Seleste deLaney - [Badlands 02] (6 page)

Turning to watch Noah leave, she worried at her bottom lip. She’d like to think the firestorm had been a case of mistaken identity—that someone had targeted the
Dark
Hawk
in error—but they’d shot Noah. Good, sweet, playful Noah. As owner of the airship, she couldn’t sit by and ignore a possible threat to their safety.

She marched down the corridor, ignoring the siren call of her father’s things in the cargo hold. One threat at a time. Everyone besides Noah had gathered on the bridge by the time she entered.

“They fired only on us.” Catherine’s accent was more obvious than usual as she paced in the small area. “The likelihood they had any other target in mind is so slight as to be nonexistent.”

“But why would anyone be trying to ground us?” Spencer slammed a fist against a control panel, hitting it again as a row of lights blinked out. They flared to life and he spun around, fixing Henri in his gaze. “Is there anything you aren’t telling me?”

As much as the accusation stung, she tried not to let his words cut her. After she’d betrayed Spencer and the entire crew to her father, she deserved the treatment. “No. I may not have a lot of friends left in Philadelphia, but I don’t have enemies either. The attack has me as confused as you.”

He stared at her for a long moment before speaking. “We’ll have to tell Laurette.”

Catherine nodded. “Of course. The queen will want to know in case this is just another phase in the plan to destroy the Badlands. It is possible Senator Mason was not the only one involved in the plot.”

Telling Queen Laurette meant telling Ever. And telling Ever meant more of the princess’s rage directed at Henrietta. But the queen would have the resources to look into the attack, which would make all of them safer in the end.

“It is possible. I hadn’t planned on going through any of my father’s files in depth until we reached Laurette’s fortress, but perhaps I should start now.”

Spencer gave a curt nod. “Do that. And, Catherine, after you resupply the gunboat, help her. While no one’s dying and we’re not being shot at, we should get as much work done as we possibly can.” The warrior woman stalked away and Spencer slid into the captain’s chair.

“Someday folks’ll just let us do our job, I promise, Cap,” Mahala said from her position at the helm.

“You mean we’ll go back to picking up and delivering goods like any other merchant ship?” Spencer snorted. “Never happen.”

Worried he might be right, Henri strode back toward the hold. Skirts in one hand, she eased down the ladder and took a look around. There wasn’t a place on board that didn’t have painful memories attached to it, cargo hold included. The hatch they’d originally pulled a dying Ever through stood less then ten yards away—covered now—and the portholes that had allowed her father’s clockwork birds in to attack the princess stood open once more. Henri shivered. She couldn’t do anything more about the past, but if there was an answer to this most recent trouble among her father’s things, she would find it.

Using one of Noah’s tools, she slid the end of the metal rod under the lip of the crate and shoved down. The bar clattered to the floorboards and she fell to her hands and knees as the lid flew off. Henri’s breath caught as she gaped at the container. It had been sealed. They had
all
been sealed. She’d checked every crate before it left her hands.

But someone had already opened it.

Henri’s gaze shifted to the ladder as she stood, dusting off her skirts and trying to act casual. She prayed Catherine and her weapons arrived soon, because Henri knew, without question, she wasn’t alone.

* * *

Tobias hadn’t expected to have the crates and boxes in the hold to himself for the whole journey, but he had planned on finding
something
before being interrupted. In a matter of moments, he would be discovered. He turned over scenarios in his mind just as he would in front of a jury, searching for the one most likely to meet approval.

Damn
. He would have to surrender. Anything less and he’d immediately be viewed as a threat. He quickly assessed how this would alter his plan to get Mason’s research back to Don Lupo. Nothing had changed. Just enough truth to save his life.

He stood, stepping from the shadow of the crates with his hands held open in front of him. “Dr. Mason.”

Henrietta jumped and let out a little shriek as she spun. The pry bar in her hands sliced through the air... and his trousers, the tip of it digging into his flesh. He collapsed to one knee as pain lanced through his leg.

That...was not part of the plan.

