Chapter Thirty.

Misha Raskalovs clever, fox muzzle split into a smile so broad that it looked like a wound running across his face. He held the bundle in his arms a little higher so that I could see it clear. Robbie fretted and wriggled. One hand flailed free from the blanket, clenching uselessly at the air. He screwed up his nutshell face and began to cry, although the sound came as feeble ragged gulps.

Behind them in the tunnel a mound of grey lay motionless in the water huddled against the blackened bricks. Della.

Misha stepped into the circle of light cast by the lamp. His cloak was ripped and covered in dust. He nodded at the precipice.

'You cannot go any further, Kitty. It is . . . Schicksal, suerte, sort, destino. I can say it in many languages. In my own tongue it is sudba. I believe you would say fate? He paused. 'The other word you will learn today is smert death.

The skin of his hand was blotched and livid. The cloak seemed to be welded to his flesh. He saw my eyes flick to the burns and he shrugged. 'It is nothing it will heal. He licked his wide pink lips. I tried to force the thought of him and Lucca together from my mind.

Lucca? My heart shrivelled beneath my bodice as Mishas eyes narrowed.

'In the Okhrana we are trained not to feel pain.

He took a step towards me and held Robbie in front of him at arms length. I knew without a doubt that he intended to drop him over the precipice and into the drain forty foot below. Robbie wailed louder and twisted his head about, trying to catch sight of his mother.

As Misha came closer his broad shoulders and trailing cloak blocked my view of the passage where Della lay. He was over six foot tall. I brandished the lamp between us. It was all I had.

He started to laugh. 'You are well named, Kitty Peck. Lucca told me you spit like a little cat.

I felt something spit all right, something like a limelight flare spurted deep inside. I clenched my free hand into a ball so tight the nails dug crescents into the palm. I had to keep control of my fury. I had to use it.

I needed time to think.

'Wheres Joey? What have you done with him? My voice could have scraped the slime off the walls.

Misha shrugged again.

Blood pounded in my temples. If he hadnt been holding on to Robbie I would have swung the lamp at him. 'If youre going to kill me I might as well know what youve done with my brother. You wont have anything to lose. Where is he and Lucca?

Misha snorted. 'I have no idea where Josette is, Kitty. My only interest in your brother is that he told his beloved Ilya about this child and its mother. Thats why Ilya Vershinin has to die, as will your brother in good time. Ill deal with them both when I return to Paris.

'Paris? You mean, he, Ilya, went back?

'Of course not. Mishas over-ripe mouth twisted into a sneer. 'I mean he was never here. As to your friend Lucca he is waiting for me in his daubing room by the river. Ive no doubt he is wondering where I am, aching for me to return. He was so eager to believe, so useful. He made everything so very much easier. London is a great capital but it is still a small world your friend Mr Collins? What a fortunate coincidence that was.

I nodded slowly, it was falling into place. Sam had got the measure of Misha Raskalov, hadnt he? He didnt think him a murderer, but he didnt trust him. And Joey hadnt given Della and Robbie away neither hed been beating himself up for nothing. But Lucca, my poor Lucca. He was so sure that Misha cared for him.

A blind fool! Dellas words trickled through my mind again.

I swallowed. 'I still dont understand. Why didnt you go to Lucca as soon as you came to London?

Misha raised a brow so pale that it was almost invisible against his milky skin.

'Because it would have been too obvious. Chem dalshe, tem dorozhe. I think you have a similar saying absence makes the heart grow fonder? I wanted to be sure that Mr Fratelli would be . . . receptive when we finally met again. I was waiting to meet him seemingly by accident, but your journalist friend did the work for me.

'What . . . what will you do to Lucca?

'Kill him. What else? There wasnt a trace of emotion in Mishas perfect English. His heart was as cold as his eyes.

'From the moment Lucca found me everything slotted into place. It all became so easy. I knew your brother and Della had concocted something. When I saw her leave Josettes house on the night of the gathering in Paris I knew they were making plans and I suspected they involved you.

'I . . . entertained your friend that evening to gain his trust. But it was you I was watching, Kitty. I moved too fast at the station, that was a mistake, but when I saw them with the trunk I knew I was right.

And I knew right then it was Misha Raskalov Id seen watching the train from the end of the platform as we left Paris.

'You followed us to Limehouse?

'As soon as I could without arousing suspicion. There had to be a reason for my visit but the trail was cold when I arrived. I knew you had him here somewhere, but I had to be sure. His nostrils flared. 'There are so many . . . chernomazy in London.

I wasnt sure what he meant by that, but I had an idea.

'You came here to kill him you were searching for little ones like Robbie?

'Of course and I found some, but I had to be certain. I confess I was confused when your friend Peggy, is it? told me in the churchyard the black child was hers. But once Lucca came to me, I knew exactly where to find Robbie Lennox and what to do. It was simply a matter of watching. The woman would come for him sooner or later.

He grinned. 'And she came tonight to the theatre where you were waiting with the child. It is a matter of some importance that this . . . obezyana, he spat out the word and shook the bundle in his hands, 'and its mother do not trouble my masters further. Now stand aside.

