Trafalgar and Boone in the Drowned Necropolis

by Geonn Cannon

  When they arrived at Moorgate Station, Dorothy led the way underground and paid for both of them. As they waited for the train, Dorothy thought about what it could all possibly mean. Cora’s doomed expedition. A potential netherworld populated by monstrous creatures who were beginning to find their way to the surface. And now they were en route to meet with a mysterious thief who had paid a small fortune just for access to Cora Hyde’s offices.

  She hoped Virago, whoever she turned out to be, was able to shed some light on just what they were dealing with. If not, she and Trafalgar would be forced to set out blindly with no compass to guide them. That, she was certain, would certainly lead to them meeting the same fate as Cora’s expedition. It was clear something was brewing underneath the Mediterranean. Something big, ancient, and very deadly. She wanted to have as much information as possible before she went after it.

  Chapter Eight

  The St. Pancras public baths were an imposing presence rising high over Kentish Town. Dorothy and Trafalgar stood on the corner of Grafton Road and gazed up at its turrets and spires, a red-brick Gothic edifice with demons hidden in its architecture. All told, it was an extremely impressive structure given what it housed. The address on the receipt led them to a boarding house near the Underground where an elderly woman identified Virago as Emmeline Potter and informed them she was currently here, partaking in a bath.

  “And me without my suit,” Dorothy said as she followed Trafalgar through the women’s entrance. They obtained tickets from the office and delivered it to the attendant. As soon as they were through the doors, the sound of gurgling water surrounded them. Dorothy was starting to feel anxious just at the idea of running water, invoking as it did thoughts of a Biblical flood. They entered the main room, where a crowd of people in swimming suits were milling about around the large main pool under the vaunted ceiling.

  Trafalgar seemed uncomfortable with the amount of skin on display, but she scanned the women nearby to see if any met Dorothy’s description of her attacker. “Do you see her?”

  “No one meets all the criteria.” Dorothy started moving clockwise around the nearest pool. “Too short, too muscular, too dark...”

  “There are private bathing rooms over here,” Trafalgar said.

  “I’d prefer not to intrude on innocent people unless it’s absolutely necessary. If all else fails, we can simply...” Her voice trailed off as she brought her hand up. “There.”

  The woman was at the other end of the room, a towel draped over one arm as she walked from the changing rooms to one of the private slipper baths. It was the first good look Dorothy had gotten of her attacker, and she was surprised to see Emmeline Potter was older than she had expected. She was closer to fifty than Dorothy’s own age, but moved with the grace of a dancer or soldier. She had large and smoky eyes and lips that even from a distance seemed to relax into an easy and sardonic smirk. She wore a white bathing outfit that left her upper chest and legs exposed. Her long brown hair was pinned back loosely to keep it off her neck and shoulders as she walked.

  Dorothy hurried without running to catch up with her, bursting into the room just as the woman was lowering herself into the tub. Virago paused and snapped her head toward the intruders, then smiled and continued to sink. She stretched out and let her knees rise out of the water as she rested her arms on the lip of the tub. The bicep of each arm was tattooed with an ornate design Dorothy couldn’t quite make out and didn’t feel like getting a closer look.

  “Miss Trafalgar and Lady Boone,” Virago said in a lilting brogue. “This is quite a surprise. I wasn’t expecting you until after tea. You must have had a very productive morning.”

  “So you know us,” Dorothy said.

  “Word gets around. Last night I was curious about who I was scuffling with. Your name cropped up almost immediately. For the past year, it seems all I’ve been hearing are fantastical stories about the staunch Miss Trafalgar and the scholarly Lady Boone. It was an honor to leave you bloody in my wake.”

  “Bruised. Not bloody.” She thought for a moment and then said, “Why am I scholarly and she’s staunch?”

  “Oh,” Trafalgar said, “was mine a compliment?”

  “At least that means strong. Scholarly... it implies I’m hunched over in a library all day.”

  Trafalgar said, “Well, there are frequently ink stains on your fingers.”

  Dorothy harrumphed.

