The Firebird Mystery

by Darrell Pitt

  ‘Mr Doyle,’ Jack said. ‘You were shot!’

  ‘I was shot,’ the detective agreed. ‘But it seems the angels were kind.’ He reached under his shirt and pulled out the dog tags that had belonged to his son, Phillip. ‘Or one angel, at least.’

  Jammed in the middle of one of the tags was a bullet. A marksman could not have planted it closer to dead centre on the piece of metal.

  ‘The bullet struck me and bowled me over. I hit my head and was knocked senseless. When I came to, I realised where you were and came to your aid.’ The great detective shook his head. ‘I should have told you my suspicions.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About Lucy.’

  Scarlet’s eyes widened. ‘You thought she was involved in this?’

  ‘I even thought she was M.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You may recall I noticed a bruise on her ankle when we were on the airship in Switzerland.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I believe it resulted from Jack wrapping the string about it to trip her up on the train. And then there was the bloody handprint near the body of her father.’

  ‘There was a strange mark on one of the fingers,’ Scarlet said. ‘I thought it was a scar.’

  ‘I believe it was. I noticed Lucy had scars on her fingers from sewing.’ Mr Doyle appeared glum. ‘Then there was the map on the ship owned by the Phoenix Society. It was all too convenient that Lucy found it. The clues pointed to Lucy, but I could not believe a woman was capable of such evil. I was very foolish.’

  ‘It’s not your fault, Mr Doyle,’ Scarlet said. ‘And now we must find the bomb.’

  ‘How will we do that?’ Jack asked. ‘We don’t even know where it is.’

  ‘Maybe we do,’ Scarlet said.

  Jack and Mr Doyle stared at her.

  ‘Does this have to do with Boxy Butterbum?’ Jack asked.

  ‘It’s Brinkie Buckeridge!’ Scarlet stamped her feet. ‘And no. There was something Lucy said before she left. It was after she pushed us into the pool.’

  ‘Yes, I remember,’ Jack said. ‘She said something about a needle.’

  ‘She said, “Looking for it will be like searching for a needle in a haystack.”’

  ‘That is a figure of speech,’ Mr Doyle said. ‘People say it all the time.’

  ‘No,’ Scarlet said. ‘It was the way she said it.’

  ‘I think you’re right,’ Jack agreed. ‘She had a funny look on her face. Like she was having a joke at our expense.’

  ‘But what could it mean?’ Scarlet asked.

  ‘There aren’t any haystacks in London,’ Jack said. ‘Are there?’

  ‘No,’ Mr Doyle frowned. ‘But there is a needle. Cleopatra’s Needle.’

  Jack and Scarlet stared at him in astonishment.

  ‘It’s an obelisk located on the Victoria Embankment not far from here,’ Ignatius Doyle explained.

  ‘That must be it,’ Jack said.

  ‘It’s that or nothing,’ Scarlet agreed.

  ‘How do we get out of here?’

  ‘We must find the exit,’ the detective said. ‘I was lying to Lucy when I said the area was surrounded by police. We must use our own resources.’

  They hurried along a tunnel. It met a circular chamber with passageways running off in several directions. They started across the room. Jack felt his foot catch on something. He glanced down to see a tiny thread running across the floor. Mr Doyle saw it as well.

  ‘Back!’ he yelled. ‘Get back!’

  They raced to the nearest passageway.

  The detective said, ‘That was some sort of...’

  Ka-boom!

  The blast threw them to the ground. The roar was deafening. The chamber behind them collapsed and the gaslight died. They drowned in darkness as dust choked the air. Jack struggled for breath, coughing. His ears rang.

  This time we’re dead, he thought. It’s over.

  But then Mr Doyle produced a box of matches and a candle. The night withdrew. The dust settled. Jack heard a voice.

  ‘Lucy must have set a booby trap to hide her tracks,’ Mr Doyle was saying.

  ‘What will we do now?’ he asked.

  ‘Find a way out. We’ve got to get to the Needle as soon as possible.’ He pointed down a corridor. ‘We’ll try that way.’

  They followed the passage for several hundred feet until it reached another junction where a multitude of tunnels ran off it.

