He could see the smoking void left by the explosion and the resultant train crash. The end of one carriage still poked above the visible portion of track. Overground staff and altruistic members of the public were helping shaken passengers out of the back door of the last carriage and onto the vertiginous track. Just as many were merely interested in peering over the edge of the precipice in morbid fascination at the devastation below. To his right the platform ended at a barrier another thirty yards away. What he could not see, in either direction, was his quarry, Jago Kane.
"Going up," came the tinny voice of the automaton lift attendant behind him. Ulysses turned and pushed his way urgently back into the box-cage of the elevator. "Next stop, Bakerloo Line southbound." Kane must have gone on up to the next level, another two storeys above the city streets. But of course, Ulysses inwardly chided himself, why would as experienced an agitator as Jago Kane leave himself trapped on the line he had already put out of action? He would already have his escape route planned. If he were planning to ironically escape via the Overground he would be heading for the southbound route.
"Here, what do you think you're doing?" a red-faced man protested as Ulysses pushed him out of the way to get inside the elevator.
"Careful, sir. Only twelve passengers are allowed to travel at any one time," the lift-droid told Ulysses.
"Yes, and I was here first, you blaggard," the red-faced man continued to complain officiously.
Cursing in frustration Ulysses pulled the leather cardholder from his jacket pocket. "You, scan that," he instructed the droid. "You," he said, turning to the protesting beetroot, "this is a matter of national security. If you don't get out of my way now the Lord High Chancellor himself will have you up on a charge of treason. Now, piss off!"
He had been back in London for less than forty-eight hours and already the red tape of its bureaucrats and the petty mindedness of its citizens was obstructing him for the second time in as many days.
"Well I never," Ulysses' challenger blustered, staggering back out of the lift. Several other passengers, having half-heard what Ulysses had said, followed him.
Ulysses turned back to the lift attendant. "Now, take this lift up to the next level or I'll see you melted down for scrap."
"Right away, sir," the automaton's synthesised voice said cheerily.
"Do you know what's going on down there?" another man was demanding of anyone who would listen. "The dinosaurs are loose! It's every man for himself." Men cursed in disbelief. Women gasped and one even swooned, her partner catching her in his arms.
It had been cramped enough inside the carriage to the first level as it filled with people already attempting to escape the confusion that had taken hold around the zoo. Kane had made it into a lift ahead of Ulysses, its doors shutting in his face, the carriage sailing up into the shaft of the Overground pillar, leaving him cursing in frustration.
For a second he had considered taking the maintenance stairs in the pillar to the next level, exhausting as that would have been. But then almost immediately the second elevator opened at ground level. Ulysses made sure that he was onboard, and readied himself to make a swift exit at the next level. But of course Kane had not stopped there.
Ulysses was sure that Kane had had a hand in the chaos that had been unleashed on the capital. It had all the hallmarks of his indiscriminate terrorism and revolutionary philosophy, whereby whatever warped end he was trying to achieve always justified the means, no matter how many innocent people died as a result. In fact, considering Ulysses' encounters with Kane in the past, it seemed quite possible that the more innocent victims who died the more effectively he felt he had made his reactionary point to the ruling classes of Magna Britannia and the supporters of the British throne.
Several people were now demanding to be let out of the ascending elevator, rumour and half-accurate information working its bewildering magic on them, as they started to believe that it was now as unsafe on the higher levels of the Overground as it was down on the streets with the dinosaurs.
The elevator clanked to a stop. "Alight here for Bakerloo Line southbound," the attendant announced jovially. The gate concertinaed open and Ulysses burst from the carriage onto the platform. Up here the Overground was level with the rooftops of the grand townhouses that lined the streets adjoining Regent's Park. However, the aerial railways were still dwarfed by the tallest skyscrapers at the heart of the City financial district further to the south.
Incredibly, the Bakerloo Line was still running. But then again, the train crash, the breakout from the zoo and Ulysses' subsequent pursuit of his old enemy had all taken place in less than five minutes. A train was waiting at the station, steam hissing from its wheel-pistons. Those who had just alighted looked in dazed confusion at the smoke rising from the ruined track below, or peered over the safety railings at the chaos unfolding beneath them on Prince Albert Road.
