by John Booth
Laura was working hard to avoid separating out the dantium in the reactor rod. Though using the same formulation of Latin words that Giles Summers had given her, her mental image while casting the bind, was of the copper flowing one way and leaving the mix of uranium and dantium intact.
After completing the bind, she remained seated at the workbench and made no move to see what might have happened to the rod. She was certain she had failed, just as she intended.
The sound of Giles and Gordon Kemp clapping their hands and stamping their feet in delight brought her out of her reverie with a jolt.
“That material must be one hundred percent pure,” Kemp was saying excitedly. “Look at the texture. You and Andrew, God rest his soul, never got it to look like that.”
“And it is enough to get the Laird off our backs,” Giles agreed.
“More than enough dantium to complete the second cannonball,” Kemp agreed. “Though why he is so obsessed with making those damned things is quite beyond me. I keep hoping he will take me into his confidence on the matter.”
“I sometimes think Hans Clerkes has cast some sort of spell on him,” Giles said and laughed. “I am so glad that I will not be spending tonight locked in here. Have you noticed that my hair is starting to grow back? My lack of eyebrows meant my image in the mirror never looked like me. The last thing I want to do is lose all that again to this cursed metal.”
Laura stood up in a daze and walked towards the two men. If they were pulling some kind of trick on her, it was a particularly effective one. They stepped aside as she approached the glass and she put both her hands on the sill, staring into the room beyond.
As soon as she saw the large amount of powdered metal gleaming on the muslin sheet, she knew that Giles and Gordon were telling the truth. Somehow, and completely by accident she had conjured the very substance she had been trying to avoid. Laura wanted to scream and stamp her feet in frustration. Why did this have to happen now?
She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to find Tom looking over her shoulder at the terrifying substance. He squeezed her shoulder gently.
“What is done is done,” he said without the slightest hint of reproach.
She turned and hugged him tight to her. To Giles and Gordon it looked as though she hugged Tom in triumph.
“No more work for us today,” Gordon said gleefully. “I’ll get the engineering team to come and take the metal away. They should have it formed into a cannonball before nightfall.”
“I have located some more tea,” Arnold told them from the door. He had been sent to the castle kitchens earlier when they discovered they were out of tea.
Arnold looked at the two gleeful scientists and then to Laura holding onto to Tom as though the world had come to an end.
“Did I miss something important?”
43. An Afternoon and a Half
When Michael Jenkins was a child, he had been a true patriot. In the fantasies that played in his head, he was the man who saved the British Empire from imminent defeat with his stout heart and much daring-do. He was that most unusual of people, the kind that know exactly what they want to be from an early age and commit themselves body and soul to the process of achieving it.
What Jenkins had wanted more than anything else, was to become a spy for MM3. Working in the Empire and beyond to confound the enemy, whether they be the Hungarian Empire or the renegade Americans in their United States. He possessed one of the key skills for such a role, as he was a Grade 4 Empath. Jenkins trained his body to a peak of fitness and diligently learned all the appropriate languages. He studied politics at university and applied for a commission with MM3 on his twenty first birthday.
What he didn’t know, because it was a secret, was that MM3 recruited its agents at the age of eighteen. It sent them for training to Hobsgate, a secret academy hidden on the coast. Sir Ernest Trelawney had to end the amateur nature of spying. He believed that it needed to be trained for in the same way as the other professions.
Trelawney wanted those whose magical gifts were not quite good enough to make the front lines or research, but whose hearts were true, to find a rewarding career under him. Alone of the Directors of the Military Magic Departments, he had founded a specialist training school and nobody who had not been through its doors would be recruited.
Had Michael been born a year earlier, he would have been able to apply in the same way that James Saunders and many others had entered MM3, but as it was, the gate slammed shut in front of him just as he approached it.
Military Magic is made up of four directorships:
Jenkins found an alternative career in MM1, deploying more talented magicians than himself wherever they were needed. But it was a poor substitute for the life he had wanted. Over the years that followed, he became increasingly bitter and finally found an outlet for his frustrations by becoming a spy for the Hungarian Empire.
He walked into the carriage where the six people he had selected for death were waiting for his return. He smiled encouragingly at Susan Peters, the woman he had bedded and selected because she looked a little like Annelise Schultz. Susan smiled back at him with trusting eyes.
Jenkins stepped aside to let Bruno and his men into the compartment. They were carrying pistols and the six people put their hands into the air as they recognized they had no option but surrender. Annelise made a dramatic entrance after the compartment was secure.
