When they arrived at the Home Office, Barnabas and Hastings were in Barnabas’s office looking at maps of London Bridge along with several other men. Sir Barnabas waved them over.

“We expect they will try to blow the bridge here, here and here,” he said, pointing to areas on the map. “Philips”—he indicated one of the men—“is my best engineer. He tells me these are the weakest spots. Taking out these sections will effectively destroy the bridge. The damage will be irreparable.”

Simon took Demetriev by the nape of the neck and shoved his face toward the map. “Is that right, Mr. Demetriev? Is that where you’ve placed the powder?”

“It’s already in place?” Hastings asked.

“Yes, I suspected as much,” Barnabas said. “The Admiralty informed me this morning they had a large shipment of black powder go missing several months ago. Mr. Demetriev was just waiting for an opportunity to use it when Mr. Van de Berg came along.”

Demetriev began to laugh. “He thought he was being so clever to hire me to get his powder. And all along I use him. He and the whore set the powder and take the blame.” He frowned. “He couldn’t even do that right. He is huge failure.”

Barnabas handed Demetriev off to two other agents. “I will be there directly,” he told them. He turned back to Simon, Robert and Hastings. “I will get more information out of him and his compatriots, particularly if there are more targets, as well as the whereabouts of Van de Berg and Mrs. Gaines. But I want you two at the bridge. Start searching for the explosives. As soon as he tells me where he’s hidden them, I will send word. If we’re lucky we’ll find them ourselves.”

“We need as many agents as you can spare,” Simon told him. “The three of us cannot cover the entire bridge.”

Just then there was a knock at his door and his secretary came in. “Excuse me sir, but there are some…ladies here to see you.” His hesitation was odd.

“I’m an entirely too busy to see some ladies right now, Cranley,” Barnabas said.

His secretary disappeared, yanked out of the way by a woman wearing men’s clothes, dressed all in black. She was tall and thin, with a long, thin face to match. Her nose was sharp, and she had shrewd, dark eyes. Simon recognized her immediately as one of Mrs. Gaines’s assassins. The very one who had unmanned him in the alley with a well-placed kick.

She hadn’t even stepped into the office before several guns and as many knives were pointed at her. She put her hands out.

“I’m unarmed,” she said. “I come of my own free will, didn’t I?” A petite, rather bedraggled blonde pushed her way in front of the larger woman.

“Don’t kill her,” she implored. “I made her come. We’ve been at the constable’s house. It’s us—well, Essie, really—and a few of the other girls what’s been protecting the lady with the baby.”

“We come to tell ya they’ve rigged the bridge. They’re going to blow it early. Tomorrow, I think. Saturday,” the assassin said grudgingly. “Some of us, Linnie’s girls, I mean, we didn’t want to do what she told us. We didn’t kill them boys. We did other work for her, see? But now she’s got this idea in her head. She’s gone mad, I tell ya. Blowin’ London Bridge.”

Barnabas waved off the weapons pointed at them. “Who are you?” He pointed at the mousey blonde.

“Oh, I kept house for her,” she said. “The washing and cleaning and so on. But I didn’t want no part of this. And I told Essie she couldn’t, neither. It isn’t right, killing a lady and a baby.”

“What?” Robert said in alarm.

Simon put his hand on Robert’s arm. “They just said they wouldn’t do it,” he told him grimly. “And it appears they’ve prevented others from trying. She must be the one who saved Christy before. I believe we owe them our gratitude.”

“My sincerest gratitude,” Robert said, bowing his head respectfully. “Are you sure they’re safe?”

“Oh, aye,” the one named Essie said. “I left Cal in charge. No worries. Fat Linnie’s pulled all the others off anyways. Trouble’s brewin’. That’s why we come.”

“I swear we won’t let no harm come to ’em,” the little blonde said. “It ain’t right, hurting a baby.”

“There you go, Manderley,” Hastings said. “I’ve found your new nanny.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Robert scoffed. “It takes more to be a nanny than a lack of desire to kill the baby.”

“Watch what you say about my girl,” Essie the assassin said menacingly.” That brought the room to a momentary standstill. Essie was oblivious. “They tried to get you, eh?” she asked, pointing at Robert’s side.

