Chapter 8 – Exhamination

Soundtrack: Watching The Detectives – Elvis Costello

7th of September, 1890.

At five-thirty that morning, Constables Burns and Heyman were patrolling the Regent's Park when they spotted a small, elderly vagrant napping on a park bench in the Winfield House Gardens.

"Shall we wake her up?", Heyman asked.

"May as well," Burns replied, before shaking the vagrant awake.

"Dios mio," the old crone muttered sotto voce before realising who stood over her. "Wait; you're policemen, right?"

"That we are, mam," Burns replied.

"As I was falling asleep, I saw a group of people in black dress running away from the museum over yonder. Couldn't tell much else, due to the cataracts in my eyes."

Burns felt a lead ball sink into his stomach. "Joel, stay here. I'll take a gander at the place."

"Very well, er …", Heyman uncertainly replied. "Burnie?"

"Michael, actually," Burns noted in mild amusement before running off to Exham Museum's front entrance. Nary four minutes later, the grizzled constable returned out of breath.

"Burgled," he wheezed as his lungs drank in oxygen.

"Shall we call in Chief Inspector Arc?", Heyman asked. "His fiance works there, you know."

Burns considered it for five long seconds. "Aye. Get the examiners as well."

Heyman bustled over to a public telephone, dropped a pair of shillings into it, and began to dial.

Half an hour later, at least a dozen policemen and examiners were on site. They had narrowly failed to prevent a photographer from making a kodak of the crime scene and scarpering to Fleet Street, and the incomplete burglary of the exhibits proved utterly vexing to the boys in blue. And it was at this point that a rather annoyed Jaune Arc debarked from a hansom cab, as expected. But what none were really expecting was an even more annoyed Dr. Pyrrha Nikos to arrive on the scene as well.

"What's the situation so far, Burns?", Jaune started irritably.

"From what we've been able to piece together," Burns replied, "the burglars somehow abseiled onto the roof, broke in through the trap door, and managed to burgle the upstairs gallery. However, the lower one was incomplete – likely due to an alarm being raised or suchlike."

"One of the pressure alarms I browbeat my colleagues into installing," Pyrrha clarified in an unusually seething tone.

"Any idea who did it?", Jaune enquired.

"According to an elderly witness whom I interviewed earlier, a group of eight or nine people in black clothing carried it out. I couldn't get much else, owing to the fact that said witness was nearly asleep on a park bench and has cataracts."

"God damn it," Jaune growled, before remembering whose presence he was in and relenting. "Pardon my language. Pyrrha, could you help us by writing a list of the items these swines pinched? I'll have some plain clothes detectives keep watch on the black market for them."

"Of course, Jaune," Pyrrha tiredly replied. She quickly set to work on a notepad, while Jaune continued to coordinate the crime scene to the best of his sleep-addled abilities.

At seven-thirty that morning, Ruby had ridden pillion on Yang's motorcycle from Rose Hall immediately after breakfast with their combat garb and weapons donned, and were presently roaring down Abbotsbury Road, which harboured the front entrance to the Snow Castle. Pulling over at the gate, Yang flashed the card Weiss had given in the guard's face. Without a word, he pressed a button to open the gates, and Yang rode Bumblebee right up to the front door. To their surprise, Weiss and Blake exited the front door as Yang and Ruby got off their bike.

"Just the people I wanted to find," Weiss said with slightly forced cheer. "How does the morning find you, ladies?"

"We're fine now," Yang started, "but yesterday nearly went bad."

"How come?", Blake asked with concern.

"Vernal, the leader of the pirate crew that tried stealing the Autumn Maiden for Emerald and Mercury, sent two of her men to kidnap me," Ruby replied. "Thankfully, another huntress friend of ours came to my aid, and we sent them off to the police."

Weiss and Blake exchanged stunned, wild-eyed expressions, before turning to face the sisters with rather pallid faces.

"Well, we've just learned that this same crew will try to steal the Spring Maiden tomorrow evening at the South Greenland Docks," Weiss icily responded, which was met by Ruby gasping in surprise.

"If that's the case," Yang suggested, "there's no reason to fight them alone. Want us to help you with a plan to take them down?"

