Out of Time: . (Steamside Chroncles Book 1)

by Symon A Sanderson

  “I should just shoot you in the back,” Amos stiffened as he heard Isaac Reynolds behind him. His hand went slowly to the handle of the revolver tucked in the waistband of his trousers, “but my employer will probably want you questioned. Put your hands in the air.”

  Thirty seconds thought Jacob. He pulled the revolver out and slowly raised his hands, using his body to shield the gun. As he did he turned to face Reynolds with the revolver at shoulder height, pointing straight at him.

  “Seems we have a stand-off,” said Amos, “and you’re going to come off worst.”

  “You think you’re a better shot than me?” said Reynolds.

  “Probably,” said Amos as he started to smile, “but I don’t have to shoot you. Not when there’s a pistol behind you that’s about to detonate.”

  Reynolds returned the smile, “Nice try,” he said just as he heard a faint whining sound behind him as the pistol exploded.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Mia Jennings had engineered her escape perfectly. Her father had always told her that this day would come and that she should be prepared. Helping her father design the jet packs had been simple enough, designing them with an inbuilt fault of short range had been easier still. The packs had lain forgotten, gathering dust in a small room in a corner of the hangar. Forgotten by everyone except Mia. Six months ago, when she had heard of the plan to steal the Nydrolium, she realised it was time to act. She had taken one of the jet packs, improved its range and refined its manoeuvrability before putting it back under the dust sheets until it was required.

  Mia had watched the train trundling along the tracks. She descended until she was about ten feet above the last carriage and waited until the locomotive passed over the points and she was certain it was going to Limehouse station. Mia turned a key in her armrest and gently landed on the roof of the carriage. Taking the pack off, she opened a small door and removed a carefully packaged glass vial. Mia cracked the vial open and poured the contents into one of the fuel tubes before throwing the entire pack into the trees lining the track. The pack de-constructed itself into an unrecognisable mass of melted metal and scorched wood.

  Mia made her way to Limehouse police station and tried to explain what was happening in the factory on the River Lea. The sergeant on the desk clearly didn’t believe a word of it and was about to throw her out when a telegram arrived demanding officers be sent to Stratford Road police station in West Ham. It was when several constables came running in repeating the telegram that Mia slipped out and got a cab to St. Giles square.

  ***

  Kate sat next to Jacob in the two-horse brougham as they made their way to the yard. She watched as Jacob rolled up his left sleeve and could now see he was wearing an elongated leather wristband, running from his wrist to just short of his elbow. It was secured by two straps with buckles and a thumb loop. On the top was a brass and steel tube that ran for two-thirds of the length of the wristband from the wrist. Jacob took the two canisters from his pocket. Kate noticed how both canisters were moulded to the shape of his wrist as he slotted one either side of the main tube before fastening them with a slight click and then hiss.

  Jacob rolled his sleeve back down and looked up to find he was being watched.

  “Insurance,” he said with a grim smile.

  Kate continued looking at him, “What are you not telling me?” she said eventually.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Jacob said, almost stammering the words out.

  “You didn’t just find out where Grace is did you?”

  Jacob looked at the floor before realising he had stopped breathing. Jacob could feel himself flush as he hesitated. He sighed, looked at Kate and told her everything he had been told in the Anchor only minutes earlier.

  Kate had found it difficult to meet Jacob’s gaze. As he told her how he believed Finch had killed his wife, she found she could look anywhere in the cab except his face. As he finished, she forced herself to look up and was surprised to see the ghost of a sad smile on Jacob’s face. He shook his head slightly.

  “She knew I wouldn’t care about the letters,” he said, “or what anyone else thought. She knew we could leave London and live in New York, or anywhere for that matter.”

  The smile quickly disappeared. Jacob took the shotgun out of the canvas bag and broke it open, nervously checking everything was in place. Kate watched as he placed the shotgun back in the bag and onto the floor of the brougham. Her thoughts flashed back to the Anchor pub. Her stomach seemed to lurch and she placed her hand on Jacob’s arm.

