He shook his head again, and she told him the plan. She was mad, no doubt about it, but he was finding it increasingly hard to be upset about it.
CHAPTER 14
The hallway was silent as Saffron removed a pin from her hair and inserted it into the lock on Dr. Berking’s door. She had never picked a lock before but was familiar with the process from a very loquacious man she’d met at one of Elizabeth’s more daring literary circles a few months ago. He had been a poet by name but had bragged about all the other skills he had. Luckily, they had been skills like lockpicking.
Smiling to herself as she thought back to the drunken man, she heard his slurred voice in her head talking about sliding the pin in and moving it until one felt it move sideways. Then, it was about catching all the pins with the second hairpin. Saffron struggled for five minutes before she caught any of the pins, but eventually got it. She pushed the door open and popped her head around into the stairwell where she’d stationed Alexander to listen for approaching footsteps.
“Got it!” she whispered with a grin, then ducked back around.
It was well past eight o’clock now, and Saffron knew all the other professors on the floor had cleared out, either to go home or to go to a gathering to which Saffron had declined Maxwell’s invitation a week ago.
Saffron stole across Mr. Pierce’s little office, casting a glance at the assistant’s desk and chair, and into Dr. Berking’s office.
She paused on the threshold. The meager glow of the streetlights below the window created a haze of golden light that barely illumined the room. It was eerie, to be sure, but the sudden pounding of Saffron’s heart and dampness of her palms had little to do with the shadows cast by the multitude of plants, a mere glance into Berking’s extensive personal collection, on the office’s walls.
She crept forward, her feet padding across the thick carpet to Dr. Berking’s desk. All Saffron could think of was Berking’s horrible smile, his slimy voice. She could almost feel his wandering hands and the feel of his breath on her face, her neck. She shuddered. That was precisely why Saffron was in his office now, despite her fear of what had happened and what had almost happened. Berking was a horrible man who it was very easy to believe would be part of a crime. It was not as if she wanted him to be guilty. Certainly not.
After a moment of debating the risk of turning on the desk lamp, Saffron clicked on the small green lamp at the corner of the desk. No one would find it strange to see a light on in the North Wing; people worked late all the time. The expanse of polished wood was tidy and almost bare. She read through the messages in the letter tray next to the lamp, hoping to recognize handwriting or names. There were only two notes, one from Dr. Aster about the budget for the coming academic year, and a note from someone called R. Glass, reminding Berking to bring a sample to their meeting.
She placed the papers carefully back where she had found them, then moved on to the desk drawers. Unfortunately, Berking didn’t seem to be as careless as Dr. Henry; his drawers were all locked. Saffron frowned. She didn’t want to attempt to pick each one open. She had spare keys for Maxwell’s desk—not that Maxwell ever remembered to lock his drawers—so perhaps Pierce had another set for Berking’s desk. She hurried into theouter room, sliding her pins into the lock on Pierce’s top desk drawer. After a struggle, she pulled the drawer open and smiled at the key nestled among a handful of pens.
Back in the gloom of Berking’s office, Saffron opened the bottom right drawer. She sorted through files and files on the botany department’s recent studies, with notes from each researcher. She flicked through and paused at her own name across the top of a file. Frowning, she fished the paper out and saw that it was her study proposal, the one she’d presented when she’d met with Berking and he’d attempted to get at her. Saffron turned a few pages, wondering why he’d bothered to file it.
She moved to the next drawer. Nothing but budget records.
After twenty minutes of unlocking drawers, revealing nothing of interest apart from Berking’s checkbook, full of random names and sums, and a bag of sweets containing only licorice, Saffron looked to the cabinets behind the desk. The first cabinet was a fast job. It had Berking’s work clothes and boots, evidently stored in case Berking ever deigned to do some work in the greenhouses. A few personal effects, like a bottle of cologne, lay in a shallow drawer.
Her hands began to sweat. There had to be something here, something to make this worth manipulating Alexander into an illegal activity. Surely she hadn’t broken into Berking’s office for nothing.
She went to the second cabinet, unlocked it quickly, and looked around. She glanced over the various boxes of files and folders of what appeared to be very old botany department business, and shuffled through a few of the papers, recognizing names from her father’s or Maxwell’s stories.
Her fingers stilled as they passed over a familiar script. She slipped the yellowing folder from between the papers and looked down at her father’s handwriting elegantly rolling across the page, describing something relating to breeding and heterosis.Thomas Everleigh had died several years before Berking even joined University College, but several of the names she’d seen belonged to men no longer at the university. It really wasn’t so strange, even if it felt wrong that Berking had something of her father’s.
She was just contemplating taking the file with her when a sound froze her entire body. It was the worst possible sound she could imagine in that moment. Dr. Berking’s voice booming from the hall.
Saffron replaced the file back in the stack and closed the cabinet as silently as her shaking hands would allow. She nearly cried out when the door to Pierce’s office outside banged open. Her heart pounding in her throat, she heard Alexander’s voice speaking loudly. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but she hoped it would stall Berking long enough for her to conceal herself. There wasn’t enough room in either cabinet for her to hide. She dropped to her knees and crawled out of sight, moving aside Berking’s enormous chair and diving under the desk. Just as she resettled the chair in front of her, the door to the room opened.
Saffron pressed her hand against her mouth, barely breathing. She was both terrified and furious. How had Berking gotten past Alexander? Why was he in his office so late? He was supposed to be at the dinner party with the other professors. He never missed the chance to drink and gossip.
Saffron tried to focus on what Berking was calling to Alexander rather than the fact that his voice was getting closer.
“Oh yes, yes, Ashton.” His loud voice was a little slurred. “Can’t say that it won’t be tricky! The natives of any country can be dangerous. No use getting upset about the possibilities.”
“I just mean, sir,” Alexander’s tight voice said, “that Snyder implied there was some trouble to be had. Dr. Henry apparently always carries a knife and a gun. Surely that isn’t necessary.”
Dr. Berking’s footsteps shook the floor beneath her as he drew closer to the desk. Her fingers curled around her mouth, digging into her skin as she prayed her breathing wasn’t as loud as it seemed to her own ears.
“Ashton, my boy, don’t worry about Henry. He might think he’s in charge”—Berking let out a barking laugh, causing Saffron to jump in her hiding spot; he was standing right in front of her now—“but his part to play in the whole expedition is small. Growing smaller every day! Now, where is it!”
Alexander’s tense voice asked, “Can I help you find something, Dr. Berking?”
“No, no,” Berking huffed. “Just needed to get my checkbook. I lost a bet to Anderson at his dinner party down the street. Left it here.” There was a jingle of keys as he unlocked a drawer. Saffron hoped she’d put everything back in its correct place.
“Pen?” Berking mumbled and his large body shifted in front of her.
“I have one, sir.” Quieter steps approached the desk.
Berking grunted in thanks. “Don’t you worry about the expedition.” There was the sound of a pen scratching against paper, then a rip. “Though it’s never a bad idea to be traveling with protection. I, myself, will be bringing a pistol, of course.” Laughing merrily, Berking shoved his desk drawer shut with a snap and a sound like tearing paper. Two pairs of feet left the room, the lock of the door flicking behind them. A moment later, the outer door shut and locked.