Chapter Six

When the clockwork pigeon returned with a message that Don Lupo was on his way, Gambini set his people in motion. Moments later, a portly man with a thick mop of black hair strode into the hotel lobby, and Gambini straightened, standing at attention though it made him tower over the other man.

“Giuseppe.” When Lupo motioned, Gambini embraced the head mafioso, planting the obligatory kiss on his cheeks. “So the
Hawk
is in flight?”

“Yes, Don Lupo. One of the boys managed to tag the ship before it escaped. We can follow them.”

“Mason’s daughter was aboard.”

Though it wasn’t a question, Gambini still treated it as one. “Yes. Michael found out where she was headed and arrived early enough to confirm she made it on the ship with the last of the boxes from the senator’s lab. We have reason to believe Tobias St. Clair stowed away. One of the boys thought he saw him.”

“So the little weasel slunk away as well.”

With a glance from Lupo, businessmen in the lobby gathered their things and scurried from the seating area. Curious travelers who obviously didn’t recognize the man stayed where they were, but only until they caught sight of Gambini’s face and the most obvious of his mechanical enhancements. Then men bustled their wives and children away, leaving the area empty save the two of them.

This
is
power
.
What
Don
Lupo
and
I
have
—
no
one
can
match
this
.

Lupo eased his bulk onto a red velvet settee. He didn’t motion for his lieutenant to sit, so Gambini stood to the side. Power or not, he still knew his place, and Don Lupo had made him who he was now.

“We need that research.”

“Yes, Don Lupo.”

“The lawyer...not so much. We need that howling monkey silenced. He knows too much to be left to his own devices. The new queen of the Badlands has many connections here in the city. We can’t have St. Clair telling her tales that could get back to all the wrong people. But don’t cut him loose until you’re certain he’s no longer useful.”

A tiny thrill coursed through Gambini, setting his nerve endings afire until his enhancements reacted and twitched in response.
Power
. “I understand.”

“There is the matter of Mason’s daughter. She might not have the senator’s knowledge, but I’m certain he taught her enough that she could replicate at least some of his work more effectively than the other scientists at our disposal. Once you track her to the rest of his things, be sure to bring her back with you as well.”

Mechanicals locking up, Gambini’s hand clenched in a fist. If given a choice, almost anything was more enjoyable than a kidnapping. “How whole do you need her?”

Stretching, Lupo seemed to consider the question for a moment. He stood and met Gambini’s gaze, handing over another, larger vial of Mason’s potion. “Alive and mentally sound enough to function in the laboratory. Anything beyond that, I leave to your discretion.”

Gambini watched for a moment as the light caught on the liquid and shattered into rainbows against the wall. Alive and mentally sound left him plenty of options. “As you wish, Don Lupo. As you wish.”

* * *

A single telegraph exchange and Carson had the ship he needed. Unfortunately, the delay had given the
Dark
Hawk
time to disappear into the horizon, and the captain of this vessel was next to useless.

“The Badlands is a big place, Mr. Alexander. If you can’t give us a heading—”

The best intelligence he’d managed in the short time since Henrietta’s ship disappeared placed the queen’s new fortress somewhere in the mountains. Too bad the mountains stretched across the length of the nation. He needed a place to think. “Just head west. And point me in the direction of your gunnery boat.”

The aging captain scowled at Carson then barked orders to his men. A young ensign with a shocking mop of red hair jerked his chin toward the corridor. “This way, sir.”

Carson bristled at being called sir but followed the boy to the armory. Once inside, the lad lifted a trapdoor in the floor. “Gunboat’s down there. Rail gun’s loaded, but if you think there might be trouble I should tell the captain.”

Carson lowered himself onto the ladder and grabbed the door to pull it shut behind him. “No trouble, boy. Just looking for a quiet place.”

The kid shrugged and walked away.

After climbing with care down the ladder, Carson settled himself against the wood and closed his eyes. He hated flying. Hated it with a deep-seated passion. The ship, with its precision instruments and military shine, only served as a constant reminder that he was on a dirigible.

As luck would have it, he’d gotten a good look at the gunnery boat when he boarded. It surpassed expectations. Rather than polish and perfection, the wood and instruments here had been installed for function not appearance. It was rough, raw even. Like one of the dozens of places he’d called home over the past few years.

