Chapter 17

Seventeen

It was arranged for him to contact us at the hotel. From there we could use their telegram services back to London as well.

"Do you trust him?" I asked Brodie after we reached our room.

"I trust Sir Laughton," he replied of my great-aunt's lawyer who had intervened on his behalf in the past, with no less than Sir Avery.

"We will see what he is able to learn from those he knows," he added, but I knew there was more.

"And?"

"A man who wants something can be verra motivated."

"Such as?"

"A man who wants to join his family."

That wasn't difficult to determine.

"Karl Schneider." Schmidt's brother-in-law.

Brodie nodded. "He may not be able to help, however it's always good to have another source for information just to be certain."

Most particularly in a place where he didn't have his usual resources, I thought. And then there was that experience from his time with the MET.

I was starving. "I'll work on my notes and then order up supper."

"Aye, best to keep here until we have word from Wagner," he replied. "With the cost of the room, I can only imagine what supper will be."

Spoken like a true Scot. That reputation for thriftiness was well deserved.

"You needn't worry about the additional expense," I told him.

"I canna imagine that Sir Avery will be forthcoming?"

"Most hotels in large cities have the ability to make banking available for their guests. I've used such arrangements in the past."

There was a frown. "Ye know I dinna want ye using yer own funds. I can handle the expenses over what Sir Avery provided."

I was aware of that. "Nevertheless. You may repay me when we return to London."

He made that typically Scottish sound as he left the room, the door snapping shut after him.

I took advantage of running water in the adjoining bathroom, then dressed once more, and went to the writing desk in the sitting room.

Brodie and supper arrived very near the same time. I waited to inquire if there was any word from either Herr Wagner or Karl Schneider until after the hotel attendant had gone.

I had given the man compensation for bringing supper in a timely manner. It was a habit learned from my great-aunt.

" If you compensate them additional, they will be certain to provide excellent service. It is also well-known that if you provide additional compensation to the hotel manager it will rarely find its way into the hands of those who have provided the extra service."

Words of wisdom from a world traveler in her younger years.

"What is it?"

He did have that way of reading me, as he called it. I was still working on that where he was concerned.

"Something…" I replied, which told him nothing. It wasn't something I could put my finger on. "Something in his manner…"

"Yer woman's intuition?" he asked, removing a domed lid from one of the plates at the table.

"He seemed somewhat...curious. Almost too attentive, which is most unusual for wait staff." I tried to explain what I had glimpsed for just a moment. Out of habit I had closed my notebook when he arrived.

I had ordered up traditional Frankfurt fare with potatoes, fresh bread, apple tarts, and wine made from currants and blackberries.

Brodie eyed the typical Frankfurt fare suspiciously. "What the devil is that?"

I glanced down at the somewhat over-proportioned sausages on the platter.

"It looks like somethin' I might not want to eat."

"Such as?" I couldn't imagine this from someone with his background on the street.

"It looks verra much like what one might find in a butcher shop when the man goes about cutting up the beast."

I gave that some thought. "Not intestines for certain. I've seen those in the meat markets."

"Ye know wot I'm speakin' of, the parts of the male animal. I canna eat such a thing. It looks like…"

"Such as?" I asked with wide-eyed innocence as I skewered one of the sausages, deposited it on my plate, then proceeded to slice it and took a bite.

"Oh, my," I exclaimed.

That dark gaze narrowed on me.

"It's quite excellent," I replied. "And the potatoes as well, in a cream and onion sauce. However, if you choose not to eat…"

He pulled the opposite chair out from the table and sat rather abruptly, still glaring at me. He then proceeded to take one of the sausages along with potatoes onto his plate, and began to eat. However, not without a thorough examination of the sausage.

I did however notice the slight surprise on his face as he sliced off a portion of the sausage and ate it. It did seem that it was possible to teach an old dog new tricks, or a stubborn, temperamental Scot.

We finished the wine while I read over my notes to make certain that I hadn't forgotten anything.

"Did you also send off a message to Herr Schneider?"

"I placed a telephone call to the postal office to get a message to him. It is not far; however, it is unknown when it may be delivered. I simply told him that we had arrived and he could contact us here."

At a sudden knock on the sitting room door, Brodie looked over at me. I noticed his hand going to the inside of his coat as he went to answer it.

It was one of the hotel valets. He handed an envelope to Brodie.

Brodie closed the door, then slipped a knife under the sealed edge and opened it.

"Herr Wagner has made contact with the person he knows who may be able to assist. He hopes to have word in the morning."

He threw the note down onto the table. It was obvious that he was frustrated and not at all pleased with the arrangement.

Brodie was accustomed to using his own sources or searching for information on his own. But this was different. We were in a strange city, forced to rely on others with no way of knowing who we could trust. I shared his frustration.

