Jane Vows Vengeance (30 page)

Then, shortly before seven o’clock, the telephone in the hall rang. Jane, hearing it, went and picked it up. “Hello?” she said.

“Waiting for my call, I see.” Suzu’s voice was unmistakable. “Do you have the Needle?”

“Yes,” Jane said. “Is Miriam safe?”

“She’s alive,” said Suzu. “But not safe. She won’t be until you’ve handed over the Needle to me.”

“Where are you?” Jane asked her.

“London,” said Suzu. “You’re coming here tomorrow, I believe.”

“That’s right,” Jane said. “How did you know?”

Suzu laughed. “I know everything about you, Jane. Now listen carefully.”

Jane listened, memorizing Suzu’s instructions. Before she could ask anything more, Suzu hung up.

“Who was that?” Walter asked, coming out of the kitchen and handing Jane a glass of wine.

“The hotel,” Jane said. “I called them earlier to confirm our reservation.”

“Oh,” said Walter. “Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” Jane said. “Everything’s fine.”

Walter sighed. “I kind of hoped it was my mother,” he said. “I changed the message on the machine at home and told her where we are. I knew I should have brought my cell phone with me.”

“I’m sure she’s all right,” Jane said. “She’s probably living it up on the beach in St. Tropez or somewhere.”

“It’s March,” Walter said. “She’d need to wear a sweater on the beach in St. Tropez.”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” said Jane. “This is your mother we’re talking about. She’s traveled all over the world on her own. She can handle herself.”

“You’re right,” Walter said. “And who knows, maybe when we get to London tomorrow she’ll be waiting for us.”

“Maybe she will,” Jane said, hoping she sounded convincing.

“Maybe she will.”

Saturday: London

I
RON
L
ILLY HAD BEEN STANDING IN
C
ARTING
L
ANE, JUST AROUND
the corner from the Savoy, for well over a century. Day and night she was there, whatever the weather, enduring the people who wanted their photos taken with her (usually while holding their noses and making rude faces) and pretending not to hear the childish name they used to describe her street. Year after year she had done her duty, inhaling the gases sent up by the local sewer and burning them off in her cleverly-engineered pneumatic hood.

To the unaware she seemed to be an ordinary street light, albeit of a charming old-fashioned type, but in fact she was a Webb Patent Sewer Gas Lamp. Once her kind had been plentiful, but now she was the only one left in London. In her time she had blazed without ceasing, thanks to the prodigious digestive activities of the customers of the nearby hotel and theater. Improvements in the city’s sanitation systems had lessened her workload, but she was still sometimes called into service and was more than just a curiosity.

It was beneath Iron Lilly’s watchful gaze that Jane waited for Suzu to appear. She carried in her arms, much as Mary surely
must have held the newborn baby Jesus, the impostor Needle nestled safely in its canvas swaddle. She rocked it gently as she paced in a circle, hoping that things would go smoothly.

Suzu’s instructions were for Jane to be standing beneath Iron Lilly at precisely three-thirty in the afternoon. Ensuring that this happened had not been easy. A seven o’clock train from Geneva had gotten them to the Gare de Lyon station in Paris an hour before noon. Their train to London left Gare du Nord at one. Normally this would have given them ample time to get from one station to another, but Byron had insisted on making a detour to his favorite pastry shop for what he assured them were the most exquisite
tartelettes au citron meringuée
in all of creation. They may very well have been, but Jane and the others never found out, as apparently the shop in question had closed in 1937. This resulted in hard feelings all around, especially when they arrived at Gare du Nord with only five minutes to spare and were forced to run in an undignified manner to catch the train.

In the end, though, they had arrived in London as scheduled and checked back into the Savoy with just enough time for Jane to pee, splash some water on her face, and go over the plan with Byron one final time before leaving for her rendezvous with Suzu (a phrase, Jane couldn’t help but notice, that would make an excellent title for a film). Now she had nothing to do but wait.

