by Mark Gatiss
It is not in my nature to slap a woman, especially when she looks like a boiled hog’s head, but now was not the time for subtlety. I batted as kindly as I could at the poor soul’s ruined cheeks until she became once more sensible of her surroundings.
‘We have to climb, Mrs Knight,’ I hissed. ‘All of us. You too, Professor Quibble. It’s our only hope.’
‘What?’ he gasped from his resting place on the shuddering floor. ‘What is all this?’
‘We’re inside Vesuvius, Professor. I know it’s hard to credit but Maxwell Morraine’s deranged son has developed his theories into practical form and a great big bloody bomb has set off an eruption. You understand?’
He peered at me myopically and opened his mouth to protest.
‘You want me to leave you here?’
Quibble’s rat-trap mouth closed firmly.
From deep below us came a fearful rumble. I glanced feverishly about.
‘They’re moving!’ gasped Charlie, his fingernails jammed into the crack between the lift doors. ‘Come on! Put your backs into it!’
Slowly, the doors began to screech apart. Around us the electric lights studding the walls had begun to spark and sizzle. All at once, the doors gave and Charlie, Bowler, Verdigris and Sash hauled them apart. Inside there was only empty space.
I gazed up at the shaft, the chains from which the lift had been suspended swung uselessly, stirred by the hot winds from below.
‘We have to get on to those rungs,’ I cried. ‘Charlie, you go first. We’ll get Quibble up after you and I’ll push the bugger. Got that?’
Charlie nodded and swung himself up on to the first rung as another tremor hit and the shaft visibly rocked.
‘Keep going!’ I urged. Charlie, hanging by one arm, helped me to launch the shaking Quibble on to the rungs. Behind me came Verdigris and Sash, doing the same for the still-enfeebled Mrs Knight; the penitent Bowler brought up the rear. We climbed and climbed but Quibble’s ruined body became heavier and heavier. I pushed as best I could but his withered hands were struggling to support him on the hot iron rungs. My own arms ached fearsomely.
Chest heaving, I struggled on, Quibble’s useless legs dangling before me like empty stockings. ‘Must…get out, Professor,’ I gasped. ‘Can’t rest…Move!’
The old man was certainly game. Somehow, incredibly, we made progress. I craned my neck to see above.
‘Charlie!’ I called. ‘How far?’
‘We’re getting there!’ he cried.
Suddenly the lift-shaft shook again and there came a bizarre sucking, grumbling sound.
‘Don’t stop!’ I shouted. ‘All of you! Keep climbing.’
But I sneaked a peek down the deep shaft and saw that instead of the darkness we had left, there was now a dreadful fiery red.
‘My God!’ I cried hoarsely. ‘The lava! It’s rising!’
Far below (thank the Lord Harry), crowned by flame and smoke, a vast plug of molten rock was surging up towards us.
I swung my head up to yell at Charlie to help drag Quibble up but the words died in my mouth. The top of the lift shaft was only ten feet or so above us and looking down, holding my revolver, was Cretaceous Unmann.
‘You have a choice, Mr Box,’ he called down. ‘Jump down into the lava or be picked off by me.’
‘What the hell do you mean?’ I cried.
He loosed off a shot that sang off the ladder with a screeching clang. I heard Mrs Knight squeal in terror.
‘What I say. I offer you a choice of demises.’
‘Listen, you mad fool,’ I shouted diplomatically. ‘If we don’t all get to the surface in the next few minutes we’re going to fry! Is that what you want?’
‘You think I wouldn’t do it?’ he yelled. ‘You think I don’t have it in me to shoot you down?’
‘I have no doubt you have it in you.’ I cast a quick look downwards at the rising tide of lava. The figures of Sash, Verdigris, Mrs Knight and Bowler were silhouetted starkly against a curtain of blood-orange.
‘I’m only saying you will die as surely as the rest of us if you don’t move right now!’
‘But that’s what Venus wants! Death! Destruction! Annihilation! Ha, ha, ha!’
Another shot rang out and I heard Bowler scream. I looked down and saw him swaying on the rungs below, blood pouring from his throat. Then the poor fool was gone, spiralling down, down, down into the blistering lava flow.
