The Body at the Tower - By Y. S. Lee Page 0,3

accident”.

“And the Agency…?” asked Mary. Things were falling into place now, but after jumping to one conclusion, she was reluctant to make other assumptions.

“We’ve been asked by the First Commissioner of the Parliamentary Committee of Works to inquire into two related matters: the first is to monitor any gossip or anxiety about Mr Wick’s death. We may pick up information that Scotland Yard is unable to uncover, simply because we’ll be on site in an unofficial capacity.”

Mary’s skin tingled at the word “we”. She had the prospect of becoming a full-fledged member of the Agency in just over six months’ time.

If she worked hard.

If she continued to improve.

If Anne and Felicity so decided.

“As for the second matter, the new Commissioner of Works is concerned by the high rate of accidents on the building site, coupled with the fact that the tower’s construction is grossly behind schedule. This is the kernel of the hysterical mention of “ghosts” and a “curse” in that scandal sheet: apparently, some say that a man killed in the original fire of 1834, the one that burned down the Houses of Parliament, haunts the site in ghostly form. This rumour seems to have been absolutely fatal to site discipline.

“The Commissioner finds this impossible to investigate formally, of course: no man he interviewed would confess to believing the story of the ghost; but it still seems to be at the heart of the matter. But he also believes that having someone ‘on the ground’, so to speak, would be useful. Perhaps a superstitious belief in ghosts has delayed the works. Or, alternatively, perhaps the men are in no condition to report to work; perhaps they are flouting safety practices, and the foremen condone it; perhaps…” Felicity made an eloquent gesture. “Much is possible.”

“And our knowledge of building practices is limited,” said Anne. “For that reason, I was extremely surprised when the Commissioner approached the Agency.”

Mary was startled. “He didn’t know…?”

Felicity shook her head. “No. The fact that we’re an all-female agency is still very much a secret.”

“I’ve always wondered, Mrs Frame: how do you manage to keep that secret when you meet with clients?” Mary asked the question timidly. Felicity was generally more forthcoming than Anne, but perhaps this was too nosy – a look into the inner workings of the Agency.

Felicity grinned again. “In several ways. We correspond by post a great deal; in meetings, Anne or I sometimes appear in the guise of a clerk or secretary representing the head of the Agency; and, when required, I make a rather convincing man.”

Mary bit back a gasp. Felicity was tall and curvy, with a beautiful and distinctly feminine face. Picturing her in a cravat and beard required more imagination than Mary possessed. Surely Anne Treleaven, a thin, austere-looking woman in her middle thirties, would make a more plausible man?

“To return to the point,” said Anne, “the job requires an agent who can pass unnoticed on a building site; however, we know very little about its practical realities.” She paused. “We could, I suppose, have declined the assignment…” The look she shot Felicity was ripe with meaning.

“But we didn’t,” said Felicity firmly, “for a number of excellent reasons I shan’t enumerate now. The point is, no grown man could plausibly work on a building site without a trade or any general experience. And it would be exceptionally difficult for a grown woman – me, for example – to pass as a teenaged apprentice. The difference in costume between a gentleman and a working man is quite unforgiving.” Felicity sounded wistful.

“The Agency has no expertise in exclusively male environments,” said Anne quietly. Again, that current of tension flashed between the two managers.

Felicity leaned forward. “We’ve two choices: to post an agent near the building site – for example, working in a neighbouring pub or shop, or selling food on the street; or to find an agent who can pass as a relatively young boy, beginning his first job as a builder’s assistant.”

Mary blinked. “I see.” And she did – perhaps rather more than she wanted. There was a strange, hollow feeling in her chest that she didn’t care to analyze.

Anne leaned forward and fixed Mary with a steady gaze. “Before Mrs Frame goes into further detail, I shall ask the usual question: do you wish to learn more? Or will you decline the assignment?” It was disconcerting how Anne sometimes read her thoughts so accurately. “You may take a day to consider.”

Anne’s gentle tone – the more remarkable because