She was slightly concerned about the plan, which hinged on Suzu being unaware of Byron and William’s presence. Not knowing the extent of her abilities, it was entirely possible that they had underestimated her. Jane hoped this was not the case, but as things had not gone smoothly up to this point, she was prepared to once again be met with difficulty. Compounding her anxiety was the fact that Walter knew nothing about what was going on and that his mother’s safety hung in the balance. He thought that Jane had run out to the chemist in search of dental floss, a flimsy last-second alibi she now regretted employing.

“Stop fidgeting,” said a voice in her ear, startling her.

“Must you do that?” she asked.

Byron, who was invisible, replied, “William has gone to make some inquiries. I’ll be right over there. When Suzu arrives, give her the Needle. I’ll then follow her and see where she goes. With any luck she’ll lead us right to Miriam.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Jane asked.

“Your optimistic outlook is just one of the many things I’m sure Walter finds delightful about you,” said Byron, and left before she could respond.

She resumed waiting. Twice she had to stand aside as tourists posed beside Iron Lilly, and once she was asked by a man wearing a Paris Disneyland T-shirt if she could point the way to “Farting Lane”; she was offended by his vulgarity and sent him seventeen blocks in the wrong direction. By this point whatever novelty had surrounded the plan had worn off and she just wanted it to be over with.

It was then that she completed what felt like her millionth trip around Iron Lilly’s base and saw Bergen standing not half a dozen feet away. He regarded her dully and scratched his nose. At his feet was a small bag of the sort used to hold gym clothes.

“What are you doing here?” Jane asked. “Where’s Suzu?”

“I don’t know,” Bergen replied.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” said Jane.

Bergen shrugged. “She told me to come here and get something from you,” he said. “When I have it I’m supposed to call her on this.” He fished a cellphone from his pocket and held it up.

Jane groaned. “Wonderful,” she said. “Just wonderful.”

“Do you have the item?” Bergen asked.

“Of course I have it,” Jane snapped. “What do you think I’m holding?”

Bergen held out his hands. “Give it to me,” he said. “Then I’ll call and find out what the next step is.”

Jane didn’t know what to do. She’d been expecting Suzu herself to appear. That she might send Bergen to fetch the Needle
had never occurred to her. And apparently Suzu was keeping him in the dark as well.

“Where’s Miriam?” she said.

Again Bergen shrugged, a gesture Jane was beginning to find aggravating. “I don’t know,” he said. “My mistress moves her from place to place. I know where she was this morning, but not where she is now. However, I have been authorized to give you this as a goodwill gesture.”

He reached down, unzipped the bag, and removed Lilith. The little dog turned her head and bit him on the hand, causing him to let out a shrill scream. To his credit, however, he did not drop her.

“Put me down!” Lilith barked.

“He can’t understand you,” Jane reminded the Chihuahua. She addressed Bergen. “Put her down.”

He did, and Lilith ran to Jane. She then turned and bared her teeth at Bergen, growling loudly.

Jane wished Byron would appear, or at least tell her what to do. Since Bergen had given her Lilith, she felt obligated to hand over the Needle. But then what would they do?

“Jane?” said a voice.

For a moment she thought Byron was speaking to her. Then she saw Walter jogging toward her. Walter looked down at Lilith, then over at Bergen. For a moment his face brightened.

“Bergen!” he said. “Where’s my mother?”

Bergen, looking distinctly nervous, started to speak. Then he stopped, looked at his feet, and said, “I’m not sure.”

Jane hid the bundle containing the Needle behind her back. “What he means is that Miriam wanted to do a little shopping before meeting us,” she said.

“Oh,” Walter said. “Well, where are we meeting?”

Jane looked at Bergen, who was looking more and more uncomfortable. A bead of sweat formed at his brow and rolled down his nose as his fingertips scratched anxiously at his thighs.

“Why don’t you call her and ask her?” Jane suggested.

Bergen looked at her.

“On your phone,” Jane prodded. “Why don’t you call and ask her where she wants to meet?”

Bergen nodded. “A fine idea,” he said. “Just a moment.” He took the phone from his pocket and walked off a few feet, turning his back so that they couldn’t hear his conversation.

