Honour be Damned

by David Bishop

  - Extract from Nikolai Dante: Hellraiser Extraordinaire, Maria Beria

  Penelope and Dante used their grisly acquisition to contrive a way through the stately home's internal security system, flashing the eyeball at anything that questioned their presence. Within minutes they were out on the gravel courtyard in front of the house. "Now what?" Dante asked

  "I don't know," Penelope admitted. "I probably shouldn't have killed F, but she was going too far. Bad enough to be labelled as your accomplice, but I won't be anybody's sex toy."

  "Crest, what time is the Flying Scotsman due to leave for its next destination?"

  Shortly after six. You've less than two hours.

  "We can't go back to the train," Penelope insisted.

  "Why not?"

  "When we arrived here F was complaining the Rippers hadn't killed you. She must have sent another squad to the train after the first team failed. They've probably spent the day tearing it apart, looking for you. Plus we left a naked steward underneath my bed. The other staff will have found him by now. I doubt they'll welcome us back on board with open arms."

  "I'm sure you can talk them round, since you're such a great seducer," Dante countered. "We have to get back on that train before it leaves. The real assassin is going to Peebles on the Flying Scotsman. He's the only person who can prove our innocence, especially now you've killed the one woman who could have cleared your name!" He folded his arms and glared at Penelope.

  She blinked at this accusation. "God, you're right. What have I done?"

  "Nothing anybody else in the same position wouldn't do."

  "I've murdered my boss. Even if I can prove I had nothing to do with the attack on the king, I'm still guilty of slaughtering the head of Britannia Intelligence!"

  Dante waved her concerns away. "You were defending yourself against a sexual predator. She's probably groped every woman who ever worked under her at the secret service."

  "And a few others besides," Penelope agreed.

  "Then you don't need to shed any tears for her." Dante studied their surroundings. "Crest, how far are we from the nearest estate boundary?"

  More than twenty kilometres.

  "Then we haven't time to get out of here on foot. We need a hover-car of some sort."

  Penelope pointed to her right. "Or something larger?" The end of the bus that had brought them from Nottingham Station was visible beyond the house's eastern wing. "That must have pre-programmed safety clearance, otherwise it would never have got through the gates."

  Dante smiled. "Do you want to drive, or shall I?"

  Boyle and Dobie reached the rear of the stately home sixty seconds later, having slaughtered most of the Cadre Infernale's hapless members and sent the rest fleeing into the undergrowth. The bounty hunters found a trail through the long grass that led directly to the imposing house. The duo heard the roaring noise of a hover-bus taking off nearby and took cover beside the doors to the library. They relaxed as the sound faded into the distance, removing any threat to them.

  Dobie sniffed the air. "You smell what I do?"

  Boyle's nose wrinkled disdainfully. "Cordite and faeces. That means one thing-"

  "Somebody's been shot and killed," Dobie agreed. "I'm going in - cover me!" He burst through the double doors, throwing himself into a forward roll and coming up with his gun drawn, ready to fire. Moments later Boyle followed him in, pistol ready, eyes scanning the empty shelves and empty corners for any sign of movement. Once they had confirmed the room was devoid of life, the pair straightened up again, letting themselves relax. Dobie sauntered over to the female body on the floor. A crimson pool had spread out around her head, while a puddle of yellow and brown had spilled from between her legs. "That's something I'll never get used to, Ray."

  "What?" His partner looked around the room for anything that might identify the corpse.

  "The way a human body purges itself after death."

  Boyle shrugged. "The muscles naturally relax. It's not purging, more like spillage."

  "Yeah, well, remind me to get an enema before I die. Or wear rubber underpants."

  "You better not get killed in that posing pouch then. Not much dignity to be had in there."

  Dobie nodded, still studying what remained of the corpse's face. "I've seen her before somewhere. The state opening of Parliament, maybe?"

  Boyle joined him, crouching down for a closer look at the body. "Hard to tell with one eye and the back of her head missing... But you're right. We've met her before somewhere."