Weiss nodded quickly. "Absolutely. Blake and I actually were going to call in at your house for help with this matter before you two arrived. Blake, take our new friends to my meeting room; I'll need to tie up a few loose ends of business in my private office."

"Agreed," replied Blake with the faintest smirk on her face. As Weiss ran ahead, Blake calmly walked up the staircase with Ruby and Yang in tow, getting off at the first floor and walking down the passageway that led to the reception room. Blake full well knew that by loose ends of business, Weiss referred to the crossword within the Times that she regularly completed every morning before actually tending to her work. However, today was a different story.

As soon as Weiss arrived in her office and beheld the picture that adorned the front page of the Times, Weiss shook and shuddered with surprise. A tapestry within Exham Museum had been ruined by thieves who painted a sigil on it after stealing several items containing gold, along with about two thousand in sterling. It was unmistakably the same design painted on the gangway of the Autumn Maiden.

"Gott verdammt," the heir-apparent breathed.

At that point, Blake barrelled into the office, slightly out of breath.

"Weiss, your father just called. Urgent business concerning the Autumn Maiden. He wants you in his private office right now."

Weiss's eyebrows shot up. "Is that right? Demanding an unscheduled meeting is not like him at all. Still, it wouldn't do to keep him waiting."

Weiss turned towards the bookcase on her left side, then pulled the red binder in the very centre. The bookshelf moved inwards slightly, then slid to the left to reveal Weiss's private lift. It only stopped on one floor; the floor reserved for her father. It seemed such a trite indulgence, but her current office had jointly belonged to her father and her great-aunt when her grandfather built the manor in 1875 and began to lead operations there in his final years; it made sense for Margarethe and Johannes to have near-instant access to the top floor.

Opening the doors, Weiss ensconced herself within the gold-plated carriage, and pressed the higher of two buttons. The doors shut themselves pneumatically, and the verdant Dust circuits began their work. As the carriage ascended the three floors between Weiss's first-floor office and the proverbial bird's nest atop the Snow Castle, Weiss checked her appearance in the mirror opposite the doors. She looked immaculate, and yet determined. Good, she concluded while turning to the doors. Father won't nitpick over my appearance at all. The lift ceased its movement at that point; once the doors hissed open, Weiss pushed out the false wall in front of her and strode out.

This entire floor had remained unused since the passing of Nicolaus Schnee years earlier. Johannes, his successor, left it untouched whilst using his private study near his old quarters for private work. However, his advancing years, the loss of his absolute control of the company, and the robbery that Blake Belladonna pulled off last year had upped his paranoia to the point where he saw the sense in relocating his offices and quarters to an unassailable area, and refurbished the floor to his standards.

As a consequence, the suite Weiss entered was worth more in sterling than the Crown Jewels. The floor was marble tiled, the walls encrusted in golden light fixtures and oak panels between the rows of bookshelves, and the ceiling was a perfect replica of Michelangelo's efforts in the Sistine Chapel. There were two entrances to the left and right of the room; the door on Weiss's left led to the reception, where her father's secretarial pool worked and two lifts ended. The door to her right led to the President's bedroom, which was austere and totally bedecked in white; it also had a personal lift for servants, and for Weiss's mother when she didn't want to deal with the secretaries out front.

A large desk of mahogany took pride of place in the middle of the room, with six white leather seats arched around one side, and a white leather swivel chair on the other side. A pair of telephones sat on either side of the desk; the one on the right was solely wired to the head offices in Schnee Tower, while the one on the left was rigged into an intercom system. A top-of-the-line Analytical Engine sat on the right, while the left harboured stationery, paper and other utensils. There were no windows, which was both a safety feature and a blessing for the acrophobic man seated upon his throne.

If Johannes Schnee was surprised at a section of his presidential office wall opening, he hid it perfectly.

"Looking impeccable as always, Weiss."

"Nothing less for you, Father," Weiss evenly replied.

Johannes half-smiled at that.

"Thanks, my child." His expression settled into the stoic, measured gaze he was renowned for. "I take it that you're wondering why I summoned you here without advance notice?"

"Indeed, Father."

"I want you to take a look at this," he said while holding up the front page of the Times. "Does the sigil in the painting match the one that you and Miss Belladonna mentioned in your report on the Autumn Maiden?"

"It is the same."

