<br/><br/>Black smoke choked and coughed from the chimney stacks rising from the rooftops in the chilly morning air. The cool morning temperature congealed them and they hung thick  in the sky. Tess stood in the tower window and searched above them. Nothing, yet it was still early. She snapped shut the brass looking glass with a swoosh-click and holstered it into the garter around her thigh. The arrangement of the chimneys gave the impression of a menacing grin. She tugged at her sheer off-white stockings with a military precision, perfunctory and precise. If this were to be done, she considered, it must be done well, without flaw, quickly and seamlessly. She paced about the conservatory, her senses honed by the adrenaline that pumped through her veins. She stopped before the mirror.<br/><br/>"<em>Well turned out, I must say.</em>" Her hair hung straight and sleek over her shoulders, light ashen blond like gossamer; she was fortunate that very little was required to keep it. She wore nothing beneath the red velvet corset that cinched her narrow waist. Her eye travelled down taking in the black cord that zigzagged between the halves. A narrow view of her naked but tanned body was visible from her cleavage to her navel; view of the cross hatched skin bound snugly under the lacings that pressed into her skin were a deliberate device and one that had always served her well. The layers of crinoline, velvet and tulle were arranged artfully, each exposed in some measure. Sheets of red and ecru draped by degree to form the long slender sweep of her gown. The front fell shorter than the back showing her heavy boots.  The sweep of the hemline was fashionable and functional. Her gait could quicken without need to lift her skirt.<br/><br/>Tess slipped the cap and goggles onto her head, picked up her long leather buttoned gloves and crossed the room to the oddly shaped brass plumbing that descended from the ceiling; a conduit that led from the cistern on the roof. She tucked the gloves under her arm and, turning the valve, filled the tankard. Taking it and the small leather satchel, she left for the motorcar. Waiting there was no longer an option. She filled the steamer’s tank and cranked the gears into motion. She set off for the alley behind the shop. As she worked the gears, she felt the pinion tucked tightly into the hand sewn pocket of her bodice follow her motions. It was her bargaining chip should things not go as planned.