  ‘This is terrible.’ The detective went pale. ‘I have no idea where we are. The London sewer system is notoriously complex. People have been lost in here and never found. If we knew what direction to head…’

  Jack cried out as if bitten. He plunged his hand into his pocket, half expecting it to be empty. After all, he had jumped and rolled and been turned upside down and drowned in the last few hours. By all rights, his belongings should probably be back on a dark road in the countryside, or in the cold black pool that had almost killed him.

  He pulled out the compass. The glass was cracked, but the device was still working. The iron needle hovered uncertainly for a moment before it pointed north.

  ‘Hooray!’ Scarlet yelled.

  ‘Excellent!’ Mr Doyle beamed.

  The detective orientated the compass and motioned them on. The corridor swung around to the right for a hundred feet before it met stone steps.

  Ten minutes later they arrived at a metal staircase that wound its way up to the street. Jack inhaled fresh air deep into his lungs as they found themselves on a quiet alley near St Paul’s. As they started along a road, Mr Doyle related how he had come to be in the tunnels.

  ‘I got a message through to MI5,’ he said. ‘They gave me the name of the owner of Featherwick. A man called Smith!’ Mr Doyle gave a brief laugh. ‘They were able to tell me the same owner also had property not far away.’

  ‘The railway tunnel!’

  ‘Indeed,’ Mr Doyle said. ‘The tunnel was part of a project that went bankrupt during the war and was never completed. I was able to gain access to it a few miles down the track and follow it to you.’

  ‘Mr Doyle,’ Jack said.

  ‘Yes, my boy?’

  ‘You really are the world’s greatest detective.’

  Mr Doyle looked embarrassed. ‘I have a cousin who is rather good too, but he’s another story.’

  They turned a corner onto a wider street.

  ‘It’s so quiet,’ Scarlet said. ‘London has become a ghost town.’

  ‘Not completely,’ Mr Doyle said. ‘I can hear a vehicle.’

  A steamcar roared along the street. It screeched to a halt, smoke spewing from the chimney. General Churchill leaned out, a cigar clenched between his teeth.

  ‘Mr Doyle and his team!’ Churchill said, astonished. ‘What a pleasure! Have you found the bomb?’

  ‘We need to get to Cleopatra’s Needle!’ the detective said. ‘Immediately!’

  They piled into the steamcar and headed toward the Thames.

  ‘Will we get there in time?’ Jack asked.

  ‘Lucy will have given herself time to escape,’ Mr Doyle said. ‘But she would only need an hour.’

  They swung right onto the Victoria Embankment. Churchill increased the speed of the vehicle. All around them the city lay still, the moon bathing it in silver light. The Thames flowed to their left as they zoomed past it.

  General Churchill applied the brakes and they climbed out.

  ‘There!’ Jack pointed. ‘Over there!’

  A truck sat in the shadow of the obelisk. It appeared altogether unremarkable. They hurried to the rear and Mr Doyle threw the tarp aside.

  ‘This is it,’ he said.

  The bomb sat in the centre. Mr Doyle climbed in and examined a panel on the top. ‘This is a timer,’ he said. ‘We have fifteen minutes until detonation.’

  Churchill produced a piece of paper. ‘I have instructions copied straight from Mr Bell. As long as we follow them, we should be able to disarm the weapon.’ He swallow
ed. ‘I hope.’

  ‘Then let’s not waste valuable seconds.’ Mr Doyle turned to Jack and Scarlet. ‘Find a place to sit by the river. It looks rather lovely right now.’

  Jack opened his mouth to argue, then clamped it shut. He and Scarlet left them to their work and crossed to the river. It was a clear night. Jack remembered looking up at the sky from Sunnyside and not being able to see the stars. Tonight it seemed the whole arm of the galaxy blanketed the city.

  I don’t want to die, Jack thought. I miss my parents and I love them, but I’m not ready to join them. Not yet. There’s too much here. There’s Mr Doyle and Scarlet, and a whole world of adventure. I’m not ready to go.

  But if he was about to die, there was something that needed saying. While there was still time.

  He took a deep breath.

  ‘Scarlet,’ he said.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I haven’t known you for very long.’

  Her eyes gazed into his. A cut ran along one side of her face. Her other eye was closing up. Her forehead was bruised. Her red hair went in every direction of the compass. Her clothing was soiled and waterlogged. Her collar was ripped. Her bustier was torn.