  “Please be careful.”

  “It’s not me that I’m worried about,” he said. “We are undoubtedly going into a dangerous situation and I do not believe it is any place for a young woman.”

  “I seem to recall,” said Kate, bristling slightly, “that I’ve already saved your skin.” Jacob opened his mouth, about to protest, but Kate was in no mood to back down, “three times,” she continued, “the first time when I pulled you from under that steamworm before you got yourself crushed,” Jacob frowned but decided against interrupting. “The second when we went to the yard and I sprayed Finch with Pava to stop you from getting punch drunk and just now when I stopped them using chloroform on you and dragging you away.”

  “It was laudanum,” said Jacob in a quiet voice.

  “Don’t worry,” said Kate ignoring him, “I can look after myself,” she glared defiantly at Jacob.

  “I have no doubt that you can,” said Jacob, returning her stare with the hint of a smile on his lips.

  They were still looking at each other when the brougham changed course without warning. Before either of them could look out of the windows one of the front wheels thudded against an obstacle on the road. One side of the carriage lifted into the air causing Kate and Jacob to slide along their seats. Kate braced herself against the door frame and glanced out of the window. Just as she realised the brougham was toppling over onto its side she felt a hand on her shoulder pulling her away. Jacob wedged himself between Kate and the door just as the glass shattered on impact with the cobbled street.

  Jacob heard footsteps on the street. People coming to help, he thought, until he heard the driver being pulled from his seat. Jacob managed to haul himself to his knees. He was about to ask Kate if she was alright when the door above their heads was flung open.

  A man’s face, filthy and unshaven, appeared in the open doorway. As he hauled himself further into view Jacob saw light glinting from the man’s right hand. It was a knife. Whoever these people were, they weren’t here to help. Jacob grabbed hold of the shotgun, still encased in the bag, and forced himself upwards, slamming the butt of the firearm into the face of the unsuspecting man. His nose flattened against his face and blood splattered onto the upholstery of the seat before he dropped out of view.

  He turned to Kate, “Are you hurt?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “We need to get out of here,” said Jacob as he shook the bag from the shotgun, “but I need to see what’s outside first.”

  Jacob raised himself to his feet, his head and shoulders protruding from the open door. He saw half-a-dozen men only a matter of yards away. He aimed the shotgun, cocked one barrel and fired over them.

  It had the desired effect. They clearly had not expected the occupants of the carriage to be armed. Jacob watched as the men ran in every direction when a flash of light registered in the corner of his eye. Before he could look, a bullet ricocheted off the metal undercarriage of the brougham. He flinched before looking towards the source of the flash.

  A two-wheeled costermonger’s wagon had been turned onto its side on the far side of the street. The wooden crates and barrels it had been carrying now affording the person behind it some protection.

  Jacob ducked back into the brougham and placed the shotgun into a corner. He then pulled a small brass rod from the leather wristband into the palm of his left hand, twisted it until he heard a muffled click and closed his hand around it. />
  Jacob knew he had no choice. If he was going to fire another shot he would have to put his head and shoulders on display giving his would-be executioner a good target. He looked to his side as Kate steadied herself against one of the seats before grinding his boots into the shattered glass. Just as Kate realised what he was going to do, but before she could object, Jacob stood, pushing his head, shoulders and arms through the opened door.

  In the blink of an eye, Jacob straightened his left arm, pointing it at the overturned barrow and clenched his fist. Kate heard a sound similar to a firework fizzing into the sky and then a detonation. Kate held her breath as she slowly looked up to Jacob as he twisted around to look at the other side of the street. Kate could hear confused shouts that quickly dispersed. A few seconds later Jacob crouched down and placed his hand on her arm.

  “How are you? Are you injured at all? Can you stand?”

  “I’m fine,” Kate assured him, “just a little shaken, and yes, I can stand.”