  Virago said, “Was there anything else? I’d like to get on with my bath.”

  “We want to know why you broke into Cora Hyde’s office, why it was worth the money you gave to her brother, and what you intend to do with what you recovered.”

  “Oh, is that all?” She stretched her legs and rested her feet on the edge of the tub. “How much do you know about Cora’s last expedition? The one that sent her off to the madhouse?”

  “It’s not a madhouse,” Dorothy said. “But I know enough. She was trying to find the truth about the mass disappearance of Khirokitia’s residents. She and her team explored a crevice, which led them underground to a cavern that appeared man-made...”

  Virago said, “And that’s where everything went wrong. But Miss Hyde and those children should never have been there in the first place. She had everything she needed and she was still missing the big picture. She was looking for the wrong thing. The people of Khirokitia aren’t important in the grand scheme of things. They were a walled-off city full of sheepherders and farmers. If Cora uncovered every secret they ever had, she might have found some really boffo tips on how to slaughter pigs. They were remnants. People think that they mysteriously vanished, but that’s nonsense. They just went somewhere else. They are really the least interesting thing to waste your time on.”

  Dorothy said, “Then perhaps you can enlighten us as to what would be worthwhile.”

  Virago moved one of her hands into the water to watch it drop from her fingers. “Eons ago, Europe and Africa were joined together by a desert. It wasn’t entirely barren; there were rivers and lakes and whatnot. But the land was extremely arid. The Sahara desert and the European coast without the benefit of ocean breezes. There were cities in that land, populated by people who chose to live in the most unforgiving environment the planet had to offer.”

  Dorothy glanced at Trafalgar. On the Tube, they had compared notes on their recent studies. It was bizarre to hear their own theories spoken by this woman they considered their enemy.

  “As you can imagine, anyone living like that would have to be tough as nails. They were no hunters or farmers. They struck out across the salt plains to sack their wealthier neighbors. Ancient peoples of Egypt and northern Africa and Italy. This was well before even the earliest hint of history. Think dinosaurs. Think early drafts of the Bible. They were going around tearing shit up and taking whatever they didn’t destroy for themselves.”

  Trafalgar said, “Until someone decided they needed to be wiped off the face of the Earth. They caused the flood by opening the Mediterranean to the Atlantic. Something to do with Gibraltar? An explosion at the strait to allow seawater to flood in and wash away their nemesis.”

  Virago winked at her. “Very well done. But you can’t do something so drastic without consequences. Imagine if the Americans blew up part of their coastline and created a sea across the middle of their continent. The enemy was destroyed, yes, but at the cost of life as everyone knew it. It was such an epic event in human history that every culture has a Flood myth. The Sumerians, the Bible, the Quran, Hindus, name the culture and they’ll all have a story about the Earth flooding to wipe out the evils of mankind.”

  Dorothy said, “So what is it you claim to have found? Evidence of the Flood?”

  “No,” Virago said with a sly grin. “I know where to find the remnants of a city.”

  Dorothy tried to cover her excitement at the possibility. “As monumental as that would be,” she said with a steady voice, “it hardly seems plausible.”

  Virago gestured with her hand, flicking
water toward them. Dorothy took a step back, but Trafalgar did not. “Believe what you want. I learned Cora had come extraordinarily close to locking down its location when she took a detour. She didn’t even know she was off-course. All I needed was what she had already done so I could follow the right path. The journal I took last night detailed every step she’s taken over the past three years. I merely have to backtrack, find where she turned left when she should have turned right, and I’ll have my answer. A road map to the largest treasure anyone could ever dream of. That’s what I stole. The legwork that would have gone to waste otherwise.”

  Dorothy said, “How altruistic of you.”

  “Oh, it’s one hundred percent selfish. I want to be the one who finds this city. I want to be the first one to pick it clean before I announce my discovery to the world. And once I’ve chosen what I want from the ruins, I will reveal everything to the world and accept my fame and immortality in the history books.”

  Trafalgar finally broke her silence. “As I feared.”

  Virago and Dorothy both looked at her.

