“I won’t kill you,” Danielle said. “But if you make one wrong move, I will place bullets in both your knees. Now start walking.”
She led him across the room with Dead Eyes walking ahead and two soldiers close behind. Melbourne heard a guest mutter that that was the best party he had ever attended. Some of the guests stared at him, visibly irritated, others laughed in his face. One even spat on his shoes.
He was brought outside, back into the medieval era of the castle. They traversed the dark hallways until they reached a flight of stairs. Dead Eyes took a lit torch in his hand and lead the way. They descended, deep down in the core of castle. No one said a word. The spiral staircase abruptly fed onto a long, thin corridor. Dead Eyes continued without looking back. The corridor was only wide enough for one person to fit through, and they formed a line. Fräulein Doktor’s pistol was always pressed hard against Melbourne’s back.
If the ground floor of the castle was humid, the dungeon was positively dank, with overtones of decay. It made the entire crew shiver for the cold that clung to their very bones. They passed by cells, the metallic bars in the heavy oaken doors now rusted and decrepit. Rats scurried to and fro in the cells. Curious cages of dubious nature hung from the ceiling of some of the cells.
A light appeared farther down the tunnel. They snaked their way through the dungeon and, as they approached it, he made out a torch stuck in a socket in the wall. A soldier was dozing on a stool.
Danielle walked up without a word and kicked the stool out from under him. “Get up!” The man collapsed, then shot up and greeted the strange crowd with a military salute.
“Lock him in with the other one,” she said.
The soldier removed a key from his pocket and unlocked the rusted deadbolt of the door near him. Once the door was opened, he grabbed Melbourne by one arm and threw him into the cell.
Melbourne fell on the rough floor and a loud clanging sound behind him told him that the metallic door had been shut and locked.
He got back up on his feet and looked up about him. The room was cold and dark. The only little light came through a small grate up close to the ceiling that led to outside. He walked up to it and tried to reach it with his hands but it was too high up. Jumping wouldn’t work either.
“It’s no use. I’ve tried.”
The frail voice came from one of the darkened corners of the room. Melbourne quit jumping and stood still, staring at the spot from where the voice came. “Doctor V?”
“That’s one name I’m known by.”
The voice sounded familiar but he could not make out who it was. Did Doctor V know him?
A rustling sound came from the corner. “Melbourne, is that you?”
A man emerged into the light from the grate.
“Melbourne?” the man kept asking. He extended his hand towards him.
Melbourne couldn’t take it in. It was impossible, too much, after everything that had happened. Just too much.
It was not Doctor V.
It was Henry Arthur, his brother.
XLVI
At some deep level, Melbourne decided that he didn’t have to understand it. He crossed the room in a leap and enfolded Henry in a crushing hug.
Melbourne began thinking it was a hallucination, an odd trick of his mind due to the tension and stress. Could it be a ghost? An otherworldly apparition?
Henry grunted. Melbourne let him go and held him at arm’s length in the faint light. His lower lip, marked by a purple cut, shook uncontrollably. With his shaggy beard and torn clothes, he was almost unrecognisable. It was the light in his eyes that made Melbourne realise it was truly him.
His brother, Henry Arthur Summers, was alive. Melbourne felt his hands begin to shake as well.
His brother lifted a frail, weak arm and touched Melbourne’s face. “Melbourne, are you real? You are real, aren’t you?”
Melbourne grabbed Henry Arthur and embraced him more gently. He sunk his face in his brother’s shoulder. A few tears descended on Henry Arthur’s vest. His brother’s heart pounded hard in his chest and Melbourne could feel it reverberating in his own. He had never felt so happy as he did in that moment.
“How could this be?” Henry Arthur asked.
Melbourne let go of his brother and looked at him in the eyes. “They told me you were dead, that you had been murdered. They buried you, Henry!”
Henry Arthur smiled. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “How did you get here? Why – ”
“I came here for you.”
