“Yes, indeed. They can sail beneath the water, not simply on top of it. Amazing, are they not?”
“But – why would you want them to do that, my Lord?”
Abernathy smiled at her. “London is a city of rivers, Miss Brunel. They run everywhere, where we see them and where we don’t. The Thames is only the trunk – the roots spread far and wide beneath the city, just as these tunnels do here. But for some reason, no one has ever thought to navigate them.”
Rémy frowned. “And – and you intend to? But why?”
“Is it not obvious?” Abernathy asked. “Because no one expects an attack from below. In fact, these men will not expect an attack at all, which is what makes it all so very perfect. And then we will rise out of the waters of the Thames, right beneath every centre of power. We will take them by surprise – and as you know yourself, my dear Rémy Brunel – the element of surprise is worth an entire army of men.”
Rémy’s heart thumped against her ribcage. “But – you are going to attack the city? Why?”
Abernathy tutted. “Not the city, my dear. The government. That indolent rabble who are letting the greatest Empire in history slide through their fingers. The ‘Scramble for Africa’! What fools, to take our attentions towards such an uncivilised continent. They should be looking east, expanding further in India and beyond into Asia – as far as China, even. I offered them the means to become the power to be reckoned with on Earth for a thousand years or more… but they refused it. Well, so be it. If they will not willingly accept my power, I will have to force it upon them. And, my God, how I will make them regret their pompous pig-headedness!”
Rémy had nothing to say in answer to this tirade. She stared out at the wonder beneath her and felt her sweat turn cold as fear seeped into her veins. He would do it, she knew he would – she could hear the insanity in Abernathy’s words, in his absolute conviction that he was right and not only that, but that he would succeed. He would attack the British Empire right at its heart. It sounded ridiculous – except that Abernathy had all this at his fingertips, and no one who mattered knew about it. It was all here, hidden right under the city. Right beneath London…
“Well, Miss Brunel. As you know – because I am sure that Desai explained it – I have in my possession the final piece of the puzzle. The diamond that you so valiantly tried to steal will finally allow me to set my plan in motion. Which, incidentally, I think must happen a little sooner than I thought, Professor,” he said, addressing the silent man at Rémy’s side. “We have attracted a little more attention from the outside than I would have liked. Which, quite frankly, I have you to thank for, don’t I?”
The Professor did not answer, and Abernathy continued.
“But no matter. I see that you are over your little rebellion. Or at least, you will be if you know what is good for you. There is work to do. I must inspect the troops. I need you to check over all the secondary power controls.” Abernathy nodded to the other side of the walkway, to the opposite exit. “You remember where they are, I suppose? Take Miss Brunel with you. You will be quite safe, my dear Professor, I am sure. She is an intelligent child. I do believe she knows how best to survive in the world. And here – here that means not rocking the boat.”
Abernathy laughed at his own joke, so heartily that he bent double over the railing, his high whinny echoing among his preparations for war.
Eighteen
Time and Tide
The Professor took Rémy along the wooden platform and away from Abernathy’s army. Yet more guards were stationed here – they seemed to be outside each door and at every tunnel entrance. They stood, impassive, watching Rémy’s progress with the Professor carefully, but with no real interest. Rémy’s companion led her along another tunnel until he reached a wooden door flanked by red-robed guards. The Professor unlocked the door and entered, leaving it open as an indication that she should follow. Neither of them had spoken a word since leaving Abernathy. Rémy stepped inside, shutting the door behind her.
Inside was a workshop, though this one was less cluttered than the Professor’s own at Limehouse, and looked less used. There were benches laid out with tools, and metal cabinets against the walls containing strange gauges and dials of a sort Rémy had never seen before. The Professor went to one and had to wipe the dust from its glass face before he could read it properly. He muttered something to himself and went to one of the workbenches.
“I have not been here in some time,” he said, quietly enough that the guards outside would not hear, “if you’re wondering about the dust. I intended never to come back. But here I am, trapped again.”
“It was you, wasn’t it?” Rémy asked, as the Professor began to work. “You built all these machines for him. You made his plan work.”
The Professor paused, and then slowly turned to face her. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I certainly made a considerable contribution.”
“But why? Why would you do such a thing?”
The Professor shook his head, as if searching for the right words. “I thought it was all just talk,” he said. “When I met him – where I met him – there was nothing to do but talk. So that’s what we did.”
“I don’t understand,” Rémy said with a frown.
The Professor sighed. “I did not lie when I said I was a military man,” he said. “I was. But only because my father forced me to enlist. I wanted to be a scholar.” He laughed sadly. “A Professor, in fact. I was good at the sciences – geology, physics – those things. I didn’t want to carry a gun.”
“What happened?” Rémy asked.
The Professor shrugged. “What you might expect,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I had what the army called ‘discipline issues’. I ended up in a miserable jail in India, and that’s where I met Abernathy.”
Rémy nodded. She felt she should be more surprised, but somehow things were finally beginning to make sense. “This is where you talked?”
