by Darrell Pitt
As they headed to the door, Mrs Dudley stood.
‘Please,’ she said. ‘I don’t want anything to happen to him.’
‘It may be too late for that,’ Mr Doyle said.
The Lion’s Mane soared at full steam across the city. With the rail network still out, the streets had become more crowded as the evening peak hour had begun. Only the skies were moving and these were packed with every available airship.
‘Battersea Terminal is on the Thames,’ Mr Doyle said. ‘It only handles domestic traffic. Warren Dudley must have organised to have the auction during the flight so he could disembark with his winnings.’
Jack fed the firebox as Mr Doyle fought to eke out every bit of power he could from the engine.
‘So the Valkyrie Circle is not behind the bombings,’ Scarlet said.
‘It is not,’ Mr Doyle said.
‘So there is no reason not to march in the parade,’ she said. ‘We now know the suffragette organisations are innocent of any wrongdoing.’
‘There is still the small detail of it being illegal.’
‘Unjust laws must be challenged,’ Scarlet said. ‘Surely you agree with that?’
Mr Doyle said nothing. The airship yard came into sight, where dozens of vessels were landing and taking off.
After bringing the Lion’s Mane down, they raced across the yard to the passenger terminal, a hexagon-shaped building with blue and white tiles reaching to the ceiling. A round hole at the very centre—an oculus—showed an indigo blue sky with a single star.
Scanning the departure board, Jack pointed. ‘There’s the Stapleton. Gate Seven.’
They raced through the terminal and scrambled over the ticket barriers.
‘Hey!’ a guard yelled. ‘Stop!’
Ignoring him, they ran to the gate. The Stapleton was a rigid airship, several hundred feet long, its highly combustible hydrogen contained in bags, locked within a metal framework. Its next stop was Harlow, a city to the north of London.
The departure ramp was being rolled back just as Jack and the team leapt on board.
They made their way to the main compartment, a long cylindrical gondola that hung beneath the balloon. Most of the people on board were workers heading home after a long day, but a few families sat quietly, peering through the large square windows. Mr Doyle approached a steward selling drinks and candy to the passengers.
‘Is there another level?’ he asked.
‘Only the bridge and the function room, sir. Both are off limits to the public.’
‘Where are they?’
The man pointed to a spiral staircase halfway down the corridor. As they approached it, a guard came into view. It was the moustachioed man from Spain who had led them into a trap at the bar, and later cut the rope bridge in La Zubia.
‘Mr Doyle!’ Jack said. ‘That’s—’
He got no further as the man pulled out a gun.
‘Down!’ Mr Doyle cried.
Bang!
They threw themselves aside as the bullet smashed a window. Pandemonium reigned as people screamed and ducked, and someone knocked over a drinks trolley.
The man raced up the stairs. Mr Doyle drew his weapon and held it ready as they followed. The staircase swung around in a tight circle. Mr Doyle fired, the man cried out and they heard the clatter of his gun bouncing down the metal steps.
Mr Doyle had hit him in the ankle. He was bleeding, but would survive.
‘Where is the meeting?’ Mr Doyle asked, looming over him.
‘Damn you!’
As they climbed over him, Jack spotted another armed man heading towards the bridge.
‘Drop it!’ Mr Doyle ordered.
The man ignored him, raising the gun to fire, but Mr Doyle blasted it from his hand. Suddenly a door burst open and Jack caught a glimpse of a meeting in progress. It must be the auction to buy X-29. Men in suits poured out.
Mr Doyle shoved Jack and Scarlet behind a drinks trolley as more shots were fired.
‘I fear we’ve started a panic,’ Mr Doyle said. ‘Someone must have assumed us to be a rival gang trying to steal X-29. Now everyone’s shooting each other.’
Another man darted into a passageway. Scarlet pointed. ‘Look!’ she yelled. ‘That’s Warren Dudley.’
They gave chase. Dudley had a gun in one hand and a small satchel over his shoulder. That must be the potion, Jack thought.
Dudley headed towards the bridge, then disappeared through a door. More shots rang out.
‘What’s going on?’ Jack asked.
‘I’m not sure,’ Mr Doyle said. ‘It feels like—’
The vessel tilted wildly to one side, veering towards the city buildings below.
Jack, Scarlet and Mr Doyle struggled up the corridor, the skyline growing closer with every second.
‘He’s insane!’ Mr Doyle said. ‘He’ll kill us all!’
The detective opened the bridge door and another shot rang out. Timber splintered and they dived for cover.
‘Give up, Dudley!’ Mr Doyle yelled. ‘The airship’s out of control.’
‘I’d rather die than be captured!’
They were over Central London now. The buildings grew closer, the airship narrowly avoiding one by only a few feet. Then—
Crash!
