The Complete Adventures of Victoria Neaves & Romney

by Michael White

  “My dear!” said Vaillant, his raised voice drawing concerned glances from several of the tables nearby, “You must not talk like that! Look at what you have. A lovely house. Your sense of humour shines through all of this adversity. I will hear no more of this nonsense!”

  “Very well.” she said, still holding onto his hand. “Then why is it that I feel as if I am doomed?” She paused before falling into silence, staring off into the distance once again.

  ***

  The grandfather clock in the hall struck the last chime for midnight as Romney heard a key turn in the door and the door swing open. Lights from a vehicle in the drive flashed across the semi darkness of the living room and then faded away up the drive.

  Romney leapt to his feet and walked into the hall frowning where Victoria was stood hanging up her coat.

  “What chime do you call this?” he asked, pretending to be angry, “It is after midnight you know!” Victoria smiled at him as he began to fade and then the voice was back in her head, blood bound and clear as a bell.

  “Oh Romney.” she laughed, “Do not be such a spoilsport! Randolph and I had a wonderful evening.”

  “I see.” He said, “So it will perhaps be happening again?”

  “I suspect so.” she said, “Though I thought it auspicious to wait until after our meeting with Sir Charles Churchgrove. Heaven only knows what will happen there.”

  “Very well.” said Romney sulkily, “Perhaps I should take up a hobby then. Stamp collecting maybe, or it could be that my talents place me more in the realm of Lepidopteristry perhaps?”

  “Lepi what?” she laughed, throwing herself down into her armchair.

  “Butterfly collecting.” he sighed, “All those pins though. I feel it may bring out the worst in me.”

  “I hope not.” she said, “Unfortunately the Inspector had no more information with regards to the government inspectors on Horsell Common, not that I thought he would. These officials tend to play their cards very close to their chests.”

  “I’ll say.” he said. “So we have plans to make before Monday and little time to make them in. May I suggest that you retire now? I shall put a few things in place and we can look at them in the morning.”

  “Don’t you ever sleep?” she yawned.

  “You know perfectly well that I don’t.” he said. She rose from her chair and walked to the hall. Shortly after she lay in bed, sleep threatening to overwhelm her.

  “I will see you in the morning.” he said. Part of their nightly routine.

  “Jurium.” he laughed, giving her the edited command that Hugo Topping had gave her that had made her computational engine cease to function, rendering her unconscious.

  “Lollipop.” she said instantly, giving the now edited response instead of the intended command which was meant to shut her down. She smiled in the darkness. It was a nightly ritual now. She never failed to be surprised that it always made her fall to sleep with a smile. She closed her eyes and twenty seconds later she was fast asleep.

  ***

  Victoria’s cruiser class Zeppelin released itself from the docking tower and began to rise quickly into the air. The rapid ascent of the zeppelin was deliberate. Victoria had no intention whatsoever of flying low over the village. There had been far too much of that already she thought, and so she rose to a thousand feet and then programmed the on board Babbage device with the coordinates of their intended flight. Slowly the ship turned south and began to increase its speed.

  “The final approach to Westminster requires security protocols level A1.” said Victoria, ‘I can request them as we draw closer.”

  “Security against potential Luddite incursions.” said Romney. “Three hundred people slain in the last explosion according to the newspapers. Security has gone through the ceiling now.”

  “I imagine so.” she said. “Now. The meeting. We have to make several assumptions I think. Sir Charles Churchgrove is no fool, and as the Admiral’s visit has shown the government has advanced technology that even I with my raised security level of cloud access was not aware of.”

  “You mean they can hear me, boss.” he said and she nodded vigorously.

  “Assume that they can at all times. It is best to proceed that way rather than be surprised. The only concern I have is what other tech do they have hidden away?”

  “No way of telling.” he said. “So best not to worry about it.”

  The ship continued to accelerate across the countryside, clouds scudding past the cabin portholes, the viewscreen of the cockpit showing that below them the countryside was thinning out as London drew nearer.

  “Twenty minutes until arrival.” said Romney. Victoria was sitting in the cockpit but she was not having to guide the ship at all, the guidance engine being completely automatic.

  “I see Viktor has only managed to replace ten of the fifteen seats.” she said. Her butler had taken up Feng Shui and had decided that the cruiser was much more harmonious with just two seats instead of seventeen, pilot and co-plot included.

  “He obviously found it harder to put them back in than to take them out.” laughed Romney, but then his voice became serious again.

  “What did you tell Viktor?” She did not reply for a moment or two, instead gazing out at the ground racing past below them.

  “I told him to stay put and wait for us.”

  “What did he say?” She smiled.

  “He wanted to know how long he was to wait for.”

  “I see.” said Romney, “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him for as long as he was able.” she said. “His response surprised me I do have to say.”

  “What did he say?” asked Romney.

  “It wasn’t just what he said.” said Victoria, ‘It was the sadness on his face really. He said that waiting for as long as he was able was a very long time for a vampire, but nevertheless he would wait that long if he had to.”

  “He used the “V” word?” said Romney in disbelief.

  “He did.”

