For such a large man, Newell nipped into action faster than expected. Orders rose to the rafters. Blue-coated figures appeared from all corners of the station. Granted, not as many as Edmund would’ve liked to see going after the woman he loved, but for this unearthly time of day, it was a surprising number.
In all the hubbub, Edmund grabbed hold of the professor’s arm and tugged him to the door. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” The professor huffed beside him as he tore down the street.
“I’m not leaving Ami in that thug’s clutches for another minute.”
The professor stopped cold. “What can we possibly do? You saw that officer back there.” He flung his arm toward the station. “If this Wormwell had no qualms about shooting a man of law, what do you think he’ll do to us?”
Edmund gaped. “What do you think he’ll do to Ami?”
“Look, Price.” He squeezed Edmund’s arm. “I know you find this hard to believe, but I care about my daughter as much as you appear to. Even so, we will do her no good if we’re dead. There has to be another way that doesn’t end in our demise.”
Edmund’s mind raced with a torrent of thoughts. The professor was right, but he had to do something. He didn’t have time to plan, to scheme. The urgency of the situation pressed down hard on his shoulders, compacting his frustration. Honestly, there was nothing for him to do but pray—and actually, somehow, this time that option didn’t seem like a failure but more like a beginning.
God, please. I am helpless here. Give me an idea. A way to rescue Ami. Use me for Your purposes, not the other way around, and may You grant that Your purpose is to spare all of our lives.
Inhaling deeply, he collected what faith he could find and faced the professor. “I understand the risks, Professor. But every moment we waste puts her in greater danger. I would willinglygive my life for her, a sacrifice I am prepared to make, and yet I hope it doesn’t come to that. If I can reach the warehouse ahead of the officers, perhaps I can spy a safer way for them to enter and avoid needless violence. Clearly knocking on the front door didn’t work. So”—he pulled away, trusting that God would allow for some sort of provision in this fiery furnace—“are you coming or not?”
“You’re as bullheaded as she is.”
“Then we make a good pairing.” Wheeling about, Edmund dashed down the cobbled lane, surprised and gratified to hear the professor’s footsteps echoing behind him. He veered into a smaller, dimly lit lane leading to the ominous Rotherhithe wharves, keeping to the shadows as he approached the row of hulking warehouses. It had stopped raining, but everything smelled like a freshly dug grave. His heart raced, keeping time with his pace. Even with the professor at his back, he felt an overwhelming sense of solitude as he plunged into the unknown. He was a businessman, after all, not a hurly-burly brawler. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.
God, go with me. Provide a way in that doesn’t begin and end with bloodshed. This is something I cannot do on my own—and I freely admit it. Please, keep Ami safe until I reach her.
Tall structures loomed ahead, windows like dark eye sockets peering into the night—save for the two buildings closest to the end of the stretch. Faint light flickered inside those, small fires in the belly of the beast. Had to be Wormwell’s. He clung to the far side of the narrow lane, eyes darting nervously as he scanned for signs of trouble.
“I don’t think we should go any further,” the professor whispered, caution roughening his voice. “Let’s wait here for the police.”
He glanced from Ami’s father to the foreboding warehouse, where dark shadows moved inside. The professor’s words resonated in his gut. There was no telling how many men were in that place. Monstrous odds! And yet that’s where Ami was. His fists clenched involuntarily, fingernails digging into his palms.He had to get to her. Find where she was being held. Ensure she was unharmed and usher her to safety.
Determination and desperation warred within, the words slipping past his lips as taut as a bowstring. “No, you wait here.”
He took off before the professor could argue against him. Giving the black monolith a wide berth, he crept from shadow to shadow, his heart pounding against his ribs. Each step was a calculated gamble, each movement a possible giveaway of his presence. He reached the edge of the building and paused, senses on high alert. Swiveling a look from side to side, he detected none of Wormwell’s men, so he darted across the road and flattened against the side of the building. Just in time too. Coarse laughter barked out of a man exiting the front door, the sound slicing the night air like a blade. If he’d crossed that lane a moment later, he’d have been spotted.
Thank you, God!
He duck-walked to the nearest window, then rose ever so slowly. Inside was nothing but black upon black, so he skulked to the next. Faint light dribbled into the area, backlighting large boxes on rows of shelves. But that was all. No men. No woman either.
At the next window, his breath hitched. The warehouse opened into a cavernous expanse, where men hefted crates from the back of a wagon with practiced efficiency. He pressed his face to the glass, taking it all in. At the far end, doors stood open, allowing another wagon passage out the back. No brown-haired figure in a peacock gown met his sweeping gaze. This could be the perfect spot for the police to swarm through. He could turn back now. Clue in the bluecoats the moment they arrived. And yet ... his jaw hardened.
Oh, Ami.
Sweat popped out on his brow, his unease growing. The possibility that Wormwell might be hiding her somewhere else gnawed at him. And then a worse thought ... What if the thug back at Angel Alley had given him false information, and she wasn’t here at all?
No.
No!
Better not to think such dire thoughts. Better to focus on the task at hand.
Two more windows remained on this side. It wouldn’t hurt to finish what he had started, especially if he could catch a glimpse of her. Despite what he’d told the professor, he moved on.
The next window gave him a better view of the ham-fisted men unloading only God knew what. On the other side of the wagon, another team of Wormwell’s workers pried off lids with crowbars. He squinted, but it was too hard to make out what they unpacked through the grimy window. Which was neither here nor there. Ami took priority over whatever illegal shenanigans Wormwell might be up to.
He crouch-walked to the final window on this wall and eased his head just past the sill—and his blood turned to ice.
Inside, Gil clutched Ami to his side, her face turned from his, her eyes squinched shut.
