by G. P. Taylor
‘Drunk, the feckwit’s always drunk. I’m no more a prisoner than you,’ she said scornfully.
Mariah looked at her. He knew there was something wrong: it was the way she spoke, her voice was not the same. It was as if she was keeping something from him. Mariah knew her every movement: the raised eyebrow she would give in discontent – the smirk of a hidden joke – the stare at the insanity of a guest. These were the secret things they would share. Never a word would need to be spoken. Mariah could tell what was in her mind by her look.
‘Titus said you were in trouble.’
‘Trouble? How can I be in trouble here? I’ve been watching the guests leaving.’
Mariah glanced at her long boots; they were edged in beach sand with a white salt stain about the ankle. Now he knew she was hiding something from him.
‘Been far?’ he asked, hoping not to show his reason for asking.
‘I was here all the time – why are you so worried?’
‘He tried to kill me again. The man in the mask. I did see him in the hotel, I know that now, he was here. Titus saved me from him.’
‘How could he be here?’ she asked quickly.
‘He knows how to get into the hotel – I know he does,’ Mariah snapped at her.
‘Then you better find him. I’ve had enough of today. You seem to have forgot that he attacked me as well. All you seem to care for is yourself and your stupid Bureau – don’t think things happen to other people, do you, Mariah?’
‘Why do you think I have been looking for you?’ he asked as she screamed at him.
‘You can’t look for someone who isn’t lost – I have been here all the time, I never left. It was you who went off, you who got attacked again. Would be better if you’d just stayed here.’
‘We’d been asked to look out for Hoetzendorf,’ Mariah argued.
‘You’d been asked, not me. I just get dragged along, it’s always the same.’ Sacha stamped her feet as Mrs Mukluk raised a sleepy eyebrow and stared out from the reception desk.
‘They were all murdered, exploded before our eyes,’ Mariah protested.
‘I saw it all, Mariah – where do you think I was?’
‘Lost – Titus said you were in a dark place.’ Mariah replied.
‘He was wrong – very, very wrong,’ Sacha said as she turned to walk away. ‘It’s late and I need to sleep. You can play your games and run about for the Bureau but I am going to bed.’
‘So you say you’ve been here all night?’ Mariah asked as she walked off and Mrs Mukluk chuntered in her sleep.
‘Say? Say? Are you asking me if I’m lying? Just spit it out.
Why should I lie about being elsewhere? What have I got to hide from you?’ Sacha slammed her fist against the wall in anger. She was red-faced and ready to fight.
‘There is sand on your boots. You said you’d been here all night – but you have a salt stain and sand on your boots and don’t tell me that the hotel has sprung a leak.’
‘It’s from before,’ she said flustered. ‘Just forgot to get it off.’
‘Looks like you’ve been in the sea … or in the cellar,’ Mariah replied, knowing she would explode in rage.
To his surprise, all Sacha did was take a deep breath and smile. She twizzled the tips of her hair with her fingers as she looked at him and nodded. Inside she wanted to scream, she was furious, but she tapped her finger ten times upon her folded arm and then ten more for good measure. They stood looking at each other, waiting for the other to break the silence.
‘I don’t have to tell you everything, Mariah,’ she said calmly as she turned again to walk away.
‘I just want to know where you have been,’ he said as he followed on behind.
‘I came looking for you when you ran off – then there were the explosions and I couldn’t find you and I have been here ever since.’ Sacha spoke softly, as if she didn’t want to hear her own words.
‘So you haven’t been on the beach or in the cellar?’ he said, knowing she was lying to him.
‘No … Neither place.’
‘And that’s your last word?’ Mariah asked, not wanting to believe she would lie to him and giving her the chance to tell him the truth.
‘My last word,’ she said softly as she walked away.
Mariah watched as she walked off along the corridor towards the stairs that spiralled to the top of the hotel. He waited until she was gone from sight and then followed on behind. He got to the mirror where he had seen the reflection of Packavi. Mariah checked the alcove once more for any sign of a way of escape. He then examined the fireplace where the substance had exploded. There was no damage at all, just a faint charring of smoke upon the wall. It was as if the explosion had chased him and him alone.