‘Choose, Mr Box!’ screeched Unmann, his ripped robes flopping forward over the lip of the shaft.
The whole edifice shuddered again and I felt Professor Quibble begin to topple backwards on to me. I thrust out a hand and pushed him back but the walls were shaking so violently now that it was almost impossible to get any purchase on him.
I looked up and saw Unmann levelling the pistol at me. I was a sitting duck.
Quibble’s withered head turned to look down at me and a strange look flitted over his pallid features. I suddenly knew what he was going to do. I pulled myself tight to the rungs in order to present as small a target as possible and flinched as I heard Unmann’s shot blast out. At the same instant, Quibble let go of the rungs and fell back into the void, taking the bullet that was meant for me. As he spiralled noiselessly down the shaft, all was confusion. I tried to clamber the last few feet towards the top of the shaft before Unmann had a chance to recover but was suddenly aware that Charlie, with a great bellow of rage had taken hold of the ripped fabric of Unmann’s robe that hung streamer-like over the lip of the shaft and pulled on it for all he was worth.
With a great disbelieving gasp, the lethal diplomat toppled forwards.
I caught a glimpse of his startled face as he sailed past me and then he was just a ball of swirling scarlet, plummeting down the shaft after the noble Quibble into the pulsating stream of molten rock.
Just before he hit, though, there was a bright flash and pain seared through my shoulder. I gasped and looked down at where Unmann’s parting shot had penetrated my flesh. I swayed on the iron rungs.
In a second, Charlie’s strong arms were under mine.
‘Hang on, sir. I’ve got you!’
Waves of nausea began to pulse through me and I felt my senses swim. Charlie grasped at my shirt and heaved me out of the lift shaft. I staggered to my feet as the invaluable valet helped the others out and then we staggered as one unit through the volcanic tunnels towards the Pompeiian bath house.
As we emerged into that strange room, the pellucid lights were flickering and the ancient walls shuddering under the impact of the eruption. I was only dimly aware of all this as Charlie plunged on, dragging me with him, my whole body shot with pain. The others were merely a dim blur behind me.
Somehow he got me to the ladder and, weak as a kitten, I managed to pull myself up and up, every step an agony. Surely there must be an end to this climbing? All at once we were at the hatch and tumbling into the bleary dawn.
Of course, we were not yet safe. The livid sky told us what we already knew. Vesuvius was erupting and, whilst it was not the cataclysm Venus had hoped for, it was still not wise to hang about.
I chanced a look back as Charlie lugged me out through the Pompeiian ruins the way we had come. Above us, the great black hump of the mountain was belching smoke and a thin river of livid red was dribbling from the cone like Gorgon’s blood.
And then the five of us were part of a great fleeing mob. I received a confused impression of voices and smells and it was suddenly as though I were back there in ancient Pompeii. The dawn sky overheard was blackening with ash and the world was disappearing in a vortex of reds, ochres and yellows. My eyes fluttered and the canopy of my lids was a cool green. The blood flowing from my shoulder looked almost black, flowing in a stream over the snowy whiteness of my exposed arm. How strange, I thought, to die in such a terribly beautiful palette.
XXII
END GAME
AND yet, gentle reader, (as I’m sure you’ve gathered) I did not die! A long week later and the
great shuddering roar of that eruption was like a strange dream to me. After the removal of Unmann’s bullet from my shoulder and much rest I had been re-established in my room at the Santa Lucia where I was at least able to sketch a little. An easel was optimistically set up but I found myself quickly exhausted and it was far easier to drift off into sleep after some of Charlie’s nourishing soup than to work. It was fully a fortnight before I was able to receive visitors.
First came Joshua Reynolds, on a rare foreign trip, bearing the profound thanks of HMG and whispers of medals, which I nobly refused for fully two minutes until he started taking me seriously and I had to beg for them.
The next day brought the newly liberated Christopher Miracle. He looked a little drawn (but not badly drawn, ho-ho), as well he might and he beamed at me with what looked suspiciously like renewed respect.
‘I owe it all to you, old man,’ he said with a catch in his voice. ‘Flush would have strung me up if you hadn’t intervened. I’m most awfully grateful.’