“Yes. He was always complaining about how things were. About how the Empire was run. He kept talking about Alexander the Great and Genghis Khan – how the British Empire would fail and fall in on itself if it didn’t keep expanding in the right direction. And to do that it needed machines. Amazing, fantastical machines of war that no foreign army could withstand. And, God help me, I told him how it could be done.”
Rémy frowned. “But that was in a distant land – in prison! How did that turn into –” she waved her hand at their surroundings, “this?”
“Abernathy was released before me. Family connections, you see. There are plenty of disgraced sons of lords out there. He had money. I thought that was the last I’d see of him. But then he bought me out. It must have cost a fortune. And so...”
“...you were in his debt.”
The Professor nodded. “He told me at first that there were ministers in Parliament willing to back his proposals,” he told her, his voice still barely above a whisper. “I’m sure there were, in fact, at that time. Talk is cheap, after all. And it was exciting for me. I became a new person. I stopped using my name – my father had, in any case, disowned me. And I came to London and began to work on the things I had always wanted to work on.”
“But then something went wrong,” said Rémy. “Didn’t it?”
“Yes. It happened overnight, just when I had had a breakthrough on one of the blueprints. He had a meeting in Whitehall, and he took the plans with him. He was ecstatic – he thought they were going to hail us – well, him, at least – a hero. But he came back enraged, though he refused to tell me what had happened. I think they laughed at his proposals, and he was so angry it sent him mad. That was when I should have left. I should have burned everything, all the plans, all my prototype models. But he persuaded me to go with him to a site he’d found. It was under the East End. He’d heard that a worker had found a trace of strange silver in the earth below th
e lime works.”
“Titanium.”
“Yes. Abernathy started buying every patch of land around here that he could. Then he realized that there were enough tunnels below London that he could move into them immediately. So, he did. Then he started mining.”
“And you still helped him?”
“I had no choice. He knew I could process the element into metal form. And I knew too much. He could not let me just walk away.”
“You could have told the police. You could have told Thaddeus, at least. He would have done something, you know he would. Why didn’t you?”
The Professor looked shame-faced. “I had too much to lose, Rémy. Too much. I tried to, in my own way. When you came along – when I heard he had stolen the diamond – I thought perhaps that there was a light in the darkness, some hope. But that was not to be.”
Rémy stepped away from him, leaning back on her heel as she tried to think it all through.
“What I don’t understand,” she whispered, “is how no one knows. There must be people who are aware that he was in jail in India, and that he is not as old as he seems, surely? What about his father? He must know that his son’s face is a lie!”
The Professor shook his head. “There were two Lord Abernathys, Rémy. Most believed it was the younger who died. Only a handful know the truth.”
With a jolt of shock, Rémy realized what he meant. “You mean... the younger took his father’s place?”
“Quite,” said the Professor. “All it took was a little make-up...” the Professor grimaced briefly. “I am not proud of what I have helped to build, Rémy. But I could see no way out. I still cannot. I briefly thought that Desai could –” he trailed off, shaking his head.
“And what about Thaddeus?” she asked. “He trusted you. He – he cared about you.”
The Professor smiled. “Such a smart boy, and such a good young man. He is easy to love, is he not? I thought... if I could help one person, if I could do one good thing...”
Rémy shook her head. “It is not enough.”
The Professor turned away. “It is all I can do. It’s too late for anything else.”
Rémy tugged at his arm, forcing him to face her again. “It is not too late!” she said in a harsh whisper, glancing towards the door. “Tell me what I can do! Tell me how I can stop Abernathy!”
“I cannot,” the Professor told her softly. “If I do he will know it was me!”
Rémy shook her head. “I know you can be a good man, Professor. I have seen it in you. Do not be a coward now. Tell me! He needed the diamond, yes? He needed the Ocean of Light. Desai said it was powerful. Is it the key? Is it?”
The Professor shook himself free of her grip, stepping away from her. “Rémy...”
“Just tell me where it is,” she begged. “You do not have to do anything else. Just – tell me where the diamond is. If I take it, he won’t be able to use his machines, will he?”
The Professor sagged against the workbench behind him. “You’d never be able to get to it, even if I told you.”
“I have to try! We have to try,” she begged. “Can’t you see that? Abernathy is really going to do this, Professor. This is no longer just talk, no longer just a game, you must see?”
Still the Professor shook his head, turning to check on another dial. Rémy moved to stand in front of him.
“Look at me,” she said. “How can you betray your country like this? Your friends? Do you think no one will die when Abernathy attacks? Do you think he will let people choose who they serve?”
He shook his head. “Don’t you think I know this?” he asked, his voice still lowered but full of flame. “I have tried – I tried to walk away, and I have tried to get help. But it did not work, and I am just one man! There is nothing I can do.”
“There is only nothing if you do not try,” Rémy told him, desperately. “Help me! And if you won’t, then at least tell me where the diamond is.”