He didn’t know what to do. For the first time since Captain Charity had taken over the Prince Regent, Mariah felt threatened. It had been a safe place, a sanctuary, a castle and fortress. Now he believed the bastion had been breached and the enemy was somewhere deep within in its heart.
[ 8 ]
Dedalus Zogel
AS dawn broke over the sea, Mariah dressed quickly and slipped quietly from his room. He ran down the spiral staircase taking the treads two at a time. Beating out the call for breakfast, the Chinese gong echoed through the chimneys and up the shaft of the steam elevator. It was as if the building shuddered with every beat and yet sounded empty. Turning from the staircase, Mariah walked along the outside balcony and across the sun terrace that overlooked the beach far below. In the bay, the Irenzee looked bigger in daylight than it had the night before. It towered from the water and looked as though it stretched across half the bay. Several fishing boats circled the ship. They were minuscule at its side and dwarfed by the height of the ship.
There was a low rumble that shuddered the water. It trembled the flat calm as from within the ship the sound came again. Three tall masts began to slide upwards from within as the funnel extended from the bridge. Every movement of the vast ship juddered the sea, and for the first time Mariah saw several men on its deck. Even from that great distance, he could see them running back and forth as the ship’s masts
grew taller and the funnel stretched to the sky. Then came an even louder rumble. It sent the seabirds squawking from their roosts and up into the morning air. A sudden blast from the ship’s horn rattled all the windows of the Prince Regent and a gigantic cloud of smoke blasted from the ship. It hung in the still morning air.
‘Thought it was the end of the world,’ Charity joked as he stepped from the restaurant and onto the balcony of the hotel. ‘I also thought we had a meeting last night.’
Mariah flushed red and looked away. ‘I didn’t want to see you – it happened again.’
‘What?’ Charity asked.
‘I got lost under the hotel and found my way into the Pleasure Palace. I met Titus Salt and … and on my way back the man attacked me.’
‘Mariah, I need to know these things,’ Charity exclaimed, scowling.
‘I would have told you but I felt a fool – I argued with Sacha and could think of nothing else.’
‘I should have been told. There are some things that even you cannot handle by yourself.’
‘I’m an agent of the Bureau just like you,’ Mariah argued.
‘Even more reason why you should tell me. Did you see much of your attacker?’ Charity asked as Mariah looked out to sea, unable to talk face to face.
‘He told me his name – said he was called Packavi.’ Mariah spoke sullenly.
‘Packavi … Are you sure?’ Charity asked in disbelief.
‘Packavi – I can’t forget it,’ he answered.
‘The world turns on such a name. He plays games with us. That is not a name but a condition of the heart. All he tells us is that he knows the wrong he does. A peccavi is one who has sinned and seeks confession. He will not rest until many are
dead – he is a master of a dark art, sworn that anyone who hears his secret must be killed.’
‘How
do you know?’ Mariah asked.
‘I have met his kind before – prophets of a society so filled with secrets that they can only be found out by their own words. They infest every echelon of our world and cannot be trusted. They are the power behind the power and even Queen Victoria is helpless against them.’
‘But Packavi is one man,’ Mariah protested.
‘One man he may be, but there are many who whisper in his ear and give him his words.’
‘Titus said … Titus said he was Spring-Heeled-Jack,’ Mariah said nervously as if the mention of the name would invoke the creature.
‘A monster of the imagination and the penny dreadful – but he is more than a creature from a comic book, that man is a cold-blooded killer.’ Charity spoke in a harsh whisper as he gripped the rail to the balcony as if to squeeze the life from it.
‘He said I was to be a sacrifice.’
‘Then we shall frustrate his purpose. You must not leave the hotel – and stay above stairs,’ Charity replied.
‘But I think he is already here. I saw him in the reflection in the mirror. Then just as I searched for him, some bread in the fire exploded. I think he did it.’