The sound of breaking glass erupted from below as the port side struck a block of apartments. The impact catapulted the airship in the opposite direction.
‘Hang on!’ Mr Doyle yelled.
There was a moment of terrible silence and then the gondola slammed against the buildings on the other side of the street. Jack ducked as windows exploded inwards. A tiled roof carved a path across the side of the gondola. They were now only a hundred feet above the street.
A thud reverberated above, the sound of the airship’s frame hitting more buildings. If the airship’s bag were punctured, one spark would spell disaster.
Crash!
The Stapleton slammed against another tenement building.
‘We can’t take much more of this,’ Mr Doyle said. ‘It’s only a matter of time before the balloon explodes.’
He tried easing the door open again, but more shots rang out. The airship tilted. Grabbing the railings, Jack, Scarlet and Mr Doyle held on for dear life; they would fall out if the vessel pitched any further.
‘Hold on!’ Mr Doyle gasped.
Slowly, the airship righted itself, but now began to cant in the other direction. Another line of roofs raced past.
‘This is it!’ Jack yelled.
Timber, tiles, metal and glass erupted in all directions as they were thrown back down the corridor. Screams were drowned out by the screeching of the rigid balloon scraping along the roofs, an ear-splitting shriek like nails against a blackboard.
The Stapleton shuddered for another hundred feet before a final thud brought them to a halt.
‘Dear God,’ Mr Doyle gasped.
‘I think that’s it,’ Jack
said. ‘But if the hydrogen explodes—’
‘I know.’
Now Mr Doyle managed to open the bridge door. No sign of Warren Dudley. The control room had borne the worst of the impact. Jack couldn’t see how anyone could have survived.
‘We must get out of here,’ Mr Doyle said.
‘What about Dudley?’
‘Forget about him. Staying on board is suicide.’
The Stapleton lay at a forty-five degree angle. The spiral staircase leading downstairs had dislodged and hung at a jaunty angle.
They climbed down. The stewards had taken charge of the situation and were evacuating people.
The airship had settled on a row of roofs. A huge gash ran the entire block, cutting across a hundred buildings. Attics and top floors lay exposed, but someone was already attempting to rescue the stricken passengers; a homeowner had set up a ladder, allowing people to climb through his roof to another bedroom below.
Glancing ahead, Jack saw a small figure moving in the distance. Grabbing Mr Doyle’s arm, he pointed. ‘There!’ he said. ‘It’s Dudley!’
The figure disappeared over the apex of the roof. They clambered after him.
The building intersected with another block of units with a church at the end. A Scotland Yard airship flew overhead, shining a light on Dudley. He reached into his carry bag.
‘Is that a gun?’ Scarlet asked as they took refuge behind a chimney.
‘No,’ Mr Doyle paled. ‘It’s worse.’ They watched as Dudley brought the vial to his lips and drank down its contents. ‘He’s taken the potion.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Mr Doyle reloaded and turned to Jack and Scarlet. ‘I don’t suppose I can talk you into staying behind?’ he said.
‘I don’t suppose you can,’ Scarlet replied.
‘Then stay close. Anything might happen.’
They scrambled across the sloping roofs to a building where the roof flattened out. Dudley had not dropped out of view.
‘This reminds me of a case involving a singing parrot, an Eskimo and a stringless violin,’ Mr Doyle puffed.
‘You should tell us about it,’ Scarlet said. ‘Later.’
Reaching the edge of the building, they leapt across a three-foot gap to the next roof. A sea of air vents and chimneys lay ahead, with a church steeple beyond. Sirens filled the night air. Emergency vehicles were arriving to evacuate the injured from the Stapleton.
Mr Doyle slowed down. ‘I don’t like this,’ he said. ‘I think we should proceed with caution.’
‘I’d rather proceed with a tank,’ Jack said. ‘Or a battleship.’
‘Watch out!’ Scarlet screamed.
They dropped to the ground as something flew through the air and slammed into a chimney behind.
‘What was that?’ Jack asked.
‘I believe it was a roof tile,’ Mr Doyle said. ‘Flung with enormous force.’
They were almost at the end of the block. Only one more apartment building and they would be at the church—a large gap separated the buildings.
‘Build up speed!’ Jack shouted over his shoulder. ‘Faster!’
Mr Doyle started to say something, but Jack didn’t hear it as they sprinted towards the edge. He leapt across with Scarlet by his side. They landed safely, but then turned back to see Mr Doyle still at the edge, peering into the gap.
‘Twenty years ago, certainly, but now…’ He patted his bad leg. ‘Stay where you are. I’ll use the stairs.’
A growl came from the direction of the church.
‘I’ll hurry,’ Mr Doyle promised, disappearing into a stairwell.
