by Karl Fish
‘If you would be so kind, Wilson, it would mean a lot.’ Gideon smiled.
Wilson Bott agreed and made his way back downhill to begin his thankless task amongst the town folk.
‘Elizabeth, I know you are worried. But perhaps you could still go to school. It may be the best place to canvas the other pupils. If Eric owes them money, they’ll be quick enough to help find him or even give him up,’ Gideon suggested to her.
Reluctantly, she also agreed and followed closely behind Wilson Bott back down the Steep. Once out of sight, Gideon drew his two friends closer.
‘Nelly confirmed that car took a girl. It could be Aggie, it could be Gemima, or it could have been all of them. But she was certain she saw a girl with dark bobbed hair. That could be Aggie.’
‘She’s getting on a bit, old Nosey. You sure she can see that far in the dark? Why should we trust ’er?’ Pop challenged back.
‘Why wouldn’t we? She has nothing to gain,’ Gideon explained forthrightly.
‘So, Pop, you were saying you have a plan and I’m involved,’ Noone said. ‘What am I, bait?’
‘Not quite bait, Mr Noone, no. But your expertise will certainly come in ’andy.’
*****
The leader of the men, cloaked in long leather, removed his gloves and shook Brain Louds’ hand.
‘A fine display, sir,’ the man wheezed softly.
‘Much appreciated, Heir Tuchhandler,’ Louds acknowledged. ‘Any news on the girl? Rumours serve to advise us of the mark of the moon.’
‘Ahh, yes. My informants are closing in on her,’ Tuchhandler advised. ‘I trust that if we deliver her then the negotiations remain as agreed?’
‘As long as you commit to your side of the bargain,’ Louds confirmed.
Tuchhandler clicked his fingers and his man produced a patent leather briefcase. They clicked open the double locks and presented two sets of envelopes.
‘Perhaps Ms Erket can help you translate.’ Tuchhandler grinned.
Louds removed both envelopes. Opening the first was an ordnance map of the Egyptian deserts and beyond the Suez Canal. Lands he knew well. To the bottom right of the ordnance, was a black stamp of an eagle carrying a banner with a Red Swastika at its centre.
‘All are guaranteed by the Fuhrer,’ Tuchhandler advised pointing to a scribbled signature beneath the eagle. ‘If we deliver the girl, we shall retain control of Suez and shipping. You shall only receive entitlement to the secretariat of antiquity and the monuments at Giza. Do you understand, Mr Louds?’
‘Perfectly.’ Louds smiled back.
Suddenly, two car lights lit all of the men up as they stood there negotiating. All of Tuchhandlers’ men drew small long-barrelled pistols and aimed at the vehicle.
‘Halt!’ Tuchhandler advised as the car screeched across the gravelled drive to within feet of them.
The driver alighted and opened the passenger-side door. The woman in the zebra-skin coat sauntered out. She clip-clopped across the crunching stone underfoot towards the men.
‘Guten adend, Sabine. Or is it good evening, Jennifer?’ Tuchhandler smiled.
Sabine Erket, Jennifer James or even Jennifer Erket as she was now known, acknowledged him with a confident smile to her former handler. She whispered into Brian Louds’ ear to which he chuckled sinisterly.
‘It would appear we only require a single envelope after all.’ He laughed.
Erket clapped her hands and the driver removed the young girl with the black bobbed hair and carried her past the on-looking men.
‘The fact remains we still require a demonstration on a significant number of civilians. Not cats,’ Tuchhandler insisted angrily.
‘And so, you shall,’ Erket confirmed before turning her back on him. She followed the driver into the Institute without so much as a second glance.
‘The gods have been kind to us!’ Louds shouted, raising his hands to the moon and stars and laughing uncontrollably.
Tuchhandler and his entourage returned to their cars.
‘Two days, Louds!’ Tuchhandler bellowed. ‘You have two days.’
Chapter 46
The search
The route from the British Museum to Whitehall had become increasingly convoluted during the past year as ‘Thunder Machines’ and their incendiary devices had decimated large swathes of central London in an attempt to quash the government. It was early morning now, the dew glistened against the greenery of the royal parks as daybreak was upon them.
