Page 62 of Evil at the Essex House
I opened my mouth to tell him that no one needed to protect me, but I shut it again when he went on, “but if you don’t trust me?—”
“Of course I trust you, Kit.” Crispin’s voice was irritated.
“It’s settled, then.” Christopher sounded cheerful. “You’ll stay with Pippa and I’ll stay with the Hispano-Suiza. Well done, Crispin. I know it must have been a difficult decision for you, your love for the motorcar at war with your?—”
“Enough,” Crispin growled. “Knock it off, Kit, or I’ll change my mind.”
“Too late,” Christopher told him brightly. “You get Pippa and I get the motorcar.”
“Nobody gets Pippa,” I said irritably. “Pippa doesn’t need either of you. Pippa can take care of herself.”
“Of course you can, Darling,” Crispin said. “Just open your mouth, and that sharp tongue will leave them bleeding out on the floor in no time.”
“Oh, poor baby,” I cooed. “Did I hurt your feelings?”
“I don’t have feelings,” Crispin said, with an air of someone who thought they were beneath him. “Certainly none you are capable of affecting.”
“Off you go, then,” Christopher said. “Into the tower with you.”
“Not so fast,” I told him. “We have lots of time before it’s eleven. Shouldn’t we find a safe spot for you and the motorcar, and then St George and I will make our way into what’s left of the church once we know you’re safe and situated? I don’t suppose it’s likely that anyone’s watching already, but just in case someone is, shouldn’t we be approaching on foot?”
“Here’s a likely spot,” Crispin said, pointing the nose of the H6 into a dark area between two buildings: one the dark red brick of Denmark House, and the other the tall, yellow brick of a wharf warehouse on the waterfront. “Tuck in here, nose out, and you’ll be able to see everyone who comes and goes.”
He suited action to words and then turned the motor off. Silence descended, only broken by the winches and calls from the wharfs.
“Time?” Christopher asked.
Crispin pulled his watch out of his waistcoat pocket and flicked it open. “Just after ten.”
“You two should go,” Christopher said. “Just in case they—or he, or she—come early.”
“The kidnappers, or the Schlomskys?” I scooted towards the side of the seat.
“They could be one and the same,” Christopher said, but he reached for his door handle and wrenched it down. “Come along.” He reached a hand into the back and pulled me out, similar to the way one pulled a cork from a bottle.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Crispin wanted to know, as he extricated himself from his own side of the motorcar. “The parents?”
“Pippa will explain.” Christopher shut the door after me and then proceeded to tug me after him around the car to where Crispin was holding open the driver’s side door. Christopher let go of my hand and slid behind the wheel. “Ah!” He looked around, delighted.
“If you break anything, I’ll break your kneecaps,” Crispin informed him, as he shut the door.
Christopher grinned up at him. “If I break anything, I’ll pay for it, Crispin.”
“You know what you’re doing?”
Christopher nodded. “Clutch. Hand brake. Steering wheel.” He pointed to them. “Lights, but it might be better if I do without those. Less chance of being seen.”
“More chance of getting fined,” I said.
“I really don’t think the constabulary is going to be patrolling for speed demons in Southwark at eleven on a Saturday night, do you?”
“I have no idea,” I said, putting my nose in the air. “I don’t break the law. St George would be the one to ask.”
“I don’t imagine you’ll be moving beyond a crawl,” Crispin told Christopher. “Whoever picks up the money won’t want to risk being stopped by going too fast away from here, and you’ll be dawdling along behind. So I don’t think you’ll have to worry.”
“That’s a good point.” Christopher flicked his fingers at us. “Off you go, then, children. To the tower.”
He added an evil laugh. I rolled my eyes and tucked my hand through Crispin’s elbow. “Come along, St George. And attempt to look amorous.”