"I'm going for a walk," he announced in a way that suggested he wanted to do it alone.

"Very well," I replied. "I will have the valet remove the service for our supper and have him bring up an English print paper."

I pushed back the urge to tell him to take care. He would not have appreciated it. Yet, there was that twinge of uncertainty. I had no one to call on here if something should go wrong.

He bent over me at the table and tilted my head up. "Ye have the revolver if there should be any difficulty while I'm gone."

I assured him that I did. He kissed me then.

"Lock the door after and dinna open it for anyone."

"Anyone?" I asked, although I knew his meaning.

He kissed me again. " Caileag ghrinn ." And then kissed me lightly once more. "Ye are a cheeky lass."

"I do try."

I waited until he had gone, then made a call to the hotel front desk to request the valet, and requested that he bring the most recent issue of the English print newspaper.

It was over two hours later when Brodie returned. There had been a light rain and his jacket was soaked, along with that dark hair. As I helped him off with his jacket and then laid it over a chair to dry, he eyed the newspaper that I had been reading at the table.

"The scandal pages?" he commented as I poured a glass of wine and handed it to him.

"Entertaining in the least," I replied. "And occasionally one can learn some interesting bit of gossip. My great-aunt never misses an issue in London. She knows far more scandalous things than the newspapers reveal as she is acquainted with just about everybody, dead or alive."

"The advantage of living a long time," he replied as he loosened the collar of his shirt.

"What did you discover while you were out and about?"

"There are at least six entrances and exits to the various parts of the hotel, including a separate entrance to the restaurant behind the server's station. There are four service areas at the back of the hotel as one would expect for a place this size, and there are four more lifts in the East wing once one passes past the banquet hall.

"There is a coach entrance at each end of the hotel in addition to the main entrance, one for each wing where guests may come and go."

"Are you anticipating that we might need to make an unexpected departure?"

That dark gaze fastened on me. "We are strangers here. Ye have learned well enough that certain people will do whatever is necessary to accomplish what they set out to do. We are relying on a man we don't know except by Sir Laughton's word." He took a sip of wine. "Two people have already been murdered and yerself attacked. It is safe to assume they know who we are and that we're here. It is a verra dangerous situation."

I waited for what he would usually have said next, that he didn't want me there, or in the least that we needed to return to London and let everything fall where it may, or the distinct possibility that he would attempt to send me off by myself, definitely not a good option with an outcome that might very well get him killed.

I was fully prepared for any of those possibilities. However, there was no ultimatum, no over-bearing Scot's temper.

"We need to be careful, and most clever," he added.

I understood being careful. It was the latter that intrigued me.

"What do you suggest?"

"You told me earlier that you can arrange for funds through the hotel. How much might you be able to arrange?"

This was most intriguing.

I knew that Brodie earned enough from his inquiry cases to cover the rent on the office at the Strand and other related expenses. Two of our recent cases had been particularly lucrative, one of them on behalf of the Crown. I had never questioned what he did with his compensation, just as he had never inquired about my resources.

I did have investments that our great-aunt had made for both me and my sister. There had been ‘gifts' as she called them from time to time, on our birthdays and Christmas holidays.

" Always remember, my dears, that money is power ," she had explained to both of us. " Particularly for a woman. I have a great deal of it, more than the Queen, and one day that will all go to you and your sister, and the investments I've made on your behalf will make both of you quite wealthy all over again."

It was comforting to know, as well as a great responsibility. As far as ‘ one day,' I did hope that was a long way off. In the mean time we had our occasional gifts, and I had the royalties from my books which had been magnificently successful.

Returning to Brodie's question, "That would depend on the banks, London to Frankfurt. At least fifty..."

He nodded that frown deepening. "Fifty pounds."

"Fifty thousand pounds," I replied. "More or less, the last time I met with my banker. There are the expenses for the town house, and the regular amount that he sends to the London Charity Home for Children."

"Fifty thousand?" He choked on his wine.

I nodded. "It might be a bit less, but very near that. Are you quite all right?"

"Fifty thousand pounds," he repeated, slowly recovering.

"Of course, there are also bonds and certificates of investment, but those are not easily converted."

He stared at me. "Fifty thousand pounds. There are people who never see that much in a lifetime, who can hardly imagine that much."

I refused to apologize. In fact, saw nothing to apologize for.

"There were gifts from my great-aunt over the years," I explained. "However, the rest I have earned from my books," I emphasized, since he seemed to be having some difficulty. "And I have saved most of it, after…"

"Yer father," he commented, from what I had told him in the past about myself. And there was more, of course, that he had no doubt learned from my great-aunt.

"I promised myself, that I would always be able to take care of Linnie and myself, that I would never be dependent on anyone ever again."

