Crystal Spyglass (Crown & Country Book 3)
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For three years, Gunjo has sat rotting in an East Angelian prison for stealing the Crystal Spyglass from the Royal Depository. Unable to locate the artifact, Queen Vittoria grants him a conditional release with the mandate–find the Spyglass or join his fellow conspirators on the gallows.
As time is running out, his contacts are dropping dead.
It will take a miracle to clear this case and find the Spyglass before East Angelia’s enemies discover it and convert it to the weapon of mass destruction it was designed to be.
Light started as a pinprick behind his eyes. Pain exploded and he reflexively shut his eyelids. A raspy groan rumbled in his throat. Gods, he felt like all the hells combined.
“Mr. Gunjo?” He recognized that voice, but hadn’t heard it in nearly three years.
The pain in his head caused a terrible nightmare to form. “I’m awake.”
“I’m going to untie your hands.”
Gunjo slowly opened his eyes, but the pain was too much and they reflexively closed again. “Agent Aldridge?”
“Yes.” Aldridge tugged at Gunjo’s wrists, releasing the restraints.
“Where am I?”
“In Headquarters hospital. The guard sent to get you was a little overzealous in his duty.”
“A little?” Gunjo managed to get one eye to stay cracked open. “Why did you send for me in the first place?”
Agent Aldridge had the expression of someone who feels guilty over something he has no control. “This can wait until you feel better.”
“Then give me something for the damn pain.” He lifted his hand and rubbed the back of his neck. At least they had removed the handcuffs. “I’d rather know what you want from me now than sit here wondering if I’m one step away from the noose.”
Aldridge straightened from the wall where he’d been leaning. “I’ll be right back. Do not try to escape. Menagerie agents guard the door.”
Gunjo waved Gideon Aldridge away and closed his eyes again. If the agent understood the level of pain, he’d not have felt the need to make threats.
A bit later someone shook his shoulder. He woke in a daze. Memories trickled back. The pain in his head had downgraded to a dull throb. Movement off to his right caught his attention.
“Dr. Sparks thought it more expedient if he gave you an injection of Morphine to stop the pain.”
Gunjo levered himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. Every bruise and bump inflicted by the guard ached. “Now, tell me why I’m here.”
Aldridge pulled a chair over and sat in front of Gunjo. “We, the Menagerie, need your help.”
Gunjo scoffed. “I’ve told you everything I know about Sir Simon’s operations. What happened after I was arrested has nothing to do with me.”
“This has nothing to do with Sir Simon. Well, only passingly so. When you broke into the Royal Depository you took an item—the Crystal Spyglass. We were unable to locate it when Sir Simon’s properties were raided and belongings seized.”
Now Gunjo laughed out loud. “It’s been three years. It’s long gone by now. His contacts on the continent would have seen to that.”
He’d been so stupid. So proud. Sir Simon had spoke of changing and challenging the world order. Gunjo had never subscribed to any of that nonsense. What he’d agreed to was to steal items from the city’s elite that were pieces of a weather machine. Where Sir Simon had wanted to shape the future to fit his ideas, Gunjo had only viewed it as an act of commerce. Too late he’d discovered that Sir Simon had meant to drag East Angelía into a war with Aveneaux, and even went so far as to blowing up the Wayfarer Bridge during the height of traffic, killing so many, and destroying the local landmark.
Agent Aldridge leaned forward. The bright white of his shirt stood out stark against his tan skin and jet hair. The cut of his suit jacket had come up a notch in the last three years. “Did he ever tell you what he meant to do with the item, or did you lift that of your own accord?”
“No, I suspect that was the entire reason he wanted me to go in, though he used the pieces of the weather machine as an enticement.” Gunjo scratched at his scraggly beard. No hair grew over the scars from the acid burns he received as a child. He’d not looked in a mirror in years.
“Did he ever tell you what the Spyglass does?”
Gunjo gave a rusty laugh. “You mean the mighty Menagerie doesn’t know? That’s rich.”
“Covington never told you then?”
Gunjo rubbed the back of his neck where a dull ache continued to throb. “Sorry to disappoint, but there was a lot Covington never bothered to tell me. I was his second-story man, not his confidant. He was my client, not my friend.”
Aldridge rose and walked to the other side of the room, stalking like the black leopard that lived inside him. “The Queen granted you clemency, but there are conditions.”
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