* * *
Further up the hill, Brinkman watched Guy and Leo scramble away from the fire. He could feel the heat of the flames that reached the pipe and clawed their way inside. He could imagine the fuel in the pipe igniting, a shockwave roaring inside. At one end was a closed valve where the ships would attach for refuelling. At the other …
The entire massive fuel tank exploded in a moment. A second later, the blast wave thumped into Brinkman’s chest like a physical blow. The air was full of flame and debris. Then the second tank exploded, blasting the remaining buildings in the facility to matchwood.
There were further, smaller detonations as more pipelines and backup fuel tanks exploded. Liquid fire rained down across the whole area.
‘Probably time we were leaving,’ Mihali said as the sound of the explosions died away. ‘I’ve a feeling that might have attracted some attention.’
‘I’m hoping it did more than that,’ Brinkman said.
CHAPTER 45
Dr Wiles passed round a sheet of paper. It was a table of numbers divided into columns that were themselves numbered. It meant nothing at all to Guy, who passed it on to Leo. When Sarah, Sergeant Green and Colonel Brinkman had also looked at it, Miss Manners passed it back to Wiles. It was clear from their faces that no one understood it at all.
‘You’ll see that the figures speak for themselves,’ Wiles said unhelpfully.
‘Perhaps you could summarise for us?’ Colonel Brinkman suggested.
‘If you think that’s necessary.’
‘It’s necessary,’ Miss Manners told him.
‘Well, in that case…’ He held the paper up, pointing at parts of the table as he explained. ‘The columns are by date, recording the number of UDT transmissions and other Vril communications by month. This table records only those UDTs detected in the area of Crete bounded by these grid references noted here, and the other communications which either emanate from or appear to be directed towards that area of the Mediterranean.’
‘And what do the numbers tell us?’ Brinkman asked.
‘They tell us that Crete was something of a centre for Vril communications and activity in the last six months, which is partly why we focused our own attentions there, of course. But in the last week, since you and your colleagues returned from your last expedition to the island…’ He held up the paper again, and gestured emphatically to it with his other hand, like a Shakespearean actor. ‘Nothing.’
‘Nothing?’ Guy echoed.
‘Not a jot. Nothing. Which, it seems to me, rather suggests that your expedition was a complete success.’ Wiles put the paper down on the table in front of him and stared at it. ‘So, well done.’
‘That doesn’t mean our job is finished, though,’ Brinkman said.
‘Far from it,’ Wiles agreed. ‘If anything, the Vril activity in other geographical areas has increased. Probably messages toing and froing about what we’ve been up to and what they can do about it.’
‘Do we have any way of knowing exactly what that is?’ Green asked.
‘Jane’s visions of the Vril have faded,’ Miss Manners said. ‘But she still has the dreams, and she can still connect to them at times. Her visions are still stronger than I can achieve. If we can interpret what she sees, that might help.’
She opened a folder and took out a large glossy black and white photograph. ‘This might interest you. It’s a photograph I took of Jane Roylston when we first brought her back here, once we knew she was working for the Vril.’
The picture showed a corner of the Station Z offices. But the figure sitting on a chair by a desk looked nothing like Jane Roylston. The areas emerging from her clothes were a mesh of interconnected and tangled lines, as if someone had tried to clothe a human figure constructed out of different types of string and wool.
‘I took several, but this was using a flash. Without the flash, she looked quite normal.’
‘Interesting,’ Wiles said. ‘I wonder if it’s to do with capturing the image, the reflection of light from the flash effect, or if it’s an artefact of the developing process when a bright negative is produced.’
‘Could it be related to the way vampires cast no reflection in a mirror?’ Davenport asked.
‘There’s no such thing as vampires, Leo,’ Sarah told him.
‘Really? You should tell Elizabeth Archer that. I think she might take issue quite strongly.’
‘A conversation for another time, I think,’ Brinkman said, cutting across Sarah’s reply. ‘Anything else?’ he asked Miss Manners.
‘Yes, this.’ She produced another photograph from the folder. It was a different angle on the offices, and the subject of the picture was standing against a wall. Although the features were again overlaid with tangled lines, the effect was less blatant, and the standing figure was obviously Jane Roylston.
‘It’s like someone just scribbled over her face,’ Sarah said.
‘And this was taken, when?’ Guy asked.
‘After our little exorcism ritual.’
‘You think it cured her?’ Green said.
‘It’s certainly a step in the right direction,’ Miss Manners replied. ‘But whether this is the first stage in an ongoing change, or a temporary improvement, or simply the effect of Jane no longer being directly controlled, who can say?’
‘We still have a lot to learn about all this,’ Guy said. ‘Where’s Jane now?’
