“I’m honestly not sure if we should bother looking for the needle that is Mr. Demetriev here, or just sit on the Royal Ordnance at the Warren and catch whoever shows up and tries to steal the explosives,” Simon said, looking at the busy dock that stretched out in front of them.

“I have a feeling that it’s too soon,” Robert mused. “If it were me, I’d steal the explosives at the last minute. Too soon, and you’ve given fair warning. We may suspect something, but if a large cache of explosives were to suddenly go missing from Woolwich, then we’d know, and double our efforts. And then we’d have the full support of the Army and the Navy to back us up. No, Mr. Van de Berg and Mr. Demetriev and their conspirators are biding their time and planning. They know the explosives aren’t going anywhere.”

“Hmm,” Simon said. He didn’t sound convinced.

“Well, how would you do it?” Robert asked.

“I would take the opposite approach,” Simon said. “I’d steal the explosives months or even years before I needed them. Then I’d store them somewhere safe until it was time. After the rush and intensity of the initial investigation, as long as I wasn’t found out, interest would fade, and by the time of the attack no one would be looking for me or my explosives any more. I could just walk in and blow up whatever I pleased.”

“Which is exactly what they had planned originally,” Robert said in appreciation. “Perhaps we are not dealing with amateurs after all.”

“Not completely, no,” Simon said. “My guess is that Van de Berg has some experience in the intelligence game or the military. As for Demetriev, I can’t say. But he’s Russian, so anything is possible.”

“Demetriev was a last-minute substitution for the original plan,” Robert reminded him. “I wonder if he knows he’s going to be an unfortunate casualty of this scheme?”

“Because naturally Van de Berg needs to kill any witnesses,” Simon said.

“Naturally,” Robert agreed.

They walked along in companionable silence for several minutes, looking for all the world like two gentlemen strolling along the wharf with no pressing business, curiously looking in windows and watching the stowadores. There were actually quite a few people down on the docks doing exactly the same thing. Robert suspected they were hoping to catch even the tiniest breeze off the water in the heat of the day. He couldn’t recall a hotter summer in all his years.

Simon drew his share of attention but didn’t even notice it. Robert supposed he must be used to it. He wore a honey-colored jacket and matching vest with a white shirt and matching white cravat tied in a simple, loose knot in a concession to the heat. The jacket complemented his blond hair beautifully. Robert was proud of himself for refusing to study Simon’s trousers with such detail.

“Do I pass inspection?” Simon asked, clearly amused. They had stopped to look in the window of an import business and Robert met Simon’s gaze in the reflection.

“Yes,” he said simply.

Simon chuckled and turned to walk on. “No wonder you and Christy get along so well,” he commented. “You are evenly practical with your words.”

“Do you require more words?” Robert asked, unsure of himself. “I’m afraid I am not very good at wooing. You may ask Christy. I am better at simply stating the facts and then logically moving on from there.”

“No, I do not require more words,” Simon said softly as several people passed them on the sidewalk. “Not from you. I have had too many empty words from people who did not mean them and did not care.”

Robert tipped his hat to a lady, trying to act like this was a normal conversation. “I care.”

Simon set his walking stick on the sidewalk in front of him in an exaggerated movement and then lifted it again as he walked by. It was a jaunty sort of move that made Robert smile. “Now those were not empty words,” was all he said in response, but Robert knew what he meant was that he cared, too. He didn’t need a codebook to decipher Simon.

“So what exactly did you mean when you said you had a great deal to teach me?” Robert asked at last. The possibilities had been driving him mad. He had some rudimentary knowledge of the baser physical acts, but not enough to even imagine doing any of them with Simon or Christy. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to, to be honest. So far everything they had done had seemed honest and true. He had no desire to destroy that between them with foolish and unsatisfying mucking about.

“A better question would be, what do you want to learn?” Simon countered.

“I’m not sure,” Robert said. “I liked what we did last night. It seemed natural and genuine.”

“Genuine,” Simon said thoughtfully. “Yes, that’s a good word for it. I like that.”

“What I’m trying to say is that I don’t want to do anything that doesn’t feel the same way.”