Henry Arthur stared at his brother. His bruised lip wasn’t shaking anymore. “What?”
“I was told you were dead, that they had found your body in Brussels. You were shot for being a spy. They said you were looking for the Iron Shadow. Was all that a lie?”
Henry closed his eyes. “No. Sadly not.”
“Then when they told me you were dead I volunteered to retrace your footsteps here in Belgium to find clues about the Iron Shadow, about you, what you were doing and what had happened to you. What has happened to you?”
“I was imprisoned here to await my trial.” Henry Arthur sighed once more. “I am sorry. I am so very sorry, Mel.” He shook his head. “This shouldn’t have happened, you shouldn’t be here.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Melbourne said. “We need to get out of here, now.”
“That would be a tough call. Von Krommel has guards everywhere. Believe it or not, the only safe place for us in the castle is this bloody cell.”
Damn.
“Did they hurt you?” Henry asked. “Von Krommel or the woman?”
“My ego is pretty battered, but no. You?”
Henry ignored Melbourne’s question. “You are honestly the last person I thought that would walk through that door right there.”
“In trouble again together, just like the old days.” Melbourne tried to laugh but found it hard.
Henry Arthur managed to crack a smile.
“I don’t understand, you were Doctor V all along?”
Henry shook his head. “I guess there’s a lot I need to tell you.”
The rusty lock of the cell door made an unpleasant screech. The metallic door swung open and Danielle strode in, pistol in hand.
“Sorry for interrupting you little family reunion,” she said, “but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.”
“You eavesdropped?” Melbourne said.
“I’m a spy. It’s part of the job. Aren’t family gatherings so full of joy and wonder?”
“What do you want you wretched witch?” Henry Arthur asked.
“Brothers. Who would have ever imagined? It sure as hell surprised me too. And I must say, how heroic of Melbourne? A little brother becoming a spy to save his big brother? Arthur Conan Doyle could have written this.”
Melbourne walked towards Danielle with a raised finger. “Listen! If you even dare — ”
She raised her pistol and pointed it between his eyes. Her hand was rock steady. “All right. Let us calm down for a moment.”
The voice came from behind the cell door. Count von Krommel walked in, followed by two soldiers with rifles. Danielle lowered her pistol.
“Brothers,” he said. “Interesting turn of events, I must say. I see that there is quite an interest in my little project. Certainly, more than I would like. The Kaiser’s Warhammer will leave first thing tomorrow morning. I’ve already given orders to start the preparations tonight. And I have the privilege of announcing that both of you will come and enjoy the show with us.”
Danielle turned toward the Count. “Is that a good idea, my General?”
“They’ve come this far and risked so much. Why not grant them their last wish of seeing the Iron Shadow at work? Why not show them the weapon that will hand us the war? Just a final present before their death.”
She shook her head and placed the pistol back into her purse, fumbling about inside it, and pulled out her cigarette holder and a cigarette. She placed it between her lips, an
d a box of matches almost magically materialised in her hands.
“No one has anything to say?” von Krommel asked. “Is it decided then! We leave at the crack of dawn.”
Danielle tried in vain to light her match, but the damp of the dungeon had soaked into the matches. Count von Krommel turned towards her and produced a silver lighter.
Danielle accepted the light with a sigh. “Thank you.”
He turned towards the two prisoners. “Have a good night’s sleep, gentlemen. Tomorrow will be a day to remember.”
XLVII
“Aufwachen!”
The voice jolted Melbourne and Henry Arthur awake. They both squinted at the daylight that had quietly crept through the iron bars of the grate. For the first time, Melbourne clearly saw his cell. He knew he wasn’t going to miss it. A thin cloud of dust moved in swivelling motions throughout the cell, most likely kicked up by the boots of the two soldiers standing in front of him. The two soldiers said something to each other and moved towards their captives.
One of the soldiers grabbed Henry Arthur by the arm and lifted him up. The other did the same with Melbourne, sending a jolt of pain through his stiff neck. A single bed for two was not exactly the most comfortable of options.