‘She’s at the British Museum,’ Brinkman told them. ‘Mrs Archer is doing some experiments to see if she can tell us more about the Vril under mild hypnosis. In fact, she’s asked to see me this afternoon. I gather Miss Diamond here left her some rather interesting correspondence.’
* * *
The body was held open by long metal pins which pierced the skin. The pins were fixed into the wooden board. Inside, a spongy orange mass was revealed in place of flesh and organs. More pins held the legs spread-eagled.
Two men stood at the workbench, looking down at it. The older man took a pencil from his pocket, prodding at the animal’s insides experimentally. He tapped the metal collar round the creature’s neck. The man beside him watched impassively through pale blue, watery eyes. He wore a dark suit and a dark blue tie.
‘The President doesn’t need to know about this, Agent Cooper,’ the older man said. He wiped the end of the pencil on the edge of the workbench before returning it to his pocket. ‘The President has enough to worry about already. Though I think we could do with some help on this.’
‘Who do you suggest, sir?’ Cooper couldn’t take his eyes off the body of the cat. It was unsettling, macabre … Frightening.
‘The British must know something. They were there. And Sumner, of course. Be worth a few calls.’
‘I’ll arrange it, sir.’
‘And get that thing out of sight,’ ordered John Edgar Hoover, Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
On the workbench, the cat, spread-eagled on the board, its skin folded open and pinned back, raised its battered head and gave an angry hiss.
* * *
‘The whole place was destroyed, by fire and rock falls.’
Nachten listened in disbelief. ‘But, how could this happen?’
‘And just as you were almost recovered,’ Himmler said. He leaned back in his chair and regarded the two men standing in front of him carefully. ‘A pity.’
‘An attack by Greek partisans?’ Nachten still could not believe it.
‘Hoffman?’ Himmler prompted.
‘It would seem so,’ Hoffman agreed. ‘It was lucky I was there. I ordered the evacuation of the fuel facility at the first sign of trouble. Sadly, Hauptsturmfuhrer Grebben was one of the casualties. I gather he tried to protect the site from escaping fuel.’
‘A tragic loss,’ Himmler said. ‘But perhaps now we should focus our attentions closer to home. It is not all bad news. Did you know that with the help of expertise and material provided by us from the Freiburg crash, von Braun and his team last week achieved a s
uccessful launch of the A4 rocket?’
‘I gather we are now calling it the V2,’ Hoffman said. ‘A great triumph, Reichsfuhrer.’
‘We are all to be congratulated. And it should serve as an encouragement to redouble our efforts, to determine what other technology and weapons we can derive from the Vril Project.’ He waved his hand to dismiss Nachten, but gestured for Hoffman to stay.
‘It is lucky that you were on Crete when this attack took place,’ Himmler said.
‘If I had got there sooner, I might have managed to avert the attack, or protect the site.’
‘No matter. It is good to have you back, Werner.’
‘It is good to be back,’ Hoffman replied levelly.
‘You will keep me informed if you decide to go on any other ad hoc adventures, yes?’
‘Of course, Reichsfuhrer. I was merely following a lead, a hunch. I had no idea if it would pay off. And sadly, of course, it did not.’ He opened his hands apologetically.
Himmler removed his spectacles, polishing them slowly on his handkerchief. ‘Luck was not on our side this time, it seems. No matter. It was the right decision. But as I say, in future keep me informed.’
‘Of course.’
Himmler replaced his glasses and stared up at Hoffman. ‘Just so long as you were not injured in the explosions and fires on Crete.’
‘Not at all, Herr Reichsfuhrer,’ Hoffman said. ‘Although I confess, I did feel the heat of it.’
* * *
Jane Roylston was drawing. She sat at Elizabeth Archer’s desk in the vault below the British Museum, a pencil in her hand. She stared straight ahead, but her eyes were unfocused, her expression blank.
‘That’s good, Jane. Very good,’ Elizabeth said quietly.
Jane’s hand lifted from the paper. She took a deep breath, her eyes focusing again.
‘What did you see?’
‘Terrible things,’ Jane said. ‘I always see terrible things.’
‘Can you be more specific?’
‘Fire climbing into the sky, then falling back to the ground. Death and destruction. Vengeance.’ Her gaze fell on the picture she had just drawn. ‘This is what I saw.’
The drawing showed a ruined street, bodies strewn across the pavement and over the rubble. Elizabeth lifted the sheet away. She put it on top of the first picture Jane had drawn – a sleek elliptical shape climbing into the sky, fire spewing from the engines beneath it.
They kept her in a cage for their own safety. When he came to see her, she stared back at him through the bars, her dark eyes defiant, her hands curled into claws.