  “There’s no reason for her to tell us any of this. If she truly wants this city and the treasures it surely holds for herself, then she has nothing to gain by telling us this. We’re her rivals. So either she thinks we aren’t good enough to be concerned, or she has a contingency plan to make sure we don’t get in her way.”

  Dorothy screwed her lips into an irritated expression. “Crumbs. I was so entranced by what she was postulating that I missed that.” She looked at Virago again. “So do you mean to kill us?”

  “That would be rather difficult, seeing as I’m the one in the bath. You’re full-dressed, standing up, and presumably armed. How could I possibly have the upper hand here?”

  “You’ve been researching us since your run-in with Lady Boone last night. You have something in place. A plot of some sort to remove us from the equation.”

  Virago kept her expression static for a long moment, but then she smiled and aimed a finger at Trafalgar. “You did well teaming with this one, Lady Boone. I may have been able to blind you, but not her. Very clever.”

  “I’ve taught myself to sniff out your type. People like you believe that I’m a simple foreigner who won’t notice when she’s being fooled. So what is your plan, Miss Potter? Assassins on the rooftop to pick us off when we leave? An explosive in the Underground?”

  Virago hissed through her teeth and shuddered theatrically. “Oh, so dramatic the both of you.” She scooped water into her hand, then drew it up her arm. “Nothing so nefarious, I assure you. I was simply going to leave you with a warning. As of right now, we’re colleagues. Three women in the same field with no reason to attack each other.” She furrowed her brow. “Just so long as you’re not harboring any ill will for our scuffle last night, Lady Boone.”

  Dorothy narrowed her eyes. “I’ve been hurt worse.”

  “Bygones, then.” Virago smiled. “And we’re all friends having a nice conversation. But if you should interfere with my plans in any way, you will go from colleagues to rivals. I do not treat rivals well, nor do I take betrayal kindly. So it’s down to you. Our ongoing relationship relies entirely on your actions, not mine. Perhaps we could even work together at some point. I would very much like to get to know you both.”

  Dorothy said, “I doubt that.”

  Virago shrugged. “You and Trafalgar started out as rivals as well, I’m told. Word is last year the two of you brawled in the street, right in the middle of London Bridge.”

  “It wasn’t on the bridge,” Dorothy said.

  “But you take my meaning.” She leaned back in the tub and eyed Dorothy suggestively. “Who knows what sort of relationship you and I might have in a year? Now, if there’s nothing else, I would like to bathe in private.”

  Dorothy glanced at Trafalgar, who nodded to indicate she was willing to leave. “This isn’t the last we’ll speak,” she said.

  “Oh, good. Hopefully next time I can be dressed. At least for the beginning of the conversation...” She smiled suggestively and then closed her eyes. “Take care.”

  Dorothy stepped to the door, then paused and looked down at Virago. “Enjoy your soak. I’ll try to take it easier on you next time.”

  Virago smiled without opening her eyes. “I was the victor in our encounter.”

  “Yes. And now you’re soaking your weary muscles in a warm bath while I’ve spent the morning finding out everything I can about you, Emmeline Potter. Have a lovely day.”

  Dorothy and Trafalgar left the private room and moved along the edge of the larger pool. Dorothy’s mind raced but she remained silent until they were outside again. The bathing rooms had been humid and left a layer of sticky sweat on her forehead and upper lip. The fresh air immediately cooled her, and she hooked a finger under the collar of her blouse to air her skin out a bit. She turned to look at Trafalgar who seemed consternated but otherwise comfortable.

  “What do you think?” she said.

  “I think we shall have to be very careful with our next move.”

  Dorothy nodded and looked at the building as if she could see Virago through the walls. “She’s not going to hesitate. As soon as she has an idea of where to search, she will set out to find this lost city. Like the Weeks’ brothers last year, we’ve forced her hand. The only bright side is that this may cause her to be sloppy.”

  “And that’s a good thing?”