I shook my head. One thing was clear, Misha Raskalov liked to talk about himself. Humility is a virtue in London, but not, it seems, in Moscow. Wasnt that what Sam had said? I could use his vanity to buy myself time.

Think, girl, think.

'That was you on the stage you started the fire?

He shrugged. 'I know how to control the gaslights in a theatre. Your system, however, is primitive. I did not expect- 'To die with us? Is that it? You thought youd bring the building down on our heads and get away.

'Something of that nature. I was overcome briefly by the smoke and by this . . . Misha swung Robbie around abruptly and I thought he was going to drop him, but instead he brought his burned arm level with my eyes. 'I saw you go to the office and I knew you must be trying to escape. So I followed.

'In your . . . theatres, he made the word sound like a sneer, 'you have magicians who make people disappear, do you not? I didnt answer as he carried on. 'Phwoof! And the girl is gone in a shower of sparks. I wondered where you had gone, Kitty, until I found the door in the boards.

He took another step forward, forcing me back with his bent arm. I knew the drop was less than two foot behind me now. I could hear the water rushing far below.

'You have to disappear tonight, Kitty Peck, along with the child and his mother. I must thank you for everything you have done. Those letters! My masters will be fascinated by their existence. They will find a way to obtain them . . . after your death.

'Bastard! I hissed the word through gritted teeth.

Misha shook his head. 'I think we both know that this is the bastard. He raised the cloth bundle to eye level. I saw Robbies feet kick under the blanket. Now, at last, he began to cry out loud. The desperate mewling echoed from the walls of the chamber. It was a sound to wake the dead.

I stood my ground, willing myself not to turn away as Misha lowered his moon-pale head. He brought his fleshy lips to my ear. 'You first, I think, and then the bastard. He jostled my shoulder, forcing me to take a single step back.

I stared up at his pointed face. The guttering light from the oil lamp smudged deep shadows beneath his brows and under his jutting cheekbones. For a moment I was minded of Mr Punch hanging out over the edge of his little striped tent. He was a murderer too, wasnt he?

Beyond Mishas shoulder something grey moved in the dim light of the lamp. My heart started up so violent I thought he could catch the drumming of it. I kept my eyes latched on his. Keep him talking, girl, I thought, keep his attention fixed on you.

He shifted Robbie higher.

'It squeals like a piglet. My masters will be pleased to know this episode is concluded.

I needed to make him concentrate on me now, me and nothing else. I lifted the lamp trying not to notice the way it shook in my hands.

'Episode! Is that all it is to you? Youve been paid to murder children and thats a natural days work, is it? I dont know how you can live with yourself. You disgust me, Misha Raskalov. Look at him. Hes just a baby, a sick little boy whos not likely to live much beyond a decade. And its not just him those little ones here in Limehouse. And Della and what you did to Old Peter just because I showed him the Monseigneurs note . . .

I faltered, confused by the sudden light of genuine interest that sparked in those cool slanting eyes.

'Useful to the end, Kitty. I thank you again. I suspected the Monseigneur knew about my . . . responsibilities for some time and you have just confirmed it, but this other Peter, you say? If he too knows something of this matter . . . Tell me, where can I find him?

The smell of lemon and incense made my stomach clench up tight as a limpet. To my mind it was a hundred times worse than the stench of the shit, piss and God knows what else we was standing in. But as I breathed in the stink of Misha Raskalovs putrid soul, something came to me, something important.

I tried to net it before it slipped away, but he swung Robbie above his head, shaking him so hard the blanket slipped down to the gulley, racing past me in the foaming water and over the lip of the precipice.

'I am willing to dash the piglets brains out on the wall here and smear your face with its blood. Must I repeat myself? Where can I find this Peter?

'Mile End in the Bancroft Road Jewish cemetery where you put him!

The moment I said it, I knew it was wrong. It wasnt Misha who killed Old Peter, but I didnt have time to unravel it in my head because at the same moment I caught the flash of something silver in the air beside Mishas ear.

Della plunged the steel hatpin swiftly and viciously into the side of his neck.

His eyes widened in surprise. He hunched forward, but she pulled the long pin free and drove it again into the soft white skin just beneath his lobe, pushing it deep and grinding it about with her fist. Blood spurted up from the first incision spattering her hand and her sleeve. The little fountain stained Mishas trailing hair a pink that quickly turned to crimson. He tried to say something, but a gurgling sound came from his throat like something was catching his words in a strainer.

Dark glistening liquid bubbled over his lips. He turned to look at her disbelief spreading across his pointed features as she wound a black hand into the overlong hair that fell over his shoulders. She pulled tight, yanking his head back to expose more of his throat. His back arched and he pulled Robbie down to his breast like a shield.

Mishas lips moved but his drowning voice couldnt sound the words.

Della tightened her grip on the back of his head. Her green eyes burned with hate as she raised the pin again. I said she put me in mind of a wild creature, but the strength in her now was something more than savage.

