The Diamond Conspiracy: A Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences Novel (18 page)

“Nearly?”

“Bit of a dust-up in Egypt, but I managed to get free with our man, Rateb, here.”

The dark-skinned Egyptian was even more dishevelled than he had been when they had first met in Cairo only six months ago, but when they had seen one another he had been tearing through the streets of Cairo in search of Field Director Marcus Donohue. Now Khaled had the Department of Imperial Inconveniences chasing him to the lush green moors of Salisbury. Quite the change for anyone coming from a land of sand and heat.

“Agent Rateb,” Wellington said, extending him a hand. “I mean this wholeheartedly when I say it is a pleasure to see you again.”

“Likewise,” the Egyptian said, clasping hands with Wellington, “which was made possible with Agent Smith here watching over me.”

“Dammitall, man, how many times do I have to remind you?” the concealed agent quipped playfully. “As we are now fugitives, I insist that you call me Maulik!”

“So are you all of the Egyptian office?”

“No. Many of us have ‘gone to ground,’ as you English would say.” He then motioned with a hand to Maulik. “I was
pinned down by the Department when Agen—when
Maulik
found me.”

“What about Donohue?” Wellington asked. “Being as English as he is, I doubt if he will simply blend in.”

Khaled looked quickly between Wellington and Eliza, his skin growing suddenly pale.

“Oh dear,” Maulik interjected, “I’m afraid returning to the field has isolated you a bit, now hasn’t it, old chap? Field Director Donohue is dead.”

“Dead?” Wellington and Eliza asked in unison.

“Yes, poor sod,” he said, his hood bowing ever so slightly. “I suppose the heat got the better of his sensibilities and judgement. Khaled here discovered he was selling artefacts from the Egyptian Archives to those immortality-seeking madmen, Methusulah’s Order. Small, easy-to-conceal items, but ones that pack a rather nasty punch.”

Eliza felt a tightness around her throat. Was this why the entire organisation had been deemed an inconvenience?

“When Khaled had gotten wind of his transgressions, Donohue chose a coward’s death. A Remington under the chin, bullet to the brain.”

“How long had he been doing this?” Wellington managed.

“That’s what we were trying to ascertain when we received the Phantom Protocol order,” Khaled said, a haunted look lingering behind his eyes. “As I was the ranking officer, I remained behind to see to our Archives, meagre as they were after only six months. We still don’t know exactly how much damage Donohue left in his wake.”

Eliza shook her head. “Bugger.”

“A tragedy,” Khaled muttered.

For the next few minutes, more agents were filtering in from the outside. Lady Caroline Sidman was a bit of a surprise as Eliza assumed she would have taken refuge within her family. Once free of her own cloak, Lady Caroline smoothed out her skirts and joined the growing contingent surrounding Doctor Sound. Another pair of gentlemen came in from outside, both of them waving to Eliza cheerily before greeting one another, and now the room began to take on a heavy warmth. Her eyes looked from either side of the small gathering of Ministry brothers and sisters, searching for any other
familiar faces that had been at the back of her mind during their flight from Germany.

Miss Shillingworth appeared in the room, her sharp eyes darting from each agent before she turned, locked the door, and then powered up the Lee-Metford-Tesla Mark IV, once she gave the director a nod. From the looks of how she checked the weapon, Eliza knew the lady was more than adequate with the rifle.

“Thank you, Cassandra,” Doctor Sound said. He then made a circular motion with his hand as he took the centre of the room. The small crush of people gathered around him, and he stuck his thumbs in his waistcoat and slowly turned in place, taking them all in. “How many?”

“Seventeen, sir,” Cassandra replied, her eyes looking out the small window set in the door.

“Seventeen,” he repeated sombrely. “From all corners of the globe and Her Majesty’s Empire, seventeen managed to find safe passage.” His smile only added to the heaviness in the room. “Cold comfort, I suppose.”

“Considering the Department is taking us to hunt as would a hound to the fox,” Lady Caroline ventured, “I would say that we have fared quite well.”

“I would echo that sentiment,” Lachlan chimed in. “We only just made it from Dunedin, but then again, we had more of an opportunity to elude capture. The South Pacific is, after all, quite a big place.”

“Any ideas who we have lost?” Maulik asked.

“Confirmed deaths have been difficult, considering Phantom Protocol, but according to the newspapers, we lost Dominick Locklear off of Madagascar. He was on assignment there. Pirates, according to the journalists. Considering the waters that claimed him had been clear of such activity for months, I find that rather convenient.

