are stationed there, and military airships are tethered to the corner towers. It would be suicide.”

His eyes turned thoughtful. “You’re right, my peach. It would be an attempt so monumentally stupid that no one in their right mind would ever consider it.” The grin spread across his face even as he finished his sentence and Jackson started chortling.

She groaned and a lump formed in the pit of her stomach. The impossible odds simply made it more appealing to the infuriating men around her. “You’re going to get us all killed.” She refilled her beer; she didn’t want to hear the rest of his plan sober.

He winked at her. “Not at all, it’s all about sleight of hand. You know about that, you make a show of doing something with one hand while your other quietly dips into some poor lad’s pocket and steals his wild card.”

Cara waved her arm and beckoned over the waitress. She handed the smiling woman the empty pitcher. “We’re going to need more beer.” She turned back to Loki. “So any ideas off the top of your head?”

“I’ll feign an attack on the Tower. It’s been awhile since the Hellcat played, this will be fun. While I’m doing that, and drawing their fire, we’ll have someone sneak in and rescue him.”

“Your idea of fun still sounds suspiciously like suicide to me,” Cara grumbled. The Tower kept its position as a prison and fortification over the centuries for one very good reason; few people ever breached its walls. The odds seemed insurmountable. Hell, they
were
insurmountable odds; the only question left was pine or oak for the casket? “I hate to be the one to spoil your fun, but the Tower gates are all rather well guarded. Not to mention the troops stationed within the grounds, twiddling their thumbs and looking for something to do to relieve the boredom. Are you suggesting I take Nate’s private army and storm the walls?”

He tapped the side of his nose with one finger. “No, you dip your fingers in unobserved. Take an unexpected entrance.”

She cast a look at Jackson, but he hid behind his beer, leaving rescue plans to the pirate, who had a vast experience at escaping from tight spots while people shot at him. “I’m muscle, doll. He’s the brains on this caper.”

She considered other ways into the Tower. Loki would be in the air, the road gates were heavily fortified. That only left the Thames. “There’s the water gate at Tower Wharf, but soldiers patrol the Thames as well. We’d be sitting ducks out on the river.”

Miguel returned to the conversation. With the women’s bouts over, his one track thought processes could now take an interest in the plans to rescue his master. “We could go under the water.” He took a long swig of beer while the others waited for him to elaborate. “There’s a way, but it would only allow enough room for two.”

“I’ll go with Miguel.” Jackson threw into the conversation, along with a cold platter he liberated from a passing waitress.

Miguel shook his head, picking up a small sausage to pop whole in his mouth. “There wouldn’t be room to bring Lyons out. It needs to be two smallish people if we’re going to fit him as well.”

Cara blew out a long breath, unable to believe this was the substance of their rescue plan. “This is ridiculous. We can’t send just two people to break Nate out from the Tower of London. Why don’t we ask nicely if the ravens will drop him over the wall? Or we may as well stand at the gate, wave our arms, and ask them to shoot us.”

Jackson topped up everyone’s glasses before signalling for a new pitcher. “The boy’s good with a weapon and anything mechanical. Or did you think Lyons keeps him around for tying his cravat?”

Cara never considered that possibility, or the nature of Miguel’s role within the Lyons Empire. Nate had little use for a valet, getting dressed with him usually meant getting
undressed
first, and a valet in the room would be inconvenient. Miguel was young, smart, and quick. She reconsidered what talents he possessed that made him valuable to an underworld lord.

“And remember, the greatest number of guards are posted on the walls and the gates. How many actually guard Nate’s room?” Loki asked, the pirate mind examining all the angles of the mad plan.

“One, two at the most.”
Damn, but he has a point. Assuming we could make it past the walls.
“And close to a thousand will be lounging around, playing cards.”

“Sleight of hand, it will work.” Loki gave her a confident wink.

“All right for you to say so. You’ll be safe in a well-armed airship while I creep around the battlements.” She grumbled about the mess Nate had dumped her in, and wondered if the jeweller would still be open on their way home.

“And who do you think they will all be firing at?” He laughed and held up his hands. “Honestly, we’re doing them a favour. When did the poor boys last get any excitement? Victoria keeps them chained to the battlements like bulldogs, and they grow as equally fat.”