  He thought she had never looked more lovely.

  Jack swallowed. ‘I just want to say I...’

  The tarpaulin on the truck fell back. They turned to see Mr Doyle and General Churchill crossing the cobblestones to them.

  ‘Is it…?’ Jack began.

  ‘It’s done,’ Mr Doyle said. ‘We’ve defused it.’

  ‘We’re safe!’ Scarlet cried.

  ‘We’re safe.’ General Churchill turned to Mr Doyle. ‘And London is safe. And England is safe. Thanks to you and your team.’

  ‘All in a day’s work,’ Ignatius Doyle said.

  ‘Oh.’ Jack laughed as the tension ran away from his body. ‘I wouldn’t say that.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY–TWO

  The next day turned out to be the busiest of Jack’s short life. After the bomb was removed by the armed forces, Mr Doyle, Jack and Scarlet endured several hours of questioning by MI5. Then the heads of several other organisations took turns quizzing them. Even the local police asked a few questions to close their files.

  Scarlet went to visit her father, but returned to Bee Street several hours later. She met with Jack and Mr Doyle in the library.

  This was Jack’s first visit to the library. He looked about it with interest. It was as eccentric as every other room in the apartment. The walls were lined with bookshelves, but there was not a single volume on any of them. Instead, the shelves were filled with jars and bottles of various sizes and emblazoned with disturbing labels such as ‘Toenail Clippings’ and ‘Hair samples’.

  The only books to be found sat about in neat stacks on the floor. As far as Jack could determine, they had been sorted according to colour rather than subject or author. Books on evolution mingled with volumes about glassblowing. Romance novels rubbed shoulders with the history of the Samoan Islands.

  A cage filled with white mice sat on the desk. They gallivanted about on a miniature Ferris wheel as Jack and Scarlet settled into seats opposite the detective.

  ‘We would seem to have reached an interesting crossroad.’ Mr Doyle inclined his head towards Jack. ‘Scarlet has asked to remain with us.’

  ‘Remain?’

  ‘In a role similar to yourself,’ Mr Doyle said. ‘As my assistant.’

  Jack stared at Scarlet. The girl seemed remarkably pleased with herself.

  ‘I spoke to Father,’ she told Jack. ‘He was not overly enthusiastic about it at first.’

  ‘I’m sure he wasn’t.’

  ‘But I pressed upon him the importance of women’s rights and that I must make my own way. He acquiesced to my request.’ She clapped her hands together. ‘So, with Mr Doyle’s permission, I will take up residence in the guest bedroom and begin my duties.’

  ‘It may not be that simple.’ Mr Doyle peered at both of them. ‘There’s an issue I must raise.’

  ‘What is it?’ Jack asked.

  ‘It’s about the role of assistant.’ Mr Doyle appeared embarrassed. ‘You see, I did not realise the dangers involved. Perhaps I was foolish. Well, they say there’s no fool like an old fool.’

  ‘You’re not old, Mr Doyle,’ Scarlet said.

  ‘And you’re definitely not a fool,’ Jack said.

  The detective shot them a sad smile. ‘That’s very kind of you both. But the truth is that you’re young people with your lives ahead of you. I think it might be better if other employment were found.’

  ‘No!’ Jack said. ‘Mr Doyle! No! You can’t send us away.’

  ‘But...’

  ‘You cannot,’ Scarlet said. ‘Mr Doyle, you need us and we need you.’

  ‘But this is dangerous work. I deal with unpleasant things. Violent people.’

  ‘Life is full of unpleasant things,’ Jack said. ‘And violent people. We know that.’

  ‘We appreciate your concern, Mr Doyle,’ Scarlet said. ‘But we cannot hide from the unpleasantness of life. No-one can.’

  ‘But if anything were to happen to you...’ His eyes glistened.

  ‘Then we must be trained,’ Scarlet said. ‘Knowledge is power.’

  ‘Trained?’ Mr Doyle stroked his chin. ‘That’s an interesting idea.’

  ‘We could be trained in everything you know.’

  ‘It would be very difficult.’

  ‘We can learn,’ Jack said.

  Mr Doyle sniffed. ‘It’s a lot of learning. Martial arts, the science of detection, biology, bee keeping…’

  ‘We’re ready,’ Jack said.