‘Then we will double our guard and be sure that you are kept safe. I will contact Isambard Black – he will know what to do.’ Charity looked out to sea. ‘It has not been a good day for the Prince Regent. Most of the visitors are gone and already there are rumours in the town that we are killing our guests.’
‘And Inspector Walpole believes we did it,’ Mariah added.
‘Then we shall find the culprit and prove to the lanky genius that we are innocent,’ Charity said, trying to make light of the dire situation.
‘Does he really hate you so much?’ Mariah asked. ‘You could see it in his face. His eyes twitched when he spoke to you and he looked so … so –’
‘Jealous?’ Charity asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Believe it or not we were once good friends. Then he began to change. He would joke about me and then those jokes turned sour. His mother died on his seventh birthday. I remember it well. They had Italian ice cream and real soda. Everyone was gathered around the table. She started to laugh and laugh and then turned purple and suddenly collapsed face down into the birthday cake just as he was about to blow out the candles. He never smiled again.’ Charity bit his lip earnestly.
It was then that the balcony shook with the moaning of the foghorn from the Irenzee. It rattled the windows, and several slates slipped from the roof and fell to the beach below. On the side of the ship two large doors began to open, level with the sea. Then from inside the vessel slipped a long, narrow steam motor launch.
‘We have a visitor,’ Charity said as he pointed to the craft which sped quickly across the water. ‘I received a telegram this morning saying he would be checking in to the hotel for a week. Dedalus Zogel, the richest man in the world.’
‘He’s coming here?’
‘And you shall welcome him, Mariah.’
The vessel cut through the still sea, leaving a trail of black vapour in its wake. It sped towards the harbour, gaining speed by the second until the bow was clear of the water. Suddenly the engine stopped and the boat glided to a halt as it pulled up by the harbour wall. Mariah watched as a small procession left the vessel and one by one walked slowly up the harbour steps to a waiting carriage.
‘Quickly, Mariah, come and welcome our guest,’ Charity
said as he strode towards the door of the restaurant. Mariah followed. He stopped momentarily and looked back out to sea. A maroon fireball shot into the air from the ship and exploded above the Prince Regent. It filled the morning sky with plumes of red and blue smoke as if to herald Zogel’s arrival on dry land.
‘The man is a fool,’ Charity muttered loud enough for Mariah to hear.
Mariah walked through the restaurant. He smiled to the small cluster of guests who had gathered around the long table to snaffle a pile of hastily prepared pancakes.
‘We’ll be leaving at eleven,’ one of them shouted to Charity as he walked by. Charity ignored the small man in the tight waistcoat. ‘We’re not staying here to be blown up.’
‘Pity,’ Charity replied as he walked on.
‘We could all be killed,’ the man protested at Charity.
‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ he replied as he pushed open the doors and walked into the lobby.
‘What’s he doing about it?’ the man asked Mariah, waving his finger under his nose.
‘It’s a matter for the police,’ Mariah replied
‘Then where are they?’ the man asked abruptly as he jumped up.
‘They’ll be here at eleven.’
The man sat back and tugged at the buttons on his waistcoat and then pulled on the long strands of hair that grew from under his ears.
‘I’ll tell them all I know. I saw everything – poisoned they were, poisoned, and to think I nearly ate the same food as they all did.’
‘The same?’ Mariah asked as he stopped and turned to face the man. ‘They all ate from the same tray?’
‘I tell you, every one of them and no one else. I watched
them. Wondered why they were getting special treatment. Thought it was Captain Charity’s way of keeping in with them. Saw the waiter come in and visit each one. First he served that American Ambassador, then the other two and finally the mad German with the fat wife. Then they began to explode. Saw it. Watched it and believed it not …’ the man spluttered.
‘Who served them?’ Mariah asked.
‘A waiter – a Prince Regent waiter in a white jacket and black trousers.’
‘That wasn’t a Prince Regent waiter – not dressed in that way,’ Mariah said as he tried to remember the face of the man he too had seen in the ballroom.