“I think that has more to do with us and our feelings than whatever physical acts we are enjoying,” Simon told him.

“I don’t want to do anything that will hurt Christy. Physically, I mean.” This was one of Robert’s greatest fears.

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Simon asked. He looked around and then guided Robert off the sidewalk to quiet spot near the edge of the wharf by the water. “I would never hurt Christy in that fashion.”

“I know. At least not knowingly. But if we were to do something you hadn’t done before—”

Simon interrupted him with a disbelieving snort of laughter. “Sorry, sorry,” he said. “It’s just, if I haven’t done it, no one’s thought of it yet.”

Robert tilted his head, staring at Simon, not laughing.

“Oh, dear,” Simon said. “Not funny, hmm?”

“No,” Robert said. “It’s not that. It’s just…that doesn’t bother me. It should, shouldn’t it? That you’ve so much experience. And yet, I don’t care. Just as I didn’t care that Christy carried another man’s child when I fell in love with her. It’s as if nothing in the past matters once you’re—” He’d been about to say mine, but then the presumptuousness of it hit him and it stuck in his throat.

“Once I’m what?” Simon asked. Robert didn’t answer, too embarrassed now to say it aloud. “No? Hmm. I’m quite sure I would have been interested to hear that.” He looked back at the street. “I’m in an awkward situation,” he confessed after a moment of silence. “We have been intimate, and yet I don’t really know your boundaries or preferences on language when it comes to sexual acts.”

He glanced briefly at Robert, and Robert saw him blush. This conversation was as difficult for him as it was for Robert. Good.

“Just speak as you would be spoken to,” Robert said. He was rather relieved because it would give him a chance to learn Simon’s preferences, too.

“All right.” Simon shot his cuffs and straightened his cravat. “We can fuck, you and I. Do you know how?”

He looked right at Robert. It took a moment for Robert to realize he was waiting for confirmation. He nodded.

“Good. It can be uncomfortable at first, but it definitely has its rewards. Christy can also be fucked the same way.”

Robert’s eyes grew large at that.

“Never thought about the tit for tat, eh? A lot of men don’t.”

“Well, I suppose it is logical,” Robert said, considering it.

Simon laughed. “Indeed,” he said. “So let your imagination run wild, my dear. Take any one individual act, say me sucking your cock.” The last was said in a soft, intimate voice. Robert had to lean in to hear him, and his eyes darted up to meet Simon’s heated gaze. “I could do that while I was lying down, with you over me, and Christy could ride me, fuck me, at the same time.”

Robert’s breath was getting a bit shallow. It was a good thing it was so hot out or people might notice how overheated he was becoming.

“Or I could fuck Christy and you could fuck me,” Simon suggested. Robert had difficulty swallowing as he imagined it. “And last, but not least,” Simon said, building up Robert’s anticipation, “We could both fuck Christy at the same time, one of us in her delicious cunt, and one in her very pretty bottom.”

Robert had to put a hand on the nearby railing for support.

“So you see, my dearest, darling, innocent Robert, if you want to learn it, I can teach you.” Simon whispered the last in his ear as he walked by, heading back to the sidewalk.

Robert wondered how he was supposed to walk when he had an obvious erection. It took him several minutes of staring out at the water and thinking about the gruesome details of the murders he’d been investigating before he could turn and follow Simon.

He didn’t have far to go. Simon was just a few doors down, leaning against the corner of a warehouse, observing a building across the street. “Do you see what I see?” he asked. Robert looked.

“Demetriev Imports, Limited,” Robert read off the window. “There can’t be more than one down here.”

“Perhaps in St. Petersburg, but not in London,” Simon agreed. He straightened and started walking toward the warehouse.

“Where are you going?” Robert asked, following him.

“I’m going to speak with Mr. Demetriev,” Simon said.

“And you think he’ll just give you the information we seek?”

“I am ever hopeful in situations such as this one,” Simon said, winking at him. “Isn’t that what you said? We’ll start with this and hope it works, and if it doesn’t we’ll just have to find another way to get it out of him.”

“Hope springs eternal,” Robert muttered.