The Professor hesitated a moment more, looking directly into Rémy’s eyes. Then he nodded, turned and pulled a large leather-bound notebook from a pile, flipping it open to reveal pages and pages of pencil scribbles and sketches on yellowed paper. He stopped at what looked like a rough map and beckoned her to look. She recognised the river snaking its way around the Isle of Dogs, and the mine hidden beneath the crammed slums of Whitechapel. The map of Abernathy’s underground empire was as twisted as his mind.
“Here,” the Professor said, pointing at a filigree of smaller tunnels, separated from the rest of the complex by a long, narrow corridor. “These are Abernathy’s private chambers. This is where he had me build the power connections to the submarines – the underwater boats. His rooms are directly above the launch bays. He wanted to ensure that no one had access to the power source but himself.”
Rémy turned back to the map. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to a thick line that the Professor had drawn, snaking through the deepest part of Abernathy’s subterranean world, even below the cells where Thaddeus was now trapped. It meandered like the other tunnels, but seemed to lead straight into the Thames.
“That’s the Black Ditch,” the Professor told her. “It’s one of London’s many ancient, underground rivers. Over the centuries it has sunk, but it is still there. It is why Abernathy chose that exact place to build the submarines.”
Rémy frowned, not understanding. “What do you mean?”
The Professor’s answering words were drowned out by Abernathy himself. His voice blasted out above them and Rémy turned to see a cone of metal fastened to the wall from which Abernathy’s speech blared loudly.
“Professor,” he bellowed, his voice tinny in the air. “Give me a pressure reading, if you please. And then one from the power gauge.”
The Professor jumped, backing away from Rémy. He turned and went to one of the metal cabinets, checking some of the dials before he moved to a small black box in the wall that was fastened at head height and had a metal cone just like the one Abernathy’s voice had poured from, though smaller. The box was directly below the larger cone, and Rémy could see some kind of tube running between the two. The Professor cranked the stiff handle on the box, pulling it towards him with effort, and spoke into the cone.
“Pressure holding at 500, Lord Abernathy,” he said loudly. “And power is at 100 per cent. The Darya-ye Noor is working just as we hoped.”
“Marvellous!” Abernathy bellowed, his voice echoing around the control room. “Excellent news, Professor, and it leads me to conclude that we have no more need to delay at all.”
Rémy saw the Professor frown. “My Lord?” he said into the cone. “What do you –”
“All men take note! Phase One commencing,” the villain announced. “Take your stations! I say again, Phase One commencing – every man required to take his station! Professor – join me, if you please. Oh, and do bring Miss Brunel. She would not enjoy being left behind.”
The Professor cranked the handle back away from him and spun towards her. Rémy saw that all the colour had drained from his face. “What is it?” she cried. “What’s happening?”
“I did not think – no, it must be a drill, surely,” the Professor stuttered. “He can’t – he can’t be starting now! It is too early! We are not ready! Nothing is –”
He pushed past Rémy and went to another metal cabinet on the wall that was covered in gauges and dials. He squinted at one, shaking his head. Then he tapped it – once, twice. Rémy stepped up behind him, seeing the hand on the gauge wobbling quickly towards the ‘red’.
“What is it, Professor?” she asked. “What is going on? What is Abernathy doing?”
The Professor wiped at his sweating brow. “He’s launching. I cannot believe it! It’s too early – we’re not ready, we’re not –”
Rémy gripped the Professor’s arm. “Lau
nching? What do you mean by, ‘launching’?”
The Professor looked down at her. “The plan. Abernathy’s attack on London. He’s launching Phase One. And that means we have to go. Now.”
He ran back to the desk and began to gather up as many papers as he could carry. Rémy followed him.
“But what does that mean, Professor? What’s going to happen?”
The Professor slammed down his pile of papers and indicated the map, pointing straight at the dark, thick line of the Black Ditch.
“To launch the submarines, he needs water. That’s why he built them as close to where the river passes the tunnel as possible. He’s going to cause an explosion in the wall holding the river back. He’s going to blow a hole right through it. He’s going to let the water come to him.”
Rémy stared at the map again. “But the river is far below the launch tunnels. Isn’t it?”
“Yes. There wasn’t anywhere closer that he could build the boats. None of the other caverns were big enough. But he is banking on the pressure of the water being so great as to force a chasm large enough that the tunnels between here and there will collapse when the water rushes in.”
Rémy stared, suddenly afraid. “He’s going to flood the tunnels?”
The Professor nodded. “It’s the only way for him to launch the submarines.”
“But – but what about everyone down here?” Rémy asked, a fearful tremor in her heart. “What about Thaddeus? He’s still in that cell. And what about everyone in the mines? What about J, Professor?”
The Professor shook his head. “They were supposed to be evacuated. I believed that they would… There’s nothing I can do now.”
“There – there must be!” she shouted, no longer caring if the guards outside heard her. “You built all of this! You must be able to stop it!”
“Even if I could, it would do no good!” the Professor shouted back. “The sequence has started! Once the flooding starts, there’s no stopping it. All of the lower levels will flood first. We have to go, Rémy. We have to save ourselves – it’s all we can do now! I’m so sorry.”
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