Zigzagging slowly up The Mall, between barbed wire and wooden blockades, Thompson and Belle sat in the lead car as behind them a coach full of twenty-or-so previously reliable men were being escorted under the hidden armed-guard of Smith and Jones. Of course, the men were ultimately civil servants of ‘the Executive’ and were advised the meeting due to take place in Whitehall was of national importance, which, in all truth, it was, but not as they would understand it and not as Thompson’s bait.
Approaching Buckingham Palace and winding left towards Victoria, they would soon find their way to Wink Waverley’s hidden office at Number Seven where they hoped to understand the deception at the heart of their leadership. Or at least stop the disease from spreading – any further.
‘Are you sure you want to be part of this, Belle?’ Thompson asked her for the umpteenth time. ‘If you’re having second thoughts there is a six a.m. train to the coast where you can connect to Ambledown and track-down Gideon and Nathaniel.’ Thompson was obviously trying to persuade Belle to take a different path.
‘I’ll consider it if all else fails,’ Belle curtly replied.
‘If all else fails, you won’t have that as an option. We may be tried for treason.’
*****
As the German entourage departed, Erket ordered her chauffeur to carry Gemima Peabody into Institute Silvera.
Brian Louds was both agitated and excited. He spoke at speed, jumping from subject to subject.
‘Dr Mialora will reward you all well,’ he promised them all. ‘When do you obtain the birds?’ he would suddenly shout at the orderlies. But before they had time to answer he was pestering Erket again. ‘It is really her? After all this time?’ he followed and prodded Gemima’s body. ‘I insist you prepare her yourself,’ he directed to Erket.
Cautiously entering the hidden rear doorway, the one used to introduce Professor Malcolm just days before, Louds led the way. He paused before entering and berated his orderlies once more. ‘I want nothing from you but those birds. Do not return without them,’ he ordered.
Instead of directing his remaining cohorts straight on to the tunnel, which led to the hospital where the operating theatres resided and the patients convalesced, or even taking them to the double-mirrored doorway that led to the Professor’s laboratory, he led them to a solid stone wall where flanked along the walls equidistant torches were lit and naked flames flickered gently.
Mr Louds walked many paces at speed, he abruptly turned, pressing both palms and forehead on the stone. Slowly using his body weight, he pushed the wall back to reveal the hidden entrance.
Erket was surprised. She had visited the building many times and never been privy to this secret chamber.
Louds took one of the wall torches and encouraged people to follow him. Leading the way, he was followed by the chauffeur and the small girl while Erket took up the rear. A downward set of stone steps led to a room shrouded in darkness. As they waited, Erket sensed Louds move to the centre of the room, where he cranked a chain pulley by hand.
From the ceiling of the room they were in, which linked directly beneath the Professor’s laboratory, a hidden panel slid effortlessly to link the rooms together. The early morning light streamed through from the prism situated above. The light blue of night in its final fade, and the crimson red before sunrise lit up the room as its impeccably polished stone reflected each ray.
In the centre of the room, a humongous matt black oblong, honed from a single rock, dominated the room. It was where the sacrifice was
to be staged. Where the girl would be offered to the gods.
*****
Wilson Bott had managed to wrangle a few local men. It was daybreak and the hordes of local women destined for the Ambledown Ale factory would soon be making their cautious, slippery, descent of the Steep for a twelve-hour shift. Bott was not confident he could corral enough people to search for Eric Peabody, his younger sister Gemima, and the troublemaking newcomer Agatha Chatsmore, particularly as Lady Huntington-Smythe had made it well-known that the newest evacuee had assaulted her daughter almost immediately upon arrival. Admittedly, that had endeared her to a fair few local residents but the power the lady held in influencing local society, particularly via the Woman’s Institute, was more than a match for Bott’s laid-back persuasion.
Meanwhile Elizabeth Peabody was trying her hardest to cover as much ground as she could. Her effortless endeavours led her through alleyways and hidden smuggler passages, Eric’s usual haunts until she found herself at the bottom of the hill near school.
