Mina Wentworth and the Invisible City by Meljean Brook Page B

front page. He deepened his voice and read the headline. “The Wheel of Death.”
    Mina burst out with a laugh, shook her head. The girl’s lips parted. Her brow furrowed.
    Rhys narrowed his eyes on her. “Did you see it?”
    After a short hesitation, she nodded. “When Geordie opened the workshop shutters, there was something like that behind him. It resembled an influence machine—a big one—with pedals on the inside instead of a crank. But I don’t know if it’s the same.”
    “Perhaps not, but we’ll go have a look.” Mina tapped her fingers against the side of her coffee cup, as she always did when she was thinking. “Anne, could an influence machine that large power a rail gun?”
    “If there were layers of spinning disks building up the electrostatic charge, instead of just one,” the tinker said. “I couldn’t see if there were.”
    “That’s all right. I’ll look for myself soon enough.” She looked to Rhys. “Did Redditch ever mention who was providing the automatons for Percival Foley’s spark-lighter manufactory?”
    “No. But you’re thinking that’s motivation, too.”
    “Yes. If a bill prevents factories from fully automating their systems, the inventor loses money, too. That’s reason to kill Redditch.” Her brow furrowed, and her gaze sharpened on his face. “And you, too.”
    “What?”
    “Foley was under the impression that you were supporting Redditch’s bill. Others might be under that impression, too.”
    Ah. She was afraid the Wheel of Death might come for him. “I’ll be fine.”
    Sudden worry darkened her eyes. “Avoid any routines. That was how they killed Redditch—someone knew exactly where he’d be and when, and then got access to the location. Be careful when you leave the house.”
    He couldn’t stop his grin, and after a moment, Mina was laughing with him. Rhys reached for her hand, brought it to his lips, and pressed a warm kiss in the center of her palm.
    “Go on, then,” he said. “Do your job. And come back.”
    “I always will,” she promised.

Chapter 6
    In the daytime, they were less likely to lose their tires again, but Mina still had Newberry double-lock theirs after he opened the police cart’s valves and quieted the engine. Birdcage Alley didn’t quiet. Noise from the nearby road leading to the Borough market and London Bridge underscored hammering metal, the screech of sawblades. Wilbur the Reacher’s workshop was but one of many in the Alley—but the only one that didn’t have a curious metalworker or two standing at an open-fronted shop. The one-level building appeared boarded up, shutters closed and the storefront locked.
    Mina pounded her fist on the door, listening for noise from inside. She tilted her head. There seemed to be something  . . . but she couldn’t be certain if it were from inside or one of the nearby shops.
    She backed up, studied the building. Wilbur the Reacher built automated machines for factories, but something of that size wouldn’t be loaded through the front doors. “Let’s have a look around the back, Newberry.”
    Though not wide, the workshop extended far into its lot. On the side, small, barred windows were set high in the walls, too high to peek through. Wide, doubled doors opened to a narrow lane that circled back round to the Alley.
    “The loading area, sir,” Newberry said.
    Mina nodded. She pounded on the metal doors, heard no response. Shuttered windows on either side of the doors were probably opened during the heat of the day. Was this where Anne had seen Geordie? She searched for signs of a scuffle, but the cobblestone lane hadn’t left much evidence for her to see.
    “We’ll go back to the side windows,” she said. “You can give me a boost up so that I’ll at least have a chance to look through—”
    She broke off. A faint noise came through the doors. Click click click.
    Unease ran in a ripple up her spine. “Do you hear that, Newberry?”
    “I do, sir.” He moved smoothly