Unlike some gangs that liked to hide their guards inconspicuously near areas they controlled, the Luddites were more open about their boundaries. Neither police nor passersby were expected to wander down their streets, unless invited or there with some other purpose.

And so as the lunch hour approached, a guard on the corner watched in surprise as Blair brazenly walked past his duty station, seemingly oblivious to the restricted nature of the street ahead.

She wore the uniform of a scullery maid, a drab black dress that looked worn and patched up several times. But her face seemed bemused, with a cheerful expression. And of course, she still looked very attractive.

Had the guard been more observant, he might have noticed she did not have callouses on her hands. In fact, that was the one weak spot in Blair’s disguise, and it remained a key reason she rarely tried to pass as someone from the working classes. Any time spent with her would result in someone noticing her hands, which were more difficult to convincingly appear like those of a worker’s. Her fingertips remained smooth and her nails looked perfect. But today she made an exception, gambling she could use her charm skills to get by the guard on the street despite the shortcomings of her disguise.

“Miss? Miss! I’m sorry, Miss. You canna go doon here.”

Inwardly, she cringed at the inappropriateness of the man’s address. One should never call a lady ‘Miss,’ after all. But since it was keeping in the disguise, she let the faux pas pass. Instead, she turned toward the guard, who left his post at the corner and moved to intercept her, smiling and activating her feminine skills.

“I have an appointment with Beaterus, I do. Said I was s’posed to show at this very hour.”

She could imitate a variety of Umbrian accents, which varied widely even down to certain city blocks in Ethinium. Again, the lower classes were not ones she pretended to be often. But this man, just like his wealthier brethren in Parliament or those who were landed gentry, paid little attention to her voice. He was smitten by the sight of her. Even though she was dirty and dressed in threadbare clothes, he acted as if she was the most attractive woman he had even seen.

“I’m sorry, you canna go—”

“You mean I can’t go alone?” She shoved him gently on the chest. “Why, aren’t you a rake now! Pleased to meetcha. I’ll let y’take me to her, then.”

This threw the man for a moment, as he stopped to process what she said. When he realized she implied he was going to escort her to Beatrice’s office, his face reddened.

“Oh, well, now, I . . .”

She slipped her arm through his and gently tugged him away from the corner.

“Come along. Show me where that office is, you big man, you.”

Reluctantly the guard walked with her down the street, abandoning his post.

On the other side of the intersection, Twig glanced sideways at Rip, standing beside him.

“Does it bother you she can do that to other men, mate?”

“Nope.”

Twig squinted at him and said, “Really? It would bother me, if she were mine.”

Rip shrugged.

“I know she’s play acting. I’ve seen her do it before. When we first met, it was in the bowels of the Gretna Green vault. She was screaming, acting all afraid of a steam worker who was trying to get to her while she was locked up in a cage. I took out the guy and opened the cage. She was miffed that I interrupted. She had the whole scheme worked out where he would open the cage door to get her and she would be the one taking him out.”

Twig chuckled.

Rip smiled and said, “So, yeah. A little display like this doesn’t bother me. Come on, the coast is clear. Let’s get in there.”

Both men crossed the street and walked into unguarded Luddite territory. Blair had already diverted her mark into a nearby building. She led him into the nearest doorway like a sheep to slaughter.

“It doesn’t bother you she’s now out of sight with that bloke?”

The door opened as they passed, and Blair stepped out alone. She smiled at the men, slipping a leather sap filled with lead shot into her dress before joining them.

“Nope.”

The three continued down the street, heading toward the Luddite headquarters building.

“Seems surprisingly deserted,” Twig remarked, his head swiveling in all directions.

“I suspect they need everyone they can to move the loot,” Blair said. “Gold is heavy.”

Rip said, “You think the gold is gone already?”

She nodded.

“That man favored his left wrist. If I had to guess, I’d say he broke it recently. That would make him the perfect type to leave behind.”

Rip smiled and said, “Good job, Mrs. Sherlock.”

Blair frowned at him, slightly in confusion and slightly in irritation.

Twig said, “There’s the door we want.”

He moved slightly ahead and rattled the latch. Unlocked, the door swung open. He held it for the other two, who walked inside.

“I think we found where most of their men eat and sleep,” Blair said, wrinkling her nose at the large room’s smell.

Twig carefully shut the door behind them. Light filtered in from windows and a couple candelabras still lit.

“They cleared out fast,” he said, looking around. “Lots of dust on the floor was disturbed over here.”

He pointed to an open area, and Rip nodded.

“Yeah, they must have unloaded and kept a watch on the chests overnight. They’re gone. The question is, which way did they go?”

“I wish Bobby left us a clue,” Blair said, looking around the large empty space.

Twig said, “Maybe he did.”

He walked over to the long table where the men ate, pointing. Half a lemon sat on top of the table, half below on the floor.

“That’s a signal. Invisible ink, if you will.”

He opened up his wallet and pulled out a two-foot long stick with a fuse hanging out. Blair frowned at it.

“What are your doing with a road flare?”

“I need a source of heat, milady,” he replied, striking a match and lighting the fuse. A bright cherry-red flame burst out of the stick. He waved it a few times over the table, heating the surface.

“You’re right. Good job, Mr. Twig.”

On the table, the words Chance left behind in dried lemon juice appeared: “Canvas wagons. Ned’s Textiles.”

Rip said, “Excellent. Now we’ve just got to figure out which way they went.”

He turned and headed back for the door, with Blair following.

“Ay! What do I do with this?”

Twig waved the road flare at them, still flaming hot.

Without turning around, Rip said, “Burn this place down.”