The Stone of Madness

by Nick Baker

  The air hung with an expectant silence as Frankl inhaled deeply as a prelude to the moment of truth. ‘My friends,’ he began flamboyantly, ‘I do not believe Pearly expected to die on that night, thus explaining why his preparations were both hasty and ill-conceived. You may wonder why he took so many risks—a question I have asked myself many times since—but all I can assume is that his supreme self-confidence and vanity were responsible for his downfall. He believed he was untouchable, overcome by his own arrogance. It was his one great weakness, but when faced with a threat to his mortality, he finally realised he could not achieve all he had set out to alone. Almost as an afterthought, he confided in me about the stone and left me with a cryptic message that would lead me to his personal notes. He knew I’d find the references to Piotrowski and his thoughts on the living stone, and once I’d put the two together, I’d begin the quest to recover Piotrowski’s manuscripts. He also knew that, once I’d deciphered the secret, I’d also deduce what I had to do.’

  ‘So what do you intend to do?’ Aurelia demanded.

  ‘Very well, Aurelia, I shall tell you, but before I do, you must all agree to some simple tasks I have for you.

  ‘Shall I take your silence as a tacit agreement?’ said Frankl, inclining his head. ‘Well?’

  ‘If you must,’ said Aurelia.

  ‘Men?’

  ‘You can count on me,’ said Lex.

  Strange nodded, somewhat reluctantly. ‘Er, what would you have us do?’

  ‘Very well. Abel, you must return to the Academy and carry on with your routine. Wait for my call as it is central to our plans that you have access to our enemy’s thoughts.

  ‘As for you Aurelia, well, I have a slightly more demanding task.’

  Aurelia gave an exasperated sigh. ‘And just what is that?’

  ‘I’d like you to bring someone to me,’ he said, looking expectantly towards her.

  ‘Who do you have in mind?’

  ‘Henry Price,’ Frankl replied evenly.

  ‘Price! You expect me to kidnap Price?’ Aurelia screeched.

  ‘Oh, you’ll find a way. I know how resourceful you are. I’m sure you won’t let me down.’

  ‘Hold on a moment,’ shrieked Aurelia, the sound of her mellifluous voice rising by an octave. ‘Give me one good reason why I should.’

  Frankl bared his teeth in a malevolent grin. ‘Oh, I’m sure you’ll understand when you learn what I’m planning.

  ‘Now, as for you Lex …’ he continued, but as he spoke his words were drowned out by a loud noise that sounded like the grating of a heavy metal door.

  ‘What was that?’ said Aurelia, turning her head in alarm towards the inlet pipe.

  As the ominous noise subsided, silence reigned for a few glorious moments, but then, increasing by degrees as if something was moving inexorably towards them, a thunderous roar echoed around the chamber accompanied by a freshening of air.

  ‘Water! The sluice gates … er, the sluice gates are open!’ Strange yelled, his words almost overwhelmed by the sound of the approaching tsunami.

  The dumbstruck group turned towards the inlet pipe and looked in horror at the sudden surge of water pouring into the chamber.

  ‘Run!’ Aurelia screamed as the memory of Club’s fate flooded over her like the incoming torrent surely would. With a jump akin to a migratory salmon, she leapt into the channel and set off towards the tunnel. Lex was next, vaulting after her like a gymnast, then Abel, moving as fast as his feeble frame would allow. Finally, Frankl lumbered ungainly behind them, disappearing into the tunnel like a fleeing refugee, leaving the rapidly-filling chamber behind.

  Aurelia rushed headfirst towards the beacon that marked the end of the tunnel with the deafening sound of rushing water urging her on as fast as her legs could carry her. She reached the shining light almost as the tidal wave was upon her, and with an unimaginable leap, she emerged from the exit. She turned upstream and sprinted along the towpath until, finally, she halted. She heaved, fighting back waves of nausea while gasping for air. Finally, fearful of what she might see, she dared to look back. There, in a blur of movement, two figures burst from the tunnel. Lex was first, soaked to the core, followed by Abel, staggering like a blind man, arms outstretched and glasses gone. The men had barely time to turn towards her before the tidal wave struck, spewing from the tunnel in a foaming jet of awesome force.