  “Well now.” said Romney, “There’s a thing.”

  “It certainly is.” she replied, Mister Boot just said, “Urgh.” as usual of course, and Fanelda was busy with sheets or something. Mister Tibbs is still destroying the slugs in the garden so it seemed rude to interrupt him. He seemed to be enjoying himself a great deal.

  “You sound as if you are saying your goodbyes.” said Romney sadly. “Surely it is not that bad?”

  “Not that bad?” she spat, suddenly angry. “Look what they did to me last time. Just look, Romney! Half of me is a machine!”

  “I know.” he said softly. “Listen, boss. Nobody knows more than me. They changed your blood group just to try and get rid of me, remember?”

  “Yes. They knew you were blood bound and so took a hammer to crack an egg.” she said, calming herself. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to become angry.”

  “It’s okay.” said the demon. “You’re scared. It’s understandable.”

  “Yes.” she said. “I am scared. Despite vowing that they would never get their hands on me again, it seems they can draw me back in whenever it is convenient for them.”

  She settled back into silence and the ship crossed into London airspace, the zeppelin aimed at Westminster like an arrow to its target. They were ten minutes from arrival when a voice chimed up in the cockpit speakers.

  “Unknown craft. Identify please.” said the voice,

  “That’s early.” said Victoria telepathically to Romney. “Security protocols normally are five miles from target. Not this far out.”

  “Looks like they have tightened them up as we suspected.” said Romney.

  “Identify please.” came the voice back on the speaker. “You have five seconds to comply.”

  “Wow. Impatient.” said Romney, “Best send them the idents. Luddites must have their cages well and truly rattled.”

  Victoria pressed a button on the console and a code imprinted in the telegram was transmitted by the comput
ational image. There was a brief pause then the voice came back through the speakers.

  “Identify confirmed, Ms Neaves. Please proceed on current path. Automatic docking instructions with the Zeppelin tower will be relayed on arrival.”

  The ship drifted closer into the centre of London, the large docking towers all around them now, the steam engines and Babbage controlled airways clogged with traffic, some small four person ships, others large cruisers, much bigger than Victoria’s. Buildings rose through the smog, tall funnels and offices climbing into the sky until ahead lay the heart of London. As Westminster drew nearer the automatic approach and docking system took control of her ship and the slow descent to the Westminster Zeppelin tower began. As the ship began to descend the smog of the city rose to meet them, air filters instantly activating in the zeppelin’s as sensors detected the sudden change in air quality. Through the mist glimpses of the House of Commons and Westminster Bridge could be seen. caught (or similar, too many glimpses). Already the docking was running under automatic control and so Victoria rose and sat herself on the seat nearest the hatch, waiting for it to open.

  “Don’t forget, Romney. They will almost certainly be able to hear you.”

  “Okay boss.” he said. Victoria thought that even he sounded nervous, if that was possible. There was a slight bump and after a minute the hatch dropped open and she stood. At the end of the ramp stood two automatons, heavily armoured and bristling with weaponry. They moved forward and stopped, half turning to face each other as if she was being given an honour guard off her ship. She walked down the ramp and from inside the building a tall man strode towards her, extending his arm as he drew close. Victoria stopped and shook hands with him.

  “Miss Neaves I take it?” he said and Victoria simply nodded.

  “And you are?” she asked politely, to which the man looked flustered.

  “Sir Charles Churchgrove.” he smiled, shaking her hand even harder. He was yet to release it and so she pulled her hand back and broke his grip. “I do beg your pardon. I am rather too well acquainted with everyone knowing precisely who I am.” His large waxed moustache bristled as he examined her closely. Victoria decided that she did not want him to relax just yet.

  “Actually I know exactly who you are.” she smiled., “I knew you on sight. After all, you are one of the more prominent members of the cabinet, are you not?”

  He nodded dumbly, looking terribly confused, as if he was unused to being scrutinised so.

  “Just that there is never any excuse for bad manners now is there, Mister Churchgrove?”

  Ignoring the slight to his title he waved her into the building and she found herself following him along busy corridors before finally coming to the doors of a wide lift that were being guarded by two more automata. They entered the lift and Churchgrove pressed a button. The lift began to rise rapidly.

  “You can find out how important this guy is by how high the lift is going to ascend.” said Romney.

  “Oh we are going to go all the way to the top.” said Churchgrove, confirming to them both that he was using the same synaptic device that the Admiral had been wearing.

  “Do you always meet your guests yourself?” asked Victoria in an attempt to change the subject.

  “Absolutely not.” he smiled as the lift stopped and they exited into a large circular office, the dome being constructed entirely of glass. Below them the smog of London broiled like a dark, ugly mist, and above the sky was colourless and worn looking, despite the sun shining down brightly on the dome. There were several members of staff working around the periphery of the dome, and again two more automata guarded the lift, but apart from that they were alone. Churchgrove guided her across the room and sat her down in front of a small coffee table upon which were two cups and a tea pot.

  “Sit down and make yourself comfortable.” he fussed, “I have already taken the liberty of preparing some tea for you.”

