The Diamond Thief (11 page)

Twelve

Dark Discoveries

Rémy followed J into the dark tunnel. She could now hardly see where she was going. She had to put her hands out against the narrow walls to stop herself stumbling on the rough ground. Ahead of her, J, still wearing his glasses, was more sure of himself. He ran on, turning corner after corner before eventually stopping. She drew to a halt beside him, putting out a hand in the dark to find his small shoulder as he bent double and caught his breath.

“We should have gone back into the sewer,” she said after a moment. “Back to the river shore.”

“We’d never ‘ave made it out before the tide turned,” said J. “‘Old on a mo’…”

Rémy heard rummaging, and then the sound of a match being struck. The flame flickered in the darkness, illuminating J’s thin face as he touched it to the thick candle he’d pulled from his pack. She sighed in relief and the light blossomed, yellow in the narrow passageway.

J pulled his glasses down around his neck and tried to smile, though his eyes were dark with worry. “Mr Rec…”

Rémy’s stomach turned over. “I know. But we’ll get him back, J. I promise. Maybe they will not discover him where he is, in the belly of the machine.”

J nodded but didn’t look convinced. “Well, I reckon we’re going to ‘ave to get out some’ow,” he said. “Go back to the Professor, see what he can do to ‘elp.”

“Do you know another way out of here?”

“No,” J admitted. “But there’s got to be another way, ain’t there? Stands to reason. And –”

He stopped suddenly, the flame from the candle light casting lined shadows on his face as he frowned. J turned his head, listening.

“J?” Rémy asked. “What is it?”

“Do you ‘ear that?”

They fell silent for a moment. At first Rémy could hear nothing. She was about to tell J as much when it came to her. A faint, echoing sound like wood being struck with an axe, but tinnier.

Rémy straightened up. The sound was echoing down the tunnel they were in. It seemed a long way away. “Come on,” she said.

“You ain’t plannin’ on going towards it?”

She looked at the boy and shrugged. “Do you have a better idea? That could be coming from the surface, for all we know.”

As they set off along the corridor, Rémy tried not to think about Thaddeus and what had happened to him. She didn’t know why it bothered her so much. After all, with him trapped, she was free. It just didn’t seem the victory that it should have been, somehow.

Ahead of her, J turned the corner and then stopped suddenly, blowing out the candle and plunging them back into darkness.

“J!” Rémy exclaimed, “What –”

“Ssh!” he hissed.

She fell silent, blinking in the blackness. Then, as her eyes adjusted she realized it wasn’t as dark as it had been. There was a faint glow – and the sound they had heard was louder now.

“Come on,” she whispered, taking the lead.

They crept along the shaft. It was becoming narrower, so narrow, in fact, and so low that Rémy had to stoop to keep going. The glow became brighter and the noise more pronounced, until they could eventually see where it was coming from – an opening in the tunnel to their left.

Rémy glanced back at J to see fear etched on his face, and knew what he was thinking. They obviously hadn’t found a way to the surface, and the sounds were most definitely those of industry – heavy, resounding clangs, dull thuds and the shouts of men’s voices.

“Let’s turn back,” he said. “Eh? Let’s find another route, Rémy. Back there, I fink I saw…”

Rémy shook her head. “I must see what they’re doing!”

She moved to the edge of the light, not stepping fully into it. She peered around the doorway.

“
Mon Dieu!
”

The doorway she stood in was halfway up the wall of what seemed to be an underground quarry. Rough-hewn steps led down onto the mine floor, which was deep and black with streaks of metal that she could have mistaken for silver if she hadn’t known they were under the city of London. There were people everywhere, hacking at the quarry face, dragging chunks of rock hewn out of the earth to rough wooden carts set on tracks that led up and out of a larger tunnel on the opposite wall.

“Let me see,” she heard J say behind her. She moved to make space for him and he looked, struck speechless by the sight before him.

The people working the rock face were dirty and painfully thin. They were both men and women, dressed in rags and with chains binding their bare feet together. Children no older than J toiled in the dust, too. Guards stood around the edges of the cavern holding huge, flaming torches that matched the ones pinned to the wall. One stood casually eating an apple while a hungry child looked on. When he caught her staring, he lunged towards her and she screamed, scurrying back to her work.