Splinters bit into his palms when he pressed them against the wood to adjust his position. He left them there, the tiny pain keeping him grounded in the moment.

The
Dark
Hawk
was known for moving merchandise to and from the Badlands, so its flight in that direction wasn’t unusual. The escape amid a hail of bullets, however, was a different story. Did Henrietta know those men had been there for her? Did she have any clue what her father had been involved in? That was a sobering thought. What if the charming beauty was already planning to continue his work? Perhaps moving his things to the Badlands to avoid detection from the Union authorities.

No. If that were the case then Gambini and his men wouldn’t have shot at her ship.

Unless there was something else on board that they wanted. Carson sat up straighter. Research, as long as they had examples, could be duplicated. Scientists could always be wooed at some later date. Whatever was on the
Dark
Hawk
was something they were afraid of losing—afraid enough to risk destroying the whole ship.

The mafia didn’t destroy things just to destroy them. It was always either punishment or...collateral damage.

Henrietta had her father’s work on board. If they wanted the research—regardless of her willingness to cooperate—they wouldn’t risk shooting it down. Something didn’t fit.

He thought back to the fight as the dirigible took off. The mafia had over a dozen men there in the beginning, all armed, more than enough to take on the crew of a trading vessel. Yet they’d stayed back, never approaching closer than shooting distance. Why?

He rubbed at his forehead, willing things to make sense. Even St. Clair sneaking aboard was a mystery. Carson’s hands clenched as he thought about squeezing the life out of the man.

The bright, young attorney. Clean-cut and polished, much like the airship overhead. Working with the government and helping the less fortunate in his spare time.

The perfect cover for a career criminal.

The lawyer was probably even now convincing Henrietta of his good intentions—in the process likely putting her in more danger. As much as Carson wanted to kill him for this, he couldn’t. He needed St. Clair alive to testify against Lupo. But to do that, he needed to find him before the mafia did.

He pushed thoughts of Henrietta Mason and the
Dark
Hawk
crew from his mind, focusing instead on a mental map of the Rocky Mountains. Vague news of some tragedy that had taken the life of the previous queen implied the southern fortification near Texas had been temporarily abandoned by the monarchy. Fire, riots, explosion...speculation ran wild with the facts buried deep.

Whatever the reason for the upheaval, that fortress was unlikely to be the other ship’s destination. There was already a northern fortress east of the Rockies, near the Canadian border, and another close to the Confederacy. Plus reports of more to the west of the mountains.

The image in his mind connected the rumored locales and his brow furrowed as he inserted a dot in the far northwest as well. Connecting the locations created an X on the map of the Badlands, with the cross point hitting directly over the Rockies—the dead center of the nation. Could it be that simple?

While his brain screamed that it was too easy, his gut disagreed. Carson hadn’t survived this long by ignoring his hunches—altogether too often they were right. With a sigh, he relaxed and unclenched his fists. Due west was the precise direction they should be heading, and he had time to rest before they caught up with the
Dark
Hawk
.

Before he had to issue the order to drive Henrietta and her ship to the ground.

* * *

Henri toyed with the intricate brooch she’d pinned to her corset before returning to the infirmary, wondering if she’d have to use the drug hidden inside on Tobias St. Clair in order to get the answers she needed.

Keeping a gun trained on the lawyer’s still form, Catherine stepped aside as Henri approached. “He has not moved or spoken.”

“Thank you. If Noah’s back inside, can you ask him to fetch Spencer?”

“I do not think it wise to leave you unguarded.”

Strange that having the warrior woman concerned over her well-being didn’t bring Henri an ounce of comfort. “I hardly think Mr. St. Clair is a physical threat. Besides, I know how to take care of myself.”

Catherine shrugged and stalked off, whether to find Noah or get Spencer herself Henri didn’t know or care. Tobias on board was most definitely not random. She feigned tripping over her skirt as she gathered supplies to treat his wound.

