The Broken Sun

by Darrell Pitt

  ‘My dear son…’ Mr Doyle’s chin quivered as he drew on an inner strength. ‘But I must stay focused. Show me the cells where the men were kept.’

  A few minutes later, Jack and Scarlet found themselves back in the chamber where they had so recently been guests. Mr Doyle took them to one side. ‘I must ask you once more,’ he said. ‘Are you sure it was Phillip?’

  Jack and Scarlet nodded, then took turns describing the man in the cell, doing their best to be positive about his condition.

  ‘Do either of you have any idea where Darrow may have gone? The involvement of Scotland Yard will likely force his hand.’

  ‘One of the mercenaries made a rather strange comment,’ Scarlet said.

  Jack agreed. ‘He said about the machine men being able to destroy two houses.’

  ‘Two houses?’ Mr Doyle said.

  ‘No,’ Scarlet said. ‘He referred to them as both houses.’

  Mr Doyle stroked his chin. ‘Today the British Parliament—Westminster—is holding a special session to celebrate the King’s birthday.’

  Jack was confused. ‘What does that have to do with people’s homes?’ he asked.

  ‘Not people’s homes,’ Mr Doyle said. ‘Houses. The British Parliament is comprised of two of them—the House of Commons and the House of Lords. Legislation must pass both houses before it comes into law.’

  Inspector Greystoke joined them. ‘It would be the ideal opportunity for Darrow to strike at the heart of the British government.’ He turned to Mr Doyle. ‘How deadly are these machine men?’

  ‘Extremely. One alone is equal to a battalion of men. They are fast and efficient. It was only because we were able to scatter and hide that we escaped.’

  ‘I’m privy to some of the security arrangements for this afternoon,’ Greystoke said. ‘I know the guard has been doubled because of the King’s attendance.’

  ‘They’ll need more than that,’ Jack said. ‘Much more. A dozen machine men would be unstoppable.’

  ‘When does the session begin?’ Mr Doyle asked.

  ‘Five o’clock.’ Greystoke glanced at his watch. ‘We’ve got a little over four hours.’

  They returned to the Enforcer. As they flew towards the coast, one of the Scotland Yard men rustled up some cold beef sandwiches.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about the machine men,’ Scarlet said. ‘They would appear to be quite indestructible, but I know how to bring them down.’

  ‘What do you have in mind?’ Jack asked.

  ‘We need to appeal to their human side.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  Mr Doyle was nodding. ‘I believe you’re right, my dear,’ he said. ‘Darrow may have done his best to reduce these men to unthinking machines, but they are still men. Human. Fallible. They are still free men. His techniques must have been only partly successful, because he wanted the secrets of the living machine from New Atlantis.’

  ‘Why does Darrow hate England so much?’ Jack asked.

  The detective sighed. ‘For some people the war never ends. Living the peace is just as difficult as fighting the war.’

  They didn’t speak again until London came into view. The airship joined a line of vessels entering the city, peeling off as they came within view of the Houses of Parliament.

  The area was under lockdown. Twenty airships crisscrossed the sky. Most of them were police vessels, but several were military.

  Soon the information of the threat was being relayed to the whole fleet. One airship broke formation and made its way to them. The vessels descended to the roof of an administration suite.

  Inspector Greystoke met with an officer of the other ship. ‘That was Warren Timms from the Parliamentary Guard,’ he explained on his return. ‘He’s contacting the relevant government representatives to inform them of the situation.’

  ‘And what are they doing?’ Mr Doyle asked.

  ‘Nothing, so far.’

  ‘Surely the event can be cancelled.’

  ‘Not without evidence that an attack is imminent.’

  ‘But can’t—’

  ‘Threats are made against the government every day,’ the inspector pointed out. ‘This is just one of many.’

  ‘Can my team and I be allowed into the building?’

  Greystoke promised to arrange access. The airship then took everyone to a parking lot west of the new House of Commons. Old warehouses lined the opposite bank of the Thames. Jack glanced at the names: the Midas Building, Old Oak Industries, Crane Manufacturing. There were crowds of onlookers too, eager to catch a glimpse of the King.

  Greystoke returned with security cards that gave them access to the whole building. Then he reboarded the airship.

  ‘We have an issue,’ Mr Doyle said as the vessel rose back into the sky. ‘The new Parliament has hundreds of rooms and miles of corridors. Do either of you have any idea how we should conduct such a search?’

  ‘Uh, very quickly?’ Jack suggested.

  ‘I would suggest you both start at the lower levels and work your way up. The kitchen is down there. I will start at the top and work my way down.’

  ‘Mr Doyle,’ Scarlet said, ‘that will take days.’

  ‘We must try.’ The detective frowned. ‘Don’t forget: alert the authorities if you see anything suspicious. And don’t split up!’