  “With someone as skilled as Virago appears to be, it’s a very good thing. I’m confident in my abilities, but I doubt I would stand much of a chance against her if she had time to plan her attacks.” She straightened the cuffs of her jacket and set off down the street. “Come along, Miss Trafalgar. If we’re going to beat Virago to the punch, we shall have to get started immediately.”

  Trafalgar said, “Why are we involving ourselves at all? From the threat she leveled at us, we would be better off ignoring this entirely.”

  Dorothy said, “Did you not hear what she hopes to discover? A city more ancient than anything we’ve ever discovered! The possibilities are absolutely endless. But Virago is only interested in the riches she can pull from the ruins. She’ll do unbelievable damage and who knows what knowledge could be lost. The origins of life on this planet could depend on what we find in that city.” She stopped to catch her breath and shook her head. “I know that I’m being overly dramatic. But we cannot let something with so much potential be destroyed by someone who is only interested in the money she can make from exploiting it.”

  Trafalgar nodded. “I agree. So where do we begin?”

  Dorothy gathered her skirts and started walking back toward the Underground station. “Now we return to our home base and discover everything we can about Emmeline Potter. Know thy enemy, Miss Trafalgar.”

  “And if she makes good on her threat and attacks us?”

  “Let her try,” Dorothy said with a sly grin. “I’d love a rematch.”

  Chapter Nine

  On their trip back to Threadneedle, Dorothy and Trafalgar worked out their next move. Dorothy figured that if anyone in London had encounter Virago before, it would be Abraham Strode. He was the most senior of their peers and others often contacted him if they reached a dead end in their own research. He was respected if not well-liked, but his personality didn’t matter. The odds were good that if he hadn’t encountered her himself, someone had contacted him with information that would be helpful to their cause. Trafalgar volunteered to visit him and see what he knew while Dorothy returned to Wraysbury to discover what Cora knew about their adversary. Virago knew too much about Cora’s work to have been an unseen stalker. They parted ways at the station to go about their individual tasks. Strode’s manservant received Trafalgar at the door of his home and, after announcing her presence, “regretfully” informed her that he was busy.

  “Shame,” Trafalgar said as she brushed past the old man to enter the foyer. “Is he in his office?”

  “Miss, you cannot go in there.” He follo
wed a step behind her, his hands at his sides so he wouldn’t be forced to lay hands on a woman.

  Trafalgar pushed open the sliding doors. Abraham Strode was seated at the desk cleaning up the remnants of his cocaine hobby. His ash-blonde pompadour was askew, and he brought up both hands to smooth it down when he realized his space was being invaded. He glared at her and then shifted his gaze to the manservant who still stood uselessly in the doorway behind her.

  “I am unpleased, Ira.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Strode. I doubted you’d want me to use violence on her.”

  Trafalgar looked at the older man and smiled. “You’re welcome to try.” He swallowed hard and took a step back. She looked at Strode again. “I would have expected a much kinder welcome, Mr. Strode, considering what Lady Boone and I did for you last year. We saved your life from Ivy Sever and ensured you would not be falsely arrested for the murder of Mr. Dubourne. Surely that is worth granting me an audience.”

  Strode grimaced and waved Ira away. “This is not a permanent allowance. But I suppose since you have already interrupted my afternoon, I might as well find out what is so important.” He gestured to the seating area and finished putting away his drugs as Trafalgar removed her jacket.

  He sniffed dismissively at her attire. “I see Lady Boone has been influencing your wardrobe.”

  “I wore trousers long before Dorothy came into my life. And my current outfit is a matter of necessity more than choice.” She sat and crossed one leg over the other. “Don’t take my intrusion out on your man, by the way. I forced my way past him.”

  Strode grunted. “I hired him after Ivy Sever gained access to my home. Seeing how well he handled a visible intruder, I have little faith in his usefulness against an invisible attacker.”

  “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think Ivy has any reason to want you dead these days.”

  “What a comfort.” He looked in the small vanity near the window and finished straightening his hair. “So if this isn’t a warning, to what do I owe the... well, let’s call it ‘pleasure’ just for the sake of civility.”