The Broken Sun

by Darrell Pitt

  Jack sat up, groaning. The restraints were also gone.

  He and Scarlet had been imprisoned in two cells. Bars ran from floor to ceiling. Jack called to Scarlet, but she didn’t stir.

  A sound came from the door and Jack looked up to see a face watching him through a small window in its centre. The man had grey eyes and a moustache.

  Jack leapt to his feet. ‘I’ll kill you if you’ve harmed her!’ he yelled. ‘I swear it.’

  ‘Sure you will, kid.’ The man looked bored, as if he’d heard similar threats before. ‘Nice to see you’re awake. Don’t worry: your friend will be fine.’

  ‘Who are you people?’ Jack asked.

  ‘You can call me Rick. You don’t need to know more than that.’

  ‘Why are you doing this?’

  ‘Why does anyone do anything? It pays well.’

  ‘What are you? Some sort of mercenary?’

  ‘You say that like it’s a bad thing.’ Rick smirked. ‘I’ll get Mr Darrow for you.’

  The window slid shut. Jack saw a tiny porthole on the other side of the room. Edging towards it, he glimpsed sea, a patch of land, the black balloon of an airship. They were high above the ocean on board the vessel that had attacked the Explorer.

  Jack called to Scarlet again, and this time she stirred, opening her eyes. ‘What happened?’ she asked, struggling to her feet. ‘Where’s my cup of tea?’

  ‘We were captured by Darrow’s men.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ She rubbed her head. ‘That’s right. I remember now. Atlantis. Straight from the frying pan…’

  ‘…into the fire,’ Jack said. ‘I know what you mean.’ He was relieved to see Scarlet on her feet, although she did have a nasty lump on her forehead. ‘I suppose Blinking Bumblebee has been in a similar situation,’ he said. ‘Do you recall how she escaped?’

  ‘Ask me when my head isn’t about to explode.’

  They heard footsteps. Rick unlocked the door and George Darrow entered. This was the first time Jack had seen the man properly. A white scar began at his left ear and ran down to his neck. He wore a dark-green outfit similar to a military uniform, but with no insignia. He smiled without humour, nodding to the porthole.

  ‘Smollett’s Island is far behind us. We’ll be back in England within days,’ he said.

  ‘Where are Mr Doyle and the others?’ Jack asked.

  ‘They are dead.’

  Jack’s vision swam. He tried to speak, but he could not breathe.

  Darrow continued. ‘My men hunted them down one at a time. Your mentor was the last to fall. A very resourceful man, he was no match—’

  ‘You’re lying!’ Jack had finally regained the power of speech. ‘I don’t believe anything you’re saying!’

  ‘Suit yourself.’

  ‘Why are we here?’ Scarlet asked. ‘What’s this all about?’

  ‘Those are good questions,’ Darrow said. ‘And I will give you an equally good explanation. It all began with a little skirmish we now call the Great War.’

  ‘Millions died,’ Scarlet said. ‘Hardly a skirmish.’

  ‘As you wish. The call went out and we answered. Farmers, labourers, scientists, doctors, all brothers-in-arms, lining up to fight and die on faraway battlefields like cattle in a slaughterhouse.

  ‘We gave our hearts and our lives for the Empire. And what did we get in return? Peace. After years of sacrificing our best and brightest for the Empire, we had a new world order.’

  ‘Everyone made sacrifices,’ Jack said.

  George Darrow held up a finger. ‘That’s where you’re wrong. How many members of the Royal Family perished? Not one. No, my boy, the Empire demanded the blood and flesh of the common man and we gave it.’

  ‘It was a terrible time,’ Jack said. ‘Everyone knows that.’

  ‘The greatest difficulty is recognising the true enemy,’ Darrow continued. ‘Our leaders point into the distance and say there is the enemy.’ He clenched his fist. ‘But you know who the enemy truly is? Our own government! The leaders who sent us to the slaughter! It was their war! Not ours!’ He stopped, took a deep breath. ‘Our own government is the enemy. Not distant strangers with whom we have no quarrel.’

  ‘What do you intend to do?’ Scarlet asked.

  ‘There must be vengeance,’ he said. ‘Blood must be repaid with blood.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  It was dark. Hours had passed since Darrow had announced his scheme. Jack and Scarlet had seen no other crew member. No food had been delivered. Dividing their emergency supplies, they had eight pieces of beef jerky between them. They ate four, saving the rest. Who knew when their next meal might arrive?

  Jack still had all his other belongings. Darrow’s men had not bothered searching him. The precious plant retrieved from New Atlantis was stuffed down the front of his shirt. He also had his lock pick, but it was useless: the lock on the outside of the cell was too far away.

  Jack couldn’t get Darrow’s words out of his mind about Mr Doyle.

  Your mentor was the last to fall…

  ‘You can’t believe him,’ Scarlet said. ‘Darrow is just trying to demoralise us.’