“The man who owns this must be the devil himself,” Rémy whispered.

J wasn’t listening. He was silently watching one of the workers down below. Then suddenly he jerked forward, making as if to run into the light and down the steps. Rémy managed to catch him, dragging him back before he gave them both away.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, as the boy struggled in her arms. “J, are you mad? Stop it!”

“I seen ‘im!” J hissed back, fighting against her. “I seen ‘im, down there! I got to get ‘im out!”

“Who?” Rémy asked, thinking for one confused moment that he meant Thaddeus. “Who have you seen?”

“Tommy!” the boy cried. “Me best mate, Tommy. Let me go!”

“J, I can’t. If you go down there, you’ll be caught. We’ll probably both be caught! We cannot help anyone if they catch us. Stop it. Stop struggling, J. Listen to me!”

J fell still abruptly, nodding. Rémy loosened her grip cautiously, and moved to block his path, just in case the boy tried to run again.

“I can’t leave ‘im there,” J said tearfully. “‘E’s my best mate! I can’t just… leave ‘im.”

“I understand,” Rémy soothed. “I know it is hard. But we won’t leave them. Not any of them – not your friend, not those other people, not Thaddeus. We will get them out. But we can’t do it alone. We have to get out of here, J. Yes? Be patient, please.”

He stared at her for another moment before nodding. “Alright. But let’s be quick about it. I ain’t leavin’ ‘im down there for a minute longer than I can ‘elp. Got it?”

Rémy nodded. They slipped through the light, keeping as low as possible, and then continued along the stone tunnel. Rémy was nervous now – these passageways were obviously used and if someone came the other way they would have nowhere to go. She came to a crossroads in the rock passage and turned left. They had only gone a few more paces before J stopped. She turned to look at him.

“What is it?”

His eyes were large and fearful. “Someone’s coming. Listen.”

She could hear them, too, and it wasn’t just one person. Pairs of feet thudded against the earth floor.

“Which way?” she asked. “Where are they coming from?”

It was almost impossible to tell. The sound echoed, amplified by the close walls of rock and the crossroads they had just passed.

“Run,” she said. “Just run!”

“Which way?”

She picked a direction and fled down it, with J hot on her heels. Rémy took them back the way they had come before choosing a different path at the crossroads. They turned a corner and skidded to a halt.

Ahead of them, men were walking single file in the narrow passageway. They were tall enough to be bent almost double under the rock. The leader saw her immediately, his eyes flashing as he shouted something. They began to run.

Rémy and J rushed back the other way. J stumbled over the rough floor and she picked him up, half-carrying him until he’d found his footing, but it delayed them enough to put their pursuers right on their heels.

She heard a faint cracking sound and then another shout sounded behind her. J fell, tumbling hard against the rock. As she turned to help, Rémy heard another crack and felt something snake around her waist, pulling so tight that it knocked the breath from her body. She was tipped off balance and slammed into the wall before hitting the floor.

The last thing she saw was a sack, coming towards her. Something was stuffed into her mouth as the sack was put over her head, blinding her completely. Her hands were bound and she was hoisted up so that not even her feet touched the ground. Then she was carried off back down the tunnel along which they had just fled.

* * *

Rémy attempted to struggle against her captors, but it was useless. She could hear J’s angry, muffled yells and was relieved to know that he was at least well enough to protest.

At length, they stopped. She could hear voices talking and then, suddenly, Rémy found herself on a damp floor. Abruptly, the ropes on her wrists were cut and a second later the sack was removed from her head. She spat out the gag, finding a dishevelled J beside her.

They were in an altogether darker, danker, smaller underground room than they had seen before. The walls dripped with rust-coloured water and green algae. Rémy scrambled up, the ground slimy under her boots.

They were surrounded by men, all dressed in black. Rémy stood straight, chin high – and then she ran, darting to the left, where she saw an opening.

“J,” she shouted. “Go! Run!”

The men were on her in a second – she fought, scratching and biting, but she was no match for them. Fear bit down on her heart – What did they want? What would they do to her? – and made her fight harder.