A whistle sounded. The train was ready to depart and then Ulysses saw his quarry dashing on board some three carriage lengths further down the platform.
"Stop!" Ulysses yelled just as the whistle sounded again and the train's driver released a great hissing cloud of steam from the boiler. He shouted again but only those travellers nearest him took any notice, looking at him in annoyance. The aural receptors of the automata station porters were deaf to his cries, his desperate shouts drowned out by the furious noise of the train itself. The flag was waved and the train began to pull away.
Barging startled travellers aside, Ulysses ran down the platform after the departing train, dodging his way through the obstructing masses to get at his quarry. He suddenly found himself unavoidably bowling into a large, matronly woman carrying two heavy bags and could only manage a snatched, "Pardon, madame!" as he sent the poor woman tumbling onto her well-padded behind, her shopping spilling out all around her.
Then he was past the last of the travellers, the platform a clear stretch of iron and concrete ahead of him as the distance between him and the train widened. With the matron's tirade haranguing the insolent fop - as she called him - Ulysses put on a turn of speed, the adrenalin still racing through his system as he sprinted after the Overground train.
The last carriage was still just parallel with the end of the platform as Ulysses caught up. Then it was past him and, without hesitation, Ulysses hurled himself at the train.
He hit the rear carriage, his feet finding purchase on the backplate as he grabbed hold of the bars either side of the door. Cane still in hand, he tugged open the door and swung himself into the train to be greeted by startled gasps and exclamations of surprise.
"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen," he said, making his way between the seated passengers. "There's absolutely nothing to worry about but if you'd just like to clear the way, your compliance would be much appreciated."
He hustled his way through the passengers as the train got up to speed. He knew that Kane was at least three carriages closer to the front. At the far end of the carriage Ulysses reached forwards and opened the door into the next passenger compartment, the wind tugging at his hair and jacket. Making sure he maintained contact with at least one of the carriages at all times he stepped across the divide.
On reaching the end of the third carriage in this way, cane in hand and with the upper floors of tall apartment buildings speeding past beyond the train's windows, he paused with his hand on the handle of the next access door. Packed in with the rest of the passengers he saw Kane's unmistakable profile ahead of him
Ulysses pressed on, now even more determined to catch up with his old enemy. Bursting into Kane's carriage he shouted, "Seize that man!"
Kane's head snapped round, his eyes locked onto Ulysses and gave him a sour look, pure hatred. Reacting immediately, Kane began forging his way through the throng. "Stop him!" Ulysses shouted.
His sixth sense suddenly flared and he ducked even as Kane swung round, gun in hand. The shot was painfully loud in the confines of the packed carriage. The passengers flinched as one as
the glass pane in the door behind Ulysses exploded.
Then Kane was pushing his way through the carriage again, his progress less hindered by the people who whimpered as they strove to get out of his way. Not one of the passengers tried to stop him. The great British public, Ulysses thought, as reliable as ever.
His own pistol was in its holster beneath his jacket but he didn't want to risk using it in the packed train. He doubted he would be able to get a clear shot anyway and the continual jolting of the train as it sped over the high-rise tracks ruled out such rash behaviour altogether. It was one thing for uncaring revolutionary terrorists to carelessly gun down innocent members of the public, but it wasn't behaviour becoming of an agent of the throne of Magna Britannia. Besides, he wanted to finish this up close and personal. Kane had got away before. Ulysses was not about to let him do that again.
Although the terrified passengers were doing their level best to evade Kane's fury they were still slowing his progress and Ulysses was beginning to catch up. Kane reached the door to the next carriage as Ulysses reached the mid-section doors. Ulysses considered pulling the emergency cord, to get the driver to stop the train, but decided that such an action might merely aid the terrorist's escape.
And then Kane was gone anyway, not into the next carriage but up the ladder bolted to the end and onto the roof. Ulysses hurried to the banging door as the train sped on through the Upper City. In a matter of seconds he too was on the ladder, clambering up towards the roof of the hurtling train.