  "Not a target or else we'd have killed her, not somebody else."

  "A client?"

  "Of course!" Dobie said, snapping his fingers. "Ray Boyle, allow me to introduce you to F - the head of Britannia Intelligence. Or what's left of her."

  "You're right! She hired us to finish the career of that cabinet minister who wanted to cut her budget. A very dangerous lady, I seem to recall." Boyle studied her remains with fresh interest. "Maybe we've underestimated Nikolai Dante. He must be pretty resourceful to take out a woman like F. Single shot, as well - up close and personal. This guy is not to be taken lightly."

  "But why did he take her eyeball? Some kind of trophy?" Before Boyle could reply, two security droids burst into the library, their weapons raised and ready for action. The bounty hunters dived in opposite directions, emptying their handguns at the menacing mechanoids.

  The hover-bus swerved drunkenly around a clock tower above central Nottingham, narrowly avoiding a mid-air collision. As Dante piloted his way past the erection, Penelope pointed out the time on display. "It's nearly six! We'll miss the train if you don't land soon."

  "I'm trying, I'm trying," he protested.

  "You said you could fly this thing!"

  "I said I'd give it a try. Here!" Dante let go of the steering wheel and the bus plunged towards a crowded pedestrian plaza. "You think you can do better, you take over!"

  "Just get us down near the station, okay?" she pleaded.

  "Okay!" Dante took hold of the controls again but they did not respond. If anything, the bus accelerated its rapid descent. "Ahh - Nottingham, we have a problem."

  "What kind of problem?" Penelope said angrily.

  "The kind of problem that involves crashing, burning and large amounts of pain," he replied. "I mean, I'm guessing, but it's an educated guess..."

  "Look out!" she screamed as the pedestrian zone filled the hover-bus's front windscreen, residents diving out of the way. At the last possible moment the vehicle wrenched itself sideways, then straightened out until it was running parallel to the ground. Penelope opened her eyes again. "You did it!" she cried happily. "I can't believe you did it!"

  "Neither can I," Dante said, pointing at the steering wheel. The bus was moving of its own volition, the wheel twisting from side to side as it drove along the city streets. Signs for the railway station became increasingly frequent. "Guess this thing has some sort of automatic pilot for the last part of its programmed journey. Look, the station's up ahead."

  The bus glided to a halt by the entrance, front doors sliding back gracefully. Penelope and Dante hurled themselves out of the vehicle and sprinted into the station. "How long, Crest?"

  Thirty seconds and counting.

  "Bojemoi, why do I always cut things so fine?"

  You crave excitement, deliberately creating situations that push you to your limits and beyond, probably in an attempt to distract yourself from the ultimate futility of your life.

  "I wasn't actually asking for your opinion!" Dante shouted as he and Penelope ran to the platform where the Flying Scotsman had been that morning. But the tracks were empty. "Diavolo, we're too late!"

  Penelope pointed at another platform close by where their train was waiting. "No, look - it's over there! They must have shifted platforms during the day. I don't see any sign of the Rippers. They must have been and gone."

  The station tannoy crackled into life. "The train now leaving from Platform eleven is the Flying Scotsman tourist servi
ce, calling at Peebles, Edinburgh and Orkney. Stand away from the doors now, please, this train is ready to depart. Stand away from the doors!"

  Penelope raced towards Platform eleven, dragging Dante after her. As they reached it the train was already rolling away from them, gathering acceleration in preparation for take-off. "Come on!" Penelope screamed, quickening her speed. She reached the back door and pulled it open, Dante running as fast as he could to keep up with her. Penelope pulled herself into the rear carriage, then reached back to help Dante on board. The train gave a sideways lurch as it left the tracks and rose into the air, tipping Penelope towards the open doorway. She fell over, Dante's weight dragging her back outside. Penelope jammed her legs against the door frame, wedging herself in place. "Hold on!" she screamed at him.

  "I'm holding, I'm holding!" he shouted back, dangling in the air beneath the train.

  Dante, evasive action!

