Gideon knocked back the scotch and swore under his breath. Complications like this, he did not need. But he had the situation under control again, thank God, so all he had to do now was keep an eye on John Caddrick and make sure nothing else went wrong. If anything else did... Heads would by God roll. Gideon scowled. The senator had believed for years he was calling the shots. Fine. Let him. If Caddrick screwed up one more time, he'd find out the bitter truth, fast. It would almost be worth the trouble, to see the shock on his face.

Gideon switched off the television and settled himself to set in motion the events necessary to bring about the end of a powerful politician's career.

Chapter Ten

It was a vastly subdued Margo who returned to Spaldergate House in a driving downpour, with lightning sizzling in the night skies and Benny Catlin missing and wounded somewhere beyond their reach. After the preoccupation of their abortive search, it was actually a shock to return to the warmth and brightness of Spaldergate and the lively discussion amongst the Ripper scholars, who cared absolutely nothing about a missing time tourist. All except Shahdi Feroz. Margo still wondered why she'd volunteered to accompany them.

An argument broke out the moment they returned, as to which scholars would go into the East End to help place the final surveillance equipment at the first murder scene. Not to be outdone, Dominica Nosette and Guy Pendergast joined the fray.

"We're coming along, as well."

Pavel Kostenka said, "You are not qualified—"

"I've been on more undercover photoshoots than you have credentials strung out behind your name!"

"And you are a two-bit, muckraking—"

"Two-bit my arse! I'll have you know—"

"Enough!" Malcolm's stern voice cut through the babble and silenced the entire lot of them. "I'll make the decision as to who goes and who stays! Is that clear?"

Even Margo gulped, staring wide-eyed at her infuriated fiancé.

"Now. Miss Nosette, Mr. Pendergast, the terms of the Ripper Watch contract include you as the only journalists. It would be remiss of us if you did not accompany the team members placing the equipment, tonight, to record the attempt for posterity. I presume you've brought low-light, miniaturized cameras?"

"I know my trade," the blond reporter said with an icy chill in her voice, glaring at Kostenka. "And my equipment."

Kostenka just shrugged and pretended to find the carpet utterly absorbing.

"Very well. I would suggest you go and get that equipment ready. We'll leave the house at two A.M. If you're not dressed for the East End and waiting in the carriage drive, we'll leave without you. Now then, Margo, please be good enough to help them select costumes. They haven't been into the East End. Assist Dr. Feroz with that as well. I'll want you along, Inspector," he glanced at Conroy Melvyn, the Scotland Yard chief inspector who'd been named head of the Ripper Watch team, "and the others can prepare the relay and recording equipment on the roof and down in the vault."

There were grumbles, but clearly, the Ripper Watch team had grown accustomed to taking Malcolm's orders when it came to his decisions as head guide.

"Very good. I expect you all have someplace better to be than standing about in the parlour, with your mouths hanging open."

The assembled scholars and journalists dispersed quickly. Only Conroy Melvyn seemed to find the situation humorous. The police inspector winked at Malcolm as he strolled out in the wake of the disgruntled scholars. Then Margo was alone with Malcolm, at last.

"Margo, I'm afraid you're not going to like what I have to say next."

"Oh, no, Malcolm, please let me come with you!"

He grimaced. "That isn't it. Quite the opposite, in fact." He rubbed the back of his neck distractedly. "It's this blasted business with Catlin. Thank God you've come. I've got to work with the Gilberts, organize some plan of attack to search for him. We'll try the hospitals, the workhouse infirmaries, anywhere Catlin might have gone seeking medical attention."

Margo gulped, seeing abruptly where this was leading. "Malcolm... I—I'm not ready to guide that bunch by myself—"

Malcolm grinned. "Good. I'm glad you've the sense to admit it. I didn't intend sending you alone. Tanglewood's a good man, an experienced guide, and he's been in the East End a fair bit."

Margo frowned. "Isn't that kind of an odd place for tourists to go?"

Malcolm merely cleared his throat. "Zipper jockey tours."

Oh. "That's disgusting!"

"It isn't his fault, Margo. He's a Time Tours employee. If he wants to keep his job, he goes where the paying customers want to visit. Even if it's some back-alley brothel in Wapping."

"Huh. I hope they catch a good dose of something nasty!"

"Occasionally," Malcolm said drily, "they do. Spaldergate's resident surgeon keeps rather a generous supply of penicillin on hand. There is a reason London's courtesans wore death's-head rings, even as early as the eighteenth century."

Margo shivered. Poor women, reduced to such poverty they'd no choice but to risk syphillis and its slow, certain deterioration toward madness and death in an era predating antibiotics.

"Very well," Malcolm said tiredly, "that's settled, then. I would suggest you go in costume as a girl, rather than a street ruffian. You'll be less apt to run into serious trouble, particularly in company with the members of the Ripper Watch team. But go armed, love. It's no busman's holiday I'm sending you into, out there."

She nodded. "Believe me, I will be. I'll watch over them, get them back here safe again, as soon as their equipment is in place."

Malcolm held out his arms and she walked into his embrace, just holding onto him tightly for a long moment. He kissed her with such hunger, it left her head swimming. Then he broke the contact and leaned his brow against hers and sighed. "I would give anything... But I must get on with the search for Benny Catlin."

"I know."

He kissed her one last time, then went in search of the Spaldergate House gatekeepers. Margo found her way upstairs and helped the new arrivals pick out costumes ragged enough for the East End, then showed Dominica Nosette how to get into the costume. Shahdi Feroz had, at least, been down the Britannia before.

"In the West End, mostly" she said with a slight smile, glancing at the garments Margo had authorized. "But I do know how the underthings, at least, go on."

Dominica Nosette expected Margo to assist her as lady's maid, a task she did not relish. Three months of this? Margo groused silently, yanking at the strings on Miss Nosette's stays. I'll lop off her pretty blond hair and put her in a boy's tog's, first!

By the time the mantle clocks throughout Spaldergate chimed two A.M. and they were ready to leave in one of the Time Tours carriages, which would take them as far as the Tower of London, Malcolm had been gone for hours, out combing the hospitals and workhouse infirmaries for some trace of their missing tourist. Douglas Tanglewood ushered them all into a stylish Calash Coach, which possessed a hard, covered roof and curtains to screen them from outside scrutiny, since they were dressed as roughly as any dockhand out of Stepney. They rode in a silence electric with anticipation. Even Margo, who fretted over Malcolm's safety, searching for a man who had already been involved in two fatal shootings, found herself caught up in the air of excitement.

In three hours, they would know.

After more than a century and a half of mystery, they would finally know.

If nothing went wrong. If she did her job right. If the equipment didn't fail...