‘It’s beautiful,’ said Hannah. She got to her feet and walked around the well, studying the box from all sides. It was most curious. There were no hinges, keyholes or joins of any kind on its smooth surface. In fact, it looked like a solid block of marble. Unable to resist, she reached out to touch it.
‘Do not!’ barked Dr Mangrove. Instantly Hannah removed her hand. ‘Any interference with the box will seal it permanently. Step away, my dear, and allow the Vulture to do its job.’
The eyes of every person in that chamber, the captive and the free, even Milo, were now riveted on the Vulture. Hannah squatted down beside the doctor and waited for something marvellous to happen. But nothing did. Minutes slipped away.
Finally Hannah sighed. ‘Dr Mangrove –’
‘Hush, my dear,’ said the doctor.
The former maid was about to say something more when the Vulture’s crooked beak began to turn, propelled from within. It was a clever trick but hardly the great wonder Hannah had been waiting for. Then the bird’s neck began to twitch from side to side. The girl held her breath as the hard surface of the Vulture’s feathers began to flutter. There was a whirling sound coming from inside the statue, and then suddenly the wings spread open, unfolding like a majestic cape. There were gasps all around and mutterings of surprise. But when the bird leaped from the ground, beating its wings and soaring high above the winch, each silvery feather fanning the current, those gasps were replaced by the silence of awe. The Vulture’s flight was fluid and graceful – not at all what you would expect from a machine.
The children watched as the bird moved elegantly through the air, gliding over the pit, wings arched broadly. It began to fly in circles above the black box, dropping lower and lower with each loop. Then the Vulture dipped its head, flexed its claws and began to swoop like a predator on its prey. The bird’s etched talons latched onto the top of the box, each claw finding its slot and slipping easily into the dual chambers carved almost invisibly into the gleaming black surface.
It was a sight to behold! Even Aunt Rosemary and Levi, still suffering the gruesome effects of Dr Mangrove’s torture, were spellbound. What they had witnessed was astonishing, fantastical – who knew what to expect next? The anticipation was almost painful. So when the Vulture’s curled beak suddenly parted with a metallic squawk and the smooth black box dropped from the hook and plunged into the murky water, sinking quickly out of sight, all of them were astonished – and not a little disappointed.
‘No!’ cried Hannah.
She tore her eyes from the dark water and stared manically at Dr Mangrove, stunned to find that he was not looking into the well with anguish. Rather, he continued to look up in awe at the Vulture, whose talons still clasped an object – only now it was a much smaller box, free from the marble casing. Dr Mangrove got up and began to turn the crank by hand, lowering the rope until his prize was within reach. He unhooked the box and carried it carefully to the table. Hannah fell in by his side, eyeing it hungrily. It was a plain wooden box, unadorned save for the black marble plate over the top and a simple latch at the front. The first thing the doctor did was snap the Vulture’s beak shut. This seemed to untether the bird’s claws from the plate, allowing the old man to remove the statue and place it gently to one side.
‘You did a fine job,’ he whispered, stroking its silvery feathers.
Then, without any ceremony, he popped the latch and opened the box. The Lazarus Rock sat on a cushion of royal blue. It was perfectly round, about the size of an orange, its smooth surface veined with ribbons of colour, the strongest of which were green, lilac, amber and a brilliant blood red. As she gawked at the priceless rock Hannah Spoon was very nearly panting.
‘A combination of the world’s most coveted gemstones,’ said the doctor, lifting the sphere from its cushion. ‘Equal parts diamond, ruby and sapphire. It weighs over two kilograms and only came into existence as the result of a most freakish alchemy.’ He smiled at his accomplice. ‘Your mouth is watering, my dear.’
Hannah could not take her bulging eyes off the stone, and when Dr Mangrove held it out to her she began to shiver. ‘You have earned your reward,’ he said. ‘Take it.’
With a surging heart the maid grasped the Lazarus Rock in both hands. It felt silky and warm to the touch. ‘I’ve never seen a more beautiful thing,’ she whispered. ‘Looks just like it dropped down from heaven, don’t you think, Dr Mangrove?’