“Did you know they were here?” Walter asked Jane.

Jane shook her head. “I just happened to run into him,” she said. “Why are you out here, anyway?”

“After you left I remembered that I needed shampoo,” said Walter. “I went looking for you but couldn’t find you. I was on my way back to the hotel when I saw you standing here.”

“And I’m so glad you did,” Jane remarked.

Walter bent down and picked up Lilith. “Hey, little girl,” he said. “Did you have fun with your mother and her new boyfriend?”

“Seriously?” Lilith said to Jane. “Is he really this stupid?”

“Look how happy she is to see you!” Jane said brightly.

Bergen turned back to them and walked forward. “Miriam says we’re to meet her at Boswell’s grave. She said Brian will know where it is.”

“Brian?” said Walter. “But where is
he
?”

“Did someone say my name?”

Smiling as if he’d just been strolling along and happened to stumble upon his friends, Byron walked up. He nodded at Bergen. “Good to see you again. I trust Ms. Ellenberg is well?”

“The last I saw her she was,” Bergen replied.

“Do you know where Boswell’s grave is?” Walter asked. “I have no idea why my mother would want to meet us there, but it seems she does.”

“Boswell was buried in Scotland, wasn’t he?” Jane said.

Byron shook his head. “I believe this is a different Boswell.”

They walked to a busier street, where Byron hailed a black cab and gave the driver instructions to take them to Hyde Park.
Once there, he directed him to Victoria Gate, where they all piled out as Byron paid the fare.

“This way,” he said, walking through the gate and past the lodge. “It’s just round here.”

They passed through a garden gate that, although it seemingly was locked, Byron opened with ease, and found themselves in a spacious clearing filled with hundreds of tiny tombstones. Jane peered at one of the nearest ones and read aloud the words engraved upon it. “ ‘Dear Pupsey, September twelfth, 1894.’ Pupsey? What an odd name.”

“Not for a dog,” said Byron.

“A dog?” Walter said.

“Mmm,” said Byron, looking around. “This is a pet cemetery. Begun by the lodge keeper, a Mr. Winbridge, back in, oh, the 1880s, I think. One of London’s hidden treasures. Not many know of it.”

“Why would my mother want to meet us here?” Walter wondered.

“I’m afraid it’s not your mother,” said Byron.

“Then who—” Walter began.

“It would be she,” Byron said, pointing.

Suzu stood among the graves. She was dressed in black, as if she were preparing to attend a funeral. She walked toward them slowly, wending her way through the tightly packed stones.

“I’m really confused here,” Walter said.

“Wait a few moments, my friend,” said Byron, clapping Walter on the shoulder. “You’re going to be even more confused.”

Walter looked at Jane, bewilderment furrowing his brow. She took his hand and held it tightly, terrified of what was coming. But she trusted that Byron knew what he was doing. At least, she hoped he did, because she certainly didn’t.

“I knew you would figure it out,” Suzu said to Byron.

Byron smiled. “How could anyone forget Boswell?”

“Indeed,” Suzu said. She knelt and ran her finger lightly over
a gravestone. “My dear Boswell,” she said with a sigh. “Taken too soon.”

Byron turned to Jane and Walter. “A cat,” he said. “Gray, as I recall. Excellent mouser.”

“Boswell is a cat?” Walter said.

“Not just a cat,” said Suzu. “The most wonderful cat in all the world. I miss him terribly.”

Walter, looking at the dates on the surrounding stones, said, “When did he die?”

“You don’t really want to know that,” Byron warned him.

Suzu turned her gaze to Walter and smiled tightly. “Eighteen ninety-two,” she said. “August the second. He fell from a tree while trying to catch a robin.”

“You mean nineteen ninety-two,” Walter said.

“No, she doesn’t,” said Byron.

“But that’s impossible,” Walter argued. “That would mean she was over a hundred years old.”

“I told you that you were going to be even more confused,” said Byron. To Suzu he said, “Where’s Miriam?”