‘What will we do?’ Scarlet asked.
‘I’m not sure. I wish Mr Doyle had left Clarabelle with us.’
There was another growl. Then a huge shape appeared. Jack grabbed Scarlet and dragged her behind a low wall.
The steep, sloping gabled roof led to a thin spire. At any other time he would have admired the architecture, but now Jack could only think of staying clear of Dudley.
With any luck we can hide here until Mr Doyle turns up with Clarabelle.
They heard Warren Dudley sniffing. What’s going on? Jack thought. Ben Sykes had looked ghastly, but he hadn’t been carrying on like a wild beast. A chill went through Jack. What was it Ben had said? The potion accentuated normal senses.
Something slammed into the low wall like a cannonball.
‘I think he’s spotted us,’ Scarlet said.
‘Or smelt us,’ Jack replied.
They started up the roof of the church. Jack knew Mr Doyle would be there within minutes; they just had to play for time. The tiles were old and cracked. It wouldn’t take much to break them.
Reaching the spire, Jack glanced back and saw Dudley appear from behind a chimney.
‘Dear God,’ Scarlet said.
Dudley had doubled in size. His clothes now hung off him like rags. No human in history had looked so strong, so powerful. No face had worn such handsomely carved features. Every muscle bulged, every sinew throbbed.
He was the perfect human in every way. Except for the expression on his face.
Jack had once seen a mad dog on a street when he was travelling with the circus. The animal had come wandering down the main road, saliva dripping from its mouth, its face contorted, shaking uncontrollably from its madness. But the worst thing was the eyes. Red and wild, they had jerked about like puppets on strings, darting one way, then the other.
That’s how Dudley looks now, he realised grimly.
‘What do I see before me?’ Dudley shouted. ‘Rats! Vermin ready for extermination!’
‘The police will be here in a minute,’ Jack yelled. ‘You had best surrender—’
‘Surrender?’ Dudley laughed. ‘The human race will surrender to its new master. Homo Sapien is finished. Now exists only Homo Superior.’
‘He’s completely insane,’ Scarlet muttered.
‘I can hear you, child!’ Dudley screamed. ‘Every sense is amplified! Hearing, sight, touch. I am alive. For the first time, I am alive and the world will bow before me.’
‘You’re just a man,’ Jack said. ‘And you’ll be jailed for your crimes.’
‘You can’t jail what you can’t catch.’
Dudley turned and gripped a nearby chimneystack, wrenching the square brickwork from its foundations.
Grabbing Scarlet, Jack scrambled up the steeple.
Dudley lifted the stonework above his head. ‘Catch this, child!’
He threw the enormous piece of masonry. It slammed into the building beneath them, shaking the foundations.
The old church won’t survive this.
Jack and Scarlet climbed higher. Now they were a hundred feet above the street. One slip and they’d be doomed.
The spire continued for another fifty feet. Once they reached the top, there would be nowhere to go. And what will happen then?
A Scotland Yard airship swooped low. A man with a megaphone appeared at a wi
ndow.
‘Make your way down to the street,’ the voice demanded. ‘Surrender yourself to police.’
Dudley laughed, picked up a brick and hurled it with all his might. It flew a hundred feet through the air, punching a hole in the balloon, and the vessel plunged to the ground.
Another airship came near. Gunshots rang out and Dudley fell back under the impact, but Jack could see the bullets were like bee stings to him.
‘He’s indestructible!’ Scarlet said.
‘Not entirely,’ Jack said. ‘But close.’
They climbed higher. Only another twenty feet to the top.
Dudley scooped up a tile. Like a discus thrower, he flung his body around and hurled it. The tile sailed through the air and smashed into the airship’s engine. There was a spark—and then it exploded into flames.
‘Oh no!’ Jack cried.
The blazing airship crashed into the side of a building, and catapulted down into the street. More airships were turning up with every passing minute. Half-a-dozen opened fire, peppering Dudley with bullets, but he simply shrugged them off.
‘I am a God on Earth!’ Dudley snarled. ‘And the human race will kneel before me!’
‘The power’s gone to his head,’ Jack said. He remembered the meek little man back at Bee Street. It was hard to believe he was the same person. Maybe years of resentment and hatred had now come to light. ‘I don’t know what can take him down.’
Dudley wheeled, focusing on them. ‘I’m coming for you!’ he yelled. ‘Be careful not to fall!’
He would be on them in seconds, and then they would stand no chance at all. ‘I’m going back,’ Jack said.
‘What?’
‘If I can slow him down—’
‘Slow him down?’ Scarlet asked. ‘How? By showing him your stamp collection?’
The airships continued to fire as Dudley advanced on the spire. Most of the tiles were gone. Gripping one of the veiling struts, he snapped it in his hand.