But the doctor was not listening. His own eyes were fixed upon the map resting in the space where the Rock had been. After a century pressed beneath the priceless jewel the map was curved like a bowl, its parchment rigid. He lifted it out, cupping it neatly in his hand. The paper was brittle, its black ink faded to a dull grey, the surface streaked with blemishes of brown and yellow, but the intricate map drawn upon it was more dazzling to the ancient man than five hundred Lazarus Rocks. The north-western jungles of Budatta were laid out before him, as was the complex route to the Valley of Brume. He brought the map to his face and inhaled its stale perfume.
‘There is no death,’ he murmured. ‘Silas, my dear friend, it will not be long now.’
Not all of the prisoners were able to see the map from their positions around the chamber (only Adele had an unhindered view), but each of them knew what it meant. Dr Mangrove had succeeded. The map was his and with it the Panacea. All was lost.
‘I will send word to Bingle,’ said Dr Mangrove, wrapping the map in a silk handkerchief and sliding it into his coat pocket. ‘We will meet at the rendezvous point in exactly thirty minutes. Come, my dear, put your treasure away – we have much to do.’
While Hannah was placing the Rock back inside its case, Dr Mangrove turned his attention to the Winterbottoms. ‘I am afraid our visit is at an end,’ he told them. ‘But I shall remember our time together in this magical place with great fondness.’
When the doctor walked across the chamber there was a new energy in his stride. ‘How fortunate that I did not kill you earlier,’ he said, pausing as he passed Isabella. ‘Now I can give you the spectacular send-off I dreamed of. Your uncle would be thrilled.’
‘No!’ shouted Milo, lifting his head with such force that the hair flew from his face. ‘We had a deal, Mangrove. I do what you ask and you let the others go.’
‘My dear boy, what I promised was that all of your loved ones would leave this chamber in one piece, and so they shall.’ He was grinning now. ‘For the record I never said anything about them being alive.’
‘You monster!’ shouted Adele, trying in vain to tear the chains from the stone wall.
Dr Mangrove ignored her. ‘Move the girls as we discussed,’ he told Hannah, pointing to the two crates sitting on either side of the well. He grabbed a pile of ropes from beneath the desk and passed them to her. ‘Ensure the lids are tightly secured before you begin.’
While the two villains were mulling over the finer points of the executions, Milo Winterbottom was squeezing his right hand through a narrow loop in the rope. He had been working on it for over an hour, head bowed, fingers slowly unpicking the knot. With one hand freed the boy quickly liberated the other. His attention was now focused entirely on Dr Mangrove, who was standing with Hannah near the edge of the pit. Perfect. He would drown the monster.
Milo leaped from his chair with all the rage of a wild animal and charged headlong at Dr Mangrove. Hannah turned first. Like a cat she pounced, running at the stampeding boy, determined to cut him off before he reached the doctor. But Milo ploughed right through her, sending the girl tumbling to the floor.
‘Go, Milo!’ cried Adele, pounding on the glass.
‘Flatten him, Cousin!’ shouted Isabella.
In seconds he was upon the doctor, but when he looked into Mangrove’s hideous face he saw no fear. Indeed, in that split second, it looked to the boy as if Dr Mangrove had been expecting him. The old man thrust out his hand. A dark mist blew into the boy’s face and he dropped to the floor like a stone.
‘A noble effort, Milo,
’ said the doctor, slipping a small grey bottle back into his trouser pocket. ‘You are wily, just like your uncle.’
‘What did you do to him?’ shouted Adele. ‘Milo! Milo, can you hear me?’
‘I merely put him to sleep,’ said the doctor. ‘But do not fear for him, my dear; his rest will be far less eternal than your own.’
Dr Mangrove glanced at his watch, ignoring Hannah Spoon as she stumbled to her feet, her face flushed with pain. If he was grateful to the maid for trying to save him from Milo’s attack he did not show it. ‘We have twenty-five minutes to reach the tower,’ he said curtly. ‘I can help you with the girls but you will have to take care of Rosemary and the manservant on your own.’
‘What about him?’ asked Hannah, regarding the body on the ground with a sneer.
‘Bind his hands and do it tightly. The boy is coming with us.’
THE RISING TOWER
Two crates hovered above the putrid well, suspended on the moss-covered hook that had held the marble box. A long rope dangled from the top of each crate, dropping like a hangman’s noose on either side of the pit. Each rope was fixed to the left ankle of a girl, coiled tightly and double knotted.