The resultant reaction was the first time Weiss had ever beheld her father flinch. Eyes widened and mouth agape, Johannes looked positively haunted as he realised the implications at stake now. Against his want to protect his daughter from any retribution for his actions, he decided to employ a tactic he rarely used with her; complete honesty.

"Weiss, this … this symbol is known to me. It's the crest of a Hong Kong family I crossed paths with twenty years ago."

Weiss's eyebrows nearly jumped off her forehead; crossed paths with was her father's euphemism for destroyed, wronged and/or ruined, and therefore wasn't a surprise to her. His regretful tone, however, was a surprise – enough of a surprise to send Weiss's worst fears scurrying to the forefront of her mind. Weiss promptly decided that she was done with pretence and preamble at this point.

"Who were this family, and how exactly did they warrant your crossing paths with them?"

Johannes took a seat at this point, and began to pour a glass of claret while Weiss took the cue and sat opposite him.

"This will take a while to explain," he said softly. "Feel free to send Miss Belladonna in here to take notes; you'll likely need them to find any clues to our adversaries, and hopefully their weaknesses and capabilities."

Weiss hid the surprise of her father forsaking his legendary personal privacy physically, but not mentally. "Of course, Father. May I use the intercom?"

"Be my guest."

Weiss leaned to the left of her father, and called her own office.

"Yes, Mr President?"

"Blake, it's Weiss. Care to join me and the President in his private office for a spot of note-taking?"

A pause followed, broken by a mildly surprised reply. "I-if you say so, ma'am. Should I bring our … shall we say, expediters?"

The Schnees held eye contact for a second, before Johannes nodded twice. "Agreed. Tell them to sit within the office, but closer to the door to ward off intrusion. They are to remain silent unless spoken to."

"Of course. We'll be there presently, ma'am. Over and out."

Weiss returned to her seat, and asked the obvious.

"Out of sheer interest, Father, how come you wish for my secretary and two huntresses to hear your testimony as well? It's not like you to regale an audience with this sort of story, let alone trust them to keep it quiet."

"True," the older Schnee admitted, "but there is sometimes strength in numbers, and I know that you'll do anything to stop our foes in their tracks. As for the three women in your employ, I've long since heard from Strauss that Belladonna's more capable in sleuthing and skulduggery than anyone else on our books. And you've already said that Ms. Rose and Ms. Xiao Long proved invaluable when defending the Autumn Maiden."

"Fair enough," Weiss admitted. At that moment, the false wall opened again, and three figures emerged from it. Yang had Ruby's mouth pre-emptively clamped shut for her dignity's sake, while Blake led the way.

"Greetings, all of you," Johannes started calmly. "You did an exceptional job defending the Autumn Maiden, by the way, so allow me to extend my personal thanks."

"You're most welcome, sir," Blake replied deferentially with a slight bow, while Ruby and Yang smiled and said nothing in response.

"Feel free to take a seat, by the way," Johannes added lightly.

"As you wish, sir," Blake replied. While Yang and Ruby sat in the middle, thereby honouring Johannes's request, Weiss sat on Johannes's right, while Blake matched her on the left.

"Now, I take it the three of you noticed the front page picture the Times ran this morning?"

After two seconds, Blake's eyes widened and nodded; she'd connected the dots. Ruby and Yang, however, were not the sort who frequently read the more conservative papers, and consequently shook their heads.

"If not, then I'll tell you what was; the sigil that got painted on the Autumn Maiden was replicated at Exham Museum during a burglary. The Times got a picture of it, and that alerted myself to a business decision that I'd made when you were all but infants."

Blake instantly looked concerned, while Ruby became more curious than before. Even Yang's stock-in-trade irreverence was absent from her gaze.

"It happened just over twenty years ago, not a year after Nicolaus Schnee, my father, handed me control and oversight of our expansion into Africa and Asia – my first role of any autonomy or power in the company. I'd received word that China had several Dust mines in operation – none of which were controlled by our company. Desperate for answers as to why that wasn't the case, and even more desperate to become a success in my father's eyes, I decided to take a delegation to visit the city and help whomever was leading the technology expand both of our fortunes in the area …"

A/N: And we're leaving it there. Stay tuned next Friday for revelations a-plenty.

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