‘Gem! Eric!’ she hollered as her throat grew hoarse. ‘Please, any of you, Gem, Eric! AGATHA!’ she continued. Her shouting was enough to awaken many disgruntled residents.
From within their hidden prison room, deep within the school, Agatha and Eric’s ear pricked up at the sound of friend and sister.
‘At least someone’s looking for us,’ Eric mumbled through the cloth gag that made it difficult to both breathe and swallow.
Agatha attempted a smile but her restraints were equally as tight. She looked forlornly upon the contorted Sister Harvey who hadn’t moved a muscle since the scorpion venom had overwhelmed her immune system. She was breathing, shallowly, but Aggie was not sure for how long.
As Elizabeth’s cries faded, the faint, muffled voice of Governess Dove could be heard. Aggie scoured the room with only her eyes. To the right of Eric’s waist, as he laid propped against the wall, hidden beneath the table where Dr Beckworth had previously examined her, she saw the brass cover of another air vent. It was discoloured, rusted over, much like the one hidden in the Sister’s classroom.
‘Eric, Eric,’ Aggie mumbled, catching his attention.
She glared towards the vent, with an unblinking stare, and nodded until Eric realised what she was suggesting. He squirmed and wriggled like a pupa trying to break free from within a cocoon and alight from its mundane shell into a glorious air-bound creature of innumerable colours. Alas, no such manifestation for the young Peabody. Instead his efforts were rewarded with a bump to the head as he lurched beneath the table. At first, he used his cheekbone to try to move the vent, he slipped and it scratched deep into his facial muscle where scarlet red ran down his face and dripped below his chin. Angered by the injury, he thrashed about, expelling most of what little energy he had until he wriggled through one hundred and eighty degrees and presented the soles of his feet to the tiny brass knob. He couldn’t move much but his tiny pneumatic hammering of the vent edged it a centimetre to the side so that the air flowed and with it, Dove could be heard with clarity.
‘Taube, they have the girl. Repeat, they have the girl,’ came the man’s voice through the crackling static of the radio.
‘Nein, Tuchhandler. Nein. I have the girl,’ Dove replied.
‘You are certain? Can you be sure? Over. I saw a girl with black bobbed hair being carried into the Institute just hours ago.’
Eric looked back at Aggie, they both realised instantly it was Gem.
‘It is the wrong girl. She does not carry the mark of the moon,’ Dove replied.
‘Then I shall come to retrieve her. Over,’ he replied.
‘It is far too dangerous Tuchhandler. Not in the daylight. People are already looking for them and strangers will raise suspicions.’
‘Then I will send for her tonight. Over and out.’
With that, the crackling stopped, Tuchhandler’s voice disappeared once more, and the familiar click and closing of the radio as it was hidden behind the bookcase was heard. A faint knocking was heard and through the corridors came a distant call to the governess.
‘Miss Dove? I say, Governess Dove?’ came the softly spoken voice of the elderly lady.
Governess Dove composed herself and walked the long corridor to the school entrance. Opening the door, she was greeted by the smiling face of Nelly Parker.
‘Mrs Parker, how lovely to see you. Now, what can I do for you at such an early hour?’
‘My sister is missing. Sister Harvey. She usually meets me every Monday morning to tend the graves. Have you seen her at all?’
‘Oh dear. Unfortunately, not. I’ve only just arrived myself. I’m terribly sorry. Why don’t you come in for a lovely cup of tea and wait for her here?’
‘That’s ever so kind. Thank you,’ Nelly replied cordially.
Elizabeth had been watching Nelly talk to Dove, hidden discreetly in an alleyway out of sight. As soon as Nelly entered, she noticed the door to the schoolhouse left slightly ajar. She crept cautiously towards the entrance and disappeared inside.
*****
‘This had better be good,’ Wink Waverley demanded as she stubbed out one of her ever-present cigarettes and left the surrounds of her burgundy leather-padded room.
‘I assure you, ma’am, it is imperative,’ Thompson advised her.
