Page 82 of The Viscount of Shadows

Chapter 28

It was ten minutes to nine on Thursday evening, and Rett strolled along Cut-Throat Lane toward The Black Moon pub. Beside him was Claudia, in disguise as a gardener, complete with a bushy beard and appropriate clothing, carrying the satchel with the money.

There had been heated discussion in crafting this rescue plan, and ultimately, they decided that Rett would act as Viscount Tensbridge. During the lively conversation, Mitchell suggested Oliver’s residence may be under surveillance since Shinwell gave Danaher the address. Oliver could only hope he was not followed to Watford’s two days ago and then followed to Shinwell’s. Claudia cleverly wore a long woolen cloak with a fur-trimmed hood so no one could see her face or vibrant red hair.

They finally decided the risk was worth it, and Rett would act as the viscount, with Oliver as The Sentinel, following close behind. As for Claudia, she fervently insisted she be part of the plan. Oliver, initially reluctant only because he wished to keep her safe, agreed, for he knew Claudia could handle herself.

They also discussed using The Rakes but eventually decided against it. Mitchell promised to keep a small contingent of uniformed constables on the outskirts of Notting Dale. He told the men they were conducting a training exercise. Despite Mitchell’s initial reluctance to assist in any of Rett’s schemes, that all changed when Oliver showed him the ransom note. After all that had occurred, hiding in the cache, the injuries and recovery, to have their confrontation with Danaher come to this—rescuing his brother. Any scenario could play out, but recovering Byran safely was paramount.

Oliver had a revolver tucked in his belt to fire when the police were needed. As Mitchell explained, retrieving Bryan meant keeping to the directions of the exchange as closely as possible. Oliver understood the logic. Storming in with the police and The Rakes would imperil Bryan’s life. They could only hope Bryan had the good sense to keep his mouth shut when he saw Rett instead of Oliver.

This strategy had many mechanisms, and anything could go wrong, but swiftness was of the essence. The quicker they put this plan into motion, the more likely they would retrieve Bryan from Danaher’s greedy clutches.

It wasn’t easy to slink about Notting Dale, for Danaher’s men kept a constant vigilance. But as Oliver observed, the criminal’s minions had lessened since the raid. The police undoubtedly scared off many, especially after being held in the police station’s cells for several days. The one known as Shorty was still there but had not given up much information. Mitchell relayed the dolt probably had no information to pass on, as Danaher did not confide or reveal his thinking to anyone.

Oliver stealthily entered the shack next to the pub. The rear door had a wooden sliding bolt, but the front door’s simple latch proved uncomplicated enough to jimmy open. The place was empty. The police raid meant the opium trade had been temporarily shut down. It was a wonder the structure still stood since the wooden walls were rotten, though it leaned against the pub for support.

Oliver cracked open the front door. Rett and Olivia stopped before the pub’s front entrance. Two of Danaher’s men came forward.

“Himself said to come alone,” one of them growled.

“I cannot carry all this money by myself. It is much too heavy for me to handle,” Rett sniffed haughtily. His cousin waved a handkerchief around to punctuate his foppish point.

Oliver smiled. Rett was quite good at this.

“My gardener’s assistant, Joe. He wouldn’t harm a fly,” Rett continued. “He also won’t say a word.”

Oliver watched as one of the men stepped forward to take the valise.

“I must see my brother first. I must have proof of life. And I will speak to the author of the note. I must be satisfied.” Rett crossed his arms defiantly.

The door opened, and Danaher stepped outside. “I’ve your brother. Who in bloody hell is this?” Danaher pointed at Claudia.

“Just a gardener’s assistant. He carried the money. There is a good deal of shillings and other coins in the case, and far too heavy for me.”

“Search them!” Danaher yelled.

Rett stepped in front of Claudia. “I think not. No one will lay a hand on me or the boy.” Rett opened his long coat. “I carry no weapon. I would not know how to use one. Neither does he. I must say I am quite insulted.”

Danaher hesitated, and Oliver held his breath. “Feck that, search them.”

The two men quickly patted Rett down, then turned to Claudia. One of the men’s hands slid between Claudia’s legs, patted under her arms, and stood aside. “They’re clean—and they’re male, though I have my doubts about his lordship there.”

Danaher and the other man chuckled.

Oliver released the breath he held. The fake phallus passed muster. As far as weapons, Claudia’s knife was hidden in her boot. Rett also had one, and a thin sword was cleverly hidden in his walking stick.

“Let’s go inside,” Danaher ordered.

“I think not. We will do our business in the street,” Rett sniffed arrogantly. “And a dirty business it is at that.”

“Through those doors, your lordship. Now,” Danaher hissed menacingly.

They headed inside the Black Moon, with Danaher’s two men following behind. The door slammed shut.

Opening the shack’s door wider, Oliver hurriedly glanced up and down the dimly lit street. There was no one else about it. But that didn’t mean that Danaher’s few remaining men were not nearby. He would have to chance it. Silently, he closed the door and padded toward the pub’s front entrance. There was a large window in the front, so he could see in, but all was in darkness. They must be in the room in the back of the pub. Oliver searched his memory. Was there a bell above the door? No, he did not recall one when he was here with Rett. He opened the door and slipped in.

Muffled voices came from the rear. Oliver leaned in and listened.