I gave a heroic but modest smile. ‘We still don’t know quite what happened that day, do we?’
‘Ah, yes,’ said Miracle. ‘We do. If you’re not too tired, dear Lucifer, there’s another guest who is most anxious to speak to you.’
Images are removed here
Charlie showed in the extraordinary apparition that was Mrs Midsomer Knight, once more swathed in veils and sporting a rather splendid new gown of deepest emerald. She took a seat by my blanketed form and inclined her head in greeting.
‘Mr Box, how do I begin to thank you?’
‘Please don’t even try,’ I said manfully. In truth I didn’t have the strength to be gushed over. ‘It’s reward enough to know that my friend here is exonerated and that you and the professors – well, a quorum of them at least – are out of danger. That and the fact that a dangerous lunatic’s plans have come to nought.’
‘Ah yes,’ mused Mrs Knight. ‘My unfortunate son.’
I sat up on one elbow, wincing slightly. ‘It would please me greatly, however, if you could clear up one or two points in connection with this matter.’
‘Anything.’
‘Perhaps I can help you there,’ came a booming voice from the doorway. The massive frame of the Duce Tiepolo emerged from the shadows.
‘Your Grace,’ I said quietly. ‘I fear I have done you a grave disservice. For I thought you behind this whole mad scheme.’
‘I am guilty,’ said the great man. ‘Guilty of a mad love. For this wonderful woman.’
He took Mrs Knight’s hand in his. ‘It was so long ago,’ he croaked. ‘It is not an easy thing, Signor Box, to know that you have been born into wealth and privilege then see all that swept away. I was a hunted man. One day I arrived in Naples and I met a girl. She was only sixteen or so, and a little frightened of me. But I knew at once that I loved her…Loved her!’
‘But she was married.’
The Duce nodded bitterly. ‘With a child. The husband, Morraine, was a good man, an honest man, but we could not help ourselves, could we, my dear? It was like a fire, the passion that burned within us!’
Mrs Knight sighed. ‘At first it was easy to see each other in secret. My husband, Maxwell, thought only of his work. He and his colleagues laboured from dawn to dusk. But finally our secret was betrayed! Maxwell was mad with jealousy. I went to see him. To tell him I must leave him…I found him in his laboratory. Told him that the Duce and I were in love. At first he seemed not to hear me. He was burning his papers after some scientific disappointment. He threw more and more paper on to the fire until suddenly it was out of control and…’
Mrs Knight pressed her hand to her mouth and sobbed. ‘It took away my youth, my beauty…’
The Duce clamped his huge arm around the delicate woman’s shoulders. ‘And I knew nothing of this for years. The authorities caught me and I was deported. I found out about the fire and believed Kate to be dead. How was I to know that she had been spirited away from Naples and was back in England? Years passed. I never expected to see my lover again.’
‘But you did.’ I drawled, taking a slow drag on my cigarette.
‘I did! Can you imagine it, Signor Box? After all that time? I have roamed Europe like a vagrant. I was passing through London and, one day, as I was walking through the park, you saw me, didn’t you, my pet?’
He turned to his lost love, his weathered face wreathed in smiles.
Mrs Knight continued. ‘Even after all these years I knew him at once.’
‘And you felt the same?’ I asked the Duce.
‘Once I knew it was her, of course! What did I care for her scars? Her “ugliness”? She was my darling girl. Restored to me when I thought her long dead.’
The Duce’s noble head bobbed low on his breast, then he raised it again, tears welling in his rheumy eyes. ‘I bought the silence of my companion and we spent the whole afternoon together. There were secret letters, stolen moments. And then I hit upon the drawing-class scheme. We planned to elope. Elope! Like star-crossed lovers!’
‘That night, the night of Miracle’s ball, she was meant to steal away and meet me in the gardens. But she did not come! And then I heard about the body – oh! A second time she was taken from me!’
He groaned like a wounded beast. ‘And so I came here. Home. To Naples. In secret, of course, and seeking – who knows what? Peace?’
I pulled myself up on the pillows. ‘And what of that day in the Mechanical Institute, Mrs Knight? I gather you had already suspected you were under observation?’