  Jack and Scarlet made their way to the elevators. Security guards were everywhere. It was impossible to travel fifty feet without a soldier or officer from Scotland Yard checking their credentials.

  They reached the kitchen. It was the largest Jack had ever seen, with benches, ovens and cooking equipment stretching as far as the eye could see. Hundreds of people were busy preparing meals.

  Jack led Scarlet through the melee of people chopping and cutting and yelling orders until they reached a quieter corner. A girl, her name badge identifying her as Betty, was pouring cream into a multitude of white jugs.

  ‘I’m with security,’ Jack said, trying to sound important. ‘Er, have you seen anything strange?’

  ‘Strange?’ She glanced up at him, but continued to pour. ‘In what way?’

  Jack wasn’t sure how he could describe a dozen machine men.

  ‘Just odd,’ he said lamely.

  ‘I have seen something strange.’

  ‘Really?’ Scarlet said. ‘What?’

  ‘You two.’ Betty, frowned at them. ‘You’re the only people here not working.’

  They took the hint and kept moving. Jack continued to scan the kitchen. At first, the place had appeared completely chaotic, but now he realised that everyone was simply busy; they knew what they had to do and were doing it.

  Then an older blonde woman passed by a shelf at the end of the chamber and disappeared through a rear door. Jack only saw her for a second, but his heart gave a lurch.

  That’s not possible, he thought. She’s dead.

  But he was sure it was her.

  Sandra Clegg.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  ‘Bazook
as,’ Jack said. ‘That was Sandra Clegg!’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Scarlet asked.

  Was it really her? Or had he mistaken one of the cooks for Clegg? It had been an exhausting few days. He described the woman to Scarlet. ‘I’m not positive,’ he said. ‘But it looked like her.’

  ‘She’s doing very well for a dead woman,’ Scarlet said. ‘She has a new job and a flashy hairstyle.’

  ‘Now you’re the one being silly. If you’d—’

  The building shook. The kitchen staff stopped almost as one. Someone dropped a stack of plates and they shattered. Two security guards appeared, charging past Jack and Scarlet.

  ‘It sounds like an attack on the upper levels,’ one said to the other. ‘Lock down the elevators and keep them secure.’

  Jack was inclined to follow, but remembered Sandra. His stomach churned. Whatever was happening on the upper floors could be a diversion. Maybe the real action was about to happen under Parliament.

  One of the chefs yelled for work to continue. Jack turned around, almost knocked over a man with a plate of small pies, and went to the doorway where the woman had disappeared.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Scarlet asked.

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  Jack grabbed the arm of a young boy carrying a box.

  ‘Where does that corridor lead?’ Jack asked.

  ‘Nowhere. It used to be dry storage, but they had a problem with rising damp.’

  The boy headed off and Scarlet turned to Jack. ‘So we’re chasing a ghost?’ she asked. ‘Shouldn’t we go upstairs?’

  ‘They’ve got plenty of people upstairs. This may be important.’

  Leaving the noisy kitchen, Scarlet followed him down the corridor. The silence closed in around them. They were underground, and it was cold. Water stains discoloured the walls.

  ‘Moisture must be seeping in from the Thames,’ Scarlet said.

  The corridor wound about to stairs leading down. A lamp set into the wall at the bottom cast a feeble glow.

  ‘I hate to say it,’ Scarlet said, ‘but this reminds me of a Brinkie Buckeridge novel.’

  ‘There’s one for all occasions, isn’t there?’

  ‘It’s The Adventure of the Drinking Nose.’

  ‘I won’t even ask how that’s possible.’

  ‘She goes down a flight of stairs with her Peruvian guide. When they get to the bottom, the door at the top closes behind them and a beehive drops from the ceiling, releasing thousands of killer bees.’

  ‘And what happens?’

  ‘Brinkie survives.’

  ‘And the Peruvian guide?’

  ‘Uh…well.’

  At the bottom was a padlock on the door. Secured. Sandra—if that was who she was—could not have come this way.

  ‘I think I’ve led us on a wild goose chase.’

  ‘Or a wild cook chase, except…’

  Scarlet gripped the lock and shook it. It was secure, but a lock was only as effective as the screws holding it in place and these were gone. Open mouthed, Scarlet pulled the hinge back and pushed the door open to reveal a gloomy interior.

  The smell of mould was strong, almost overpowering. Empty shelves lined both walls. The boy from the kitchen had been correct in saying the storage room was no longer used. Stepping into the murky chamber, they started down the aisle.

  Suddenly, a gun was rammed into the back of Jack’s head.

  ‘I’d advise you not to move,’ a voice said. ‘I don’t want to kill you, but I will if I must.’

  ‘Sandra?’ Scarlet said.

  The woman rounded on them with the weapon in her hand. ‘This is quite a surprise,’ she said. ‘You two have more lives than a cat.’

  ‘We might say the same thing about you.’

