Page 58 of An Honorable Deception
“We don’t need words.” Yates turned a bit, inviting Barclay into the room. “What we need is a crew, and it sounds as though you have one. And according to Rabbit”—he’d summoned him the moment he had Lavinia safely locked away—“you have the best one in London. He says your gang is the only one that can move among the ‘rich blokes.’ Is that true?”
Amusement flickered onto the man’s face. “If he means ‘and get away with it,’ then yeah. True enough.” As if a switch had been flipped, his eyes went glinting and his face hard. “This about the Empire House?”
Yates nodded.
“Bringing it down?”
“Like a house of cards, if all goes according to plan,” Lavinia said from where she sat on the floor, surrounded by scattered dossiers and case files.
Barclay’s gaze flicked down to her, back up to Yates. “Then I’m your new best friend.” He finally entered, pushing off the doorjamb and moving into the room with the kind of silent grace Yates had learned from the Caesars.
His Cockney wasn’t as noticeable as Lucy’s. If he weren’tso tired, Yates would have noted that straight off. He’d have been willing to bet this fellow hadn’t been born and raised in Poplar.
But this Barclay’s history was irrelevant unless it would help with the case. “Here’s what we’re dealing with.” Yates plucked a few sheets of paper from the reams of notes Lavinia had already taken and spread them onto the desk for Barclay to review. “We have our primary case—a woman named Samira, currently being held at the Empire House, but who may well be moved in the morning. We need to follow her, if she is. Free her.”
Barclay nodded. “Track and snatch—I usually work with gold and silver, but we can grab a girl in this case. Will she put up a fight?”
Would she? He had to think not, at this point. “Shouldn’t.” He tapped the next sheet of paper. “Technically, that would solve our case. But we’re not letting this go. Hence the shopping list.”
Barclay picked it up and whistled. “This kind of equipment costs a pretty penny.” He quirked a brow. “Defineshopping.”
“By the dictionary. We’ll provide the funds.” It hurt to even say it. The cameras were about the only reasonable thing on the list—add in the rest and Alethia’s retainer would be nearly used up. Especially if he charged the meal at Kettner’s to the company’s tab.
Lavinia must have detected the pain. “My list, my treat. Consider it my entry fee into the organization.”
He should argue—but frankly, he couldn’t afford to. He covered the discomfort of it with a grin aimed at Barclay. “In that case, go wild. She’s loaded.”
That mix of amusement and danger flitted over his face again. “Rich ladies aren’t as bad as rich gents. Most of thetime.” He jerked his chin up when he met Lavinia’s gaze. “Lucy said you gave her the necklace. She’s generally too sweet to lie, and she knows better than to bite the hand that saved her life, but...” He paused, frowning.
Yates glanced over to see why. She was taking off the matching bracelet and holding it out. “Vin. Seriously.”
“Hate to break up the set.” When Barclay didn’t reach for it, she levered onto her knees and set it on the desk. “Our circle is doing this, Yates. Stealing women and children from the places meant to help them. Snatching them off the streets to feed their twisted appetites. Because they know very well they can hide behind their wealth, that it will protect them.” She swallowed, her larynx bobbing. “I won’t be that kind of person. That bracelet means nothing to me, but it could help feed that little girl.”
“And her adorable band of ragamuffin family members besides.” Barclay picked it up, but it didn’t vanish into his pocket like the necklace had in Lucy’s. He tossed it up and down, not taking his eyes off Lavinia. “The job—your plan. It involve the bobbies?”
“Not in the way you mean,” she said, sitting back on her heels. “Though a few of them are on that other list in front of you. Our suspects.”
“Targets,” Yates corrected.
“Marks.” Barclay grinned. “Learn the lingo, mate. And good—I don’t fancy getting pinched. More, wouldn’t do any good. Probably quite a bit of harm to the women involved, actually.”
Yates lowered himself to the desk chair. “How so? Not that we’re involving the police—but out of curiosity.”
Barclay set the bracelet down again. “Didn’t imagine you had any cause to know the prostitution laws, but they’re designed to protect upstanding folks like yourselves fromthe ‘nuisance’ of women making their living from the streets. So say Sally or Sue is brought in by the bobbies because she waited too long on a corner for an omnibus and turned to ask some bloke if he knew when it would arrive—the bobby doesn’t need evidence. Just has to say she was being a nuisance, and she gets locked up for a few weeks, her kids go hungry, and now she’s got an arrest record. Know what that means?” He leaned forward, tapped a finger to the desk. “Means she’s now labeled a common prostitute. And the next time she steps out for a loaf of bread, well, she better be sure not to jostle anyone in line or look at ’em crosswise. Because now she’s got that label, she can be brought in for anything.Anything. More time in jail, kids going hungry again. Most likely, the job she found at the factory or washroom is gone. So now what? Whatcanshe do but resort to the thing she was accused of?”
Yates shifted in his chair, rather regretting the question. If Hemming ever realized he’d had his daughter present during a conversation on this particular subject, he could only imagine the consequences.
Barclay straightened again. “The johns, they don’t need to worry. Especially if they’re gents seeking a bit of diversion. It’s technically illegal for them to participate in the trade, but it’s only the women arrested for it. The blokes can be caught in the act and given a shake of the head. And the pimps?”
Yates winced and snuck a glance at Lavinia. He really, really shouldn’t have invited this conversation. Though with a bit of luck, she wouldn’t even know the word.
Barclay was the sort to notice the reaction, but he didn’t seem to care. “That isn’t even a crime. There’s no law in England making it illegal to force a woman into that situation, or to find the johns to use and abuse her.”
“What?” Lavinia surged to her feet, fury in her eyes. “You mean to tell me what these men are doing isn’t evenillegal?”
Barclay shrugged. “That part, technically? No. You could try for kidnapping, but that would never stick for the girls Lucy said were there. White girls like you, sure. They’d care. But ones with darker skin? Who don’t speak English so fine and proper?” He looked as disgusted as Lavinia had sounded, and as Yates felt. “It would never stick. And we know it ain’t the kidnapping bit that’s the real crime. The patrons, now—again, technically illegal. But no one prosecutes them for it.”
Lavinia gripped the edge of the desk. “We’re going to stop them. These men, at least. And thenyou,” she said, turning a look on Yates so slicing he had to wonder what he’d done to deserve the cut, “are going to change the law.”