‘Show me,’ he ordered.
In response, one of the guards took out a pistol. He stuck it through the bars and shot the girl. Twice.
The bullets drove her back against the bars of the cage. But almost at once she flung herself forwards again, at the man with the gun. He withdrew his hand just in time, stepping back quickly.
‘She killed two men when they found her,’ the guard captain explained. ‘Another as they put her in the cage.’
‘And she does not wound?’
‘No, comrade. We have tried shooting her, stabbing her…’ He shrugged. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’
‘Then you are one of the lucky ones. You say she was found in Stalingrad?’
‘Impaled on wooden joists in a ruined basement. God knows how she got there. The injuries healed as soon as my men removed her.’
‘And then she killed them.’
‘Yes … What should we do with her, sir?’
‘Take her to the Kremlin Archives,’ Stalin ordered. ‘Tell Archivist Vasilov that I want her stored with the items recovered from Tunguska.’
* * *
‘Tunguska?’ Brinkman shook his head. ‘I’ve never heard of it.
‘It’s a place in Siberia,’ Elizabeth Archer explained.
The two of them were sitting either side of her desk in the vault beneath the British Museum. Elizabeth had Vasilov’s letter in front of her.
‘And why is this place relevant?’ Brinkman asked.
‘There was an explosion there.’
‘There is a war on,’ Brinkman pointed out.
‘This explosion was in 1908,’ Elizabeth told him. ‘On 30 June, to be exact. Vasilov says that the archive the Vril broke into was where the Russians stored what they recovered after the blast.’
Brinkman nodded. ‘He thinks the Vril were somehow involved?’
‘He does,’ Elizabeth confirmed. ‘Because this wasn’t just a bomb going off. Luckily it was in an uninhabited area, but even so it devastated the forests.’
‘Is this what Jane Roylston saw in her vision?’ Brinkman asked.
Elizabeth shook her head. ‘What she saw was on a much smaller scale. The Russians estimate that the Tunguska explosion destroyed eighty million trees.’
Brinkman stared at her. ‘Eighty million?’
‘Over an area of about 800 square miles.’
Brinkman leaned back in his chair. ‘That’s a hefty blast. I’m surprised there was anything left to recover.’
‘Not much,’ Elizabeth admitted. ‘But, according to Vasilov, they found something buried under the ground right at the epicentre of the blast. He doesn’t know much about it. He says they spent years examining the device, but without learning much.’
‘It wasn’t damaged by the explosion?’
‘Probably, but Vasilov’s working assumption was that it was somehow involved in causing the explosion.’
Brinkman let out a long breath. ‘I can see why Stalin and his comrades would be interested in finding out how it works. And this device was created by the Vril?’
‘If not, then they certainly know about it,’ Elizabeth said. She picked up Vasilov’s letter, quickly reading back over it. ‘And now, they have it.’
‘What?’
‘That device is what was taken from the Kremlin Archives. Vasilov couldn’t learn its secrets, but we have to assume the Vril already know them.’
‘It’s a weapon,’ Brinkman said grimly.
‘Obviously. But what, or whom, are they planning to use it against?’
‘And when?’ Brinkman added. ‘And how do we stop them?’
Also by Justin Richards
The Suicide Exhibition
(The Never War: Book One)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Justin Richards is a British writer. He has written many spin off novels based on the BBC science fiction television series Doctor Who, and he is Creative Director for the BBC Books range. He has written for television, contributing to Five’s soap opera Family Affairs. He is also the author of a series of crime novels for children about the Invisible Detective, and novels for older children. His Doctor Who novel The Burning was placed sixth in the Top 10 of SFX magazine’s “Best SF/Fantasy novelization or TV tie-in novel” category of 2000. You can sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Ch
apter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Also by Justin Richards
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THOMAS DUNNE BOOKS.
An imprint of St. Martin’s Press.
THE BLOOD RED CITY. Copyright © 2014 by Justin Richards. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.thomasdunnebooks.com
www.stmartins.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Richards, Justin, author.
Title: The blood red city / Justin Richards.
Description: First U.S. edition. | New York: Thomas Dunne Books/St. Martin’s Press, 2016. | 2014 | Series: Never War, book 2
Identifiers: LCCN 2015043226 | ISBN 9781250059215 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781466863781 (e-book)
Subjects: LCSH: World War, 1939–1945—Fiction. | Human-alien encounters— Fiction. | BISAC: FICTION / Science Fiction / Military. | FICTION / Science Fiction / Adventure. | FICTION / Alternative History. | GSAFD: Alternative histories (Fiction) | Science fiction.
Classification: LCC PR6118.I365 B58 2016 | DDC 823/.92—dc23
LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015043226
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