“Stop,” said a voice, as deep and dark as the tunnels around them. “Miss Brunel, please – stop.”

She ignored the voice, not wanting to know how the man knew her name. She just needed to get away. And then...

“Rémy,” she heard someone say, this time in a voice she recognised. “Please, let her go. Let me talk to her! She’s just scared, she –”

Rémy was so shocked that she dropped her guard, but the men had already stepped back. The person who had spoken pushed between them to stand in front of her. Rémy stared, open-mouthed.

Thirteen

Concealments

“You!”

Before her stood the Professor – Thaddeus Rec’s faithful friend, the one who had offered them safe shelter and food.

“I should have known!” Rémy cried, struggling again. “I should have known it was you! No one is ever as kind as you were without wanting something from it.”

Rémy saw something flash through the Professor’s eyes as his smile disappeared. It was something sharp and angry and – just for a fraction of a second – a little fearful, too. Her mind whirred as she tried to make sense of it all.

“All those different clothes,” she went on, still trying to break free, “all that make-up. It was to disguise yourself, wasn’t it? To always make yourself look different!”

“Stop,” said the Professor, his smile back in place, raising his hands to placate her. “Rémy, please stop. Everything is fine. Let me explain. Everything is –”

“Did Thaddeus know that you have deceived us?” Rémy said. “I hope he did not. I hope, if he still lives, that he never finds out. He thought you were his friend! He thought –”

“I thought what?” Thaddeus asked, as he appeared without warning at the Professor’s elbow.

“Mr Rec!” J shouted, happily. “Well, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes!”

“And you, J!” Thaddeus smiled and then turned back to Rémy. “I am so glad to see you both. Are you all right? I’m so sorry…”

Rémy blinked for a moment, too stunned to even speak. Then she threw herself at the policeman, her arms around his neck before she even knew what she was doing. Thaddeus stiffened for a moment, before wrapping his arms around her tightly.

“It’s all right,” he said quietly into her ear. “Rémy, it’s all right.”

“I was afraid you were dead!” she said, and then, recovering herself, quickly pushed him away. He had a gash over one eye. “What has he done to you?”

Thaddeus touched a hand to his head, as if only just remembering the cut. “Who? Oh – that’s nothing. I just hit my head as I fell into the machine. It’s fine.”

Rémy realized that they were once again surrounded by the Professor’s thugs. The man himself was standing close by as if he had not a care in the world. She pointed at him, her hand shaking with rage.

“This man – this… this
traître
!” She grabbed Thaddeus’ hand and looked around for J. “Thaddeus – together we can fight him, and his men. He must be working with Abernathy! We can get away! We can’t stay here. You must –”

“Really,” said the Professor, “my dear, there is no need for this. You do not understand. There is a perfectly good explanation.”

Thaddeus opened his mouth to say something, too, but was stopped by a deep voice, echoing behind her.

“Miss Brunel,” it said. “Please do not be afraid.”

Rémy turned to see a man taller than any she had ever seen before. His stature was such that he had to stoop under the low ceiling of the tunnel. He looked like a native of the Indian sub-continent, with dark hair and dark eyes set against walnut-hued skin. His head was bound in a richly-coloured turban the shade of the deepest sapphires, made to match his robe, which flowed around his sandalled feet. His face was half-hidden by a large, dark beard, but his eyes were bright and seemed to hold a smile, though the look on his face was serious.

“I am sorry for your treatment at the hands of my men. They did not mean to harm you, merely convey you to safety in the quickest and quietest manner possible. You were in grave danger.”

“ ‘Ang on a minute,” said J, in an awed voice. “I think I know who you are. You’re Mr Desai, ain’t cha’? You gotta be. I ‘eard of you. I never thought you was real, though.”

The Indian man turned to the boy with a smile. “Well, as you see – I am.”

“What you doin’ down ‘ere then? It’s a bit… I dunno… nasty for you, ain’t it? Ain’t you an Indian prince or somethin’?”

The man called Desai inclined his head, an amused look on his face. “Not exactly, but close enough.”

Rémy, confused, looked up at Thaddeus.

“These are Mr Desai’s men, Rémy. They rescued me. I only got out of that contraption because of them,” he explained, gently. “Tell her, Professor.”

