by Darrell Pitt
Jack felt a slight breeze waft at his hair. There must be an exit. The breeze carried an unpleasant scent. Did this tunnel connect with the London sewer system? Jack shifted his attention to the interiors of the vehicles. A single crate sat in the back of one. Four crates were in the other.
‘Look,’ Scarlet hissed.
They scooted across the chamber and snooped in the rear of the nearest steamtruck. The bomb lay in an open box. The weapon’s insides were exposed as if someone had been operating on it. A tangle of wires had been cut and reconnected. They moved across to the second truck. In the back were four smaller yet similar weapons.
Five bombs.
‘Good heavens,’ Scarlet said. ‘What is going on here?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Jack said. ‘There’s only supposed to be one. Where did these others come from?’
Distant footsteps echoed down the tunnel. They scampered from the vehicle and took refuge behind a supporting column. A figure hurried from a side passage.
It was Lucy Harker!
‘Lucy!’ Jack hissed, breaking cover.
An expression of complete astonishment crossed her face.
‘Jack? Scarlet?’ She raced over to them. ‘Thank God you’re here.’
‘Did you escape?’ Jack asked. ‘How did you get away from M?’
‘One of his underlings was guarding me,’ she explained. ‘I distracted him and knocked him out with a piece of wood.’ She gripped their shoulders. ‘I’m so pleased to see you both. Is Mr Doyle here?’
‘No,’ Scarlet said, looking past her. ‘We lost him on the way. We need to make our own escape.’
‘You mean no-one’s coming for us?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ Jack said.
‘Then we need to move.’ She pointed in the direction of the breeze. ‘I think the exit is through that tunnel.’
‘I think so, too.’
‘You lead the way.’
Jack started towards the exit. He had taken only a few steps when a cloud of mist enveloped him. He glimpsed Scarlet’s startled face. They both turned to see Lucy covering her nose with a handkerchief. She had a spray bottle in her other hand. Jack tried to speak, but couldn’t utter a sound as his vision swam. He heard Lucy’s voice as if from a distance.
‘Breathe deeply,’ she said. ‘It’s easier that way.’
CHAPTER THIRTY
The stench of sewage woke Jack. He shook his head, opened his eyes and a chamber lit by two flickering lanterns came into view. Water from a series of tunnels flowed into a well behind him.
He was in the sewerage system under London, a meandering labyrinth that ran for miles in all directions. It was rumoured that people had been lost down here and never found. Others said that strange beasts lived in the tunnels, devouring the homeless who tried to live underground.
How did he get here?
His hands clanked behind him. He’d been secured to a chair with two sets of handcuffs. None of this made any sense. He spotted Scarlet next to him. She was fastened to another chair. Her eyes were filled with fear.
A face hovered before him. It was Lucy.
‘Hello Jack,’ she said. ‘I thought you’d never wake up.’
‘What’s happening? Why are you doing this?’
Lucy clasped her hands behind her back and tilted her head, examining Jack as if he were a bug. No trace remained of Paul Harker’s loving daughter. Her left eye twitched and a smile played about her lips, as though she were privy to a joke that no-one else had heard. She looked quite mad.
‘Why am I doing this?’ Lucy repeated. ‘Because I can, Jack. The world is full of small people. They go about their small lives and die their small deaths. Mr Darwin spoke about the survival of the fittest. He was right.’
Scarlet began. ‘But why...how..?’
‘I am happy to explain,’ Lucy said. ‘I rarely get a chance to speak to others, to tell them my reasoning, to share my dreams. And besides, you won’t be telling anyone else.’
Jack swallowed. That could only mean one thing...
‘That’s right,’ Lucy said, leering. ‘I’m going to kill you. I like killing people. I like to see the light drain from their eyes as they die.’
‘You’re sick!’ Scarlet said. ‘You’re a monster!’
‘If you say so.’ Lucy seemed amused. ‘I’ll admit I am different from other people. I do not care or feel love as others do.’
‘But you were in love,’ Jack said, remembering Mr Doyle’s comment about Lucy’s relationship.