“Exactly,” Simon said cheerfully. He stepped through the open door into the dusty and overly warm empty offices of Demetriev Imports. “Greetings,” he called out. “Is anyone here?”

A young man came out of a back office and closed the door behind him. “Yes. Good morning. Can I help?” He had a thick Russian accent, although his English was rather good. He sounded quite nervous.

“We are looking for Mr. Demetriev,” Simon said pleasantly. “Is he in?”

“May I inquire who is asking after him?” the clerk said, trying to be very formal.

“Mr. Gantry and Mr. Manderley, presently with the Home Office.”

At Simon’s introductions the young man’s face turned pasty white. “I will see if Mr. Demetriev is available,” he said in a mumbled undertone as he backed into the office door behind him and opened it just enough to slide through into the back office.

Robert turned to Simon, and they looked at one another for a second. “Well, that wasn’t suspicious at all,” Simon said.

“I believe I have to disagree,” Robert said. “Sorry, old man, but I found it most suspicious.”

“Well, then the best was to settle this is to go in there and see what they’re up to, I suppose. We can’t be arguing about it all day.”

“I couldn’t agree more. I would find that most irritating.” He waved a hand in invitation in front of him. “After you.”

“No, after you,” Simon said, imitating Robert by waving his hand in invitation. “You are the constable.”

“This is true,” Robert agreed. “And I do believe I’m younger.” At that, Simon pushed in front of him.

“Age before beauty,” Simon muttered as he passed. Robert was about to protest when he realized it was a compliment, and he grinned in spite of the circumstances.

Simon didn’t knock, he simply opened the door and walked in. It was clear he’d taken the room’s occupants by surprise. The young clerk was holding a satchel that was half full of papers, and a man behind a large desk currently held a large pile of papers in his hands which had obviously been destined for the overfilled satchel.

“Well, how do you do?” Simon said. “You must be Mr. Demetriev. And I assume those papers must contain information on your misdeeds. I do love it when villains do all the work for me.”

“I win,” Robert joked as he took a step toward the desk, intent on apprehending the ridiculously inept Mr. Demetriev. The sudden, sharp pain in his side came just a moment before Simon’s shout of “Watch out!”

Robert grabbed the hand holding the knife in his side as he spun around. The pain caused his vision to waver, but he gritted his teeth as he faced his attacker. He’d expected another one of Fat Linnie’s assassins, so he was surprised to encounter a rather large Russian fellow who did not look inept at all. As a matter of fact, when he pulled back his fist, Robert was relatively sure the Russian had very good odds of winning this particular fight.

“Use the knife,” Simon called out to him. It was enough of a distraction to delay the Russian long enough for Robert to pull the knife from his side and, ignoring the searing pain, slice it out in front of him. He didn’t connect with his opponent, but he did make him jump back out of the way, giving Robert some room to breathe and assess the situation.

Simon was engaged with another Russian on the other side of the room. The clerk was in an unconscious heap on the floor, and Mr. Demetriev was gone.

Robert and his opponent circled one another, but Robert realized he was trying to gain access to the door, clearly so he could escape. That was unacceptable. He’d only be another asset to Demetriev if he did. For all Robert knew, he was a necessary part of Demetriev’s escape plan.

He stopped and feinted a lunge, staying out of reach of the Russian’s long arms. As the Russian went to grab him, Robert spun out of the way and shoved him with a well-placed kick to the posterior. It was a move Thom Longfellow had taught him. He cried out in agony as fire spread from the wound in his side. The Russian stumbled and went head first into the corner of the ornate desk. He fell down and his head slammed into the floor.

Once he was sure the Russian was down, Robert turned, intent on helping Simon. But Simon had his opponent in a choke hold and the poor man was turning blue.

“Don’t kill him,” Robert said, panting. He put a hand to his side and was dismayed to feel how bloody it was. This jacket was ruined. He sat down on the edge of the desk.

Simon immediately let the Russian drop to the floor. “Are you all right?” he asked. He looked as if he might be sick.

“I’m fine,” Robert said, fairly certain he was right. He held up the knife. “It’s not very large and he didn’t get a good thrust in.” He winked at Simon.