The hobnail heel of a boot came down on the top rung where Ulysses' fingers should have been, just as he had anticipated. Lurking one rung lower, he athletically pulled himself up in a sudden spring as his feet kicked off from their footing below. With one hand still on the ladder Ulysses swung with his cane at Kane's other leg, as his premature stamp unbalanced him for a moment. The ebony cane struck home as the train bumped over a join in the rails. Kane crashed down onto the roof of the carriage, landing hard on his backside. It was all Ulysses needed to finally make it onto the roof himself, no longer threatened.
He braced his legs against the rocking motion of the train as Kane slid himself backwards out of reach. Ulysses now stood between Kane and the front of the train, smoke from the engine stack whipping back over the carriage roofs around them like escaping wisps of cloud.
"I should have known you would cheat death. I just don't know how you managed it," Ulysses said, taking in the long scar that bisected Kane's face.
"You just can't keep a good man down," the revolutionary sneered, the scar twisting his lips into a grotesque sneer. Kane's educated accent seemed as at odds with his appearance as with his revolutionary politics.
"This little debacle we find ourselves caught up in has all the hallmarks of a Kane mutiny," Ulysses said, the words dripping with venomous bile.
"Prove it!" Kane spat back.
"And what do you know about the disappearance of one Professor Galapagos from the Natural History Museum?"
"More than you will ever know and more than I will ever tell you!"
"Oh, I'm so glad," Ulysses said with a cruel smile. Just for a moment doubt flickered in the terrorist's dark eyes. Ulysses smoothly pulled the sword blade from the sheath of his cane, the action culminating with a grandiose flourish. "Because that means I don't have to worry about bringing you in alive for questioning. So I rather feel that this concludes our brief reunion. You and I have nothing more to say to one another," Ulysses pronounced.
"Nothing you would want to hear, I'll warrant, fascist!" the revolutionary spat - his gun suddenly in his hand again - and fired.
Nimrod pulled the steering wheel hard to the right as another apatasaur lumbered into the path of the Silver Phantom, throwing Genevieve across the padded white leather upholstery. Horns blared as he crossed onto the other side of the road, narrowly avoiding an omnibus heading straight towards them, and then they heard the shattering crunch of collision as the double-decker collided with the column of the leviathan's pillar-like leg.
Beyond the comparative safety of the car the streets of Marylebone were in chaos as the unleashed dinosaurs stampeded down Portland Place.
"What are you doing?" Genevieve yelled at him, her hands gripping the back of the driver's seat. "Ulysses told you to get me out of here!"
"Yes, ma'am," Nimrod calmly agreed, swerving to avoid a man who had stumbled into the road to avoid a lumbering ankylosaur. "That is what I am attempting to do." He peered upwards at the distant winding course of the Bakerloo Line high above and the train speeding on its way towards the next station. This stretch of the Bakerloo Line followed the streets beneath quite closely and, despite the stampeding dinosaurs and the chaos they left in their wake, Nimrod was managing to keep up with Ulysses' progress above.
He brought the Phantom back onto the left side of the road. Genevieve yelped in surprise and Nimrod shot a glance out of the passenger window to see a velociraptor running along the pavement beside them, keeping pace with the car. For a moment the terrible lizard returned Nimrod's gaze with its cold-blooded reptilian stare. Its ophidian pupil dilated as if, in that moment, it recognised the car's occupants as potential prey. The tone of the car's engine rose as Nimrod floored the accelerator and the Silver Phantom powered away from the sprinting raptor.
They sped through Langham Place into Regent Street, Nimrod bouncing the vehicle over the corner of a pavement, pedestrians scattering before them. "Where did you learn to drive?" Genevieve gasped.
"On the streets of Calcutta," he replied, flatly. "It might be wise to fasten your seatbelt, ma'am."
There was the screech of brakes and a delivery van shot past them, colliding with another running dinosaur and sending the creature smashing through the plate glass window of a jewellers.