  “Good,” said Jacob. “The street’s deserted but I don’t know how long that will last. We have to get out of this carriage before anyone comes back.”

  Kate nodded.

  Jacob grabbed the shotgun, “Give me a moment to get out,” he said. “I’ll find something for you to stand on before helping you out.”

  “That’s okay” said Kate as she watched Jacob haul himself through the space where the door had been, “I can manage.”

  Jacob jumped to the ground and looked back to the carriage to see Kate pulling herself slowly out through the broken door. He checked the street for any signs of danger but their would-be assailants had gone. Moving to the front of the carriage, Jacob checked the prone figure of the driver, “He’s dead,” he said, “multiple stab wounds and I have no doubt this was our intended fate.” In the distance, they heard a police whistle. “We need to leave,” said Jacob as Kate pushed herself off the brougham and onto the cobbled street, “it would take too much time to explain all of this.” He gestured toward the blackened wall where the remains of the costermonger’s wagon lay burning and Kate wondered what Jacob had on his wrist that could cause such devastation.

  Jacob took hold of the noseband of the nearest horse and began to calm the skittish creature, “Can you ride a horse?”

  Kate looked at the two horses which had been pulling the cab, “A fully saddled one yes, but…”

  “Even if we could get the carriage back up one of the rear wheels is smashed,” said Jacob, “if Grace is at the yard as we believe, we don’t have a moment to lose.”

  Without saying another word Jacob began to unhitch the horses. Kate studied them for a moment before turning back to Jacob.

  “I may need some help getting on,” she said.

  Jacob led one of the horses over to where Kate was standing. He knelt down and interlaced his fingers, making a makeshift stirrup. Kate put her foot into Jacob’s hands and he raised her up. When she was settled Kate looked up. Jacob was already mounted.

  “Are you ready?”

  Kate nodded, doubtful as to whether she would ever be ready, before following Jacob who had already started to canter down the street.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  It was the first time Kate had ever ridden a horse without a saddle. She had clung on as the horse galloped through the cobbled streets of London, not even pausing as she shouted at several policemen to follow them. To her surprise, she had managed to keep up with Jacob, to whom this seemed far too easy.

  They arrived at the wooden arched entrance to the yard and dismounted. Jacob put his hand on his coat pocket to make sure the shotgun cartridges were still there and turned to Kate.

  “Are you sure you still want to go through with this? I have to, you don’t. The police will be on their way, you wouldn’t have long to wait.”

  “If Grace is here we have to act now,” said Kate.

  The pair walked through the dirt-floored entrance to the end of a high wooden fence. Opposite them, across a dirt track to their right, was a wall of coconut husks. Jacob looked around the wooden fence. Once he was satisfied, he gestured for Kate to follow him towards the wall of coconut shells and start climbing. Progress was slower than either of them would have liked. The husks were loose and gaining a decent foothold was difficult as the husks often gave way beneath their feet and rolled away to the bottom of the pile. They were almost at the top when the sound of a child screaming pierced the evening air. Jacob placed his hand on Kate’s shoulder and mouthed the words, ‘Wait here,’ before scrambling the short distance to the top of the pile.

  Jacob pushed his head and shoulders up above the peak and Kate watched in horror as he was instantly knocked backwards, as the sound of a shot being fired echoed around the yard. Kate scrambled across the husks. Jacob was half buried in the husks, holding his right shoulder. He grunted in pain as Kate moved his hand away from the wound.

  “I think the shot is lodged in my clavicle.”

  Kate tore a strip from her cape, folded it several times and pressed it onto the wound.

  “Press hard,” she said, “it should slow down the bleeding.”

  “You need to go and find the nearest constable,” said Jacob. “Make sure they know where we are.”

  “Absolutely not,” said Kate, “there’s no way I’m leaving you here on your own.” She looked down, slightly puzzled by the look on Jacob’s face.

  Jacob shook his head, frustration boiling inside him at this impossible, unreasonable woman. So why was he smiling? He decided not to argue.