  ‘He’s succeeding,’ Jack said.

  ‘This is where you’re doing yourself a disservice by not reading the Brinkie Buckeridge books,’ Scarlet said. ‘Brinkie is often captured by evildoers, but she is never frightened by their taunts. In The Adventure of the Laughing Boulder, she was told that Wilbur Dusseldorf has been fed to a tank of hungry turtles and all that remains is his big toe.’

  ‘Scarlet, I’m not sure what part of that story I find the most incredible. That someone would write a book about a giggling boulder—’

  ‘A laughing boulder.’

  ‘—or that someone would get fed to a tank of turtles and all that remains is their—what?’

  ‘Big toe.’

  ‘I don’t recall ever seeing Mr Doyle’s toes. How will we identify him if only a toe remains?’

  ‘I’m not sure. The police department are just now starting to use fingerprints to catch criminals. I wonder if Mr Doyle has his toeprints on file?’

  ‘What a good question. I’ll be sure to print his toes when I see him next. Should I bring it gently into the conversation or just spring it on him? You know, like, “Mr Doyle? Do you mind if I make a print of your toes in case you’re ever eaten by giant turtles and all that remains is your big toe?”’

  ‘You make it sound like it’s a silly idea,’ Scarlet said.

  ‘Not at all. I’m getting my ears printed. And my tongue. Just in case.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous.’

  Jack sighed. ‘I just hope Mr Doyle and the others are all right.’

  ‘So do I.’

  There were no beds so they curled up on the floor. Jack reached through the bars, took Scarlet’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Hours later, he woke to the steady hum of the airship’s engine like a hive of bees in the night.

  He listened to Scarlet breathing. She said something in her sleep and rolled over. Jac
k wondered what their next move should be. Darrow had said they were returning to England. There seemed little chance of getting out of this cell, let alone escaping the airship. All they could do was wait for the right moment to arrive.

  And what about Gloria? Was she alive? They had to get the plant to her and Professor Clarke. And Mr Doyle. Was he dead or was George Darrow lying? Jack closed his eyes.

  When he opened them next, the early light of day was streaming in the window. Scarlet was already up and trying to peer out the glass from her side of the bars. Jack sat up painfully with a crick in his neck.

  ‘How did you sleep?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Like a princess.’

  ‘Me too. Er…that is, like a prince.’

  Scarlet nodded to the window. ‘They’ve been taking on supplies at a harbour,’ she said. ‘I think we’re back in Rabat.’

  Jack looked out the window and saw city spires. He remembered the wonderful day they had enjoyed with Phoebe. Would they ever see her or Mr Doyle again?

  The airship shuddered as the engines came to life. The ship started moving.

  ‘We’ll be back in England soon,’ Jack said.

  They sat down and talked. Jack spoke about his days with his parents. Scarlet was always interested to hear about the sights and sounds of circus life. She gave him the latest news about Brinkie Buckeridge. The annual convention was coming up.

  The one topic they did not discuss was food. They had been locked away for more than a day. They still had their four meagre pieces of beef jerky, but Jack wanted to save them.

  Late in the morning, their fast ended when Rick appeared with two plates of dry bread and a bottle of water. After stuffing the food in his mouth, Jack asked Rick why he was supporting Darrow.

  ‘I have special skills that make me valuable.’ Rick gave a wry smile. ‘And I only speak the international language.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Money.’

  ‘You would sell out for money?’

  Rick shrugged. ‘A man’s got to make a living. I’ll be long gone by the time the doctor has carried out his plan.’

  ‘When’s that happening?’

  Rick smiled, waving a finger at him. ‘The doctor said you were a smart lad. You don’t need to worry about the big day. It won’t involve you or your lady friend.’

  ‘So why are we here?’

  The smile faded to a sadness so unexpected it sent a chill up Jack’s spine. ‘I can’t say.’ He nodded to the bread. ‘Eat up, boy. You’ll need your strength.’

  He departed without another word, leaving Jack and Scarlet to chew on in silence. Jack didn’t want to reveal his fears, remembering Darrow’s words back on the island.

  Some new specimens for my experiment.

  What sort of experiment?

  Once darkness came, the only light was from the moon, the only sound Scarlet’s voice. Jack was glad she was here. He would have hated being locked in this cell with only his thoughts to keep him company.

  Just after dawn, Jack was woken by men shouting and the engine changing rhythm. The airship was slowing; it felt like they were landing. Scarlet pointed to the porthole. The stonework of a building flashed by. Men yelled orders about towlines and the ship shuddered before coming to a halt.

  ‘I wonder what happens now,’ Scarlet said.

  No sooner were the words out of her mouth did Rick enter, flanked by two men. One was tall and thin. His companion shorter, stockily built. Rick introduced them as Leckie and Johnson. They all carried guns.

  There was something familiar about Leckie, Jack thought.