“These are the deaths that I have deemed dubious in manner. Upon first glance, they seem feasible, but only a few questions raise suspicions. Then we have other manners of death far too conspicuous, but most assuredly from the hands of the Department. There was our operative in Paris. Ran a bakery as part of her cover. She was found stuffed in one of her ovens.” A gasp from Lady Caroline and soft sounds of shock
punctuated the silence. “Miss Shillingworth and I happened to intercept a missive concerning the whereabouts of Agent Courtney.” Whispers of
“Galloping Gertie”
and
“The Department’s in for it now”
filtered in the air before Sound continued. “It was a self-collapsing Amédée Bollée. Quite ingenious, if not so dastardly.”

More gasps, this time accompanied by the odd swear or three. Eliza felt her heart sink. How many more would be simply erased from existence?

“I don’t doubt some of our number have gone completely dark, and perhaps—if time and resources allow—we will be able to send word to those unable to reach this rendezvous. We will simply have to watch, wait, and pray.”

“Doctor Sound,” Barry called over the current of hushed speculation between agents, “I don’t suppose now would be a good time to do that? I could rummage about this place, see if I ca—”

“No, it most certainly is not,” the director stated firmly. “While yes, this place is secret, it is still a gamble all of us convening here. For a number of reasons. In particular, concerning those who are familiar with the founding of the Ministry.”

“And exactly how many is that?” Khaled asked.

“Two,” he replied.

Eliza had always been impressed with how Doctor Sound was able to mask his own emotions, making it absolutely impossible to understand where the man stood on situations and scenarios. However, with that simple reply, Sound conveyed deep concern, if not fear, of the other person who might be able to gather where the Ministry would retreat if ever a worst case like this would arise.

“I believe we are safe but I also believe that safety is tenuous at best.” Sound tapped his fingertips together as he followed the ranks of agents. “Once we are in a secure location, I will share with you what I know, but here? Now?” He stopped, looked around him, and shook his head quickly. “No, out of the question. Best to wait.”

“So how long do we tempt fate?” Eliza recognised the voice as Whittaker. Edinburgh branch.

“Protocol dictates that we are to give operatives exactly
one hour before and after the time dictated in the orders. Beyond that, we are dancing with the devil.”

The murmurs of concern were working on Eliza’s final nerve. They were an elite among the ranks of Her Majesty’s servants, regardless of budgets tightening at the various offices. They adapted and they succeeded. This was a new and terrifying spot to find themselves in, to be certain, but Eliza would not stand to simply surrender to panic or dubiety.

And most certainly she was not going to surrender to any of those cloth-eared gits in the Department!

“What are your orders, sir?” Eliza asked, silencing the room.

The last time a man of Sound’s age looked at her that way, it was her father. He had been so proud of her rising to the rank of field agent for the Ministry; and while he could not trumpet that pride around Auckland, it was more than evident in the way he looked at her. Seeing that in Sound’s eyes created a strange lump in her throat.

“Thank you, Agent Braun.” Sound took in a great breath and looked at all assembled. “Under Phantom Protocol, we were all to meet here. There are provisions and resources stockpiled that allow us to run operations for a time; but even I did not see our current scenario. The longer we stay at the Red Lion, the greater the risk we take in being discovered.

“What we need is a secure location, somewhere we can work in secret and be assured of privacy, even from the Crown. I have a few ideas where we can regroup, but I am not certain we can completely rely on these supposed safe havens. Every query I make threatens our already uncertain anonymity.”

“Sir . . .” came a voice from beside Eliza. “I believe I have a solution.”

Wellington? How did he believe that he, the recently promoted field agent, held a viable, secure option for the Ministry in his hands?

The door leading to the inside of the pub burst open again, causing Cassandra to shoulder her rifle and prime it in one smooth, clean manoeuvre. Other agents, Wellington included, all drew a variety of concealed pistols. Where Lady Caroline had been hiding her rather impressive sidearm, Eliza had no clue. The two men were shaking off the rain as well, both their
coats showing hard wear. Their journey had not been an easy one, perhaps harder than anyone in that room.

Eliza drew both her pistols, however, when Bruce Campbell revealed himself from underneath the tattered and soaked Stetson. As if this situation could not get any worse.