‘You cannot do this!’ shrieked Isabella. Her ankle throbbed, branded as it was with cuts and bruises from her many attempts to pull free of the rope. But her tears fell not from pain but from the awful truth that she was about to die. ‘This is madness!’
‘Isabella, you must be strong,’ urged Adele from across the murky water. ‘We will get out of this – we will try to get out of this – but you must stay calm.’
‘Calm? Cousin, we are tethered to crates that at any moment will be plunged into a well, dragging us down with them. What on earth have I got to be calm about?’
An air of frantic activity filled the chamber. Dr Mangrove was busy at his desk studying the map while Hannah checked and rechecked the knots around Adele and Isabella’s ankles. When at last she was satisfied – not even a Winterbottom could unpick those bindings – she turned her attention to Milo. He was still groggy but Hannah forced the boy to his feet and bound his hands tightly behind his back. Then, under instruction from Dr Mangrove, she made him walk around the chamber in an effort to wake him up. Milo was so befuddled from the effects of the spray that he waved as he passed his cousins, asking them if they would like to join him for a picnic.
‘It’s a lovely day for it,’ he declared, smiling more brightly than he had in months. ‘Grab Aunt Rosemary and meet me down by the oak tree.’
‘Picnics!’ cried Isabella. ‘How I shall miss picnics!’
When the boy had completed several laps of the chamber Hannah reported to Dr Mangrove. ‘Master Milo is on his feet again and the girls are in place.’ Her eyes fell on the wooden box sitting on the doctor’s desk. ‘I still can’t believe it’s all mine,’ she said, stroking the lid.
‘Believe it, my dear,’ said the doctor briskly, rising to his feet. ‘The Lazarus Rock is yours and yours alone. Do you doubt my word?’
‘No, Doctor, I do not.’ Hannah saw the tension in his face. ‘Dr Mangrove, is everything all right?’
‘Hmm . . . ?’ He looked at her. ‘Yes, yes everything is fine. Forgive me, my dear. I am just anxious for us to depart. Here, open this.’
Hannah opened the bag Dr Mangrove passed to her and the old man placed the box inside it, zipping it shut. ‘Wear this upon your back,’ he told her, ‘so you will have the Rock with you at all times.’
‘I will not let it out of my sight,’ she promised, slip ping the straps over her shoulders. ‘Not for a moment.’
‘Very wise, my dear.’ He picked up the map and wrapped it once again in a handkerchief, placing it in his pocket. Then he grabbed the pistol. ‘Now, let us begin.’
Less than one minute later Dr Mangrove’s bloated hand, covered in a web of jutting veins and liver spots, gripped the crank handle at the side of the winch. ‘The time has come,’ he said softly, leering at Isabella and Adele. ‘Have you any last words?’
‘I thought you were a smart man, Dr Mangrove,’ said Adele calmly, ‘but a truly smart man would not do this. What is to be gained? If you leave now with the map and the Lazarus Rock you stand a good chance of getting away. I doubt very much that the law would follow you all the way to the jungles of Budatta. But if you murder us, drown us like rats, then you will be a hunted man. Is that what you want?’
The doctor did not reply but he appeared to be listening carefully. Sensing a window of opportunity, Isabella decided to jump in and try a little persuasion of her own.
‘I know we have had our little differences, Doctor,’ she said sweetly, ‘but surely you have a heart in there somewhere. Won’t you show a little mercy to a motherless girl raised in poverty by a lazy good-for-nothing con man? And just look at my cousin over there. The poor dear hasn’t lifted her head from a book in thirteen years! Not only that, she is afflicted with bright red hair and more freckles than any face should have to bear. Doesn’t she deserve a chance to live? Please, Dr Mangrove, I am begging you – spare us.’
‘Your plea has great merit, Isabella,’ said the doctor after a long pause. ‘The desire to live is one I understand better than most. It would be inhuman of me not to be moved by your speech.’ He smiled warmly at the girls. ‘But I’m afraid the executions must proceed.’
Isabella began to cry and shout but Adele remained silent, head held high.
‘Please understand I am not doing this lightly. Your deaths mean a great deal to me. The truth is –’
He stopped suddenly.
