Chapter Fourteen

Keeping Watch over the Watchmen

 

The moors spread out for miles all around them, the only outstanding detail the silver shape of the Illuminati sniper far ahead of them. When he stopped, they stopped. Liam would usually complain about casing a mark, and who could blame him? Following was not exciting work. The actual job, though? Worth the wait, to Christopher.

Still, it was getting to the job itself which was dull as ditch water. Liam welcomed shadowing the sniper. Life on the farm with the animals may have been the finest of nanty narking but that didn’t mean he wasn’t wanting a change.

The sniper stopped in his tracks again, so he and Liam had to follow suit.

“This bloke ever get tired?” Liam said with a groan.

“Maybe there’s somethin’ in the Illuminati, ya’ know?” panted Christopher, “To join, you got to run across the country before getting that fancy pin.”

“Them Illuminatis mus’ save a good amount of coin on hypersteam. Who needs it when you can just hoof it, right?”

Christopher pulled himself up on his knees, and caught sight of the sniper standing up and resuming his trek back towards St Austell.

“Good news,” Christopher said, pulling up Liam by his arm. “He’s moving slower.”

“Lucky us,” he replied before trudging into the darkness.

The sniper led Christopher and Liam through the hillocks until they crested a low hill. From this height, they could see the sniper running towards St Austell tucked down the valley. The boys followed the ghostly figure of the sniper, who had slowed himself down to a walk, as they reached the main street of the town.

“Shouldn’t we get closer?” Liam asked under his breath.

“Nah, remember—he’s got Starlights too. Probably better quality than the ones we’re wearing. We got ta’ be all careful like.”

“At least we’re in a town,” Liam said, patting the side of the church they were hiding alongside. “Not as crowded as London Town, but we got places to hide.”

“Jus’ don’ get too lofty, eh?” Christopher warned. “Remember what Agent Thorne done told us ‘bout these Illuminati lot.”

From their corner, they could see the sniper walking slowly down the deserted street, his imposing form pausing to check alleyways between shops. Christopher waited for him to take a few steps before he motioned for Liam to follow. He could just see him checking door after door until finally he paused at an inn or tavern of some description. Christopher grabbed Liam by the collar to drag him into an empty alleyway as the sniper dug into his pockets.

Christopher tried to listen for any activity from the sniper. Unlocking a door. Closing a door. Anything involving that bloody door, but his heart was thrumming hard in his ears.

Then, a door shut. It did not slam, but it did close firmly enough for both Liam and he to hear. They both leaned their heads out from their hiding place, and after a few moments of nothing apart from silence and darkness, light from a second floor window shone down on the road ahead of them.

Christopher removed his Starlights and tucked them into his coat pocket. “Looks like our Illuminati found the rest of his gang.”

“So how do ya’ reckon we get in there?”

“St Austell’s ain’t no London,” Christopher said over his shoulder as he crept towards the building. “There might be a window unlocked somewhere.”

“Let’s hope so.”

On reaching the door, Christopher and Liam looked up and down the street. It must have been late into the night as the country town they had trundled through on their way to Mrs Summerson farm was eerily quiet, practically dead. The patch of light against the street flickered. People were passing in front of the window.

This was a conversation they needed to hear.

“Check the windows,” Christopher whispered, motioning to the far end of the building.

Liam slipped into the shadows, quietly looking for any sort of purchase against the panes of glass. Christopher again glanced up and down the street, not daring to step out into the middle of it. They had to hug the building lest those friends of the sniper caught sight of them from that window.

He then heard two low whistles—Liam’s latest trick—and he reached his mate easily prying open one of the bay windows. The opening wasn’t big enough to allow Christopher in, but he gave Liam a boost through. The younger boy disappeared for a moment, then the front door locks disengaged and Christopher slipped in.

“Destined to be quite the Snoozer there, Liam,” Christopher whispered, patting him on the shoulder. He pointed up to the floor above them. “Be bricky.”

Following the staircase up, keeping their feet close to the outer edge of the steps in order to avoid any unwanted creaking, Christopher and Liam slinked up to the second floor. The hallway was completely shrouded in darkness, save for a sliver of light coming from under the door. It was interrupted occasionally, just as was the light from the window. Hard to say how many were in there.

Thankfully, the door wasn’t of such a sturdy build that it could keep in sound. A man with a thick East End accent asked, “Let me get this straight, Tiny—a gang of kids have been holding you prisoner for the past few days?”

“Didn’t say I was proud of them getting’ the jump on me.” Their sniper was nicknamed ‘Tiny’ and part of the Illimunati? That was…

“Bloody ridiculous,” another voice, this one a bit more polished, chimed in. “I thought the Illuminati could count on your skills.”

“These kids were armed, I think. They had trinkets of some description, and it would stick with their story they were with Usher.”

“That’s all we need out here,” the first man grumbled. “Those Usher bastards.”

“It’s not like Usher would prevent us from taking the school, Davey,” the polished accent returned. Christopher glanced over to Liam, and saw him writing on his hand. Guess learning those letters from Verity mattered after all. “It just seems rather unorthodox for Usher to be employing children, let alone the riff-raff from the streets.”

“Tiny, did you manage to get in anything useful to us?” Davey asked, “How’s things looking out there?”

“Quiet. Very quiet. In the three days I watched the place, no activity whatsoever. That woman has the place locked down tight.”

The man with the polished accent threw something against a table. “We should have gotten in before the newest crop of kids arrived.”