The smile faded from her face. ‘I thought it was love. By the time I met Douglas Milverton, the inventor of Terrafirma, I had long suspected my father led a double life. There were places he went and people he met that he kept secret. One of them was Douglas. I first saw him one day when he arrived unexpectedly to visit my father. Douglas and I were instantly attracted to each other. Through him, I found out about the Phoenix Society and its history. I came to understand the power they held. Their advanced technology. Their weapons that could crush cities.
‘With him at my side, I thought we would rule the world. I told him of my plans. I expected him to be overjoyed, to be enraptured by my dream.’ Lucy’s face twisted. ‘But he said I was mad! Me! And that’s when I saw him for what he was. A weakling! A fool!’
‘So you murdered him,’ Scarlet said.
She was trying to keep Lucy talking, Jack realised. The longer Lucy spoke, the better chance they had of surviving this. But how could they escape?
Lucy nodded. ‘I killed him. With him gone, I turned to Partington to discover more about the Phoenix Society. It seems he was not much of an angel himself.’
‘What do you mean?’ Jack asked.
‘He was a Nazi,’ Lucy said. ‘He believed in their nonsense about master races. There was a place where he attended meetings in London. I pretended to become a believer and befriended him and the group. Through him, I wanted to discover the location of the Phoenix Society’s lab—the Swiss compound.
‘I confronted him with what I knew about the society, but he refused to tell me anything. He would not betray their age-old oath of secrecy.’
‘You killed him, too,’ Scarlet said.
‘I had found one of the preservation machines at Milverton’s home. I knew it initially encased a body in ice, but the body remained perfectly preserved once the ice melted. I had already used the process on Milverton—with my own special variation.’
Jack remembered the expression of terror on Milverton’s face.
‘Oh no,’ Jack moaned.
‘Yes.’ Lucy smiled. ‘I used the process on him while he was alive. Not the most pleasurable way to die. Partington’s demise was far more mundane. A knife to his heart. I preserved him and contacted the Nazis. I offered them the equipment and the bodies as proof in exchange for their cooperation.’
‘And they agreed to work with you?’ Jack said.
Lucy smirked. ‘They agreed to work with M.’
‘So you’re working with M?’
The woman burst out laughing. It rang around the chamber, reverberating through the tunnels until it sounded like a multitude of women were mocking him.
‘You silly little boy,’ she said. She swung away from him. When she turned back, she was wearing the porcelain mask. ‘Tell your masters that Lucy Harker’s life is over.’ The gravelly voice thundered about the chamber. ‘Today she will die and at midnight so too will London.’
She lowered the mask. And winked.
Scarlet was the first to realise. ‘You’re M.’
Jack stared at Lucy in amazement. It wasn’t possible.
‘There is no M,’ Lucy said. ‘He is a shadow. A delusion.’
‘Why?’ Jack asked.
‘Because women are not respected!’ she snapped. ‘Men think us weak and small. Creatures to be coddled and cherished. I needed a mask, a legend that would strike terror into the hearts of any who stood against me. I needed M and he needed me. So I invented him.’
; Lucy loomed over Scarlet. ‘You’re a modern woman. You understand me,’ she said. ‘Don’t you?’
‘I don’t understand you at all,’ Scarlet replied, her bottom lip trembling. ‘Women may be oppressed, but they must never become the oppressors. Men and women must work together to make a better world for all.’
‘Spoken like a child,’ Lucy said. ‘The only partnerships worth having are those that make you powerful. That’s why the Nazis agreed to work with me.’
‘That’s how they found the warehouse?’ Jack said.
‘Indeed. I had already ransacked Scarlet’s home without success. I returned to find the three of you there.’
‘Why was your father’s apartment attacked?’ Scarlet asked. ‘And how did you get to the island?’
‘I knew the Nazis could coerce the information from your father if your safety, or my father’s, was threatened. I suggested they attack the tower. I already knew about their island hideaway. I was overjoyed when Ignatius Doyle and I were kidnapped by the Phoenix Society. I thought they would lead us to their Swiss compound, but I quickly realised they were small players in the organisation and didn’t know its location.
