Chapter Twelve

"You've… got one of the thieves?" I said, bewildered. To begin with, I hadn't even really known who we were looking for. I also didn't know how they had managed it so quickly. It had been less than twelve hours since I'd visited Pony's Place.

"He didn't come easy, but we've quieted him down. We're holding him so you can talk to him."

They'd taken the man captive, then. The idea was a bit alarming, but it was also very convenient. "All right," I said. "Thank you. I'll be there soon."

The man gave a short nod and departed, quickly disappearing into the early morning gloom.

I turned to Uncle Mick, who regarded me with a raised brow.

"I need to tell the major," I said, deciding against trying to make explanations at present. "He'll want to come with me and question the man."

"I don't know what this is all about, but Pony's boys are rough. You're likely to find your man in bad shape. I don't suppose Major Ramsey will be pleased about that."

"No," I said, taking my gloves from the pockets of my coat and pulling them on. "I don't suppose he will."

"Do you want me to go and fetch him?"

I considered it. It was tempting to send Uncle Mick on this errand, but I thought I should probably break the news to the major that Pony's men had abducted someone myself.

"Maybe you should go to Pony's and be sure they don't let the man get away… or worse," I said. It sounded as though they had crossed a bit of a line already.

"You're sure you'll be all right going to the major's alone?"

"Yes. I'll be fine."

"I'll go to Pony's directly, then."

I squeezed his arm. "Thank you. I'm sorry to get you involved in this, but it always makes me feel better to know you're with me."

"I'm always with you, Ellie girl."

We parted ways. I was going to have to make my way across London in the dark, but at least there hadn't been an air raid tonight. That was something.

I briefly considered telephoning the major, but I thought this would best be explained in person. And then we could make our way directly to Pony's.

The sun was edging over the horizon as I reached the major's street, and I felt like a block of solid ice.

I hadn't given it much thought before now, but I did hope he wasn't still abed. I didn't like the idea of waking him up. Given what I knew of Major Ramsey, however, he was probably up before the sun every day.

There were people moving about already, some of them on their way home from overnight jobs and some on their way to work after evenings likely spent tossing and turning, ears tuned for the air-raid sirens.

I was a few doors away, on the opposite side of the street, when movement caught my attention. I stopped, concealing myself in the shadows of a doorway, from habit more than anything else.

There was a woman leaving the major's town house. She was familiar, though I hadn't yet got a good look at her. Was it his sister? If so, she was certainly up and about early.

These thoughts passed through my mind in the space of an instant, and that was when I realized that it was not Noelle Edgemont.

It was Jocelyn Abbot, the major's former fiancée.

I watched as she got into a car, and I was certain I was not mistaken. I had met her more than once during our earlier operations.

She was leaving the major's flat, and she was wearing an evening gown beneath a long fur coat. A clear implication occurred to me: she had spent the night.

I drew in a sharp breath of cold air. I was surprised by the little jolt of dismay in my chest, the sense of loss that hit me unexpectedly like a punch to the gut.

But this was silly. I was jumping to conclusions. And, anyway, he was not mine to lose. He'd made that very clear, and our recent collaboration changed nothing.

Besides, a part of me had long suspected that he was still a little bit in love with her. He had, after all, kept her letters and the engagement ring he had intended to give her. And there had been a certain sort of strain in his eyes when he spoke of her, despite his insistence that things had ended between them long ago.

Now it looked like I might have been correct. It seemed they were involved romantically once again; what other interpretation was there for her coming out of his town house in last night's clothes?

I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat. This was not the time for contemplation of their relationship, or my own unresolved feelings about the major. There were much more important things to think about at the moment.

Still, I hesitated. I didn't want to arrive at his door too soon and let him know that I had seen her departing.

Then I chided myself for my hesitation. Time was of the essence.

I hurried up the steps to the front door and rang the bell.

It was only a moment before the major opened the door. He'd probably assumed it was Miss Abbot, returning for something she'd forgotten, but his customary sangfroid did not desert him, even at finding me on his doorstep in disarray instead.

"Miss McDonnell. Good morning." If he was thinking what a close call it had been to my crossing paths with Miss Abbot, there was no sign of it. Then again, why should he care?

"Good morning," I said, a bit breathlessly. "I think I may have found one of the thieves."

"Come in out of the cold." He took me by the elbow and guided me into the foyer, closing the door behind us. Then he turned to face me. He was wearing his uniform shirt and trousers, but he didn't have a jacket on. It was, all things considered, one of the more informal ensembles I'd seen him in. But it was barely dawn. And it seemed he'd had company until very recently.

"Now," he said. "What do you mean you've found one of the thieves? Have you done something you oughtn't?"

I opened my mouth, but he didn't give me time to formulate a denial.

"Never mind. I'm sure you have. Just tell me what."

"I talked to a contact yesterday, like you said I should," I said, just a bit defensively. "Pony Peavey. One of his men just came to the house and said they've got one of the thieves in… uh, custody."

I expected questions and, likely, irritation, though he could not exactly be angry with me when I had presumably captured a vital source of information. But he only said, "Let me get my jacket."

I nodded.

I waited in the foyer, enjoying the warmth of the house after my cold walk.

I didn't think I was imagining the faint hint of perfume that hung in the air. I wondered what time Constance normally arrived. I wondered if she knew about Jocelyn Abbot.

Stop it, Ellie. It's none of your business.

He soon came walking back into the foyer with his tie on, buttoning up his uniform jacket. Then he reached around me to get his coat off the rack.

"Let's go."