  ‘I know you!’ he said. ‘You were disguised as Professor Clarke!’

  ‘I was wondering if you’d recognise me,’ Leckie said, laughing. ‘I enjoyed a long career in the theatre, but this sort of work pays far better.’

  Jack was worried that Rick was prepared to reveal his men’s names. It was as if he didn’t expect Jack or Scarlet to ever tell anyone else.

  ‘We don’t want any trouble,’ Johnson said, revealing a toothless mouth. ‘We just have to deliver you to the castle.’

  ‘What’s going to happen to us?’ Scarlet asked.

  ‘You can ask Mr Darrow about that,’ Rick said.

  Once again, Jack was sure he caught a troubled expression in Rick’s eyes. Jack now thought he knew what was planned—and it wasn’t anything good.

  Sandwiched between the men, Jack and Scarlet were led a short distance through the airship and down a gangplank. They were moored next to a castle, somewhere off the east coast of Scotland, Jack guessed.

  ‘Keep moving,’ Leckie said, jabbing him with his gun.

  They were taken into the turret and down a spiral staircase. The cold building closed in, the walls wet with moisture. The place smelt dusty and dank. Passing a window slit, Jack caught sight of a collapsed stone structure, and at the bottom of the stairs they were pushed down a corridor, dimly lit by gaslights.

  We haven’t seen anyone else other than Darrow and these few men, Jack thought.

  ‘Where’s the rest of your crew?’ he asked.

  ‘The Avenger is almost completely automated,’ said Rick. ‘It’s his own design. I’ve never seen anything like it. Takes less than half-a-dozen men to operate.’

  ‘That’s amazing.’ They seemed to be moving away from the shore. ‘I thought he had an entire garrison at his disposal,’ Jack said.

  Leckie answered. ‘He doesn’t need them with those machine men.’

  ‘Best stay quiet about ’em,’ Johnson warned.

  ‘No harm,’ Leckie said, ignoring him. ‘Those machine men will sort anyone out. One of them’s worth both houses—’

  ‘Shut up,’ Rick snapped.

  They reached a thick timber door. Rick unlocked it, revealing a lengthy room lit by a square window high up on one stone wall. The area had been divided into cells with a corridor down the middle. Each of the cells contained a man, either drugged or asleep, lying on beds.

  Jack and Scarlet were shoved into the nearest cell.

  ‘Our work here is finished.’ Rick gave them a brief nod. ‘Hope all goes well for you.’

  ‘What’s going to happen to us?’ Jack asked.

  Leckie started. ‘The doctor has some rather interesting plans—’

  ‘I said shut up,’ Rick snapped. Turning to Jack, he said, ‘Just do as the doctor says and you’ll be fine.’

  The men locked the cell and left. Around the room there were a dozen men, each of them ghostly pale, as if they had not seen sunlight for years. They all seemed disabled in some way, missing arms or legs.

  They were dressed in the same makeshift uniform that Darrow had been wearing. Their hair was cut short and they were clean-shaven.

  ‘What is this place?’ Scarlet asked.

  ‘I don’t know. Something to do with Darrow’s experiments.’

  ‘Is this…’ Scarlet swallowed and clenched her fists. ‘Is this what he has planned for us?’

 
Jack shuddered. Why would Darrow amputate someone’s arms or legs? It made no sense. Was he some kind of Doctor Frankenstein?

  A man shifted on one of the bunks. Both his legs were gone below the knees; his eyes were hollow, ringed by dark circles. Easing himself onto the edge of the bunk, he gazed about in a daze.

  Scarlet drew breath. ‘Oh no,’ she said. ‘It’s not possible.’

  ‘What is it?’ Jack asked.

  ‘We know that man.’

  ‘What?’ Jack looked at the legless man. ‘I’ve never seen him before in my life.’

  ‘You have,’ Scarlet said. ‘His portrait hangs above the fireplace at Amelia Doyle’s house. That’s Mr Doyle’s son—Phillip Doyle.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Jack stared hard at the man, trying to remember the pictures of Phillip. Other than the portrait at his family home, there was also the old photograph of him as a child, with his parents back at Bee Street.

  ‘Bazookas,’ Jack murmured. ‘I think you’re right.’

  The man looked like Mr Doyle. He could have been a younger version of the great detective.

  Phillip was in a cell on the other side of the passageway. Jack went to the bars and pushed his face through. ‘Phillip? Can you hear me?’

  The man did not reply, only stared wordlessly into space. Jack and Scarlet called his name several more times, but he either didn’t hear or wasn’t interested in replying. Some other men in the cells sat up and stared, but like Phillip they remained silent, lost in their own worlds.

  Another man in the next cell, who was missing arms, spoke up. ‘The government must pay,’ he said. ‘The criminals are the men of Westminster.’

  ‘What is your name?’ Scarlet asked. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Betrayals must be repaid.’ His face twitched. ‘The blood of the innocent will be avenged.’