‘Doctor?’ said Hannah urgently. She was keen to watch her mistress sink beneath the water. ‘Doctor, what is it?’
The smooth drone of the elevator’s motor buzzed in the air. ‘It seems we have company,’ he said, already moving towards the passageway. Hannah pulled the dagger from her belt and followed after him.
‘Someone’s coming,’ whispered Adele. She hardly dared to believe it. Were they about to be saved? Was it possible?
Isabella was slightly less cautious. ‘It’s all over now, you prehistoric freak!’ she hollered after the doctor. ‘They are coming for you! And Hannah dear,’ she cooed, ‘I do hope you like padded cells, because that is where you will be spending the rest of your days!’
‘Shut up!’ snapped Hannah, her face tense.
The elevator had been well advanced when the doctor first heard it, so by the time he and his accomplice reached the passageway the new arrival was already stepping from the platform. When Hannah got her first glimpse of the visitor a venomous smile parted her lips. ‘Well, well . . .’
‘We are doomed, my dear!’ said Dr Mangrove with a chuckle. ‘The cavalry is here!’
Stooped and bleeding, the newcomer took small faltering steps down the passageway. The torch near the elevator had burned out but even in the dim fog of the tunnel they could see the dark blood blotted through her hair and the bruises on her face. The old lady clung to the wall, her breathing laboured, barely able to lift her head. When Milo saw her the shock seemed to rally his senses. He watched the old woman falter and slump to her knees.
‘Mrs Hammer!’ he shouted, getting to his feet.
‘Stay back,’ ordered Dr Mangrove.
‘Help her!’ said Milo. He rushed towards the housekeeper, but with his arms bound behind his back Hannah easily pushed him away. ‘Can’t you see she is badly hurt?’
‘Mrs Hammer, can you hear us?’ shouted Adele, unable to see into the passageway from across the pit. ‘Are you all right?’
Dr Mangrove chuckled again and turned to address his prisoners. ‘This is your saviour: a foolish old woman without the good sense to stay upstairs?’
For the first time since she had fallen Mrs Hammer lifted her head and stared up at the doctor. A streak of orange light fell upon her face, illuminating it like a ghost in the darkness. Her eyes were watery and glazed but the familiar twinkle had not faded.
‘Hope you don’t . . . mind,’ she whi
spered, each word struggling to free itself. ‘But . . . but I brought . . . a friend.’
‘Her brain is damaged,’ sneered Hannah, looking into the tunnel and finding nothing but shadows. The doctor too was staring into the dim cavern behind the housekeeper. Unlike Hannah, he spotted two flecks of light prowling in the gloom. How easy they were to find when you were looking! Without delay Dr Mangrove turned from the tunnel, fleeing as fast as his ancient bones would carry him. He did not see the crocodile charge from the darkness, its muscular legs pounding the tunnel floor, teeth bared for the kill. But he did hear Hannah’s piercing scream as Thorn swung his mammoth tail and knocked her feet from under her.
When the reptile charged into the chamber Isabella began to clap. ‘Thorn!’ she shouted joyfully. ‘Oh, you darling beast!’
A murderous growl thundered from his jaws when he saw his mistress tethered to the hanging crate. His large eyes, the colour of swamp water, tracked across the chamber and quickly spotted Dr Mangrove shuffling towards the glass door. The beast took off, clawing towards his prey, nostrils flaring. When the doctor caught the crocodile’s reflection in the glass he stopped and spun around. The pistol was already in his hand. A shot exploded like a cracker and Thorn dropped to the ground, blood oozing out of the bullet hole in his back like a pot boiling over.
‘THORN!’ Isabella ran towards him but the rope quickly reached its end, tripping her up. ‘No! Please not Thorn!’
The beast let out a low groan like an engine shutting down, then his eyes closed and he was still. When Milo ran to the animal’s side Hannah made no attempt to stop him. He knelt down and looked at the wound. The blood was spilling thick and fast but the boy had no idea what he should do. If his hands had not been bound behind his back he might have tried to halt the bleeding or at least comfort the beast, but all he could manage was a bowed head and a whisper. ‘Hold on, Thorn,’ he said softly. ‘You can’t give up. Isabella needs you, don’t you know that?’
The Vulture of Sommerset Page 20
