But she lied to Alfie. “This is just a list of species. I don’t recognize them as anything they’re using in the lab.”
“Regardless,” he said with a nasty smile, “that’s what you’re looking for. I want the information related to what’s on that list and anything about Specimen No. 28923.”
“And if we can’t find anything?” Elizabeth asked.
“Then me and my men get to take bets on which of your friends will wash up at Deadman’s Dock first.”
“And don’t bother attempting to fabricate information,” Colin said. “Mr. Wells tried that, and you know how well that ended for him.”
Saffron squeezed her freezing fingers together. That meant they had a scientist who could sort real pieces of information from false ones. It was infuriating to think that she was just supposed to give them information that could be potentially disastrous in the hands of someone capable. Worse, she didn’t think there was a way to give them any information at all. She and Alexander searched the entire lab last night and found only the sparsest information. Even the papers she’d gotten from Simpson hadn’t added much to their understanding, merely said what the fungus infecting the earwigs from Farm E did.
She exhaled slowly, glancing at Elizabeth. Her chin was raised, her eyes hard, but when their eyes met, Saffron saw Elizabeth had no more solutions than she did. “Very well,” Saffron said. “We’ll speak to our friend, go to the lab, and—”
Elizabeth cut her off. “And the moment we see my brother and our friend walking away from you, unharmed, you’ll get whatever we find. Not before.”
Alfie’s genial smile was back in place. “We’ve got a deal.” He laughed when Elizabeth stuck her hand out for a shake. “Don’t let me down, ladies. Else we’ll all likely be taking a dunk in the Thames.”
“I’ve got to get into Dr. Calderbrook’s office,” Saffron said. “If there is any information about the specimen or a report that I missed, it has to be there.”
Elizabeth shifted so she was facing Saffron in the back seat of the cab. With their party down to themselves, Colin, and the dark-haired driver, they had more space to move. “I’m to be the distraction, then?”
Saffron nodded. “Just keep everyone in one place for as long as you can. Maybe you could pretend to be a relative of Petrov or Wells, or another ministry agent, demanding answers.”
“Answers for what?”
“How Wells died, for one,” Saffron asked. “Colin admitted that Alfie’s associate killed Wells, but Nick said he died of a fungal infection, theMucor indicus. I doubt he plotted for him to die of mycosis.”
From the seat next to the driver, Colin sighed with apparent exasperation. Elizabeth glared at him over her shoulder before muttering, “He’s been looking at the files of immigrants for weeks. I bet he’s trying to find someone willing to shrug off their recently professed loyalty to king and country.” She raised her voice to ask Colin, “Found anyone willing to sell Alfie secrets, Colin? Maybe you go ’round Alfie and simply approach them yourself, then find someone to sell them to.”
Colin jerked around, glaring at Elizabeth. “Shut your mouth, or I will shut it for you.”
“Ooh, you are so very frightening,” she cooed at him. “The intimidating private secretary. I amquaking—”
In a flash, Colin lashed out and snatched a handful of Elizabeth’s hair. He jerked her forward, and she let out a cry. Saffron tried to get at Colin, to hit him or something, anything to get him to let go of Elizabeth, but the driver reached around to press a beefy arm over her chest and prevented her moving an inch.
“You’d better be quaking,” Colin hissed, his face radiantly red. “This will seem like a gentle caress compared to what Alfie and his partner will do to you if you fail.”
He let go and Elizabeth curled away from him into the corner of the seat. From beneath her ruined curls, she glared daggers at him. “You better hope I don’t live long enough to ensure you get what you’re due, Colin Smith.”
Wisely, Colin didn’t reply.
CHAPTER45
Weasel. Traitor. Selfish bastard. Treacherous, scheming cad. Moron.
That last bit of her litany was directed at Elizabeth herself, of course. Colin Smith may have been the worst sort of bastard, but she was the one who’d never thought twice about sharing herself with him. If only one really could shoot fire from one’s eyes, she was sure she would have set the back of Colin’s head on fire. He and Saffron had returned from their errand to Sergeant Simpson’s cousin moments ago, and though Saffron had given her an encouraging look when she slid back into the cab, Elizabeth’s mood was low and still sinking.
Anger was the only thing from keeping her falling apart.
So she clung to her anger, reciting in her head all the ways Colin had been horrible—he’d worked her to death at the office, he was drowning in debt and had decided to provoke people into selling secrets to resolve it, and he’d made her listen to his dreadfully boring commentary on the statistics informing current immigration policies. And his face glowed like a bloody neon sign anytime he was the least disturbed.
“We’re here,” Saffron murmured as the cab came to a stop. They got out, and the cab puttered off down the street.
Elizabeth glared at Colin. “How are we to get inside, then?”
“Through the front door, of course.” He gave her an evil, sly smile. “As Miss Everleigh said, you’re to be the distraction. I will accompany Miss Everleigh in her search for the files.” He opened hisovercoat, pulling aside his suit jacket to show her the pistol tucked into the front of his waistband. “And you’ll behave, Eliza.”
“I hope that misfires right there,” she hissed at him.