“That is so, indeed, Rémy,” said the Professor, stepping forward with a reassuring smile. “They are no more in league with Abernathy than you are. When I realized the tide of the Thames was about to turn and you were still not back, I went looking for help. Now, here I have to confess to some slight subterfuge.” The Professor reached out and touched the bottom of Rémy’s jacket, at the hole in the hem. “As you slept in the workshop before you all left on your adventure, I secreted one of my devices in this convenient hole.” From the tear, he pulled a small, intricate device, something that Rémy did not recognise, but that Thaddeus seemed to have seen before.

“But – Professor, I thought you said the listening device would not work underground,” said the policeman, reaching out to take the instrument.

“I was not at all sure it would,” the Professor admitted, “and indeed, it ceased to work at all after a short period of time. But it did give me somewhere to start, if only I could find some assistance.” He turned to offer a brief bow to Desai, who returned the gesture. “Mr Desai here was kind enough to provide that. He sent his men after you so that you wouldn’t get caught. When he heard where you were, he was as worried as I was, and evidently with reason.”

“Worried! They – they tied me up! They – they,” she pointed to her mouth, momentarily forgetting the English word in the midst of her fury, “they gagged me!”

Thaddeus winced. “I’m sorry. That was my fault. I told them you would probably make a lot of noise and fight like the devil.”

“You?”

“Well, you did, didn’t you?” Thaddeus protested defensively.

“Children, children,” soothed Desai’s voice. “This is all a tremendous shock, I am sure of it. But we must go. We have other, safer places to be.”

Rémy crossed her arms. “I am not going anywhere with you. I do not even know who you are.”

Desai inclined his head in an elegant half-bow. “I understand. Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Maandhata Desai, formerly consul to the British East India Company at the city of Hyderabad in Andhra Pradesh, now unfortunate fugitive from both my people and the British government. You must come with us, please. We really are not safe here.”

* * *

Desai and his men led them out of the tunnels and back up to the surface. They found themselves in the crypt of a church, the damp, musty atmosphere barely better than they had experienced underground. Desai walked ahead, up a flight of steep, white stone steps and into the open, empty nave of the church.

A lone figure turned to look at their odd procession as they crossed the vast stone floor. It was the priest, dressed in pale robes that flowed almost as richly as Desai’s own. Desai bowed his head as they passed. The priest echoed the gesture in reply, and then turned away, as if deliberately removing them from his sight.

Outside, Rémy was relieved to find that there was a dull light in the sky – it was morning. After being so long in those oppressive tunnels, it was wonderful to be outside again. She breathed in, thankful to be out in the open air at last, even if it was still tainted by the sour smog that always hung over the city.

Beside her, she felt Thaddeus pause. He looked up at the tall, imposing spire of the church. It was so high that it threatened to pierce the rainclouds gathering overhead.

“This is St Anne’s!” he exclaimed in surprise. “We’re still in Limehouse!”

“We are,” Desai acknowledged. “And that is all the more reason for us to keep moving. Quickly, please. It does none of us any good to be out in the open at the moment, I think.”

He took them down to the torpid, greasy waters of Regent’s Canal, and then walked further east and over a failing wooden bridge into another tangle of streets. Weaving this way and that, they eventually reached a small warehouse that looked as if it had long been abandoned. Its walls were crumbling and overgrown, its high windows cracked and broken. To Rémy, even the roof seemed unsafe.

Inside, though, it was warm and dry – pleasant, even. There was a fire burning in a brick-built hearth in the corner and straw on the floor. Large curtains had been hung in one corner. Desai strode towards them, sweeping them aside to reveal comfortable-looking cushions strewn across a large, patterned carpet.

“Sit, please,” Desai ordered, moving his arm expansively. “Make yourselves comfortable. My men will bring us tea.”

Rémy looked around to see two of Desai’s escort standing guard beside the door. The other two had vanished. She glanced at the Professor. He was looking around as curiously as the rest of them, as if he had never been there before. She didn’t know what to make of his sudden appearance underground. Thaddeus obviously still trusted his friend, but there had been that moment when Rémy had seen something unsettling in his eyes…

“Now,” said Desai, interrupting her worried thoughts. “Please, sit down. Tell me what three youngsters such as yourselves were doing in such a dangerous place as Abernathy’s tunnels. I am all amazement that you even knew they were there.”