I led the major back to Pony's establishment. There was a man at the front door this time, but he let us pass with only a short nod in my direction. I was expected, after all.

We went inside, through to the storeroom, and down the creaking staircase without comment from Ramsey. I had no doubt that he was taking in all the details and would have more than a few questions for me later.

The place was deserted this morning. I supposed everyone had wandered off to find a bed after a long night of cards, drinks, and… kidnapping, apparently.

There was a man tied to a chair in the middle of the room. Either he had put up quite a fight or Pony's men had taken liberties in their treatment of him, for his face was already bruised and there was crusted blood on his nose and lips.

I fought down my sympathy. If we were right, this man had been part of the group that had battered Anna Gillard to death in her hotel room. A bit of a beating at the hands of Pony's men was less than he deserved.

And, if he was a spy, he would face worse than this. He would eventually be tried and executed. I tried not to grimace at the thought. I knew the man was our enemy, that he had been actively working to destroy us. Nevertheless, it was hard to think about the things I was doing that were contributing to the deaths of other people.

Every action has a consequence, Uncle Mick had always told me. And, despite what I was doing to save lives, I'd had my part in costing them, too.

It was difficult sometimes, this job. It's easy to think of the enemy as a shadowy figure until he's a man bleeding on a cellar floor.

I saw him glance at us through swollen eyes as we arrived, but he was careful to betray no particular interest. He would, I assumed, continue to pretend that he did not know what we were talking about. Pony's men would be ruthless enough to get the truth out of him, but I wasn't sure how much more effort I wanted them to put into the task.

Then again, my authority here was limited. Pony had captured this man at my request, but we were in Pony's domain, and we'd have to play by his rules.

The major glanced once at me, and then turned his attention back to Pony. He had gathered, then, who was in charge here. Now he was determining how best to move forward, what tactics would best work in our current situation. Major Ramsey, for all his posh and proper upbringing, knew how to adapt to situations as well as any criminal I'd ever known.

While the major was taking stock of Pony, Pony was taking stock of him.

"Who's your fellow, Ellie?" Pony asked me at last.

"He's… a colleague," I said, remembering how the major had described me to his sister.

Pony eyed the major, the gleaming buttons of his uniform. "He's not one of us."

"No," I admitted. "But that's not got anything to do with what we're doing here."

Pony didn't look convinced. He was even less inclined to like outsiders than most of our associates, and he certainly wasn't prepared to like a man in an officer's uniform.

"I'll vouch for the major. That should be good enough for you, Pony." The voice was Uncle Mick's. I hadn't seen him where he stood, off to the side of the room.

I glanced over at him, and he gave me the slightest nod.

"Besides, we had an agreement," I said, turning back to Pony.

Pony shrugged. "Your business is your own." He made a gesture of exaggerated courtesy. "Be my guest."

I looked over at the major, ready for him to take the lead. It was not lost on me that he'd remained silent so far, letting me deal with Pony, an acknowledgment that we were not in his world but mine.

"Before we begin," he said, addressing himself to Pony. "What is this man's connection to the robbery?"

"My boys caught him at Red's, bragging about what happened at Lazaro's," Pony said. "Flashing this around."

He pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it to the major. Ramsey caught it deftly and examined it. I could see it was a gold cigarette lighter. No doubt the one with Lazaro's initials emblazoned on it.

Major Ramsey put the lighter in his pocket and stepped forward. "We need to know who you're working for."

The man glared straight ahead, said nothing.

"How many of you are there?"

The man spit blood on the floor, still refusing to meet the major's gaze.

In response, Ramsey drew up a chair before him and sat with a glance at his watch. "We have all day, of course. It makes little difference to me, all things considered, how long it takes you to talk. It may, however, make a considerable difference to you."

I looked at Major Ramsey. I had seen him in action, seen that mask of steel drop over his features, his eyes cold and hard, but it was still a bit chilling when it happened. It was a reminder that he was not afraid to do what needed to be done, and the man before us recognized that as well as I did.

He held the stubborn set to his jaw, but there was a new wariness on his features.

"Why did you kill the woman at the hotel?"

I saw a flash of what looked like genuine surprise on the man's features. "I've never killed no woman," he said.

"But you were there when it happened."

The man shook his head. "I don't know nothing about a dead woman."

"You expect me to believe that?" Major Ramsey asked mildly.

"I don't care what you believe."

"You should."

The man glowered, but I could tell he was thinking. He'd stood up well enough to the fists of Pony's boys, but it was clear that Major Ramsey was a different kind of threat.

As an intimidating interrogator, Ramsey was terribly effective, I had to admit. In addition to his imposing size, there was something very intense in his manner and the quiet voice in which he spoke.

Even knowing him as I did, I was not entirely certain he was above violence if the man didn't tell him what he wanted to know. I had to imagine that the man was much more uneasy than I was under the cold scrutiny of the major's steely gaze.

"I didn't pull the job at Lazaro's," the man said at last.

The major said nothing, nor did his expression change.

The man spit again. Pony was going to have some cleaning up to do before the place opened this evening. Then again, his clientele weren't the sort to quibble about a bit of blood on the floors.

"There was a fellow come into Red's a few nights ago, said he'd pulled a few jobs but hadn't been successful in getting what he wanted, so he was looking to hire someone local. I told them I could find someone, and they gave me the lighter, said there'd be more money when I'd come through on my end. I'm supposed to meet them Tuesday night."

Tuesday. The day after tomorrow.

Major Ramsey's brows rose expectantly as he looked at the man.

"They were looking for a yeggman."

I felt a jolt of surprise.

They wanted a safecracker.