  ‘Astronomy, physics…’

  ‘When do we start?’ Scarlet asked.

  Mr Doyle took a deep breath. ‘This may be a long and difficult challenge for you both, but eventually you would be ready.’

  ‘We would be detectives,’ Jack said. ‘All three of us.’

  ‘Still, I worry,’ Mr Doyle said. ‘There are so many unknowns in life.’

  ‘There are,’ Scarlet agreed. ‘But you know what Emmeline Pankhurst says?’ She flashed them a cheeky grin. ‘Trust in God. She will provide.’

  ‘There is one other matter,’ Mr Doyle said to Jack after Scarlet had left the room. He rummaged about in the desk and produced some pages. ‘There is a legal issue which must be finalised if I am to be your guardian.’

  ‘My guardian?’ Jack interrupted.

  ‘Well yes,’ Mr Doyle frowned. ‘I thought Mr Daniels would have explained that to you. If you stay here, it means you will become my ward.’

  ‘You mean, like family?’

  Mr Doyle nodded. ‘Like family. But I understand if you don’t want it.’

  ‘No,’ Jack said. ‘I want it. I want it very much indeed.’

  The detective smiled, handed Jack the pages and a pen, and the deal was done. Jack returned to his bedroom feeling as if he were walking on air. A week ago he was an orphan with no future ahead of him. Now he was Mr Doyle’s ward and he was going to become a detective. And Scarlet too.

  Imagine that, he thought. A girl detective.

  He was so excited it took him all of five minutes to notice his wall had changed. The sketch of the dog jumping over a stream had been replaced with a painting of people singing around a piano.

  ‘Mr Doyle,’ he muttered, shaking his head.

  ‘Jack?’

  Scarlet stood in the doorway.

  ‘I’m sorry to interrupt you,’ she said.

  ‘That’s all right.’ He pointed up at the picture and explained Mr Doyle’s tests of observation.

  She frowned. ‘That explains the tin of salmon I found on my dressing table.’

  ‘It’ll happen a lot.’

  ‘There’s something I wanted to ask you,’ Scarlet said. ‘I haven’t had a chance until now.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Back at the Tham
es, when Mr Doyle and the general were disarming the bomb,’ Scarlet said. ‘There was something you were going to say.’

  ‘Oh.’ Jack felt his face turning red. ‘It was nothing.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  Some things were best left a mystery. ‘I’m sure.’

  She smiled, but Jack thought there may have been a tinge of disappointment in the expression.

  By the time Mr Bell arrived at Bee Street some hours later, Gloria Scott had prepared cake and biscuits for the group. She placed the food on the sitting-room table as they settled around it. She poured hot water into the pot, steam flowing from the kettle. As she settled down with a pen and paper to write up the case, Jack noticed a bicycle with cow horns for handles jammed between two piles of books.

  Would he ever get used to this place?

  ‘What will happen to the bombs now?’ Gloria asked.

  ‘Secreted away,’ Mr Doyle explained. ‘The government has placed them in storage until we reach a point where we can deal with atomic power—if that day ever comes.’

  ‘And the lab in Switzerland?’ Jack asked.

  ‘Already destroyed,’ Mr Bell said, pushing back his copper-coloured hair. ‘Apparently the Swiss were so fearful of the technology in the lab, they decided it was safer to blow it all to kingdom come.’

  ‘That’s a terrible waste,’ Jack said. ‘But at least the other labs still exist.’

  ‘They were only used for minor research projects. The real technology was in Switzerland. With it gone, the Phoenix Society is finished.’

  ‘What about the other members, Father?’ Scarlet inquired.

  ‘The Phoenix Society was very good at keeping its membership a secret. The few people I knew in the organisation have gone into hiding. Like rats deserting a sinking ship.’

  ‘And you, Mr Bell?’ Jack asked. ‘Are you, well, the police…?’

  The man smiled. ‘Technically, I broke no laws. It is not a crime to belong to a secret society. Or to invent things. And I have cooperated with the authorities. I will not be spending time “at Her Majesty’s pleasure”.’ He looked embarrassed. ‘Actually, I’ve been offered a research role in China.’

  ‘China?’ Scarlet said.

  ‘It seems I will be assisting in the construction of the Peking Metrotower,’ Mr Bell said. ‘It will be the largest ever built.’