Resisting the urge to plow his fist into the other’s smug face, Wick said tersely, “There’s a secretary. How does one contact him?”
“He has an office upstairs.” Wright licked his lips nervously. “Take the stairs at the end of the hallway to the uppermost floor. But he might not be here tonight.”
Even better.Wick would search that damned office until he found what he was looking for.
“I’ve told you everything I know,” Wright whined. “Do I have your word that my secret is safe with you?”
“We will keep no secrets for you,” Wick said with loathing. “In the future, if you don’t want to be caught, don’t bloody do the deed. Now begone.”
With a frightened look, Wright gathered his clothes and scurried out of the room.
“What aweasel,” Beatrice burst out.
“Undoubtedly. But I believe he’s telling the truth. And there’s no denying he had his watch.”
Chewing on her lip, she said, “Do you think Crombie is behind the fire and kidnapping?”
“There’s a way to find out. If Crombie’s on the membership list, we’ll have proof.”
“Let’s go search the secretary’s office,” Beatrice said.
“Will you consider waiting in the carriage?” He knew the answer, but he had to try.
“The searching will go faster with the two of us,” she said decisively.
For the sake of expediency, Wick refrained from arguing and led the way out. The hallway was empty, the boisterous roars of the crowd conveying that the current performance was a hit…and hence the perfect distraction. Now was the time to act.
He motioned for Beatrice to follow him to the stairs that Wright had said would lead them to the office. They ascended the carpeted steps, arriving on the next floor. Here a large chamber was decorated to resemble a sultan’s palace. Round mattresses covered in jewel-toned silks were tossed over the floor, men and women groaning as they fucked in various permutations upon them. Heavy velvet curtains covered the walls, presumably to muffle the noise.
“Next floor,” Wick muttered.
As they started up the next flight, their path was blocked by a pair of prostitutes wearing masks, feathers in their wigs, and nothing else.
“O’erdressed for the occasion, ain’t you?” The auburn harlot winked at him. “Do you need ’elp getting comfortable—or getting your tart in line? I’ve a steady ’and with a birch.”
Seeing Beatrice’s scowl, Wick said quickly, “No, thank you.”
“If you change your minds, come find us,” the other trollop cooed. “We’ll be in the sultan’s seraglio, where the show’s ’bout to begin.”
“I wonder which brave souls will be performing in the glass cage tonight?” her friend said with a giggle.
The tarts sauntered off, and Wick and Bea continued their trek to the uppermost floor. Seeing a guard posted outside a door at the end of the hallway, Wick pulled Beatrice against the wall, out of the guard’s field of vision.
“That must be the secretary’s office,” Beatrice whispered. “How will we get past the guard?”
Wick thought quickly. “I have a plan. Wait here.”
* * *
When Wick returned a few minutes later, he was accompanied by the two naked whores they’d encountered on the stairs. The redheaded harlot—who’d offered tobirchBea—flashed her a saucy smile before continuing down the hall with her blonde friend, arm in arm, their dimpled bottoms swaying.
“What are they doing?” Bea whispered to Wick.
“What they’re good at. Stay out of sight.”
Peering carefully around the wall, Bea saw the women flirting with the guard who was doing his best to resist. He soon gave in, and the pair dragged him into one of the other rooms off the corridor. The blonde poked her head out, sending a thumbs-up signal.
“They’ll keep him occupied for as long as they can,” Wick said. “But we’d better hurry.”