  “We have to make sure that whoever is shooting at us stays where they are. Grace must be in that hut at the far end of the makeshift wooden roofing. We have to try and keep her there until the police arrive.”

  Jacob grabbed the shotgun and was about to shuffle to the top of the pile when he felt Kate pulling at his coat.

  “You’re injured, I should use that,” she said, pointing at the shotgun.

  “I’m fine, honestly,” said Jacob. He straightened his legs, swung the gun around, took aim and fired. It wasn’t the only shot Kate heard. Jacob exhaled in pain and fell backwards next to Kate.

  “Jacob. Jacob. Are you alright?”

  “He missed,” said Jacob, “but so did I,” he looked at the shotgun, “I doubt I could use it even as a club.”

  “Give me the gun. I’ll make him stay where he is.”

  Another piercing scream filled the air. Jacob’s face flushed with anger and he pushed the shotgun over to Kate and pulled out a handful of cartridges from his coat pocket.

  “I can’t just stay here and do nothing. I’ll give him something to shoot at,” said Jacob, handing the cartridges to Kate. He pointed at the shotgun, “You break the weapon here to reload and make sure the stock is firmly against your shoulder when…”

  “I know how to use a shotgun,” said Kate, her voice raised.

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” said Jacob as he shuffled onto his knees.

  “Wait,” said Kate, “I have a better idea. “Grab a husk, and when I tell you, throw it over the top as far away from us as you can.”

  Jacob took hold of a coconut shell and nodded to himself as he realised what Kate had in mind.

  “He was standing by the stanchion nearest the doorway,” said Jacob.

  Kate shuffled as far to the top of the pile as she dared, steadied herself, and nodded.

  Jacob threw the husk and they both watched as it just cleared the apex of the pile. As it did Kate forced her way onto her feet and pointed the gun towards the doorway. It was a simple ruse that Kate had seen in dozens of films, but it worked. The man at the doorway fired at the husk as it rolled downward. It only gave Kate a couple of seconds but in that time, she had steadied herself and aimed. Just as the gunman realised he had been fooled, Kate pulled the trigger. The force of the shotgun blast lifted the man clean off his feet and sent him clattering into the door.

  Kate sighed in relief as she crouched back down and re-loaded the shotgun.r />
  “Are you alright?”

  Kate looked up and could clearly see the concern in Jacob’s face.

  “I’m fine,” said Kate, “how about you?”

  “I’ll live,” Jacob smiled and Kate couldn’t help but smile back.

  The sound of a bullet hitting the husks above their heads jolted them out of their reverie.

  “Is that you, Doctor McKinley? You’re a good shot, got my man right in the chest.”

  “How does he know it’s you?”

  “I’m not sure, but they seemed to know we were coming.”

  Kate glanced quickly around to make sure no-one was behind them. Satisfied, she squirmed closer to Jacob.

  “We might only have this once chance to find Grace,” said Kate. “Go back to the street, find a constable and raise the alarm.”

  “Absolutely not. There’s no way I’m leaving you here on your own,” said Jacob, echoing Kate’s earlier comments. It was Kate’s turn to realise this was an argument she wouldn’t win, as a wry smile spread across her lips.

  “I’ll go around, away from the door. That should draw his fire and give you a chance to get into the hut,” Jacob grabbed another handful of cartridges from his coat pocket. “Here, you might need these.”

  “You can’t do that,” said Kate, taking the cartridges, “you’ll be a sitting duck.”

  “If by that you mean an easy target, I don’t think so,” Jacob rolled up his left sleeve. “Remember the explosion earlier? Well, I have four left. And as I said earlier, I’m not just going to sit here and do nothing while my daughter is a prisoner.”

  Kate looked at the device strapped to his wrist and reluctantly nodded.

  “Okay,” she said, “but Jacob...” Kate placed her hand on Jacobs' arm, “please be careful.”

  “You be just as careful, I’d very much like to see you again, preferably in one piece. After three. One.”

  “Two.”