Rémy looked at Thaddeus, uncertain. He shrugged, and after a moment she turned back to the Indian. “We were looking for something. Something that we believe Lord Abernathy stole.”

Desai inclined his head. “Ah, yes. The Darya-ye Noor, no doubt.”

“How do you know that?” Thaddeus asked in surprise.

The man smiled. “Unfortunately for you, Mr Rec, you have become famous. Look, here.”

He threw something to Thaddeus. “A penny paper? Why do you –” He stopped abruptly, staring at the front page of the newspaper.

Rémy leaned over to see what had shocked him into silence. There was a remarkably accurate sketch of Thaddeus, along with the headline “Fallen Policeman Steals Famed Jewel”.

“You see, Mr Rec,” said Desai. “So, now – tell me. Why would you want to steal the Ocean of Light?”

“He didn’t!” Rémy blurted out. “Thaddeus didn’t – I did! Or… or I tried to. He was just…”

“In the wrong place, at the wrong time?” Desai asked quietly.

Rémy felt suddenly hot. She stood up, pulling off the jacket the Professor had given her. “I did not mean for him to be blamed. I just – had to have the jewel. And now neither of us has it. Abernathy does instead, and –”

She trailed off. Desai had got to his feet and was staring at her intently.

“What?” Rémy asked. “Why – why do you look at me that way?”

“And how is it that you come to have that?” Desai asked, in a low voice, pointing at her throat.

Rémy touched her fingers to her skin, feeling the old chain that always hung around her neck. “This? It is… it is an opal, monsieur. It is my opal. It belonged to my mother. It is all I have left of my parents.”

“Is that so?” Desai asked, moving closer and brushing away her fingers so he could examine the stone. “And who is your mother, that she would give you such a gift? Was she rich? A noblewoman, perhaps?”

Rémy shook her head, mesmerized by his eyes, now staring into hers. “No… no, she belonged to the circus, like me. She died when I was very small. My father, too.”

“Then how do you know this was a gift from your mother, and not a trinket given you by someone else?”

“I… Claudette gave it to me. She told me it was my mother’s. She told me my mother wanted me to have it when she died.”

“Ah, I see. And do you trust this… Claudette?”

Rémy blinked. “She is my oldest friend. She is – like a sister. I have no one else. Yes, I trust her. I trust her with my life.”

The Indian smiled, a surprisingly gentle gesture that instantly softened his face. “I see. You are lucky to have such a friend. And lucky that you can be so sure of her. Your mother, I suspect, was not so lucky. Not if she was able to give you that.”

Rémy stepped away from him. The opal slipped from his fingers, falling once more against her chest. It felt warm. “What do you mean?” she asked. “What do you know about my opal? Gustave said something about it, too. That it had powers I did not know about.”

Desai’s eyes narrowed and he frowned. “Is that so? And who is Gustave?”

“My… my master. At the circus. It was he – he who wanted me to steal the Darya-ye Noor. He said no other stone would do. He said he had to have it, to break the curse. But he didn’t have time to tell me what the curse was, or what he meant about my opal.”

“A curse?” Desai repeated. “He said that? He said he needed the Darya-ye Noor because of a curse?”

“Miss Brunel has mentioned this curse before, in fact,” observed the Professor. “Though she could not tell us anything more about it.”

Rémy suddenly felt very, very tired. She put her hands up to her face, covering her eyes. “I know you will not believe me. But it is the truth. That is what Gustave said.”

“Why would I not believe you?”

She dropped her hands. “No one else does. Thaddeus did not.”

Rémy glanced towards the young policeman. He was standing a few feet away, listening intently. His cheeks coloured.

“I thought…” he began, and stopped. “That was when I thought you were untrustworthy. When I thought… when I thought you were just a thieving circus rat. But now…”

They stared at each other, confusion and tension bristling between them. Rémy wanted to ask him what he meant. At first he had thought she was nothing but a circus rat, but now? What did he think of her now?