That was when I moved. I dropped the lamp into the water at our feet, hearing the glass shatter against the stones beneath the slime. As the light died on the instant, I wrenched Robbie from Mishas arms and darted past them both.

I held Robbie close and nestled his head into my damp bodice. Five foot away, two figures were silhouetted in the dim light spilling down from the grille. Mishas empty arms flailed at his sides now, clenching and unclenching like he was trying to catch hold of his life.

I cupped the crown of Robbies head, folding my hand over his soft curled ear. For all that he was not yet eight months, he shouldnt see any of this nor hear it, neither. No matter how long he had left, Robbie Lennox should never know what his mother had done for him.

I watched as Della swung back her arm and hacked again, forcing the pin into the cleft beneath Mishas Adams apple. He tried to scrabble the weapon from her hand, a feeble gesture that turned to a desperate effort to fend her off as the steel plunged in out, in out. The terrible rhythm of it was almost mechanical.

Misha sank to his knees, his bloody hands pulling at the folds of Dellas sodden coat. A sound somewhere between a choke and a wail came rattling from him as a gush of thick black stuff vomited from his mouth into the water. He crouched forward, gaping and rasping for air that would never reach his lungs.

Della took a step back like she didnt want him staining her gear. And then she kicked him over the edge.

Chapter Thirty-one.

I tugged at the knot round my neck and loosened the shawl, careful that Robbie didnt tumble out. I pulled the loop of plaid over my head and laid him gently on the stones next to the grille, tucking the old fabric under his chin against the cold.

There was a fingernail of moon overhead now and the clouds were scurrying eastward. It wasnt raining, but the chill sliced through my stinking dripping clothes like a Smithfield skinners knife. I tried to tie my wet hair into a knot to keep the wind from slapping strands of it across my face.

The broken grille led out to a yard bounded on three sides by a jumble of buildings. It smelt of straw and the sweetness of horse. I could hear them stabled over to the right. When I scrambled out from the drain with Robbie slung across my back in Nanny Pecks shawl, a couple of them whickered and kicked out at their stalls, thinking I was the stable lad come with a bucket of oats.

From my reckoning it looked like a brewery yard and it was near the river. I could smell the foulness of the earthy, briny water. The unmistakable stink of the Thames had never been cleaner to me.

I could hear it too the shrieking whistle of wind through ropes meant tall-masted ships were riding nearby. My teeth chattered as I crouched over the broken bars. Looking back, I dont reckon it was entirely on account of the cold.

'Your turn now, Della. Its easier than it looks. See the bricks to the right the broken ones? You can use them to pull yourself up to the lowest rung. Its easy from there, except the fourth one up. Thats come loose. Dont try it.

Of an instant Madame Celeste came to mind. I wanted to add something about not looking down and not thinking about the fact that there was a gulley with Misha Raskalovs body wedged across it fifty, maybe sixty foot below, but if I put it in Dellas mind now it was a thought that would be difficult to shift.

I neednt have worried.

The sound of boots on brick echoed up the shaft of the drain. There was a rattle of stones too as patches of the wall came loose. I leaned over again. I could see movement down there, but nothing clear.

I thought I should encourage her.

'The rungs are firm. Theyll take your weight, all of them except the fourth. Ill reach down to pull you through when you get to the top.

Dellas voice echoed up the shaft. 'Robbie. Is he . . .?

'Hes fine, hes all wrapped up and waiting for you to come and take him. I glanced over. He was staring up at the moon and sucking on the edge of Nanny Pecks plaid.

A bell started up from somewhere. I rocked back on my heels and counted. One. Two. Three. Four . . . There was a scuffling sound from the grille. Dark fingers appeared around one of the broken bars. I leaned over again and hauled Della up off the last two rungs and through to the flat stones of the yard. She knelt for a moment, her breathing fast and shallow. Then she stood. Without a nod to me she scooped Robbie up and flattened him to her breast.

'I heard the bell. We have to go theres still time.

I nodded. 'Its five oclock. You should be boarding now. But if Mishas dead then you dont need- Della began to laugh. 'Well always need to run. I dont know how long my bairn has, but as long as he draws breath hes a danger to them. Hes living proof of their flaw. We have to go to the boat.

She held Robbie close and ran a hand over the back of her close-cropped head where Misha had landed the blow that felled her. She looked down into her palm.

'Is it bleeding, Della?

She shook her head. 'It hurts like hell, but it will pass. Where are we?

'Near the river, I reckon. Its in the air. I scrambled to my feet and pointed to the open arch at the end of the yard. 'If we go through Ill be able to get my bearings.

Della turned and walked swiftly towards the arch. I followed. The sky was lightening from the east now. Out on the road I knew immediately where we were. It was Emmett Street, down by West India. The main Dock Office was over to the left and Steam Boat Dock was less than ten minutes walk away. Over the rooftops I could see a cats cradle of ropes strung across a forest of masts. Lights were burning in some of the windows as workers roused themselves for the six o clock queues. You werent always guaranteed a job at the docks. There were plenty of men, and women too, who had to get up early and beg for it.

I caught Dellas arm. 'This way. Its not far.