"And ye have done that, lass, and more. God knows, I could never fault ye for yer reasons."

He leaned toward me and took my hands in his. "The most I earned as a police inspector with the MET before I left was three pounds seven shillings a week."

"You did it for the money, of course."

There was a quick flash of a smile at one corner of his mouth. "Of course. And some sort of need to help others because I knew that I could. To see things set right in some small way."

And he had with the cases he took on, some of which paid very little, if anything. His way of giving back.

"Do you have a plan?"

"Perhaps. We will need to see what Herr Wagner is able to learn."

His hands tightened around mine. He shook his head.

"It could be dangerous."

What a surprise, considering what had already happened.

"Ye are more important to me than my life."

When I would have replied, he shook his head. "Ye must let me say it."

And when I didn't interrupt further...

"I understand verra well that ye are an independent woman. I suppose I wouldna have ye any other way." He brushed my cheek with his fingers. "Bein' with ye is never uninteresting, to say the least. But here, in this place and this case, it may become necessary to buy our way out of here. I would have yer promise that ye will do as I ask until this is done. If I ask ye to leave, that ye will."

I wanted to protest, to argue that the two of us in this situation were better than one by himself. After everything we'd said to one another, he was not ordering me. He was asking. It was a reminder of things I had forgotten in my anger. And he had said it, that I was more important to him than his own life.

I did understand, and it was easier that I thought it would be.

However…

"And if I ask you to leave, you will do so," I replied. "I would have your promise."

There was no argument. Instead, he pulled me to him and kissed me quite thoroughly.

I was wakened as Brodie moved about the room. It was quite early, light barely there at the edge of the drapes covering the windows, his shadow moving about as he found his trousers, then his boots. With a soft curse he looked for his shirt, a hand going back through that dark hair in frustration.

"On the floor by the armoire." I remembered where I had last seen it. "That will teach you to hastily leave your clothes lying about."

He apparently found his shirt, then returned to the bed, his shadow with those wide shoulders and the darker shadow of the fine dark hair on his chest. He bent and kissed me.

"And it's seems ye left yer knickers on the floor as well, lass."

"Whatever will the staff think?"

He stood abruptly. "It seems the staff have arrived." He pulled on his shirt, then left the bedroom. I heard the sound as the door opened to the sitting room, and a brief exchange of conversation.

Brodie returned. "We are to meet with Herr Wagner in the main restaurant in one hour." He looked at me as I left the bed.

"Have I told ye that I like yer hair down like that?"

And...without my knickers.

"The man I made contact with is a...client," Herr Wagner explained. "He has many diverse business dealings."

"Including transactions with Szábo from time to time," Brodie concluded.

"Where there is money to be made, Herr Brodie. You are a man of experience in these things as I understand, from your time with the London Police, and perhaps with your private inquiries on behalf of certain clients."

"Go on," Brodie replied.

"There are rumors among certain people about a valuable item that has recently become available."

Certain people? I wondered if he was perhaps protecting that client. Szábo perhaps? It was possible, though he had never mentioned the name of his client. And now? What could we believe?"

"The documents we spoke of," Brodie clarified.

"You must understand, this is a very dangerous situation, the information that was shared with me," he continued. "There are three interested parties so far, with more anticipated by tomorrow night for the ‘auction' that is to be held."

"What of Bruhl?" Brodie asked. "Is he part of this?"

"He will never participate directly. He will always have someone who will participate on his behalf."

"What is the floor for the auction for this ‘valuable item?'" I had some knowledge of how they usually worked from attending auctions with my great-aunt, when a certain item that had found its way from the family into other hands. A sword of Sir William came to mind—her ancestor, William the Conqueror.

The sword had been authenticated by an expert in such weapons, and there was a detailed description in family archives. In the end, after some very fierce bidding my great-aunt had the winning bid. The sword now hung in the weapons gallery at Sussex Square.

"By all accounts, Sir William was quite ruthless. My grandfather had a journal supposedly kept by the monk who traveled with him. The London Museum has been trying to get their hands on it for years.

"The Normans put such importance in the number of bodies in a campaign. As I said, quite ruthless . And in the end William conquered Britain," my great-aunt added. "I thought it important to restore the sword to the family. You or Linnie will inherit all of these things one day. "

My sister wanted nothing to do with ancestral weapons. We did have quite a bloody history. However, Lily was now party of the family.

"It's a grand sword," she had declared when she first saw it. "How many people do ye think he might have killed?"

Yes, well, I had emphasized that we lived in a far more civilized world now. She had looked at me with an expression I had come to know quite well.

And now? I thought. Certain parties in this civilized world were apparently gathering like vultures eager to obtain the spoils of someone's vision for the future.

From where I was, it was not encouraging for man's future.