‘Fortunately, when Doyle initiated our escape, I had a map with me showing the location of the island. I slipped it in with the other pages on the boat. I intended to continue my alliance with the Nazis, but it wasn’t to be. They double-crossed me and raced ahead to the Swiss compound.’
There’s no honour among thieves, Jack thought.
‘Once we reached the compound, I knew I had to possess the atomic weapons. It would make a person a God among men.’
Jack remembered something Lucy had said about the bombs back at the Phoenix compound.
It’s like holding the sun in your hands.
He should have realised that Lucy was behind this, but no-one had suspected her. Not even Mr Doyle. She had fooled everyone. And now they were going to die.
‘What about the bomb?’ Jack said. He needed to keep her talking. Stall her to buy time. ‘Don’t you care that millions will be killed?’
Lucy waved a hand. ‘You’re still a child, Jack. Those people are going to die anyway. It might be today or tomorrow or fifty years from now, but one day they will be dust. The Nazis believe in a master race, as do I. The only difference is that I believe in a master race of one.
‘I will divide the uranium—their power source—between all five weapons. London is just the beginning. One by one, I will drive other nations to their knees. The London blast will be smaller than expected, but the destruction of the inner city will be enough to make other countries bow before me. I will extort money from Paris, Rome, New York. They will pay me or they will burn.’
She placed her face so close to Jack he could smell her stale breath. ‘I have the Josephine Diamonds, I have the bombs and you’re about to die.’ She grabbed Jack’s left earlobe in a pincer grip. ‘But first I will make you suffer.’
‘No! Why?’
‘Why?’ She grinned. ‘Because I like to hurt things.’
Lucy pressed down. She squeezed so hard that Jack could not stop himself from crying out. She stared at him, watched the pain and fear in his face and enjoyed every second of it. Jack looked back into her eyes and saw complete madness. The woman squeezed harder.
‘Leave that boy alone!’
Lucy fell away from Jack in astonishment. Standing in an alcove on the other side of the room was Ignatius Doyle, a gun in his hand.
‘This entire area is surrounded, Lucy,’ Mr Doyle said. ‘It’s over. You will go to jail for the rest of your life—which will probably not be very long. We still hang criminals here in England. You’re a sick, evil woman and I’m sure many will believe the world a better place without you.’
‘How?’ Lucy seemed to choke on the word. ‘How did..?’
‘You need not worry about that. Suffice to say that London will live to see another day.’
‘London will not,’ Lucy said. Her mouth turned down at the corners. From her sleeve sprang a revolver that snapped into her hand. ‘And neither will you.’
She pulled the trigger.
‘No!’ Jack cried.
The bullet struck Mr Doyle in the chest, spinning him around and sending him flying. Lucy grabbed the chairs.
‘I had hoped to stay and watch you die,’ she told them. ‘C’est la vie.’
‘No!’ Scarlet screamed. ‘No! You can’t!’
Lucy tipped the chairs onto their back legs and pushed.
Jack landed headfirst in the water. He jerked his body forward and spun the chair around. For a brief moment his head floated above the surface. He caught sight of Scarlet’s desperate face as she struggled in the water next to him.
‘Take a deep breath!’ he yelled.
‘That will only prolong the inevitable,’ Lucy said, watching them as dispassionately as a small child torturing an insect. ‘The bomb will not be found in time. Looking for it will be like searching for a needle in a haystack.’
Scarlet gave a cry as she sank beneath the surface. Despite Jack’s struggles, the chair dragged him down into the icy depths with her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The freezing flow of the water was instantly numbing. Jack held his breath as he sank. He only had a minute, maybe two at the most, before he drowned. Scarlet lay at the bottom of the pool, her red hair drifting like seaweed on the floor of the ocean. Her green eyes were wide as she fought with the handcuffs. Jack saw a spurt of air escape her lips.
Hold on, he wanted to say. Help will come.
But that was a lie. Not only were they drowning, but Lucy Harker had shot Mr Doyle in the chest! The great detective lay dying on the cold stone floor a few feet away.
