by John Booth
The driver shook his head.
“The chamber is made of lead and sealed. When they invented this engine its operators died from being too near the metal and the lead keeps us safe.”
“This is astounding,” Tom blurted out. “Why is this not being boasted about in the newspapers?”
Lord McBride looked at Tom with scorn.
“Extracting the metal proved dangerous, laddie. And the Empire doesn’t want the world to know how many of its loyal subjects died extracting the fuel for so few of these locomotives,”
“Is it dangerous to be here?” Laura asked, taking a step back.
“Not behind the lead, lassie,” Lord McBride said and he moved closer to Laura. “Do ye ken how to extract a metal from a rock?”
“It’s easy in principle,” Laura said as she considered the problem. “A Spellbinder changes the rock into water which flows away to becomes rock again, leaving the metal behind as dust. The skill is to make the bind only affect the rock and not the metal. To do that the Spellbinder has to understand the difference between the elements.”
Lord McBride seemed happy with her answer.
“Ay well, I’ve got an even more difficult task than that for ye. But we won’t talk about it here.”
He turned to the driver.
“You’ve done a great service to the Empire.”
The driver burst into a smile at the compliment. “But ye ken that this must be kept as our little secret?” The driver nodded.
“I know this metal was extracted at your estate, Lord McBride. The Queen herself must be in your debt.”
“Aye, aye, well that’s as maybe,” Lord McBride said, sounding embarrassed by the compliment. “We must be off now and leave you to your work.”
As they got down from the cab, Tom asked Lord McBride the question that had been bothering him. “What are these engines to be used for?”
“They will be used for moving the army through Africa. Without the need for fuel beyond a supply of water, the army will be able to expand the empire even faster than before. Military Magic plans to put bigger ones on warships in the longer term. Without the need to carry coal, those ships can be armed with bigger weapons and larger crews.”
“I don’t see why you need a Class A,” Laura complained. “Surely a Grade 1 would be good enough? And since it turns out you are working for the government, why didn’t you just ask? Why did you kidnap us?”
“The government certainly wouldn’t want me doing what I plan, bonnie lassie. And ye will find out soon enough why only a Class A will do.”
James Saunders woke to a freezing house as his fires had gone out during the night. He staggered downstairs and lit the kitchen range. Properly stacked and kept starved of air, the range would normally stay alight for days, but then it had been days since he had the time to do any housekeeping.
Saunders did not employ servants on a full time basis. He did not trust anyone to work for him. Hired help from the village came in once a week to clean the house and wash his clothes. Even then, he kept them locked out of the study, except for once every month or so when he could supervise them at their work.
The milk in the cold store had gone sour but the bacon and eggs would do when the range was hot enough. He washed in ice-cold water and dressed while he waited.
Striding into his study, he saw at once that someone had searched it. Books were in disarray and dust on the polished surfaces disturbed. Ignoring the books, he went straight to the mantle and retrieved the vase. The only secrets of value were stored within it.
When he found the vase was empty, he swore and smashed it onto the floor, scattering pieces of china everywhere. A quick search of the room revealed that maps were also missing.
Saunders sat down in the most comfortable chair in the room and thought furiously. It seemed farfetched, but the only explanation he could come up with was that the young spies from Hobsgate had broken into his house in their search for the Spellbinder. Any other explanation would have resulted in his immediate arrest.
Why they would search his house in the first place defied logic. He had left no trail for them to follow, no clue that they might pick up. It was mystifying and most worrisome.
Saunders was a pragmatic man. After he had weighed up all his options, he returned to his kitchen and cooked a large breakfast. After eating, he found pen and paper and wrote down his thoughts in a logical order so he could reflect on them.
Certainties
They have the letter from S.
They have the letter that links me to the two dead children.
Their mission is to find and rescue C and S
They have discovered that I work for the B.
Probabilities
Trelawney will not believe them until MM1 find collaborative evidence
They have not reported me to T so they have worked this out
They will have arrived too late at S’s to rescue C and S, else I would have heard about it.
They will follow C and S. This may force them to split up. They would be most likely to follow S if they could only follow one of them.
Course of Action
Find an excuse to follow and kill these bastards
Saunders smiled as he looked at what he had written. It shouldn’t prove that difficult to kill three young and inexperienced spies before they could expose him. The difficult thing would be convincing Trelawney that following them was the most important thing he should do.
Saunders considered this particular problem for a few minutes until he came up with a workable excuse. He took a metal tool used to remove the rings from the kitchen hob for cleaning. Once he had lifted up a ring he dropped the piece of paper into the range and watched it burn to ash.
He was going to be busy and the task would be difficult, but he felt far from defeated.
18. Pursuit
Lord McBride’s railway carriages had been decorated in the height of opulence. Fabric wall coverings coated in gold leaf provided insulation from the noise outside while making the inside of the carriages feel more like being in a rumbling tented palace than on a train.