“Oh my!” Brandon exclaimed on looking up at the variety of firearms pointed at him. “Agent Brandon D. Hill. Canadian Victoria Branch. Cheers, all.”

No one lowered their weapons.

“Don’t take it personally, mate,” Bruce said, patting Brandon’s shoulder. “I think this is my welcome home, not yours.”

Some of the weapons returned to their hiding places as Bruce crossed the length of the room to Doctor Sound. Cassandra Shillingworth, however, countered behind him, keeping her aim on the back of Bruce’s head. Both of them had been properly identified as allies, and yet Shillingworth was still ready to take a shot. And she was not the only agent doing so. Those present on Bruce’s admission to spying on the Ministry were all waiting for the word.

Why Brandon of all people was keeping company with him completely befuddled Eliza.

“Doctor Sound,” Bruce said, removing his hat, “I’m sure I’m the last person you expected.”

“You are quite right. The last I would have expected,” the director stated, “or needed.”

The Australian nodded. “All right then, Fat Man, have it your way.” Bruce took stock of everyone in the room and gave a huff. “You lot seem to be in a right spot of trouble.” His mouth bent back into a grin as his eyes stopped on Eliza. He gave her a wink and announced, “Well, you can all relax. The Thunder from Down Under is here to save the day.”

Eliza glanced around the room. Not one pistol lowered.

This long night just became longer.

Wherein a Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing Is Let Loose in the Henhouse

“Y
ou’ve got some cheek!”

Hearing those words from Eliza would have come as no shock to Wellington. It was, however, unsettling, hearing those words uttered from his own lips. Eliza was, most assuredly, rubbing off on him.

As the Australian turned to face him, Wellington swore he was growing by inches.
Never mind,
he thought quickly as he holstered his weapon.
I’ve held my ground with him once before. It would be a pleasure to do so again.

“Are you sure you want to address me in that tone, Books?” Bruce asked as he cracked the knuckles of his right hand against the palm of his left.

“Just stating what is on most agents’ minds right now.” Wellington motioned to the gun barrels still trained on the Australian. “Or did you fail to notice the silent opposing vote to your presence here?”

“Once they remember why I’m good to have around—”

“Or remember what a complete and utter prat you are,” Eliza bit out from behind Wellington.

“Well, it ain’t like you can be particular with who you can
trust, now can you?” Bruce turned in place much like Sound had done earlier, but instead of taking stock of the agents around him, Bruce was merely looking for how many were present. “I’m guessing you lot don’t even number to twenty. From where I’m standing, it looks to me that you might welcome an extra hand, now wouldn’t you?”

“Agents,” Doctor Sound finally spoke, and Eliza had never heard his voice so completely and utterly cold. Whatever was the undercurrent in his demeanour, Eliza was certain it would not bode well for Campbell. “Stand down. I want to hear what
Mr.
Campbell has to say.” His eyes still fixed on Bruce, Sound motioned with a single finger to Miss Shillingworth. “Not you, Cassandra. Keep your rifle primed and ready. Just in case he refers to me as ‘Fat Man’ again.”

Wellington glanced over to the bespectacled assistant who hefted the Mark IV quite aptly. He could tell she had no intention of missing.

“You may no longer serve in the ranks of the elite, Mr. Campbell, but that is certainly no license for you to not show respect where it is due.”

“The
elite
? You lot?” Bruce motioned around him again and barked, “And exactly how is the elite faring up against the Department of Imperial Inconveniences? Hmmm, let’s take a head count and see who is still alive, shall we?” Bruce tossed his wide-brimmed hat onto a table and removed the tattered duster. “Just goes to show you the fate of the
elite
once you ousted me. Fell like a house of cards, now didn’t you?”

“And we were so secure with you around,” Eliza hissed. “I’m sure Ihita felt safe with you in our ranks.”

“Eliza,” Brandon said, stepping in the line of fire between Bruce and Cassandra, “Bruce and I have come to an accord with that. I think you should too.”

Her gaze switched to Brandon, her focused bitterness suddenly scattered by the man’s unexpected compassion. “Ihita was a friend of mine, and you—”

“Will consider myself most fortunate if I see her again in the hereafter, but making Bruce suffer for that which he has already paid penance for will not bring Ihita back, and believe me, if that could have done so I would have made him suffer all the way from Colombia to here.” Brandon looked at the
agents around him and said sombrely, “And for those of you who still hold Bruce responsible for Ihita’s death or for the dereliction of his sworn duty, Bruce is most assuredly correct in one respect—we are hardly in a position to be particular in the company we keep.”