The soldiers tied a rough, itchy rope around their wrists and escorted them out of the cell. They passed through the humid, foul-smelling corridors of the dungeon and into the main corridors of the castle. They seemed ghostly, abandoned. It was hard to imagine that a celebration had been going on the night before. It wasn’t until they emerged out of the castle that things seemed a little different.
Parked just outside of the main door in a neat row were two trucks, followed by three cars and two more trucks. Soldiers were loading materials onto one of the trucks, while the rest began mounting into the other three. Melbourne could see Count von Krommel in his General’s uniform holding the backseat door of the first car for Danielle. She took one last puff of her cigarette, threw it on the ground and entered the car. She had changed into a white shirt, neatly tucked into black pants, and wore her long blonde hair loose over her shoulders. The Count turned to look at Melbourne and gave him a smile and a slight nod. Melbourne did the same before he was pushed into one of the last truck along with his brother.
They sat face to face on opposite benches as more soldiers began filling the seats next to them. A whistle blew, some shouts echoed around the vehicles, and the convoy began to finally move.
The back of the truck was open, and Melbourne could see the route that was being taken. They left through of gates of the castle and pulled onto a road. The Count’s residence began shrinking as they moved farther away from it, leaving room for the countryside to take a hold of the scenery. It was quite sparse, with few trees and a couple of cows grazing next to the road.
They turned a corner onto another road and picked up speed. The view from the back of the truck did not change. Melbourne guessed they must have been driving for half an hour. He was about to fall asleep once more until the truck began to shake abruptly.
He looked outside and saw that they had veered off onto a track through the woods. The truck shook and strained at the bumps and holes of the rougher road.
The daylight dimmed as the convoy moved deeper into the woods. The soldiers sat motionless, expressionless, even to the harshest shakings that the truck endured. At times it felt as if it was almost going to fall apart.
Suddenly the truck began slowing down until it stopped. Shouts echoed from outside.
They had arrived.
The soldiers grabbed their rifles, slung them over their shoulders, and began filing out of the truck. The same two soldiers grabbed Melbourne and Henry Arthur by the arm and dragged them out. They pointed their rifles at them and urged them to start walking.
Melbourne could see more soldiers unloading equipment of all sorts from a couple of the trucks while others began moving all towards the same direction. Count von Krommel and Danielle emerged from their car as a variety of officers materialised in front of them. Melbourne spotted von Jarotzky in the group. The Count seemed ecstatic as he talked to the men around him.
Danielle moved towards Melbourne and Henry Arthur. “I’m guessing you know what would happen if you attempt a false move, right? Now follow me.”
She led the way up the road as the Count and the officers began moving as well. Some soldiers were hauling boxes while others marched next to them. Melbourne guessed there must have been roughly fifty of them. He cast his eyes to the sky and saw large nets placed between the trees to cover the road and whatever lay ahead of it. The entire place seemed hidden from the world.
Melbourne was still looking up at the nets when he stumbled against something solid. He looked down and saw that they were train tracks.
“Mel?” Henry motioned with his head.
Melbourne turned to his right and finally saw it. The Iron Shadow.
Neither the photos nor the model gave any sense of the scale of the thing. The locomotive was the largest he’d ever seen, exaggerated in its proportions, an armoured fortress on wheels, hissing and steaming in the morning light like a monster. And behind it and its oversized tender – a massive carriage with ten wheels under beams that could have come from a bridge, followed by a second with eighteen. Steel beams festooned with rivets formed a scaffolding three stories high. It felt like it had come out of a science fiction nightmare.
Perched on top of it all was a cannon unlike Melbourne had ever seen. It must have measured at least twenty metres. Slick and black, it had a massive breech and tapered to the end, with some kind of massive gear system beneath it – to raise it to its firing angle. He could picture the massive forces at work on it.