  The bedrock shook below Aurelia’s feet such was the water’s terrible power. She stared in grim fascination as the water gushed inexorably into the channel, commingling with the Fleet into a flood that plunged pell-mell towards the Thames.

  Once Abel and Lex had caught up with her, she pulled herself away from the chilling spectacle and headed upriver as fast as her leaden legs would allow, never daring to stop, terrified that the backflow would yet send her tumbling into the torrent.

  At last, she arrived at the spiral stairs and clambered to the top, pushing aside the grille and diving headfirst into the vault. The men followed her into the cellar and sat down next to her in stunned silence, chests heaving in unison as they fought to regain their breath.

  They stared pale-faced at the circular opening, waiting in dread anticipation. The minutes ticked away until, slowly but surely, the unpalatable truth dawned. They had seen the power of the water and could only tremble at the thought of being caught up in the flow. Cold and shivering they kept their counsel, deeply lost in thought at the fate of their missing comrade, Josef Frankl.

  21

  THE STONE OF MADNESS

  Through the Glass

  RELATIONS WITH HIS DAUGHTER had become increasingly strained in recent months, and Price did not doubt that it was his fault. He had neglected her because of his preoccupation with the theft, and he had also avoided discussing it with her, not because he did not trust or doubt her abilities, but from a misguided notion that he was protecting her. Not surprisingly, his behaviour had only served to alienate her further, and it was only now that he realised he had let her down. The opportunity to seek redress had not arisen during the past few days, mainly due to the distraction of a forthcoming Council meeting, but once it was over, he was determined to put things right.

  Price was anticipating that this morning’s meeting would be as unproductive as the last, despite the consolation that the recently appointed Hermes Bing would be present. While Price had never been a proponent of Bing’s methods, he did not doubt the value of his sly cunning and bombastic style, attributes that had turned Bing’s journalistic empire into what it was today. He hoped that Bing’s presence would provide a welcome fillip to Council proceedings and go some way to stirring up the factions that had recently dogged its progress, but when Price entered the boardroom later that morning, he was disconcerted to find that Bing was not there. When the media tycoon eventually sauntered in fifteen minutes late, he greeted Price with such a ferocious glare, it was enough to suggest that it was going to be a long and arduous meeting.

  It was no secret that Bing harboured a lifelong grudge against Price, blaming him through some kind of twisted logic for the downfall of his father. With most of the Council seeing Bing’s appointment as yet another weakening of Price’s increasingly tenuous grasp on its leadership, it seemed inevitable that Bing would allow his hatred for Price to cloud his judgement and oppose his objectives, but as it turned out, nothing could have been further from the truth.

  Isaacson opened the meeting by asking Price for an update on the missing manuscript. Purely for Bing’s sake, Price began with a précis of the theft followed by an account of what he had discovered about the manuscript, and how he had been lured away to a stricken Cornelius Spydre at the end of the last meeting. Price recounted the references to Atropos and the clues that had been left for him, and how he had finally worked out what Spydre had been poisoned with. He also gave a rational explanation as to why he believed that the vile misdemeanour had been perpetrated by Aurelia Nightshade. Most of the Council greeted his assertion with reservation, apart
from Fox, and of all people, Bing, whose backing for Price was met with incredulity from everyone around the table apart from Price himself.

  When the Council vacancy had arisen, there had been a long and heated debate about the qualities needed to join such an august body of men, including morality, honesty and a sense of justice (ironic, considering some of those currently seated around the table). The prospective candidate was also required to have connections that would enable them to influence events and opinion at the highest level.

  Fielding and Olberry were Bing’s principal backers, but the rest saw his nomination as an attempt to balance the disparity between factions. As it transpired, the votes were cast after Price had unexpectedly been called away at the end of the last meeting, and despite some earlier opposition, not a single black ball materialised once Isaacson emptied the bag. As per Council protocol, Isaacson was tasked with offering Bing the position, and to explain his duties and obligations should he accept. There were those who thought Bing would instantly decline given Price’s status on the Council, but, much to general surprise, Bing jumped at the chance. Strangely enough, Price had been anticipating this, and although he had not shared his thoughts with anyone else, he was secretly delighted with the outcome.