They were now right in the thick of the stampede as the city streets funnelled the animals into the bottleneck of Regent Street, towards Oxford Circus. Despite the alien nature of their surroundings, some of the dinosaurs were reverting to their natural instinctive behaviour. Apatasaurs charged past startled shoppers, crushing the unwary beneath their elephantine feet, running in fear of the pursuing carnivores.
Still some way ahead of Nimrod and Genevieve, the Megasaurus Rex turned into a packed Piccadilly Circus. A startled omnibus driver spun his steering wheel to avoid the prehistoric obstacle. The bus lurched violently to one side and into the path of a steam-belching hansom cab. The two vehicles collided with a dreadful inevitability, the bus toppling onto its side. The Megasaur put a huge clawed foot on top of the stricken omnibus, as though claiming its kill, and snapped the driver from his cab.
An old battle-scarred bull triceratops ran amok through Langham Place, dragging torn shop awnings behind it as its tiny, enraged brain translated every obstacle in front of it as a potential challenger to its position as alpha male. It didn't stop even when it hurtled into the front of the Langham Hilton Hotel, shattering the glass revolving doors with its battering ram horns.
The police had mobilised, the emergency services having been notified of the unfolding disaster, no doubt by the embarrassed zoo authorities. A pair of squad cars were now racing up the road towards Nimrod and Genevieve, blue lights flashing, sirens wailing.
With a metal buckling crump a clawed fiend landed on the bonnet of the Silver Phantom. Nimrod's first instinct was to brake, but the furiously working rational part of his brain told him that if he did that chances were that the Phantom would be crushed beneath the hooves of the stampeding creatures behind it.
For a split second Nimrod looked up through the windscreen into the ophidian eyes of a velociraptor and, in that moment, was convinced that it was the same creature that had kept pace with the car only seconds before. The monster opened its terribly fanged jaws - giving Nimrod a clear view right down its throat - screeching as it butted the glass of the windscreen, trying to get at the people within.
Nimrod worked the steering wheel, trying to unbalance the raptor whilst still remaining in control.
The creature scrabbled for purchase on the automobile's bonnet, trying to hook its deadly talons into the thin metal. Nimrod gave a sharper pull on the wheel and the raptor was gone, tumbling onto the road and into the path of a police car. The squad car slammed into it, its radiator grille buckling, the whole vehicle bouncing over the top of the fatally injured predator. A smoke-belching coal-lorry hit the raptor's carcass after it and turned over into the path of the apatasaurs. One of the leviathan herbivores tripped, its front legs becoming entangled within the wreckage of the steam-lorry. As its forelegs buckled its momentum carried it forwards and the apatasaur came crashing down just metres from the Silver Phantom. The car sped on, leaving behind it the sounds of shop windows shattering, people screaming and one vehicle after another smashing into the stampeding dinosaurs.
A horse-drawn carriage suddenly came face to face with a hunting allosaurus. The horses whinnied in panic and reared. Then the carnivore was on them, crushing one of the terrified beasts under a massive clawed foot and ripping the head from the other with its steel-trap jaws.
Elsewhere Peeler-drones had surrounded an ankylosaur. One of the automata advanced confidently towards the tank-like brute, giving its default, "'Ello, 'ello, 'ello, what's going on 'ere then?" The ankylosaur gave a guttural bovine moan, feeling threatened by the Bobbies that were steadily tightening their cordon around it. Then the creature decided that it had had enough. With one deadly accurate swipe of its heavily armoured tail it took off the head of one advancing drone and sent another three tumbling like bowling pins. It would take more than Scotland Yard's finest to bring this situation to a satisfactory conclusion. At this rate, the authorities were going to have to call in the army.
Leaning forwards against the steering wheel, Nimrod looked up again at the top of the canyon formed by the buildings either side of Regents Street, moving a momentarily misplaced flick of hair out of his eyes as he did so. He had lost sight of the train he had been certain Ulysses was on, as the Bakerloo Line was replaced by the Victoria branch of the Overground. A family group of five pterosaurs flapped past above the rooftops, keeping clear of the carnage consuming the city streets below. Nimrod could only hope that his employer was having more success than they at evading danger.
Pax Britannia: Unnatural History Page 9