  ‘If you stay quiet and do as I say, you might survive this in one piece,’ Sandra said.

  ‘Why are you doing this? Surely you’re not in favour of attacking the Houses of Parliament?’

  ‘I’m doing what must be done.’

  ‘Murdering innocent people?’ Jack asked. ‘How can that be right?’

  ‘Murder is wrong,’ she agreed. ‘Just as murdering my sons was wrong.’ Her chin trembled, but she did not lower the gun. ‘They had names—Reggie, Anthony and Edwin. They were people. Now they’re lying in a field in France. Forever lost.’

  ‘Your sons…’

  ‘My real name is Darrow.’ She smiled sadly. ‘You didn’t really think my name was Clegg, did you? The government took the lives of a generation. Good men who deserved better than they got.’

  ‘But the war was years ago,’ Scarlet said. ‘Why now?’

  ‘George wanted the injured men to help him of their own free will.’

  ‘But when that didn’t work he tried to brainwash them.’

  Sandra hesitated. ‘I know it wasn’t right,’ she said. ‘George wanted the technology from New Atlantis to finalise his work, but it’s too late now. It’s only a matter of time before we’re caught.’

  ‘Then give up,’ Scarlet said. ‘There’s no need for bloodshed.’

  ‘There has already been blood,’ Sandra said, darkly. ‘Now it must be repaid.’

  She swung the gun, striking Jack across the temple.

  When he opened his eyes again, his head hurt and the air was filled with dust and debris. Broken shelves lay everywhere. A few lights feebly illuminated the storage room. There had been an explosion. Turning his head, he saw Scarlet on the floor next to him, her eyes fluttering open.

  They had been dragged to the far end of the chamber. Voices echoed through the gloom. Standing at the edge of a hole, Sandra had the gun trained on them. There was a railway track below, the metal rails twisted by the blast.

  A dozen machine men appeared in the tunnel. Jack and Scarlet huddled in terror as they climbed through the gap. One carried George Darrow on his shoulders as easily as a father might carry a small boy.

  Darrow was lowered to the floor, his eyes fixed on Jack and Scarlet. ‘What are they doing here, Mother?’ he asked. ‘Why are they still alive?’

  Sandra’s face twisted with confusion. ‘They’re just children,’ she said. ‘Surely they don’t have to die too.’

  ‘If they’re not with us, they’re against us.’

  Jack’s eyes searched the masks of the machine men until he focused on one. The man was almost identical to the others: covered in body armour, an engine attached to his back, guns and grenade launchers strapped to his arms. But there was something familiar about him.

  ‘Phillip Doyle!’ Jack said. ‘Do you remember us? We know your father!’

  George Darrow laughed. ‘You think these men are so easily swayed? They have sworn to follow my every command. Within hours the prime minister, the entire Cabinet and the King will be dead. The men who caused the war will pay with their own blood.’

  ‘It will not be as easy as you believe.’

  The voice came not from Darrow but the shadows behind Jack and Scarlet
, as Mr Doyle broke from the gloom.

  ‘I have alerted the authorities to your attack and the building is being evacuated as we speak. We know the automated attacks from your airship were simply a diversion. There are hundreds of soldiers ready to defend this building—with their lives, if necessary.’

  ‘Then they will pay with their lives,’ Darrow snarled.

  ‘George,’ Sandra said, lowering the gun. ‘We can’t do that. They’re not our enemy!’

  ‘They are all our enemies!’ Darrow snapped. ‘We’ll fight to the last man!’

  Mr Doyle’s eyes focused on a machine man. ‘Phillip?’ he said. ‘Can you hear me? It’s your father.’

  ‘You are dead to him,’ Darrow said.

  ‘I searched for you on the field after the battle,’ Mr Doyle said to his son. ‘I tried to find you, but you were gone. This man took you away—’

  ‘Ignore him!’ Darrow said to Phillip. ‘He is our enemy!’

  ‘—from me and Amelia and Jason,’ Mr Doyle persisted. ‘You remember them, don’t you, Phillip? You remember how you and I used to play when you were a boy? All the fun we used to have.’

  ‘Prove your loyalty to me, Phillip!’ Darrow demanded, pointing at Mr Doyle. ‘Kill him!’

  Phillip raised his arms.

  ‘No!’ Sandra cried.

  She made a grab for her son, but he knocked her to the ground.

  ‘I’m giving you an order, soldier,’ Darrow told Phillip. ‘You’re going to kill that man. He betrayed you! He betrayed his country!’

  Confusion crossed Phillip Doyle’s face.

  ‘We had so many good times,’ Mr Doyle continued. ‘You remember your mother and the games we used to play? The songs we used to sing?’

  ‘He’s the enemy!’ Darrow cried. ‘Destroy him!’

  Phillip pointed his arms at his father. The engines whirred as grenade launchers locked into place.