“I cannot believe you are making tawdry jokes at a time like this,” Simon said, sounding a bit on the edge of hysteria. “He could have killed you.”

“Yes, but he didn’t. Come on.” Robert stood up, ignoring the pain. “We’ve got to catch Demetriev. I don’t think these idiots will be able to tell us much.” He limped over to the door, took the key out of the lock and held it up for Simon to see. “I’m always amazed how many people simply leave them in there during the daylight hours when they are in residence.” He shook his head. “Let’s lock them in for now.”

Amazingly enough, when they came out of the office it was to find Demetriev waiting in a carriage on the corner for his associates. They each climbed in from a door on opposite sides of the carriage.

“Well, we meet again,” Robert said. Simon was uncharacteristically grim. “Let’s start over, shall we? I’m Mr. Manderley and this is Mr. Gantry, and we are both here as representatives of the Home Office. We’d like to ask you a few questions about your association with a certain Dutchman by the name of Van de Berg and, of course, about that little fracas in your office where your associates just tried to kill us.”

Demetriev pulled a gun from his satchel, but before he could fire a shot, Simon grabbed his arm and twisted it roughly. Robert heard a bone snap, and Demetriev screamed as he dropped the gun. Robert caught it in midair and gingerly unloaded it, thankful it hadn’t discharged in the struggle.

Simon let go of Demetriev’s arm, which hung limp in his lap at an odd angle. He yanked Demetriev’s head back, shaking him a little. The poor Russian looked as if he might faint.

“Don’t you dare,” Simon growled at him. “Not before you tell us everything we want to know.”

“I will tell you nothing,” Demetriev said in a quavering voice. Robert doubted his denial, which was weak.

“I know exactly where all the bones in the human body are located and how to break each one,” Simon told him menacingly. “Trust me, you will tell me everything I need to know, and quite a bit I don’t, by the time I’m through with you.”

“It doesn’t matter what I tell you,” Demetriev said with a smug smile. “You cannot stop it.”

“Stop what?” Robert asked, pretending more interest in his wound than in Demetriev’s words.

“What is happening. Not just here, but everywhere.”

That got Robert’s attention. “Everywhere? You’re planning to blow up multiple locations?”

Simon yanked on Demetriev’s hair to get him to answer. “Yes! Our movement will grow. Soon the world will burn and the proletariat will rise, displacing imperialists such as you and your king.”

“Oh, dear God,” Simon said in disgust. “Revolutionaries. When am I going to be free of them?”

“Where exactly are the explosives, Demetriev?” Robert asked.

“Where they belong,” he answered. Simon picked up Demetriev’s hand on his broken arm, making Demetriev scream. Then he snapped his little finger. Robert winced. Demetriev cried out.

“Try that one again,” Simon told him. He moved on to the next finger and held it, waiting for his answer.

“Where are the explosives?” Robert asked grimly, hating the process as much as he knew Simon did, but knowing it was necessary.

“They are already in place,” Demetriev said, his words slurring a bit.

“At the bridge?” Robert asked. Demetriev’s head swung around, and he stared at Robert.

“So we were right.” Robert looked at Simon, thinking. “They need a great deal of black powder to blow the bridge. I doubt they have enough as of yet to blow it, much less another location. They only have the explosives from the ship.”

“Let’s take him to Barnabas,” Simon said. “He’ll get answers. We need to get your wound looked after, too. Then we can go and inspect the bridge.”

“Why would you already have the powder on the bridge?” Robert asked, something bothering him that he couldn’t put his finger on. “If you don’t mean to blow it until next week, it seems foolhardy to risk the explosives so soon. A stray spark could set them off. A good rain could ruin them, although the weather is on your side right now, that’s true. But still, after all this planning. And you have a limited supply of explosives.”

Demetriev looked smug and calculating even through the pain, not the look of a man whose nefarious plot had been foiled.

“You’ve already stolen more explosives,” Robert said, the light dawning. The victorious look on Demetriev’s face said it all.

“Damn it, man, let’s go,” Simon said, throwing open his door and dragging Demetriev out of the now-driverless carriage. “We haven’t a minute to lose. We have to tell Barnabas.”