“Bloody hell,” Barnabas exclaimed. “Someone fetch a doctor. Why didn’t you say something?”

“It’s just a scratch,” Robert said, gingerly picking at his bloody clothes to try to see the wound. “We haven’t time to worry about it.”

Barnabas pinched the bridge of his nose again. “Fine.” He took a deep breath, let go of his nose and looked around. “You.” He pointed at an agent in the corner. “Give Manderley your coat. You’re about the same size.”

The agent immediately stripped his coat off and came over and helped Robert off with his.

“You three.” Barnabas pointed at Simon, Robert, and Hastings. “Take her”—he pointed at Essie—“and go to the bridge. Find the explosives. Expect a large contingent of men to meet you there.”

“I can signal the rest of my girls to meet us there,” Essie said.

“No,” Simon said sharply. Essie clearly didn’t like that. “How are we to tell the good from the bad?” he asked, indicating her clothing. “You all dress alike. I’d hate to kill a friend and not a foe.”

Essie’s expression cleared. “Aye,” she agreed. “I see the problem.”

“We will start in the middle of the bridge and work our way toward the South Gate,” Simon said to Barnabas.

“I will have my men spread out and report to you as they clear sections,” Sir Barnabas said. “Go.”

“What about me?” the blonde girl said.

“You?” Barnabas looked at her in consternation, and then he grinned. “You are indeed the new nanny. Go to the Manderley’s and stay there until this is over. If you recognize any of your friend’s former associates, let my agents know.” He snapped his fingers at one of the agents. “Take her and stay there. Send word if there’s trouble.”

In the carriage on the way to the bridge, Simon watched Robert closely. “Stop worrying. Christy and Christian are in good hands. They have more people watching over them than the king at this point.”

He wasn’t going to admit he was worried, too. But his sixth sense wasn’t telling him anything today. That could mean everything was going to turn out well, or it could just mean it was taking a holiday and who knew what was going to happen.

Essie sat in the corner, warily eyeing them all. “Cal’s still there, watching the house for ya. And I killed the two what had the best chance of killin’ ’em,” she offered helpfully. “The others are still just learning, although Dorcas can throw a knife through a pig’s eye from fifty paces. But she doesn’t have the arm strength to slit a throat yet. But a baby—”

“I highly recommend that you be quiet for the next few minutes,” Robert said softly. “I am trying very hard to remember you are not the enemy right now.”

Essie crossed her arms and stared sullenly out the window. “Fine,” she muttered to herself. “Try to help a body and this is the thanks I get. Probably swing for it, I will. A pretty little bum led me astray again.” She shook her head. “Do anything for my girl, won’t I? Ha! Well, next time she begs, won’t I say no? Yes, yes I will. No, I’ll say. I won’t do it. Won’t save nobody’s life who’s just going to gut me for it, no matter how good she tastes.”

“This is absolutely fascinating,” Hastings said. “I have never felt closer to, nor understood a woman more.”

“Do you know where they were planning to put the explosives, Essie?” Simon asked.

“Not really,” Essie said. “I wasn’t part of that plan. I heard some of the others talking, though. They were scared of it. They didn’t want to be the ones to do it. So I think it’s probably Dilly and Laura. They’s Fat Linnie’s favorites.” She pointed at Hastings. “Dilly’s the one what tried to gut you when you snuck into the house.”

Hastings swallowed and put a hand on his stomach. “Yes, I remember the delightful Dilly.”

Carriage traffic around the bridge was congested as usual, so they got out several streets from the gate and ran the rest of the way.

“They were originally going to blow a ship under the new bridge,” Simon said. “And one of the women we caught said they needed a ship, that they were very worried about getting a ship.” He looked over the side of the bridge. There were several crafts waiting their turned to pass under the bridge.

“Don’t be daft,” Essie said. “You’ve got to blow the supports. Everybody knows that. I think they’ve got several little boats filled with the stuff.”

At her words, Simon and Robert just looked at one another. Simon felt like a fool. “Of course,” he said. “The supports. Why are we up here? We should be down there.” He turned to Hastings. “Stay here. When the others arrive, send them down.” Hastings nodded.

Robert grabbed Essie’s hand. “Come on,” he said pulling her with him. “Let’s go find your old friends.”