He didn’t suppose it had to be aimed very accurately – just find a stretch of railroad track pointed vaguely toward London and open fire. But how to handle the massive recoil? Then he realised, half the recoil force could be absorbed simply by allowing the whole carriage to roll backwards. It might move itself back as it fired, but given its range, not enough to matter.
For all its huge horror, it was a practical weapon. It looked like it would work.
Melbourne felt a cold shiver run through his body. This was a weapon that could wipe out an entire city if it wanted it to.
Behind the colossal tank were attached the wagons of a normal train – two lavish first-class carriages, doubtless reserved for the Count and his entourage, a third-class carriage for the troops, and several freight cars, doubtless for ammunition and such.
Melbourne and Henry Arthur were pushed into the first carriage. The interior was quite pleasant, with dark wooden furniture and beige couches, giving it the feel of the lobby of a fine hotel. Count von Krommel stood in the middle, ordering a soldier to place a stack of books in a corner.
He looked up at his passengers. “Ah! Gentlemen, so glad you could join us. Please, take a seat.”
The soldiers forced the two brothers onto two beige armchairs, almost adjacent to each other. Fräulein Doktor took a glass and poured for herself a drink from one of the bottles on a small table. She took a seat on a chair opposite the captives.
“What an historic day,” the Count said. “I’m sure you were quite in awe at the wonder outside.”
“Abhorrent,” Melbourne said.
“A work of art, I know,” the Count said.
“A monstrous piece of abhorrent devilry,” Melbourne said.
The Count chuckled. “Why all the negativity, young Lieutenant? Today is a day for celebration. Today we make history. Today is a step, no pardon me, a leap towards the end of this war and our victory.”
“This will not end the war, it will only worsen the situation,” Henry Arthur said. “It will cause more deaths than you could possibly imagine. You will not be known as a saviour, Count, you will be known as a monster.”
Count von Krommel poured himself a drink. “You don’t seem to understand, do you? We are fighting for the same thing.”
Melbourne’s e
yebrows shot up. “Please enlighten me.”
“Well, let me ask you a question, young Lieutenant. How long has this war been going on? How many of your friends and companions have you lost? Are you not tired of fighting?”
Melbourne said nothing. But he was. He had been for some time.
“Yes,” the Count said. “I can tell from your eyes that you are. And as an airman, you haven’t been in the hell of the trenches. Thousands die every day, of disease, of gas, from artillery. Modern warfare is literally hell, destroying the soul even of the winners. If I can provide one side with a decisive victory that ends that bloodshed, how is that monstrous? Beyond the fact that it isn’t your side who will win.”
“But there’s more to it, isn’t there?” Melbourne asked. “The people your weapon will kill will be women and children, not soldiers.”
“You are smart, Lieutenant Summers,” the Count said. “Of course, there is a price to pay for the ending of this war. But we consider the reward worth the price.” He poured himself another drink and raised it. “To Prussian supremacy.”
“Aegri somnia,” Henry Arthur said.
“Ad altiora tendo,” the Count answered. “I strive towards higher things. Prussia’s dream, its civilising mission. You see, gentlemen, your nation and your allies have lost the great ideals of humanity and culture. We are the only ones who still possess them, and that possession must be protected, cultivated, and promoted. Our Kultur must be spread to the four winds, the grand ideals imparted into the minds of the meagre European nations.”
“You’re bat shit crazy,” Melbourne said.
“I am a genius! Those damn Junkers, they are imbeciles. They know nothing of war, of economics, of how to attain what we want, what God wants! It was all too apparent that our great nation was in no means prepared for this damned war. It is lasting far too long and that damn British blockade of yours has cut off our resources.’ And don’t get me started on that idiotic Schlieffen Plan.”
He took a long sip from his drink and waited a few seconds to calm down.
“Gentlemen, you don’t understand. This weapon is the answer to hundreds, if not thousands of years of warfare in Europe. This could once and for all end the disputes amongst our nations.”
The Iron Shadow Page 26