Sloane’s fingers tightened on her glass almost imperceptibly. I knew she understood that weakness intimately.
“Besides, if it’s only the three of us,” he said. “This secret could stay safe for years and years to come. Who else would possibly know?”
The sweetest sound in the world hit my ears. Sirens. With my own confident smile, I raised my hand and beckoned behind me. “Henry?”
I would never, ever forget watching Henry step into this room with Delilah close behind.
“Good evening, Bernard,” he said.
The glass of whiskey shattered on the floor.
Bernard was effectively speechless; anger turning his face red, then purple. He made a move to rise from the chair, but Henry held up a finger.
“I wouldn’t,” Henry said. “This time I did call the authorities.”
There was a loud banging on the door as police sirens invaded the small space.
Henry slid his hands into his pockets. “Ah,” he said. “That would be them just now.”
46
Abe
We had two minutes, maybe less. Bernard stood, hands shooting out for something—probably a weapon—and Delilah snapped, “Don’t.”
Bernard paused, eyes scanning the room.
I leaned forward in my chair—made sure I captured Bernard’s frantic gaze. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” I said. “But the four people standing in front of you are not villains. And I intend to personally guarantee that you spend the rest of your life in prison.”
He visibly paled, shaking. Henry strode right up to him, confidently. Still calm. “Thank you for making me complicit in your crimes, Bernard. If you hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t have met Abe. Wouldn’t have become a private detective. Wouldn’t have met my fiancée.” Henry lowered his tone. “And if you hadn’t made me complicit, I wouldn’t have fucking found you. What did you say to me that night? It’s only a crime if you get caught?”
Police officers shoved their way in—all of us stepped back, hands in the air. Except for Bernard, who suddenly looked as small and cowardly as he truly was.
“Looks like you got caught,” Henry said.
“That man is Bernard Allerton,” I said loudly to the first police officers storming in. “He is a known international suspect for theft and forgery, among many other things.” Bernard’s hands were wrenched behind his back as he was cuffed. His confidence had been drained away, replaced by a sputtering, nonsensical babble. He was afraid—possibly for the first time ever.
The four of us were shoved backward by officers, through that narrow hallway and out into the bookstore. The scene had transformed into pure pandemonium; sirens wailed, and London police filled the room, with paramedics tending to Peter and the guards. Like sleepwalkers with concrete around our ankles, we slipped out the door and onto a street rapidly filling with people.
“Henry,” I started, turning toward him, seeing his determined expression as he watched authorities fill the store. When he finally gave me a wide, joyous smile, I could only grip his shoulder and hope he understood how deeply I felt in that moment.
“I’m glad you were there,” I finally said.
“I’m glad we were all there,” he replied. The squealing of car tires had us spinning around—a slightly disheveled Freya and Sam stumbled from a taxicab just as Bernard was walked out of Adler’s Bookshop in handcuffs, surrounded by police officers. The look on his face as he saw us was cold, righteous fury.
“Oh… my… god,” Freya said.
“Sir?” Sam said, staring.
“Please meet Bernard Allerton,” I said wryly.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Freya wheezed.
Next to me, Sloane entwined our fingers, squeezed tightly. Peter and the guards were next, also in handcuffs. “I’m guessing you called your father?” I asked.
“He got in touch with Interpol when I told him about Julian and Birdie and whatever might be happening here,” Sam said, still staring in wonder. “He knows we think that man is Jim Dahl.”
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Freya repeated. Delilah hugged her from behind, the two of them watching the scene with wide-eyed wonder.
“Are you going to make the next call?” I asked.
“Do you want to?” Sam asked, taking out his phone.
I shook my head, looped my arm around Sloane, and pulled her hard into my body. “I’m good, actually.”
The five of us watched as former Special Agent Samuel Byrne dialed the Deputy Director. The second the man answered, Sam said, “We got him, sir.”
I couldn’t read the expression on Sam’s face once he hung up. “Well?”
Sam grinned, crookedly. “He said he was extremely pleased at the outcome.”
“Which is basically your father’s version of awarding you a medal of honor,” Freya said. On tiptoe, she grabbed Sam’s face and gave him a smacking kiss on the cheek.
“We all have a role to play in ensuring justice is being served,” I said. “It just so happens that Codex is better at that than most.” The answering smiles of my team collided against my chest, melted the remaining ice around my heart.
“And Julian and Birdie were taken into custody with the help of whoever Sam’s dad called,” Freya said. “Once we give our statements, we can name James Patrick and Eudora as well.”
“Word is traveling fast,” Henry murmured. As Bernard stood, hands cuffed, amidst the red-and-blue lights, a large crowd of people were gathering, which was a form of punishment for Bernard in and of itself.
“It’s Society members,” Sloane said. “Someone must have alerted them. And is that—”
But Sloane didn’t finish, too busy striding off toward a sweet-looking older lady wearing a conservative sweater set.
Eudora Green.
Although the look on her face as she took in the tableau in front of her was one for the record books—shock, terror, confusion. The second she saw Sloane, she turned and tried to run.
Sloane caught her immediately, dragging her by the arm to the police officer standing in front of us.
“Eudora, how lovely to see you again,” I said, giving a small bow.
“You?” she snarled.
“It’s important to cultivate true friends in this world,” Sloane told her. “Just don’t make friends with two private detectives sent here to put people like you in prison.” She turned to the police officer. “This woman was protecting and hiding the wanted criminal right over there.”
Eudora shrieked as the officers took her away for further questioning.
Sloane winked at me as she rejoined us. I pressed my lips to her temple. “Daniel and Devon’s final act of rebellion,” I said against her skin.
I clapped my hands together. “We need to go give statements. Call who we need to call. And then I’ll be buying the most expensive bottle of champagne I can buy for the team of detectives that caught Bernard Allerton.”
In the sea of swarming officers and yelling criminals and flashing lights, I watched my team’s final reactions in slow, beautiful motion. Freya turned to Sam, jumped into his arms. He spun her around as she laughed.