Jack had to save Mr Doyle and Scarlet, and he could only do that if he stayed calm. He had to think.
Think!
He jerked on the handcuffs. First he would have to escape from the chair. The seat was made of wood. If he had an hour he could break it apart with his body weight, but as he only had minutes to live he needed to choose Plan B.
The lock pick.
Jack arched his back and jiggled. It took a moment, but the device slid from his pocket. He manoeuvred the chair and his hand closed around it.
Now it got difficult. Jack shifted the lock pick, trying to insert it into the key hole of the cuffs. But the angle was all wrong. He braced it against the stonework, trying to activate the trigger.
He couldn’t reach it.
A shot of breath burst from his nostrils and liquid trickled in.
Stay calm, he told himself. Or I’ll die and so will Scarlet and Mr Doyle.
If Mr Doyle wasn’t dead already.
He stretched with all his might and pressed the trigger. The device sprang to life, but the cuffs remained tight.
Why wasn’t it working?
He wrenched his head back and saw that the mechanism that should have been inserted into the lock had slipped out. Jack adjusted the lock again to line up with the pick. Another burst of air shot from his mouth. A strange pressure built behind his eyeballs.
An image came into his mind. His mother sitting on a static trapeze. She was dressed in the costume they all wore for their performances. A white cotton jumpsuit with black wings embroidered on the shoulders. She called to him.
Try. Try harder.
He refocused on the lock pick. He inserted the end into the lock and this time reached with all his might to touch the trigger. The handcuff loosened.
The lock pick had opened the cuff far enough to allow Jack to slide his hand free. Another shot of water lurched into his nose and he coughed. More liquid poured into his mouth. He looked over to Scarlet. Air streamed from her mouth. Gone was the light that had danced in her eyes.
Jack’s vision blurred. Inky black spots bounced around in the gloomy, gaslit water. He saw his mother again, but now she stood on a platform high above the ground. She spoke to him from the shadows of the big top. He couldn’t hear her words.
<
br /> I have to keep going, he thought. Scarlet and Mr Doyle need me. Don’t give up!
He tried one last time to insert the lock pick. The handcuff snapped open. With his lungs about to explode, Jack placed his feet against the chair. He shoved as hard as he could to propel himself to the surface.
Not hard enough. Just two more feet. He tried to swim, but his arms had no strength. In vain, Jack reached for the meagre light. His energy was gone. The black dots joined together to form a dark, rolling ocean. He saw the terrible pressure in his head. The force behind his eyeballs, pressing on his brain, had turned into a steam-powered press. Men shovelled coal into the burner. Pipes heated. Boiled water. Produced steam. But instead of rolling clouds of white steam, he saw blackened pools of billowing vapour, surrounding him, carrying him away to some other place.
Then an arm shot towards him and grasped his outstretched hand. It pulled so hard that his shoulder shrieked with distant pain, but that was all right because now something cool danced across his face.
Air.
Someone slammed him facefirst onto the rough stonework and pushed on his back. Liquid spurted from his nose and mouth. The calm inky night he had comfortably swum in changed to ice. Water splashed onto stone. Someone choked. Cried out. Jack took a gasping breath. Coughed. Vomited.
‘There, there,’ a voice said. ‘Breathe. Just breathe.’
Jack continued to vomit as reality pressed in on him. Tunnels. Stonework. Oil lamps. The hands pushing down desperately on his back. Now the sensation to vomit lessened and Jack eased over onto his side.
Scarlet was on the ground next to him. Her hair was a mess, her face pale, but her eyes were open. The death in them was gone. She wiped mucus from her lips as she sat up and focused on him.
‘Jack?’
‘Scarlet?’
He twisted about to see a familiar face.
‘Mr Doyle?’ He gripped the man’s arm. ‘Is it really you?’
‘It’s me,’ he said. ‘Are you feeling better?’
Before he could reply, he threw up more water. He stood, gripping the older man’s arm for support.
‘I would offer you some cheese,’ Mr Doyle said, ‘but it may not help.’
