by George Mann
Victoria clapped her hands together in obvious glee. He imagined her fat, pink face grinning evilly in the darkness. “Is she here?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. She’s here. I thought you might like to meet her.” He swallowed. His mouth was dry.
“Most excellent, Physician. Show her in!” He could hear the anticipation in her voice.
“She is already here, Majesty. She is standing beside me.” So she couldn’t see him in the dark, after all. He made a mental note of that.
Victoria laughed again. He heard the grating of a metal hood being lifted from a lantern, and then suddenly a bright globe of light bloomed into existence, stinging his eyes. They took a moment to adjust to the yellow glare.
When they did, he found himself looking upon the seated Empress. He didn’t know whether to feel revulsion, admiration, or fear. She was everything he had been told to expect: Fabian had turned her into some sort of bizarre marriage between woman and machine. She was inexorably welded to the life-giving chair, large tubes jutting out from her chest, pumping air into her failing lungs. Bags of fluid hung on overhead frames, feeding her veins with whatever preservatives stopped her body from rotting. He would need to find out. He would take a sample of the fluids away for analysis.
“Where is she, Physician? We cannot see her.”
He realised that the child, scared, was hiding behind his legs. He coaxed her out, leading her forward towards the light—and, he thought, toward the monster waiting at the heart of it.
He watched the little girl as she approached the monarch. She was pretty, if a little undernourished, with long dark hair and big, frightened eyes. If he hadn’t known better, he would have said she looked around six or seven years old. But this girl had not been born of natural means, and had not lived for more than a week.
“She’s a pretty little thing,” said the Queen, making it sound as much like a threat as like a compliment.
“She has your eyes, Majesty.”
The Queen emitted a wet, rasping chuckle. “You have done well, Physician. You shall be rewarded for your loyalty.”
Victoria turned to the girl, holding the lantern high so that the child squealed and covered her face from the sudden glare. “Do not be afraid, girl. You must learn never to be afraid. Fear will be an emotion you inspire in others, a tool for achieving your aims. It will not form part of your own emotional vocabulary.”
The man frowned at her words, and wondered, not for the first time, whether he had done something calamitous in aiding her in her machinations.
Victoria regarded the child coolly. “You shall be named Alberta. We shall teach you many things. You shall know glory and power, and you shall understand the importance of Empire. You shall refrain from knowing men, for you shall be married only to your country. One day, Alberta, you shall be Queen.”
The child nodded, but remained silent.
“We have arranged a nanny for you, Alberta, and she will show you to your room. There will be time later to discuss your education.” The Queen turned to look at him. “Take her to Sandford, Physician. He will make the necessary arrangements.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” He turned to leave, putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder as if to shepherd her towards the door.
“Oh, and Warrander?”
“Yes, Majesty?”
“There is a switch embedded in this chair that we require you to disable—a legacy of the unfortunate Dr. Fabian.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Of course,” Warrander replied. “I’ll attend to it directly.”
He led the girl away from the seated Queen and into the darkness of the audience chamber. He felt a smile twitch at the corners of his mouth. A new era was dawning, and when the time eventually came, he’d have no need of a switch. Unlike Fabian, Warrander had never minded getting his hands dirty.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My thanks go out to Stuart Douglas, Paul Magrs, Mark Wright, Cavan Scott, Nick Kyme, Mark Charan Newton, Lou Anders, Michael Rowley, Mark Hodder, Mike Moorcock, Scott Mann, Emma Barnes, Liz Gorinsky, Charlotte Robertson, and the many, many others who showed me support during the writing of this book. Most important, heartfelt thanks to my wife, Fiona, and to my children, James and Emily, for putting up with an absentee father and bringing me cups of tea and hugs when I needed them.
NEWBURY & HOBBES INVESTIGATIONS BY GEORGE MANN
The Affinity Bridge
The Osiris Ritual
The Immorality Engine
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.
THE IMMORALITY ENGINE: A NEWBURY & HOBBES INVESTIGATION
Copyright © 2011 by George Mann
All rights reserved.
A Tor® eBook
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
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New York, NY 10010
www.tor-forge.com
Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Mann, George.
The immorality engine / George Mann.—1st ed.
p. cm.
“A Tom Doherty Associates book.”
ISBN 978-0-7653-2775-8
1. Intelligence service—England—Fiction. 2. Murder—Investigation—England—Fiction. I. Title.
PR6113.A546I66 2011
823'.92—dc22
2011021548
First Edition: October 2011
eISBN 978-1-4299-8526-0