  “You made the tea” asked Romney and the minister paled.

  “Of course not.” he smiled, “I just sent an instruction to a member of staff.”

  “I thought so.” said Romney and Victoria smiled as the minister began to pour tea.

  “So what assistance can I give you Sir Charles?” she said. “I am a busy lady so I would be obliged if you would get straight to the point.”

  “I see.” said the minister as he passed her a cup of tea and then poured one for himself and sat down. “Very business-like.”

  “I find it is mutually beneficial to get to the point when talking to the agents of the crown.” she smiled, “It saves time of course, but above all it saves confusion too.” To her surprise Churchgrove began to laugh.

  “I was told you were very precise.” he smiled.

  “Were you now?” she bristled, “Well I imagine that there is an awful lot of information about me here for you to peruse if you were predisposed to do so.”

  “Of course.” he said, a certain air of irritation in his voice. “In fact, there is a certain train of thought that runs along the lines of the idea that you are more or less government property in the first place. You would after all be dead if her majesty’s government had not stepped in and saved you by rebuilding your body. You were shot several times I read.”

  “Of course.” said Victoria, sipping at her tea as if it might contain poison. “But then you have to ask the question as to whom shot me in first place. I think you will find if you read into your files a little further that that was the British government too.”

  “I don’t think this is getting us anywhere.” sighed Romney and Churchgrove nodded. “Though I would say minister that you need to tell us what you want, and why you want it now. You have left us alone for a few years now.”

  “Indeed.” he said, placing his cup back down on the table. “A shame you did not take what Mister Smith of the assassin’s society told you to heart. I think his opinion was for you to keep your heads down and stay quiet. Yet you proceeded to engage yourself in cases of counter criminality on almost a weekly basis, your reputation growing and growing until now you are in the unhappy position of bringing yourself to the government’s attention once again.”

  “I was merely trying to earn a living.” said Victoria, but the minister held up his hand to stop her.

  “Please Miss Neaves. Do not take me for a fool. I think the funds that you procured from Mister Prentice, your previous manager here when he met his unfortunate demise are more than sufficient to sustain you indefinitely.” he said, “I suspect that working the cases that you have you have done for many reasons. I do suspect however that funding was in any way one of them.”

  “Perhaps.” she smiled, “But what my primary concern is will stay between myself and Romney. I will admit however as to being less silent than perhaps I should have been, for which I can assure you I will make a very real effort to rectify.”

  “Oh I doubt it.” said Churchgrove, “Once a detectorist, always that way I suspect. It is however something that her majesty’s government and yourself could mutually profit from on an occasional basis.”

  “You want me to work for you?” she asked.

  “Only on an infrequent basis.” he said, “I would doubt if it amounted anything more than once or possibly twice a year. The government would demand exclusive access to your services of course.”

  “And the alternative is?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Well that is not something that I think you would be stupid enough to want to find out.” he said, “After all, you are a product of Queen and Country, are you not?”

  “Possibly.” she smiled. “So what is it you want me to do for you, Sir Charles?”

  “Ah.” he said, “Now what makes you think that we have a job lined up for you already?”

  “Because you will want to make sure I comply.” She said, “So what is it I can help you with?”

  Churchgrove sat back in the chair and picked up his tea again, taking a sip from it and looking at her closely ov
er the rim of the cup. She did not break his gaze and she saw him look away after a few seconds.

  “Tell me Miss Neaves.” he said, “Have you ever heard of the Abbot Bowthorpe Dependables?”

  “The what?” she asked.

  “The Abbot Bowthorpe Dependables.” he smiled.

  “No.” she said. “I have no idea what you are talking about. I think Abbot Bowthorpe is a small village some twenty miles or so from where I live but that is all that I do know.”

  “Resist the urge to connect to the cloud for a moment.” he said and she forced herself not to check for any entries on the Dependables. She thought it odd that he said that, for she was about to check the cloud for information when he told her not to. “The Abbot Bowthorpe Dependables were originally a division of the British army and have been since the early seventeen hundreds. Their major has always been a member of the Corrigan family, the family seat of whom is at Abbott Bowthorpe. Corrigan Hall, in fact.”

  “I see.” said Victoria, “And what has the incumbent Corrigan done to upset her majesty’s government?”

  “Why, miss Neaves!” laughed Churchgrove, “What on earth do you think he has upset the government?”

  “Because I wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t.” she said sweetly, “It is what I used to do, remember?”

  “And did it very well too.” said the minister. “You are quite correct. Major Corrigan, the eighteenth in line has disturbed her majesty’s government somewhat.”

  “What precisely are the Dependables?” asked Romney.

  “When the army disbanded the Corrigan’s regiment, the then current Lord Corrigan, the sixteenth I believe, sought permission to take his regiment for himself. A private army if you like.” Romney whistled loudly.

  “I bet that didn’t go down very well with the powers that be.” he laughed.

  “Not so.” said Sir Charles. “He was granted the request. Inspections were initially held and the Dependables were restricted to never more than a force of twenty men. This Major Corrigan could continue to drill his men and so on without ever being of any source of concern to the government at all.”