  Although Price was fully aware of Bing’s antipathy towards him, having been on the receiving end of numerous vitriolic attacks in the editor-in-chief’s various publications, he had followed his rising career with more than just a passing interest. Price saw in Hermes Bing a singularity and ruthlessness that was never evident in his father, Dionysus, leading Price to believe that Bing would act as his own man, putting any personal vendetta aside in favour of a moral pursuit of truth and justice. In fact, Price had been so concerned that Bing would not accept the Council’s offer, he had done everything in his power to ensure that he would.

  It was a dangerous game that Price had played, but he smiled to himself now at the ploy that had undoubtedly influenced Bing’s decision. After Bing’s name had first been proposed, Price made an anonymous call to the newspaper’s headquarters to tip him off, reasoning that if Bing suspected Henry Price of being behind a conspiracy to exclude him from the Council, then, should the chance arise, he would accept the offer unflinchingly. As it transpired, this was how it had all panned out, and Price could not fault himself for his successful Machiavellian scheme. Political intrigue had never been a forte of his, but after years of dealing with devious politicians, it was simply a case of, ‘if you can’t beat them …’

  After his conclusions at the previous meeting relating to the manuscript and its link to the Order were so coolly received, Price was reluctant to divulge any more of his suspicions, particularly where Black was concerned. He made the decision not to overly expound on the conversation that had taken place with Asquith, and only briefly mentioned the name of the disgraced surgeon, Luca Nexus, but the moment he voiced the surgeon’s name, Sir Robert Lec was overwhelmed by a sudden coughing fit that brought the conversation to an abrupt halt. Sir Robert’s puce face and bulging eyes suggested he was in danger of asphyxiation, but Isaacson immediately leapt to his aid with a glass of water, allowing for a serendipitous break in proceedings while Lec recovered.

  When the meeting reconvened ten minutes later, much to his relief, Price’s reference to the previous matter was long forgotten. The subsequent items on the agenda passed in a blur of irrelevance, apart from Fox’s continued failure to locate the missing Michael Styx, which only served to increase Price’s discomfort and consolidate his decision to pursue his investigations alone.

  Following the meeting, Price took the train to Oxford for a meeting with Sir Algernon Caruthers. Price had been noncommittal when securing the appointment, and although Caruthers had retired from political circles some years previously, he was more than happy to meet, if only because of Price’s reputation. Caruthers offered to host the meeting at his club, and after leaving the station, Price took a short taxi ride from Park End Street to a row of expensive-looking, three-storey Georgian town houses not far from the university colleges.

  The taxi driver pointed Price in the direction of the building, and it was only as he approached a set of imposing iron railings that he observed a small brass plaque discretely set to one side and engraved with the words, ‘The Stiletto Club – Members Only’. Price had barely reached out to knock on the door before it opened, and a formally dressed doorman ushered him inside without enquiry after his name or business. Price deposited his belongings at the reception and followed the man towards the rear of the establishment into a cosy bar with an ambient atmosphere of decadent leather armchairs and low-lights suffused with Montecristo cigar smoke and peaty single malt whisky. The room was empty apart from a single occupant seated in a club chair with his back to the bar. The man stubbed out his cigar in an ashtray on the occasional table next to him, got up slowly and waited for Price to join him.

  The man was tall with sharp, distinguished features, framed by receding grey hair. ‘Care to join me in a glass?’ he said in a softly spoken voice. He lifted a decanter from the table. ‘Scotch. Not too early for you, is it?’ he added as they shook hands.

  ‘It’s tempting after the day I’ve had, but, no, thank you,’ Price replied, declining with a shake of his head as he sat down opposite Caruthers.

  After taking a sip, Caruthers smiled. ‘Now, what can I do for you?’ he asked.

  Price elected to opt for a direct approach, and admitted he had come looking for information regarding Luca Nexus, but the moment he mentioned the disgraced surgeon’s name, Caruthers’ attitude immediately changed.

