Chapter 16

Sixteen

Brodie lost sight of Redstone twice, pushed back by members and their staff as the order went out from the Home Secretary that Parliament was to be evacuated.

If he was right about what he suspected Soropkin had planned, there might not be enough time. Deaths would be in the hundreds, the perfect end to the perfect plan of the mastermind of those other attacks.

However, not if he could prevent it.

He pushed his way past those about him desperate to escape and made his way to the last place he had seen Redstone.

His quarry was not there, and Brodie cursed as he grabbed the front of a uniformed clerk.

"What lies in that direction?" he pointed down a hallway, the only way Redstone could have gone.

The young man was startled and stared at him as if he was insane. "The gallery and the House of Lords, sir…" he stammered.

Sir? Not many addressed him as such beyond the MET. He hastily thanked the young man.

Would he be able to find Redstone in time?

In the past, he had not given his own death much thought in consideration of where he came from and his work with the MET. Everyone died, it was just a matter of how and when.

But as he thought of it now, then of her, he wanted to push that back if he could.

Mikaela was strong. She had confronted death at an early age, just as he had. In many ways they were more alike than different.

It was that strength, the intelligence, and perhaps that stubbornness as well that made him want more time with her.

She had accepted him, with his past, the transgressions, and his secrets as far as she knew them. And she was somewhere inside this building with others.

To lose all that now, to one man's insane war against authority, no matter the cost in human lives?

If, as he suspected, something was planned similar to Munich, Paris, and Budapest before that, then time was running out.

He cursed again as he searched the faces of those who fled past him as he made his way toward the House of Lords chamber. Then, he caught a glimpse of Redstone as he shouldered his way past the chamber, down that long hallway. He followed, then lost sight of him again.

When Brodie reached the end of the hallway, he glanced around the corner. The adjoining hallway was short with another door at the end. There was no other place for Redstone to go.

He moved forward with revolver in hand, then stood to the side as he slowly opened that door. A cavernous opening loomed through the darkness along with a dank, musty smell.

His eyes slowly adjusted, and he made out the wrought iron railing at a landing with stairs that descended downward.

He cursed again and stepped out onto the wrought iron landing. There were sounds along with deep shadows, a rumbling sound very much like water, along with the creak and groan found in old places. It reminded him of the Vaults in Edinburgh.

And there were other sounds— human sounds as someone moved something in the passage below, stopped, then came again as if something was being dragged across rock.

He quickly descended those wrought iron steps that spiraled down into the looming shadows, stopped as he reached a slate floor, then heard that scraping sound again. A light flickered at the end of the passage he'd stepped into, then grew stronger as he followed it.

The passage was a rat's nest of pipes some a foot or more across, anchored overhead one on each side of the passage, then running the full length. He heard that rumbling sound again, possibly water from the river that provided water to that massive building above.

There were wires as well, some he recognized similar to wires at the office on the Strand for the telephone, and other tangles of wires no doubt to provide electricity for the chandeliers he'd glimpsed overhead at the Central Hall and the chambers above.

There were new sounds as he approached the end of the passage— a curse, followed by the sound of a hammer, the sound dull against metal as if something was being pried open.

A quick glance about and he was fairly certain that Redstone was alone, foolish for a man who thought himself brilliant enough to bring down Parliament. He stepped into that stronger light.

The scraping sound had been kegs moved about, lined up along the wall of the passage that extended through the passage under the buildings above. The hammering sound had come as Redstone had pried open those kegs, the smell of sulphur thick in the air. Gunpowder!

There were more than a dozen kegs of it, and he realized that there was far more intended with that shipment that had been intercepted. As for the arms discovered with those kegs? He could only guess what the targets might have been.

But with the loss of the shipment Soropkin, Redstone, and others who had joined them, had continued on with the plan to destroy Parliament.

Even as he saw the extent of what they had planned Redstone, unaware that he had been followed, strung wire from one keg to the next down the line with the obvious intention of then lighting the fuse.

Were there others that were part of it? And where was Soropkin?

He held the revolver firm in both hands.

"No further, Redstone."

There was surprise at first on those sharply aristocratic features, then a dark shadow in that hooded gaze.

Too many times he had seen the same in those he had come across in his time with the MET and then private inquiries. From the lowest grifter and thief, to others who tried what Redstone was determined to finish now.

Redstone smiled slowly as he straightened. He was calm, self-assured, arrogant.

"Former Inspector Brodie. Come to arrest me? That is not a complete surprise from one such as yourself, pledged to protect the people of London. But you cannot stop it. Nor can your… wife. Quite a surprise there I will admit. Or perhaps not, given her penchant for those less fortunate than herself…"

"However, this is much larger than yourself… You cannot stop it!

"Or me!"

"Stop!" Brodie told him, one last chance.

"To stand trial and then face the gallows?" Redstone replied. "And give them satisfaction? I think not!"

He came at him, the knife used to pry open those kegs clutched in his fist.

Brodie cursed, then fired. Once, twice, three times.

Redstone fell against him, that arrogant expression now one of surprise as he stared back then slowly slumped to the slate floor of the passage.

"You cannot stop the changes that are coming…" Redstone whispered, a gurgling sound, as blood filled his throat.

Brodie kicked the knife away then crouched down beside Sir James Redstone's body.

"I just did."