  He looked round in time to see the same clock tower the bus had narrowly avoided earlier now looming towards him. Dante swung his legs up in the air and the tower scraped beneath him, ripping through the fabric of his kilt. The tartan fabric was wrenched from his body, wrapping itself around the weather vane on top of the clock tower. The cool evening air whistled past Dante's naked body as he hung from Penelope's grasp, only the handcuffs keeping the two of them together. "I can't hold on much longer!" she warned. "My legs are giving way!"

  Dante nodded, painfully aware of the precariousness of their situation and the ever increasing strain upon both their bodies. "I'm going to try and swing myself upwards," he shouted, raising his voice to be heard above the whistling wind.

  "Whatever you're going to do, make it quick!" she called back.

  Dante kicked both his legs back, then swung them forwards, repeating the motion over and over until the tendons in his shoulder were screaming in pain. Finally, keeping time with the pendulum swing of his body, Dante flung himself into a backwards somersault up into the air. His upside-down body smacked into the side of the carriage, but he managed to grab hold of the door frame. As his battered and bruised back slid down the woodwork, Dante pulled himself into the open door and collapsed. The two of them lay there for more than a minute, gasping for breath and moaning in pain, Dante's naked body splayed out on top of Penelope.

  A polite cough from the corridor eventually got their attention. "While I applaud your obvious gymnastic abilities," Gordonstoun said icily, "may I suggest that in future you leave sufficient time for your return journey from any of our scheduled day trips?"

  "Whatever you say," Penelope whispered.

  "Also, I must ask you to refrain from involving my staff in your sexual shenanigans. The man you left bound and gagged under the bed is still in Nottingham, receiving counselling." The head steward stepped past them and closed the back door of the carriage. "Dinner will be served in the dining car from seven," he said brusquely. "While evening dress is usually considered optional, we do ask our guests to show some slight measure of decorum."

  "Don't worry, I'll make sure she changes out of her catsuit," Dante replied cheerfully.

  "I was referring to your current attire, sir - or lack of it." Gordonstoun's withering gaze lingered on Dante's groin. "My, there must be quite a chilling wind out this evening." He strode away along the corridor, muttering under his breath.

  Penelope got up with a groan, rubbing her left shoulder. "I swear, this arm is going to be half a metre longer than the other before this is over."

  Dante grimaced. "At least you've still got your own clothes. I've just given half of Nottingham a worm's eye view of my genitals!"

  "At least the other half didn't miss much," she replied. "Let's go back to my compartment, see if we can't find you something to wear. Then I need to eat."

  "Food can wait," he said as they strode along the corridor. "Ever since the attempt on the king's life I've been arrested, beaten, interrogated, stripped naked - twice! - and hunted by a pack of sexual deviants. All I want now is some answers. I vote we search every cabin and carriage on this train until we find the real assassin."

  "Assuming he's still on the train."

  "He has to be," Dante insisted. "Otherwise..."

  Penelope paused outside the door to her compartment. "Otherwise what?"

  He shrugged. "I don't know. I'm out of my depth and the Crest is next to useless while I've still got these damned handcuffs on."

  Don't blame me for your current predicament!

  "I wasn't," Dante said. "I guess I've come to depend upon the Crest, it gets me out of so many tight spots. It's only now I haven't got that help that I'm learning to appreciate it."

  I hope you'll remember that in future.

  "Look, this is all very touching," Penelope said, "but I've seen enough of your genitals to last me a lifetime. I need a change of clothes and some food. After that I'll be more than happy to help you find this elusive mystery man, okay?"

  "Okay."

  "Besides, I've only got five shots left in my pistol," Penelope said, producing the tiny handgun from inside her catsuit. "If this person is part of a conspiracy to kill the king, we'll need more firepower than I'm carrying at the moment."

  "I said okay," Dante replied, opening the compartment door. Inside were four expectant Rippers, all of them clutching a stiletto in each hand, malevolent grins spread across each face. Dante slammed the door shut again and smiled. "However, a slight change of plan might be wise."