The charade seemed to work. Tobias smiled at her with the same expression one might use on a child. Henri knew the look well. It was the one that acknowledged she was nothing but a weak female in need of a man to protect her. Though she planned for him to underestimate her, it still made her want so badly to press the toggle on her brooch. To send the clockwork scurrying across the room to drug him.
Stupid
,
arrogant
men
.

No matter. She’d find out what she needed—one way or another.

“Mr. St. Clair, when I left you at the hangar, I thought I made myself clear that I’d contact you when I returned. Precisely what are you doing aboard my ship?”

“When I left, I saw one of your father’s associates speaking to someone leaning out from the first in a row of steam carriages. The next thing I knew, he pointed toward the hangar and a dozen armed men stepped out of the carriages. I couldn’t be sure it had anything to do with you, of course, but the proximity and timing seemed far too great a coincidence. So I rushed back to warn you.”

She dabbed at his wound with a cloth, clearing the blood away. “I appreciate the effort, but as you probably noticed, we are well aware men were shooting at us. There was no reason for you to come aboard.”

“True. Unfortunately, I was caught in the crossfire and had little in the way of choices. Plus, considering which of his associates it was, I suspect I know what they were after.” Her fingers probed at his wound, and Tobias let out a hiss. “Is there a reason you aren’t utilizing one of your father’s clockworks for this?”

Henri gritted her teeth as she applied a bandage and stowed her supplies. While she had many mechanicals based on her father’s designs, she’d rebuilt them all. They were
hers
. “I stopped living in my father’s shadow the day he died, Mr. St. Clair. It would be smart of you to recognize that. One of my regular patients—my most regular patient in fact—has an intense hatred of clockworks, so I do my best to maintain my abilities with field medicine.” She wiped the remnants of his blood from her hands with a wet towel. “So what exactly did those men want desperately enough to shoot at my airship?”

His gaze darted around the infirmary as if someone might have joined them without his notice. “Your father was a brilliant man, Henrietta.”

“It’s Dr. Mason. And that hardly answers my question.”

“I don’t know how to explain it exactly.”

Unacceptable. And most unfortunate that the serum in her brooch would only encourage him to be truthful, not to loose his tongue. Henri jerked a comb from her hair and pushed a spring. The clockwork dragonfly whirred to life, wings with razor-sharp edges vibrating beneath her fingers. Never again would she be taken by surprise and defenseless—she’d made damned sure of that.

“Let me make this clear. All I have to do is let go. There’s something you aren’t saying, and the last time I let anyone do that, people around me started dying. So I suggest you tell me everything before I decide yours is the only blood I need to wash my hands of this time.”

With his eyes glued to the clockwork, Tobias licked his lips and shrank back on the cot. “I’m not a scientist. I don’t know what it’s called, but I’ve
seen
it. I was searching through the crates to present it to you as proof of my story because I know how ludicrous this all seems. I’m trying to keep anyone from dying. That’s the truth.”

But it wasn’t everything. Something in the way he said the words made them sound practiced, too sure. She ground her teeth, struggling to keep a grip on the clockwork. It wasn’t designed for this. She’d altered it to use as a fast offensive weapon, not a controlled threat. Her fingers ached from the vibrations already. “Why would people
die
, Tobias? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Henrietta, I hate to say this, but your father wasn’t exactly the honorable senator he pretended to be.”

“Ninth circle of hell! Tell me something I don’t already know.”

* * *

Tobias had expected Henrietta to react with shock or anger when he spoke against her father, but not this kind of anger. He gaped at her and tried to avoid shifting his gaze back to the mechanical struggling to escape from her grip. Fortunately, his plan had room for a bit more of the truth.

“He wasn’t just working for the government in his laboratory. Your father had other partners who paid top dollar in order to keep certain experiments private. He’d promised them new technology...something to do with gold.” She started at that—nearly losing her grip on the clockwork—but he plowed ahead, desperate to get her to shut the blasted machine down. “He’d done work for them in the past. Now that he’s dead, they want the research in order to avoid it falling into other hands. If I don’t provide it, they’re going to kill me and everyone I’ve ever cared about.” A bit of overkill, but he had a feeling his own life wouldn’t be nearly enough for her.