The veiled woman placed her hands in her lap and sighed. ‘That I had. But I thought they were sent by my husband, and that our scheme was impenetrable. I little thought what they might have in mind until that day. Miss Frenzy and I had just switched places when two men burst into the lavatory. At once they grabbed poor Miss Frenzy but she fought valiantly, biting one of them upon the hand.
‘Of course I could not simply hide in the cubicle and leave Abigail to her fate but their faces were a pretty sight when they were suddenly confronted by two identically dressed women! As time was obviously of the essence, they bundled us both from the place and took us to some low lodging house where the truth was forced from us. One of them, a man called Bowler, decided that fate had put in his way a serendipitous event. They had come to abduct me, how much better if I were thought to be dead!’
She tailed off and gave a little sob. ‘From that moment poor Abigail’s fate was sealed. I was quite unable to protest as they gave me the first of those hideous injections and I was scarcely sensible from that day on.’
Tiepolo laid his big hand over hers. ‘It is over now,’ he said in a reassuring tone.
I sank back. ‘And what will you do now, my dear? If you’ll take the advice of an impecunious artist…’
‘Thank you, Mr Box, but I do not need it! I am resolved to change my life while there’s still time.’
The Duce Tiepolo grunted his approval.
Miracle frowned. ‘And what of your husband?’
‘I’m afraid he shall have to get used to it,’ trilled Mrs Knight, almost girlishly. ‘For the Duce and I are…well…eloping tonight.’
I wished them both well, confident that, in the fullness of time, I might receive massive financial reward for services rendered.
Miracle ushered them out then returned to my side.
‘Well?’ he demanded. ‘Have you heard from her?’
‘Heard from whom?’ I said, all innocence.
‘Why from Miss Bella Pok, of course! You have been in here fully two weeks! Has she not been to visit you?’
I shrugged lightly. ‘I have received a note or two enquiring after my health.’
Miracle leaned forward in his chair. ‘And when do you see her?’
I laughed sharply, making my injured shoulder twinge, unable to keep up the pretence a moment more. ‘Tomorrow morning! But now I am most awfully tired, Chris. You must let me get my strength up for the great occasion!’
He left me, promising dinner at Maxim’s, showers of gold and all the tea in China once I was fully recovered.
A happy peace had settled over my routine. Charlie had turned himself into an excellent nurse and his bedside manner was more than admirable.
That night I slept heavily, my head seeming to pound in time to the eruption of Vesuvius as I found myself back there, the sky behind me a strange, lurid red. But suddenly I knew it was not the sky at all but the canopy of my own eyelids. I blinked once. Twice. And the pounding roar of the volcano resolved itself into an urgent knocking at the door of my hotel room.
I glanced down at the bed. Naked, Charlie lay sound asleep at my side, his bruised body lightly covered by the cool cotton sheets. Suddenly I remembered.
‘Bella!’ I cried.
I jumped to my feet, immediately regretted it and flopped back on the bed. I looked wildly about.
‘Up!’ I hissed, slapping Charlie on the side. ‘Up!’
He half opened his very blue eyes. ‘What?’
‘Get yourself up, Charlie boy. We have company.’
He groaned and shook his head. ‘Tell them to sling theirs. I’m your company.’
I leant down and pinched him savagely on the nipple. ‘Get yourself up, Mr Jackpot or you’ll be sorry.’
Yelping in pain, the boy sat up and flapped his hands at mine. ‘All right, all right, you swine!’
Still befuddled by sleep, he looked dumbly at his nakedness and began to get dressed.
‘Quickly!’ I hissed. ‘It is Miss Pok.’
He struggled swiftly into his trousers and threw on his shirt.
‘Now, after you’ve shown the lady in, you must make yourself scarce.’
‘You ashamed of me?’
I sighed. ‘You’re my servant, Jackpot. It’s time you started behaving like one instead of bleating away like the Little Match Girl.’
‘Lucifer?’ came Bella’s muffled voice from beyond the door.
‘All right,’ said Charlie, sloping sullenly off towards the door. He dragged it open and ushered Bella inside with ill-concealed contempt.