Power and greed, my great-aunt once commented. "You will come to understand it better with your travels."

I had. And that was part of the reason I was here now with Brodie. I had no idea what Sir Collingwood's motive was in giving the plans to Angeline. Perhaps we never would. And I suspected that it wasn't as if we could stop progress, other countries developing the same sort of things.

However, we were here, and we hoped to stop this. At the moment that prospect wasn't encouraging.

I did wonder what we might hope to do at this point. Steal back the documents, if, in fact, someone hadn't already copied them with the hope of profit for themselves?

That would require finding out who presently had them and where they were. Problem number one.

Most certainly Angeline or Szábo, or whoever was acting on their behalf, was experienced in these things and would take all necessary precautions to protect their investment.

Problem Number Two—If we were able to get past Problem Number One, it would be getting out of Frankfurt. The only assurance when it came to this was that the people involved would not be contacting the police— if we were able to retrieve the documents, which brought us back to Problem Number One.

It was really quite obvious. In a way, Brodie had struck upon a possible solution perhaps without realizing it.

In spite of everything, or perhaps because of it, there was no time to discuss what I was about to propose if the auction between different factions was to take place. And those documents would disappear with the buyer.

"You will need to let those organizing the auction know that there will be another party participating, Herr Wagner," I announced at the same time I ignored the questioning look from Brodie.

Herr Wagner looked at me with a mixture of surprise and interest which did make me wonder if he was involved in this somehow. Perhaps an attorney's fee?

While I had the deepest respect for Sir Laughton, my great-aunt's attorney, in view of the difficult situations he had handled on behalf of Brodie, my great-aunt had confided that there were instances in the past where he had perhaps—emphasis on the word perhaps —manipulated the law from time to time on behalf of a client.

I did not inquire who that client might have been. I did suppose that anyone who was educated in the law might be able to find certain details that might favor a situation.

As for here and now, we had only Herr Wagner to rely upon and no knowledge of German laws. In consideration of that it did seem that we were forced to take extreme measures.

Herr Wagner studied me with growing curiosity.

"Who would that be, Lady Forsythe? Do you represent someone who would want to be included in the auction? I do not know if that is possible."

"I wish to be included, Herr Wagner," I announced and ignored Brodie's not quite subtle reaction, the expression on his face, and the way he suddenly sat forward at his chair.

"That would be most...unusual, Lady Forsythe."

"Because I am a woman?" I thought of Angeline Cotillard who was somehow involved in all of this. Another woman, and I was not about to be set aside.

"It is not that," he replied. "You are here investigating the murder of the very man who apparently was responsible for handing over the documents."

"The murder, yes. But let us speak plainly, Herr Wagner. You have said that the auction will be attended by those who represent other governments and with the means to participate."

"Please continue," he replied.

"Mr. Brodie and I represent an interested party, the British government. And I assure you that I have the means to participate."

"Most interesting. If I understand correctly, you propose to join the auction with the purpose of securing the winning bid. Is that correct?"

"It is."

"Do you understand that this ‘auction' might very well reach the equivalent of several thousand of your English pounds if you were to bid recklessly? And the consequences for that?"

"I am quite familiar with the process of auctions, and I have access to sufficient funds to participate on a level with any of the other...participants."

Herr Wagner sat back in his chair, chin resting on his steepled fingers. "My good friend, Sir Laughton, said that you and Mr. Brodie were remarkable, if somewhat unusual partners." He was thoughtful for several moments. "I would need to speak with my ‘client' in this matter, you understand."

"Of course," I replied, then added, "There would also be a substantial fee for your participation." I caught the interest in his gaze.

For his part, Brodie remained silent, something that undoubtedly would not last when we were finally alone.

"I understand that each of the participants are required to post an amount with the gentleman who is in charge of the auction. An assurance of each person's participation."

"Of course," I replied. "You have only to let me know what that amount would be."

"Insane!" Brodie declared after we left our meeting with Herr Wagner with his promise that he would leave word when he was able to contact his ‘client' with my proposal.

Brodie shook his head. "And at the same time, it's most brilliant, foolish, reckless. I have reason to question if there is any insanity in yer family. Perhaps a long-lost relation consigned to Bedlam!"

I was somewhat familiar with the hospital in Bromley, Bethlem Royal Hospital, that had been given that nickname.

"Not anyone that I'm aware of," I replied. "If it works and I'm allowed to join the auction, it is quite brilliant."

"Just how do ye propose to accomplish this?"

"The same as everyone who will be participating. I will post the amount required and then enter the bidding process."

"Ye do realize there will be all sorts of unknown persons also there, to protect others bidding, including Szábo and others just like him."

"That is the reason that you will be there."

"Bedlam," he repeated. "If ye dinna have family who have been there, ye may be the first. If we survive this."