She stared at her beer, hoping to find the answer plastered to the bottom of the tin cup.

“You don’t have to go.” Loki’s voice softened. “Leave it to the lads.”

Resolve slid down her spine and wrapped around her vertebrae. The plan still stank of suicide, but if Nate took the long walk to the gallows, she was dead by the end of the week anyway.
I definitely need to visit that jeweller
for one last great hurrah.

She shook her head. “If I’m going to die, I want to see it coming. I would rather be in the thick of it than pacing in Mayfair. So the plan is me, Miguel, and whatever route he has up his sleeve that goes under the Thames.”
God, I hope there aren’t any water rats. They’re vicious buggers.

A serious veil fell over Loki’s face for a moment. “How long has he got?”

“Victoria gave him until the end of the week, and then he takes a short walk to Tower Green and the long drop.” Her heart constricted. Despite her anger, she still loved him right through to the marrow of her bones. She had been given too little time with him and she jealously demanded more, even if only to rage at him about his deceit.

Loki breathed out a long sigh and squeezed her hand. “Three days left. Let’s make it tomorrow night, then.”

The decision made, the lump took up permanent residence in Cara’s stomach. “There is also an important chest that needs to make its way to your airship. I’m honeymooning in Russia, once we liberate my errant husband, so I need to pack up my new wardrobe as well.”

Jackson poured more beer, and they hammered out the finer details of how exactly to liberate Nate from the Tower and from under the noses of a thousand soldiers and Victoria’s finest airships.

couple of hours later, full dark claimed the city with the exception of the dim yellow circles thrown by the street lamps. The carriage returned to the Mayfair house. Miguel excused himself and headed away with a slight sway to his steps.

“I’ll go get changed,” Cara called to Jackson as she headed for the curved main staircase.

“Don’t forget your little cap guns.” Jackson’s voice rang out. “Better safe than sorry.” He gave her a wink before disappearing down the hallway.

Cara changed her clothes and descended the stairs to find Jackson waiting in the entranceway, lounging against the doorjamb. He had also changed, now clothed in black from head to foot and looking more criminal than usual. A shudder ran down her spine and she was glad they were both on the same side now.

She just didn’t know what side they were on.

Cara chose to dress in earthier tones with dark brown breeches and boots and a steel grey corset with a dark grey frock coat to keep out the chill. Her pistols were slung at her hip and under her armpit in their usual places. With her faithful friends Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson, she was ready to tackle whatever the evening brought.

“No carriage,” Jackson said as he held open the heavy, metal front door for her. “Too noticeable.”

They walked to the end of the driveway in silence, their boot heels loud on the cobbled drive, their breath curling from them on the chill autumn air. Shadows danced from the electric lights held aloft on wrought iron limbs. Once they hit the main street, Jackson hailed a small steam powered hansom cab. They rode in silence to within walking distance of the hangar when Jackson signalled the driver to halt. He tossed him a coin and ushered Cara down the pavement on foot. She shot him curious looks, but he remained tight lipped. She expected to head for the hangar, but he appeared oblivious to the Thames and the awaiting docks.

Questions swirled in her brain, almost drowned out by the incessant curiosity clamouring to be satisfied. Yet again she remembered how little she knew about the true nature of Nate’s activities.

They stopped before a row of plain terrace houses, separated from the docks and hangars by a wide road. Street lights were few and far between in this neighbourhood. They occupied the ends and middle of the road only. Darkness stretched between the ineffectual orbs of soft yellow light.

The houses were tall, narrow, and made of dark stone. The buildings looked like elderly undertakers leaning on each other. Soldiers patrolled up and down the road, blocking their path to the hangar as they stopped all traffic heading onto the wharf.

Jackson gave them a quick look, then took her elbow and steered her toward the end house. A climbing rose scrambled over the low brick wall, separating what was once a garden from the street. The rose stretched limbs in all directions, reaching out for attention, pruning, and sunlight. Clad in gloom, the front yard mainly held overgrown weeds crawling across the broken path to the front door. A few tall dahlias nodded their spent seed heads back into the grass next to scraggly lavenders frantically gesturing for long forgotten trims.

“What are we doing?” Cara hissed, trying not to attract the attention of the bored soldiers exchanging small talk and cigarettes.