There were murmurs of consent, but neither Eliza nor Wellington echoed any such acknowledgement. Much as it was in the standoff, they were hardly alone.

Apparently, Doctor Sound agreed with them. “Kind words, Agent Hill, but forgive me if I take an opposing view to your own. I was duped once by Mr. Campbell here, and it cost me an agent of the highest calibre and the lives of several innocents. I will most certainly not be beguiled by such an individual ever again.” Sound slowly approached Campbell who, much to his credit, stood defiantly as would have the Rock of Gibraltar against a sailing frigate. “Explain yourself, man.”

Bruce looked him over for a moment. It struck Eliza as curious how he was assessing the director. After all he had done against the Ministry. Yes, Doctor Sound was right: it was very sweet for Brandon to forgive him, but that did not mean to simply put past transgressions behind and carry on.

“There was an attempt to recruit me in Rockhampton,” Bruce began, his gaze locked with Sound’s. “The Department must have figured I turned on you once before so I’d probably go off and do it again. I chose instead to voice my displeasure.”

“Your displeasure?”

“In underestimating me.” Bruce then motioned to Brandon. “Once I found out what I needed to know, I set off for South America, fastest flight I could manage. I had a notion where I could find Brandon.”

“If it hadn’t been for Bruce here, I’d be in a right state,” Brandon offered. “In getting here, Bruce and I came to an understanding. I wouldn’t say it’s like old times in the field betwixt us, but I will say that Bruce is a good bloke to have at your side in a firefight. Our flight from Colombia was most exhilarating.”

“I see. Thank you, Agent Hill.” Sound tipped his head back, considering the Australian with deep scrutiny. “So, Mr. Campbell, you wish to come in from the rain, as it were?”

“Yes, sir,” he replied, the man’s confidence never wavering even as he added, “because it’s the right thing to do for me mates in the Ministry.”

“And what better place to seek shelter, as well, but in the last place the Department would come looking for you—the very agency you betrayed,” Sound stated, one eyebrow raising ever so slightly.

Bruce went to retort, but closed his mouth as his gaze went from Sound to the agents assembled. Eliza always had regarded Campbell as being more of a brawler, less of a strategist. In her own partnerships with the Aussie, he preferred to let the bullets or his fists do the thinking when facing the opposition.

A brilliant deduction on Sound’s part, and spot-on from the look of Campbell’s reaction.

That didn’t mean Bruce was finished. “Doctor Sound, you have no reason to take me back in. You just don’t. Hell, if I were still assistant director of the Ministry, I would advise you not to do so, on account of how compromised I am. That being said, I do have insight on those who might have influenced ol’ Queen Vic to deem us—I mean, the Ministry—as an inconvenience. If I wanted to disappear in Australia, I could have without a worry. Pick up the ol’ bird and the kids, disappear in the outback, sure as Aunt Fanny’s your Uncle Bob.” He looked then directly at Eliza, then to just behind her where she knew Wellington was standing, his hand holding on to hers. “Some of you have no reason to trust me. Fair enough. Guess that means I’ll have to work a touch harder for you lot.” He returned to Doctor Sound. “I want to make this right. As my fellow Southerners can attest, that’s how we prefer to handle things when plans go pear-shaped.”

Before anyone could respond, the door leading out to the pub flew open again. This time, Bruce and Brandon joined in the collection of firearms that just seemed to appear. By the time Cassandra whirled about with the Mark IV shouldered, the couple entering had come to a full stop, their arms reaching high into the air. The lady was apparently attempting to adjust her spectacles by repeatedly scrunching her nose. The gentleman seemed hardly as distraught or as nervous as his partner. He simply looked at all the pistols at first with an ire
of
“How typical.”
His expression fell after a few moments. Eliza glanced at Wellington, who rolled his eyes. He knew what the look meant as well.

Their shared thought was now given voice as the newly arrived gentleman spoke with bottomless disappointment. “Pistols? We are on the verge of the twentieth century. I would expect at least half of you to be brandishing Experimentals, especially in our current pickle.” He then dropped his hands and rapped the woman on her arm. “Told you, Josepha. We should have accepted the Department’s offer. At least they
appreciated
our work.”

“You really believe the Department would have been honourable considering what they were asking of us?” Now Doctor Blackwell turned to face Professor Axelrod, dropping her own arms and placing fists on her hips. “Just a moment—it was
your
idea to work from the inside!”