  Dobie and Boyle disabled the first pair of security droids with ease and despatched the next set of mechanoids to approach the library, but both men knew their limited ammunition supply would not be sufficient to see off any further attacks. It was Boyle who first grasped the significance of the missing eyeball. "Of course! This place must use retina scanning as a security override. Dobie, keep watch at the door while I get her other eyeball out."

  "Why I do always get guard duty?" his partner said.

  "Because you're a better shot than me."

  "You're saying that to butter me up."

  Boyle grinned. "Save that idea for later, lover boy." Unable to prise the eyeball free from the front, he tipped the corpse over and shoved his fingers through the exit wound. Within moments the eyeball popped out and rolled across the floor like a marble.

  "We've got company, Ray - time to get moving!" Dobie spun away from the door and inadvertently stood on the eyeball. It squashed beneath his weight with a wet popping sound.

  "Brilliant! That's brilliant! Our one chance of getting out of here alive and you stand on it!" Boyle raged, getting to his feet. "What are we supposed to do now?"

  His partner glanced back at the cluster of security droids gathering outside. "Run!"

  The duo raced to the external doors but another group of mechanoids was also blocking that exit. "We're trapped!" Boyle said.

  Dobie pointed to a corner of the library. "What's that?" One of the bookshelves jutted out slightly from the wall, a glimmer of light spilling out through the gap.

  The duo sprinted across to the corner and tugged at the bookshelf, until it moved far enough for both of them to squeeze through. Once they were on the other side, a mechanical warning sounded and a solid steel barrier slammed down to block the only exit. Dobie spun round, his eyes urgently scanning their surroundings. "If we weren't trapped before, we are now!"

  "Not exactly," Boyle said. They were standing inside a cube-shaped room. An entire wall was covered in holographic display screens showing a hundred different scenes. Most were images from security cameras around the estate, but there were also feeds from the main news channels, communications channels and entertainment networks. "This must be the dead woman's private office. From here we can contact anyone in the world."

  "So we're safe?"

  "Yeah."

  "But we can't get out?"

  "Not until we call in a favour or two." Boyle sat in the swivel chair facing the display units, studying the range of switches and controls in front of him. "If our hostess was head
of Britannia Intelligence, she'll have a direct line to Scotland Yard. Ahh, here we go: the police." He smiled over his shoulder at Dobie. "I think it's time we gave a progress report to Inspector Rucka, don't you? No doubt he's been wondering how we're getting on..."

  Penelope killed the first Ripper to open the compartment door, blowing the back of his head clean off. Her second shot only wounded the next in line and her third shot jammed inside the pistol. "Misfire!" she shouted to Dante, shaking the tiny pistol in frustration. "Run!" The pair bolted along the corridor, only to find two more Rippers waiting for them at the far end.

  Dante - evasive action!

  "No kidding!" he replied, ducking beneath a stiletto as it sliced through the air. Dante thrust his knee into the Ripper's gut so the black-cloaked figure folded forwards, then smashed the base of his left hand into the Ripper's nose. Bone was punched backwards into the Ripper's brain and the murderous invader was dead within moments, crimson spraying from his face.

  "You don't get rid of us that easy, sunshine!" the second Ripper in the corridor boasted, climbing over the crumpled body of his colleague.

  "We'll see about that," Penelope snarled, cracking him across the face with the butt of her pistol. The weapon fired, its bullet ricocheting off a brass fitting before lodging in the Ripper's brain. He collapsed on top of Dante, who was crouched on the floor, searching for a knife.

  "Lucky shot," Dante said, finding a discarded stiletto among the corpses.

  "I'll take any luck I can get," Penelope replied. "I've only got two shots left."

  "Then you'd better make them count - here come the others!" The rest of the Rippers were pushing past their dead brother to get out of Penelope's compartment. Dante charged at them, roaring at the top of his voice, but was abruptly jerked back again by the handcuffs. His feet flew up into the air, a look of comical bewilderment crossing his face before he fell to the floor with a heavy thud. "Bojemoi," he gasped. "I forgot."