“You know as well as I, Sir Mallory, the reason behind that. And it’s more than just trying to keep things normal, not attract attention.” Christopher glanced over to Liam writing down the third name. “Rather clever of her to suggest what she did.”

The conversation stopped, and for a moment, Christopher thought they had been found out. It would have meant a hasty retreat into the night. He and Liam had to hope Davey and Sir Mallory were not as swift-footed as Tiny. Liam squeezed Christopher’s arm as a slow, long creak of wood cut through the silence.

“Your business does not call for your validation of this strategy, nor does it call for your approval of her,” Sir Mallory stated it so clearly Christopher felt as if he were the one receiving this pointed warning. “Am I clear, Mr Daggermore?”

“Yessir.” A throat cleared and Tiny stammered, “I forgot my place.”

“That you did,” Sir Mallory returned. “You are still newly initiated, and she still stands high above you. Do not forget that.”

So there was Tiny Daggermore the Sniper, Davey who knew to keep his mouth shut, and Sir Mallory of the Illuminati on the other side of this door, and they were not paying St Austell a friendly visit of any kind. There was no certainty if there was anyone else behind the door, but one thing was as sure as eggs: Mallory was man in charge. From the sound of that lashing, he must be more dangerous than the rest, Christopher thought to himself. The lad attempted to lower himself even closer to the floor, just to try and catch a peek under the door. He did not like not knowing how many people were in the room.

“So with this matter of Usher being present, I think we should call for reinforcements. They will guarantee us entry into the academy.”

There was another pause, and then Davey spoke up. “Are we relieved then, boss?”

Christopher could see a pair of feet stop, then quickly turn back to face where the question came from. “Despite your incompetence, neither of you are relieved. You will join the assault team when the airship arrives.”

“An airship?” Tiny spluttered. “We were supposed to be subtle. Ain’t that a bit...well...obvious?”

“We’ve tried being careful, haven’t we?” Sir Mallory asked. “Exactly what do have to show for such caution? The Silver Pharaoh? No. We have eyes on the inside who have also reported no sighting of the Pharaoh, but assurance that it is there.”

“How does she know?” Tiny asked.

“Two corpses found within days of one another? The Pharaoh is there, and now this reconnaissance has become a snatch-and-grab operation. Whatever she has in that house should come to the ownership of the Illuminati, before the authorities arrive to investigate. Not all of them are in our pocket after all.”

“So we’re calling in the shock troops?”

“Indeed we are.”

Davey cleared his throat. “How long, ya’ think, until they get here?”

“Two days, at the longest.”

Christopher nodded back to Liam, and both boys slinked back to the stairwell. They descended back down to the quiet tavern. His brain was buzzing with what they needed to do now.

“So we got two days until the Illuminati are coming with an airship?” Liam whispered.

“Seems to be the game, doesn’t it?” Christopher licked his lips and looked out through the windows. “Looks like we are going to pay Verity, Henry, and Emma a wee visit at their toff academy.”

Both their heads jerked up on hearing the floorboards above them creak softly.

Liam gently rapped Christopher’s chest. “Come on. We got moors to cross.”

He nodded, but a glance to the tavern’s bar gave him pause. They were not in London, and the country folk were a very trusting lot. “We got a bit of time. Let’s enjoy a wee nip.”

“Are you mad, Christopher?” Liam whispered tersely.

“It’s not like we haven’t earned it,” the boy said, slipping under the bar to look at what was there waiting for him. He peered into the various bottles until he finally found one holding liquid so clear, he swore it was glinting in the dark.

His nose took in the strong scent of juniper. His old friend…

“Christopher,” Liam managed to snap while keeping his voice at a whisper, “this is not a good time to take a bit of the Ol’ Tom!”

“I’m jus’ enjoyin’ a bit of a celebration,” he returned in a hushed tone of his own. “Agent Thorne would be mighty proud of us right now.”

“Take the bottle with us then.”

“Oh, sure,” Christopher huffed. “If I take a tumble on them moors, the bottle could shatter. If I get it back to the farm, I’ve got to keep it hidden, and if Summerson finds it she’ll turn that farm of hers upside-down and come across Jonathan. No. Too risky.”

Liam hissed, “Christopher!”

“Look, mate, you can either join me, or keep watch. If you hear anything, let me know and we’ll be on our way faster than Spring Heeled Jack himself.”

After a moment and a few more creaks from floorboards above them, Liam relented. “One. Drink. And then we go.”

“Cheers, mate,” Christopher said, lifting the bottle towards Liam.

He took a swig of the gin and kicked back a good sized gulp of the alcohol. The odd thing about his love of gin was he hated the taste. It was sweet, but the usual pleasantries of sweets were absent as the juniper brought another taste that could only be described as overpoweringly floral. He would have tasted the same thing if he drank a pitcher full of tulips. His loathing of the taste always paled in comparison to the effects of gin, which Christopher loved. The farmhouse ale Mrs Summerson had been serving was fine enough, but for Christopher the warmth and love gin gave him was truly unique. Verity had a word for it: unparalleled.

He took another drink. Those Illuminati blokes above them were busy plotting a grand ol’ party for the Delancy Academy, not knowing the Ministry Seven were on to them. Their plan was over before it even properly began. He could see and hear Agent Thorne looking at him proudly, maybe a hand on his shoulder, as he said, “Well done, Christopher. You truly do have a future with us at the Ministry.”

Yeah, Christopher thought wistfully as he took another swig of gin, I would be one of the Ministry’s best. Better than Agent Thorne himself, I wager.