“Well, yes, because of your deductive reasoning, Josepha—” And on that, Doctor Blackwell gave a high-pitched squeak and motioned with her head to the collected agents. “I mean,
my esteemed colleague, Doctor Blackwell
—it was your deduction that swayed me to a more level head concerning our Ministry compatriots and the situation at hand.”

“Which is why we had to take matters into our own hands, survive by our wits and intellect as it were.”

“Hallo, Josepha! Hallo, Hephaestus!” chimed Barry from the back of the room, only his arm waving madly, visible over the crowd of agents. “Good to know you’re all safe and sound!”

“Barry,” they replied in unison, nodding.

“They were supplying weapons to the Department!” claimed Maulik, still refusing to lower his sidearm. “Well, weapons of a sort.”

Axelrod gave a heavy sigh and corrected, “
Exciters.
We were supplying the Department with
exciters
. If you are to present evidence of our treasonous intentions, please do so with the facts as they are, not wild conjecture.”

Sound blinked. “Is this true?”

“Of a fashion, yes,” Blackwell replied.

“Of a fashion?” Sound asked incredulously. He appeared quite torn between curious and outraged.

“Yes, sir,” interjected Bruce. “Seems that these clankertons here—”

“I beg your pardon,”
Axelrod and Blackwell snapped.

“—were supplying Experimentals, but they were more flawed than usual.” Eliza looked back at Blackwell and Axelrod. Both were fit to burst. “The bloke that had Brandon and me dead to rights turned himself into a bloody Italian ice.”

“Oooh, he was attempting to use the Jack Frost, was he?” Pistols were lowering as Axelrod fished out a pad and pencil from inside his jacket. “Details. I need details on exactly what happened, particularly after discharge.”

“You see, since Doctor Sound forbade testing upon willing human test subjects”—she shot the director a glare, which drove Sound to pinch the bridge of his nose and screw his eyes shut—“we sabotaged the exciters by designing them all to misfire, once pressure inside the exciter’s manifold could find no escape valve and reached critical failure.”

“Come again?” Khaled asked.

“They made a gun with a sealed muzzle,” Wellington stated.

“Very
good
, Books,” Axelrod said, pointing at him with his pencil. “I knew getting out into the field would improve your comprehension of my work.”

Beside her, Eliza felt Wellington flinch.

“Wait, just a moment,” stammered Bruce. “Out in the field?
Books?!
”

Doctor Sound cleared his throat, returning attention to him. “We don’t really have the time for this witty repartee as somewhere out there the Department is still following their own orders. Now then, I assure you we will debrief once we have a secure location in which to do so.” He turned back to Wellington. “Agent Books, I believe you were to present us with an option?”

“Yes, sir,” he said. Giving a quick glance to Eliza, Wellington drew himself up, and started again. “I would like to propose—”

“Forgive me, Agent Books,” interrupted Sound. He craned his neck to make eye contact with Miss Shillingworth. “Cassandra?”

“Yes, Director?”

“I honestly don’t care if it’s the bloody Duke of Edinburgh, if that door opens within the next two minutes, shoot.”

Her face came aglow with excitement. “Gladly, sir.”

Sound returned his attention to Wellington. “You now have approximately one minute and fifty-three seconds, Books. Make it count.”

“Yes, sir.” The grating in his throat as he swallowed nearly knocked him back a step. He suddenly craved a drink. Perhaps the journey was catching up with him. “We need a location secure, remote, and unknown to the Crown. I know such a place.”

Don’t you dare, boy,
a voice from the past warned in his mind.

It is no longer yours to rule over,
Wellington seethed inwardly.
You saw to that.

“Go on,” the director urged.

Wellington blinked, feeling Eliza nudge him gently. “Yes, this location I would prefer to reveal only to you, Director, before we can be assured of security within our own ranks.”

“Are you suggesting,” came Agent King’s voice, “that perhaps we are not secure?”

“I am suggesting”—he held a hand up towards Bruce, but didn’t turn to look at him—“all present company aside, that we cannot afford to grow comfortable. The Department tried to recruit Bruce. We have no clue what agents we rendezvous with from here on, or if any in this room, have been compromised.”

“And when do you suggest we can begin trusting one another, Books?” Maulik’s mechanical voice asked. Even in its nature, Wellington could detect its hint of disdain.