On leaving Number Seven, Wink spotted the coach parked down the road and a steady stream of men being escorted in pairs towards her.
‘These are the men on the list, ma’am,’ Thompson advised her.
‘What the hell are you doing bringing them to meet me?’ Wink asked aggressively.
‘You would never have met any of these men if protocols had been followed, correct?’ he asked.
‘Of course. And you are breaking all those rules the closer they get,’ she grumbled back.
‘Well, let’s see if they recognise you, shall we?’
Wink stopped in her tracks. ‘Do not forget your station, young man,’ she ordered, her good eye staring intently at him. Wink was no amateur spy and had more experience then Malling and Draper combined let alone the upstart Thompson. ‘I’ll play along with your charade for now. Then I expect a damn good explanation,’ she barked.
As Wink and Thompson approached, the men began to salute in acknowledgement – but not at them. Following their gazes, Wink turned and saw Colonel Malling lined up to greet them. He thanked them a pair at a time.
‘This is most un-flavoursome,’ Wink snarled. ‘With me, now!’ she snapped.
She entered a hidden door to the side of the street, ordering Thompson to follow, and marched him through a secretive labyrinth of corridors until they were magically re-entering the Burgundy room again.
Belle watched on from the car some distance away. If within an hour Thompson had not returned, she would be on the next train, travelling south. She sat in anticipation as the minutes slowly ticked away.
‘What the devil are you playing at, Thompson? You better start explaining yourself before I incarcerate you at His Majesty’s pleasure.’
Thompson slid his hand inside his inner coat pocket and produced the list. He placed it on Wink’s desk as he took a chair opposite her. In crossing his legs, his hand would be close to the hidden pistol at his ankle. He hoped with all his heart it wouldn’t come to that.
‘You may wish to turn to the final page, ma’am. It will be of interest to you.’
*****
Elizabeth, after sneaking in, hid behind the large Aspidistra and heard Dove in conversation with Nelly. Seizing her opportunity, she headed for Sister Harvey’s classroom. Neither Gem nor Aggie were there, which really was no surprise to her at all. She would have been surprised if Eric was anywhere near the school grounds he detested so much. Nevertheless, she took a moment to quietly scour the room and listen attentively to any creaks from the attic rooms above. She was certain that with the exception of Nelly and Dove, she had the place to herself. As she strolled around the room looking for any clues, though not really knowing what she was
looking for, a tiny splintering crack came from the sole of her shoe. Bending her foot outwards, it revealed a slither of glass. It was insignificant in many ways but nevertheless she knelt down carefully to search for more. Combing the floor with her hands in the light of the morning she found a few more slithers of glass and tiny fragments of wood. They appeared to be conjoined and suggested a broken frame or exhibit case of some description. She lay down and scanned the classroom floor. There was no obvious object that matched her thoughts but beneath Sister Harvey’s desk, the dark corner of fabric caught her eye. She shuffled over and edging it out carefully she found the charred corner and remaining crest of Priory colours. It was older, different to the badge now and its edges were singed in black and brown.
In the centre of the crest three initials intertwined in perfectly stitched calligraphy.
‘C S M,’ Elizabeth read to herself before leaving the classroom and taking the crest with her.
*****
‘I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable answer, Mrs Parker, and your sister will turn up soon. She’s usually up with the larks so I’d expect her by seven, not long now. Why not wait? Tea?’
Nelly smiled politely towards Governess Dove as she was poured a cup of morning tea.
‘Tell me, Mrs Parker. Has the school changed much since your time here?’
‘Yes and no,’ Nelly replied. ‘It looks very similar. And, no doubt, those malevolent Priory girls are still up to their old tricks. This room is almost untouched, from what I recall. I notice the new case though,’ she continued, pointing over Dove’s shoulder. Dove hardly batted an eyelid to this. ‘But I’m surprised the crest has gone,’ she finished, pointing to the recently removed framed Priory crest that, which left a clean mark from the dust, where it had been mounted for so many years.
‘How so? I’m so new to most of this any enlightenment gratefully received.’ Dove smiled back.