  ‘Never heard of the fellow. If that’s all you’ve come for, then I’m afraid you’re wasting your time,’ Caruthers boomed, replacing the sycophantic charm of earlier with unpleasant belligerence. ‘Now, if you don’t mind …’

  Price shook his head dejectedly. It was obvious that Caruthers was lying, and he could sense that if he were to glean any information from this objectionable man, he would have to employ alternative means to extract it. Price was always reluctant to utilise his innate alchemical talent, but for once, he could see that this was the only choice. He knew that Caruthers was an arrogant, pompous man who had built his career as a high-ranking civil servant on the success of others, and so the moment Caruthers began to display hostility, Price leapt from his chair and laid a hand on the man’s wrist, clutching it tightly while summoning an essence of pure energy.

  The vital, seething electric blue power that poured forth from Price’s hand bit deeply into Caruthers’ skin. ‘W-what the hell do you think you’re doing?’ he said, flinching.

  ‘This is nothing, my friend, only the beginning,’ said Price, making sure that Caruthers’ arm did not slip from his grip. ‘Now do be a good chap and answer my questions,’ he added blithely, increasing the power emanating from his hand.

  Sweat poured from Caruthers’ brow as the current surged through his arm in intolerable spasms. He looked into Price’s eyes and shrank back from the menacing stare that contradicted the softly spoken words. Any resolve Caruthers harboured in resisting the request quickly dissipated, and the man palpably diminished before Price’s eyes as he degenerated into a quivering wreck, willing to do anything to halt the pain.

  ‘As I mentioned a moment ago, I’d like to know about Luca Nexus,’ began Price. ‘Firstly, why were you chosen to preside over the hearing?’

  ‘I … what? I c-c-can’t think clearly … the p-pain …’ stammered Caruthers.

  ‘Well, I suggest you try,’ replied Price coolly. ‘I’ll not slacken my grip until I get some answers.’

  Caruthers shifted uneasily in his seat, looking around him forlornly for help. The club was typically empty during the early part of the afternoon, and now was no exception, apart from the barman who was disinterestedly cleaning glasses oblivious to what was happening behind the high back of Caruthers’ chair.

  Rivulets of sweat trickled down Caruthers’ temples onto his reddening cheeks as he
struggled to pull away from the unbearable stimulus. ‘P-please, s-s-stop,’ he cried plaintively.

  Price reduced the power flowing from his hand, easing the pain just enough for Caruthers to gather his thoughts.

  ‘L-look, I’ve got nothing to hide. Just let go and I’ll tell you all I know,’ Caruthers said belligerently.

  ‘Nothing could be easier than to repeat the exercise,’ Price said assuredly, releasing his grip. ‘I suggest we continue our conversation without further interruption. You’ve merely witnessed the least of my abilities. Do not doubt my capacity to overpower anyone you may call to your aid,’ he added confidently, glancing briefly in the direction of the barman, who continued to go about his duties blissfully unaware of what was happening directly under his nose.

  Caruthers nodded, shuffling uncomfortably in his chair. ‘I don’t doubt your capabilities,’ he replied resentfully, scrunching up his eyes into narrow slits. ‘I guarantee you’ve just made some powerful enemies by threatening me like this. I realise I’ve no option but to comply with your demands, but rest assured, this won’t be the last you hear of this.’

  ‘Very well. That’s a consequence I’ll just have to live with,’ replied Price evenly. ‘Now, perhaps you’d be kind enough to answer my questions?’

  ‘What do you want to know?’ Caruthers snapped.

  ‘As I’ve already said, tell me of Nexus and your role in his trial.’

  ‘I presume you’re already familiar with the reports that appeared in the press? The matter was given some attention at the time,’ said Caruthers, slowly regaining his composure.

  Price nodded. ‘Yes, but the information was limited. The hearing was held in privacy, if I recall. Nexus’ experimentation was a gross contravention of medical ethics, as I understand it, but the details were never made clear. Perhaps you’d be kind enough to enlighten me?’

  ‘I was chosen to preside over the hearing because I was trusted to be discrete about the outcome. It was a sensitive matter,’ Caruthers replied.