The carriages had been partitioned into several small ornate rooms. Paintings of semi-naked goddesses covered the ceilings. White robes and sheets draped cunningly maintaining decorum for the lower halves of their bodies. Tom found the paintings fascinating as they walked through the carriage and his eyes kept drifting upwards; only to be dragged sharply to eye level by Laura’s pointedly haughty sniffs.
Tom, Laura, and Alice were moved into one of the smaller rooms, which was arranged much more like a conventional railway compartment with two pairs of seats facing each other across a polished oak table. Jimmy, their guard, stayed with them while the other guards withdrew.
They had no sooner made themselves comfortable in their seats than the train set off, soon picking up speed and racing through the countryside.
“Dinna cause any fuss and we’ll be just fine,” Jimmy told them. From then on, he ignored them and began to read a copy of The Times.
“Did you enjoy looking at the engine?” Alice asked them a little sourly. She had been sitting in the carriage for over half an hour while they had gone off with Lord McBride and felt left out of things.
“It was most peculiar machine,” Laura admitted. “The engine turned out to be powered by a fuel that is some strange material that generates heat for no rational reason.”
“Our captors name is Lord McBride and apparently he is the source of these engines for the government,” Tom added.
Jimmy looked up from his newspaper at the mention of McBride’s name and glared at Tom for a few moments. Tom smiled sweetly back at him.
“How far away is Scotland anyway?” Alice asked. “I’ve heard that it is full of savage men who wear women’s skirts.”
“Kilts,” Jimmy said abruptly from behind his paper, “Nay skirts, men’s kilts.”
“You’ll notice that our prison guard had no objection to you using the word savage
to describe him,” Laura pointed out primly. “People who practice slavery rarely do.”
Jimmy put down the paper and glared at them fiercely.
“Dinna move from here, do ye ken?” he said angrily. “I’ll be back in a wee while.”
He stood up and left the compartment.
“Alice, listen to me very carefully,” Tom said urgently. “I need to tell you this before he gets back. I want you to keep sending messages to Tricky, every half hour or so. Tell him we are captives of Lord McBride, on our way to Scotland and to his estate there. Just like you did on the coach.”
“Tricky won’t be able to hear me. He’s miles away by now, it’s pointless,” Alice said sulkily.
“You can’t know that for certain and all it will cost you is a minute’s concentration every half hour. Will you do it for me?” Tom implored.
“I suppose,” Alice said grumpily. She was secretly pleased that Tom wanted her to help, but she wasn’t going to let him know that.
They might have said more, but the man who had been guarding Alice earlier walked into the compartment and sat down. He picked up Jimmy’s paper and began to read it, ignoring the three captives.
“You never said how far away Scotland is,” Alice pointed out to Tom.
“We arrive in Edinburgh late this evening,” the guard said without looking up from his paper.
“It’s several hundred miles away,” Laura explained quickly to Alice, “In the north.”
The horse and cart carrying Cam and her increasingly large team arrived at Colney Hatch railway station a couple of hours after Lord McBride’s train departed.
“We would like to purchase three adult and two child fares to Scotland,” Arnold told the ticket collector. “Can you tell me when the next train will leave the station?”
“What part of Scotland? It’s a big place you know,” the ticket collector asked sarcastically.
“Edinburgh,” Arnold replied. He had no idea of where to go when it came down to it, but Edinburgh was the capital of Scotland and it was as good a place to start as any.
“You can’t leave that horse and cart there,” the ticket collector pointed out. He was a small wizened man with a long scruffy white beard and dirty brown teeth. He didn’t seem to be too interested in selling Arnold his tickets.
“I would happily sell them both to you for the price of the tickets,” Arnold offered.
I’ve seen better carts burning on bonfires,” the ticket collector said, clearly unimpressed by the offer. “I suspect the glue factory would turn their noses up at the horse, they have standards I hear.”
“Then let us talk to the Stationmaster,” Cam said from behind Arnold. “Perhaps he has a better nose for a bargain than a member of his staff.”
“No need for that, miss,” the Ticket Collector said hastily. “I have reconsidered your offer and I find it acceptable. I’ll just make out your tickets.” He set about stamping various pieces of paper before handing Arnold five tickets.
“And about the train?” Arnold asked.
“Platform one, arriving in ten minutes, Edinburgh Express. We had a special train set off from here a while ago for Edinburgh, sent for an important dignitary. But that’s gone, so you’ll have to catch the regular train.”
“The regular train will do just fine,” Cam said as they made their way into the station and onto platform one.
“I wonder if Tom and Laura were on that train,” Daisy mused. “I seem to remember a very well outfitted railway carriage in my dreams.”
“Don’t forget about Alice, or about how you were going to write to our mum and dad either,” Tricky whined from behind her. He was beginning to regret agreeing to go to Scotland with these three strange people.
“I could send a telegram to your parents,” Daisy suggested. “There’s always a telegraph office in a station.”
“We don’t have long,” Arnold pointed out. “What would you say to them?”
“Tricky and Ebb in safe hands. Do not worry.” Cam suggested with a grin.
