And all three of them gaped.
Papers were everywhere. The floor. The cabinets. The bookshelves. The desk. Hounds and heather! There were even papers balanced atop the windowsills, and Lord knows how it was managed, but a few dangled at intervals from the ceiling along one entire wall. In the midst of this great blizzard of documents sat a rotund toad of a man, back towards them, sweat stains bleeding damp and dark the length of his spine and hanging like black crescents from his armpits.
“What the blazes?” Graybone grumbled.
Kit eyed Jackson, a twist to her lips. “I love what you’ve done with the decor in here. Early-century hand grenade, is it?”
Jackson seethed, gut bubbling. “Mr. Harvey.” He ground out the name like a mouthful of nails. “What have you done?”
Harvey craned his head over his shoulder, and when it registered just who had entered, he rose with a smile. “Why, good morning, Chief Inspector. You should be happy to know the wheels of progress are turning very nicely in here.”
“Progress in what?” Kit whispered in Jackson’s ear. “A slapdash mess?”
He shook his head, lungs deflating. “I don’t have the time or energy to waste dealing with this chaos.”
And like the flipping of a great switch, all the anger he desperately wished to keep a lid on could be contained no more. He raised his voice to the rafters. “Clean this up and be quick about it!”
Harvey’s big eyes blinked behind his spectacles, yet other than that, the man stood there completely nonplussed. “Absolutely, sir. That is exactly what I am about.”
“See that you are! Immediately and impeccably. I need my office in order, not in a shambles, man! And if you fail to comply this instant, I shall—”
A big hand landed on his shoulder, the deep voice of Graybone rumbling in his ear. “We’ve a bigger fish to fry than this gudgeon. You can fillet the fellow later.”
Though fury still prickled like a rash, Jackson sucked in a few calming breaths. His father-in-law was unfortunately right.
“Carry on, Harvey.” Jackson aimed a finger at him. “But mind you heed my words.”
“Oh, indubitably, sir. Shouldn’t be a problem whatsoever. As I said”—the round man rose to his toes—“the wheels are turning quite smoothly now.”
Clamping his mouth against a rather unsavoury oath, Jackson ushered out Kit and Graybone before closing the door.
The second they were in the corridor, Kit opened her mouth, mischief flashing in her eyes.
Jackson shot up his hand. “Don’t even think about saying another word on this matter.” He stalked towards the stairs. “Since my office is occupied, we’ll take the interview room.”
Graybone suffered a few more good-natured fists to the arm along with several gruff “Bully to see ye” comments as they made their way to a small room at the end of the passageway. Once Kit and Graybone grabbed the only available chairs, Jackson ducked his head back out the door and hollered down the passage, “Smitty! Another chair, please.”
“Righto, Chief.”
Until the man could comply, Jackson leaned his back against a wall and folded his arms across his chest. “To the matter at hand, as I see it, we’ve got several issues to deal with. What route to take in moving Coleman, how to keep him safe while doing so, how to let Carky know in order to lure her to strike on our terms, and lastly, what role we each play in this undertaking.”
“Agreed…mostly.” Kit removed her hat and began repinning her loose hair, mumbling a bit as she stored some hairpins between her lips. “Clueing in Carky isn’t an issue at all. A few well-placed words in the right ear and half of London will know within an hour. And”—hair recoiled, she pulled the last pin from her mouth and poked it into the mass—“I know just the ear to get the job done. One of my old contacts, Skivvy McGrueder. Loosest lips in town.”
“Good. Now, to keep Coleman safe.” Graybone planted his big palms on the tabletop. “I propose we plan three routes, one for transporting Coleman and the other two as decoys. If Carky strikes one of the fakes, she’ll get a rude surprise from some armed constables. If she targets the real carriage, the three of us ought to manage the woman very nicely.”
Jackson shook his head. “You forget we are short-staffed. I’m not certain Sergeant Doyle can part with enough men to fill two carriages.”
“How about a few constables and some of my old crew?” Kit reset her hat.
“That should do it.” Jackson nodded. “Now, for routes. I’m thinking one decoy could wind through the busy streets of the West End, maybe pass through Piccadilly Circus or Oxford and Regent Street.”
Graybone grunted. “Too many civilians.”
“But that’s the beauty of it.” Kit cut her hand through the air. “Carky won’t waste her time on anything other than a direct attack on her prey.”
“What about the bomb she planted by my leg? Oh, thank you, Smitty.” Jackson grabbed the chair from the clerk’s hand then closed the door and sat, facing Kit. “That explosive would’ve taken out innocent bystanders.”
“It was fake, remember?” One of Kit’s slim shoulders shrugged. “Her aim is true, and right now she’s after Coleman or anyone that’s attached to me in order to force my hand.”