‘But –’ the man said as Mariah walked off, not waiting for him to finish.
‘Captain!’ he shouted as he followed Charity along the lobby.
Charity stopped by the newly mended revolving door. In the dark hours of the night it had been completely replaced before any more guests could complain about the pile of dust that was once a large American and his wife.
‘It was murder. I don’t know how or why but I think I can prove it,’ Mariah said.
‘Keep it to yourself,’ Charity whispered. ‘Best not let these things out just yet.’ Charity smiled as yet another guest stormed by and jumped into a waiting carriage.
‘Did you know the men who died?’ Mariah asked as Charity went through the door and on to the wide steps that fronted the road.
‘I had met each one. Bureau business – that and the war.’
‘Then, why should someone want to kill them?’ Mariah asked.
‘That, my dear Mariah, is a mystery that by the hour becomes more intriguing.’ Charity could say no more. At that very moment a long black carriage with six horses and three
grooms drew up at the front of the hotel. A photographer in long breeches and a flat cap quickly set up his tripod and waited for the occupants to jump out.
A steward blustered his way from a cart that had followed behind. He took hold of the door handle and threw down the folding steps from beneath the carriage. The man then opened the door.
‘Mr Dedalus Zogel,’ he said in a pompous voice as he bowed.
There was a flare of bright white light as the flash powder prepared by the photographer exploded. The man in the doorway of the carriage held a pose and when the smoke had cleared he stepped to the ground.
‘Spectacular,’ said the photographer in approval.
The man was six feet tall with long black hair that was tied tightly behind his head. In his hand he carried a peculiar hat that looked as if it was made of straw. The man had an extravagant moustache that swept around his mouth and under his chin. A thick beard swept about his neck like a scarf. Covering one eye was a golden monocle hung from a thin leather strap. Without him even speaking a single word, Mariah knew instantly he was an American.
&nbs
p; ‘Captain Charity,’ the man said in a warm voice that echoed the smile on his face. ‘So good to see you again.’
‘Mr Zogel.’
‘Please call me Dedalus – after all, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.’ Zogel’s smile widened even further as he thrust out his hand. ‘And who is this fine boy?’
‘Mariah Mundi, my assistant,’ Charity said as he turned away from Zogel.
‘An assistant, Captain? He looks so fine I should be stealing him from you.’ Zogel said as he reached out his hand and patted Mariah on the head as if he were a small dog. ‘I shall enjoy
my stay here. I expect the best – for the best.’ Zogel drooled the words in an accent from south of the Mason-Dixon line. ‘You know, boy,’ he said as he turned to Mariah, ‘I’ll double the pay Charity gives you if you work for me.’
‘It’s more than money, Mr Zogel,’ Mariah replied. ‘This is like a family business.’
‘Well, boy, I always get what I want and never give up trying – so if you ever get let down, Zogel will be there to pick you up …’
Mariah smiled and gave a slight bow. Something about the man reminded him of Isambard Black. Mariah bowed again. It was all he could think of to do as Zogel took off his buckskin gloves and slapped them across the back of Mariah’s head.
‘In with the cases and be careful – they’re all made from alligator, caught them myself,’ Zogel blustered.
‘You chose the Prince Regent rather than stay on your yacht?’ Charity asked as he followed the procession up the steps and into the hotel.
‘If I could think of another way of travelling I certainly would. I hate the sea, it’s an abomination on the mind – and I have heard so much about this place I wanted to see it with my own eyes. Is it true you still have a galvanised bathing machine?’
Mariah stood back as a stack of alligator-skin cases were unloaded from the carriage and the cart that followed. A small man the size of a child gave particular attention to all that was happening. He would nod and moan at the stewards, pointing to cases and bags and muttering under his breath. The man was half the size of Mariah and perfect in every way. He wore a neat black suit, white shirt and black tie. On his feet was a pair of sparkling black boots that looked as if they had been made for a large doll. He stopped and stared at Mariah.