“Our mum’s and dad’s don’t live at the same address,” Tricky pointed out sarcastically. “We ain’t brothers, you know.”
“Send two messages then,” Cam replied unabashed. “I take it you do know your addresses?”
“Course,” Tricky replied, but Cam noted that Ebb suddenly looked worried.
Daisy refused to step into the telegraph office until she had obtained all the details from Tricky and Ebb. This was fine for Tricky, but Ebb only knew his house number and street name. While the children might know they came from London, it was necessary to have a district as well to be able to send a message.
“Times getting on,” Arnold said anxiously and pointed to the railway clock above their heads. Their train was due into the station in one minute and would depart again in five.
“I’ll send Tricky’s telegram now and the one to Ebb’s family later,” Daisy said as she bolted into the telegraph office.
The train pulled in less than a minute later. Tricky, Ebb, and Cam climbed into an empty carriage while Arnold waited by the open door. There was no sign of Daisy.
“You’ll have to close that door,” A burly guard told Arnold a couple of minutes later. “The train’s due to depart.”
“We are waiting for a friend. She’s in the telegraph office and will be out in a few seconds.”
The guard was unimpressed, but he answered politely enough.
“I’m sorry, sir. We can’t hold up the railway just because your friend is late. It’s more than my jobs worth to delay the train. Now if you are going to get onboard. I suggest you do it now.”
Arnold reluctantly boarded the train and the guard slammed the door shut behind him, before walking on towards the back of the train, checking that each door was closed. Arnold opened the window of his door and leaned out, putting his hand on the door’s handle so he could open it when Daisy got there.
“Come on, Daisy,” he muttered as a series of loud whistles sounded from the front and back of the train. The whole train shook as the engine took up the strain of the carriages and they started to pull away.
“There she is!” Cam shouted in Arnold’s ear.
Daisy ran along the platform towards them as the train pulled slowly out of the station. Arnold flipped open the door and reached out for her. The train started to gather speed as Daisy ran.
Daisy seemed to take wing as she ran faster than she had ever run before and clasped her hand onto Arnold’s. Arnold lifted her off the ground and into the carriage. A guard at the end of the platform slammed their carriage door shut as it went past and shouted something that sounded extremely rude at them
“Sorry about that,” Daisy said apologetically. “There was an old lady in front of me in the queue and she took absolutely ages.”
James Saunders strode into Ernest Trelawney’s inner sanctum, walking past Belinda Mann without giving her so much as a glance. Belinda stood up from her desk and trailed after him, keeping her distance, but nonetheless determined to find out what he wanted of Trelawney.
“Sorry to interrupt you, sir, but I have news of some importance,” Saunders told Trelawney. “I received this message this morning.”
Saunders threw a piece of paper across Trelawney’s desk and Trelawney picked it up. He saw that it was written in Saunders’ hand but he let that matter pass while he read the message. For Belinda’s benefit, he read the message out loud.
“Sir, we were given your name and address by Sir Ernest Trelawney for us to contact in an emergency. We are from Hobsgate and our names are Tompkins, Drew and Burns. Our mission was to rescue Thomas Carter and Laura Young.”
“We have discovered that Carter and Young are dead. However, we have tracked their killers to Crouch End and we continue to follow them. We will leave another message for you at the house of the local lord of the manor, one Bertram Smee.”
“Our contact will only pass on our message to you if you come alone. We have reason to believe that MM3
has been infiltrated by the enemy.”
“How did you receive this message?” Trelawney asked. “I note this is written in your own hand.”
“This morning, sir, as I was breaking my fast a young lad knocked at the door and said he had a message for me. Said he was to be paid five shillings after he had recited it. I was of a mind to tell him to be on his way as five shillings is a lot of money, but then I remembered those young people you had sent from Hobsgate. Once I heard his message I made him repeat it and wrote it down before sending him on his way.” Saunders paused for breath and looked at Trelawney apologetically.
“I realize now that you had good reason to send them, sir and I withdraw the complaint I made last night. I will not be writing to the Secretary of War.”
“Thank you, James, though it will make little difference to my career, I fear.” Trelawney read the message a second time. “What course of action do you propose?”
“I must follow these three young agents alone, sir. It is what they have requested and I can always telegraph for extra personnel or call on help from the local constabulary should I need it. They are our best chance of catching whoever killed Carter and Young, sir.”
Saunders waited for Trelawney’s approval anxiously.
“I agree with you, James. Set off at once and God speed to you.”
“Thank you, sir.” Saunders turned on his heels and marched out of the office.
Trelawney motioned to Belinda to shut the door.
“What do you make of this?” he said as he handed her the message. Belinda read it carefully.
“I do not believe that this message was sent by our three young spies,” she said after a long pause.
“You noticed the error?” Trelawney asked her sharply.
Belinda shook her head.
“Not an error, Ernest. Just that Camilla Burns would never have allowed Tompkins’ name to be put first like that. She is in charge of the team.”
“I never included Saunders address in the information I gave them. It occurred to me later that I should have done, but the whole thing was done in such a hurry.”