“Go vith my men and you vill be treated honorably,” Annelise Shultz told them with a pleasant smile on her face.
As Susan passed Jenkins, she looked at him with hurt eyes and spoke two simple words.
“Why Michael?”
Jenkins looked back at her and smiled warmly.
“Because they were eager to have me.”
Bruno pulled Susan out of the compartment and his men followed behind with the other MM1 agents. Crossing between carriages meant exposure to the elements and stepping across the gap between them. The rails flew by beneath Susan’s feet and she wondered if the man directing her was going to throw her over the side to certain death. She sighed with relief as he pushed her into the guard’s van.
Bruno forced her towards the back of the carriage where she stifled a scream as she tripped over the dead guard. She was going to turn to say something to Bruno when she felt a line of fire cross her throat. She looked down to see her blood flowing in waves across her hands. Her last thought was how warm her blood felt.
James Saunders was feeling full of himself as he and his men approached the main entrance of the castle. They approached an old man on guard duty at the door.
“James Saunders, MM3 Director of Operations to see Lord McBride on a matter of some urgency,” he said self-importantly.
“Yer dinna say,” the old man responded skeptically. “Would yer be having a calling card to prove that?”
Saunders retrieved his valet from the inside pocket of his greatcoat and took out a gold embossed card, which his name and job title printed on it. It also displayed the seal of Military Magic, embossed and coated with gold leaf.
“Dinna yer move from here. I shall go and inform the Laird and ask him if he’ll see yer,” the old man told them. He set off into the castle at a relaxed pace.
“They don’t think a lot of Military Magic here, Guv’nor,” Mike noted.
“They will welcome us soon enough when they find out why we have come,” Saunders replied confidently.
“Donnan, the Laird has some visitors from MM3 who want to see him urgent,” the old man told a distinguished looking man in a butler’s uniform. Donnan Campbell was the head butler of the castle and the man who controlled the household staff. The old man passed him the card. “He’s got two shifty types along with him. The sort that yer wouldna want to meet in an alley on a dark night.”
Donnan took the card and examined it carefully.
“You have left them waiting at the main door?”
“Aye Donnan, that I have.”
“Then go back a
nd make sure they stay there. I shall inform the Laird and we shall take things from there.”
“Aye Donnan. But yer canna trust the English. Yer tell the Laird I said that.”
“I am sure he already knows, Angus. Now away with you, and be polite to them if you can.”
Donnan knocked and entered the Laird’s study. McBride was talking to Blane when he entered and he waited respectfully until the Laird chose to speak to him.
“What is it, Donnan?”
Donnan handed over the card without comment. McBride read it and his eyebrows rose. He gave the card to Blane who looked at it curiously.
“Did he say what he wanted?” Blane asked.
“I understand he has come to talk to the Laird on a matter of some urgency. He has two bodyguards with him, or so I am given to understand.”
“I don’t like the timing of this, Blane,” Lord McBride informed his secretary. “Perhaps they know what we are planning and have sent this man to stop us.”
Blane shook his head.
“I doubt that, sir. Had they been aware of your plans they would have sent something much more impressive against us than one man and two bodyguards.”
McBride looked agitated.
“Then why is he here?”
“I would suspect it is over the Spellbinder, Laird. She is important to them and it is possible that someone recognized her at the hotel or perhaps at one of the railway stations. That would be an important enough matter for them to send their Director of Operations.”
“We can’t risk him reporting back to MM3,” Lord McBride said decisively. He noticed that Donnan was still in the room and stopped himself from saying any more in front of his butler. Blane noted his hesitation.
“Donnan, we will handle this matter from now on,” Blane said smoothly. “Can you ask MacTavish to come to the Laird’s study?”
“Very well, sir…, my lord,” Donnan said bowing to both men. He backed out of the room and found a houseboy to run and fetch Alan MacTavish for the Laird.
Once the butler was out of the room, Blane could talk freely.
“MacTavish and his men can take care of Saunders and his bodyguards. Saunders is an important man though, Laird. People will notice when he goes missing.”
“Only if there is anybody left alive to notice,” Lord McBride replied.
“You mean to go through with it, Laird; to destroy London?”
“At the State Opening of Parliament, assuming that Giles does not let me down. It will be a fitting memorial to Andrew and all the other Scotsmen who have died at Englishmen’s hands.”
“Andrew died because he was working with Dantium for you, Laird. Not at the hands of the English,” Blane pointed out.
“It is all the same thing. Had the English not been the way they are, I would never have set Andrew on his task. It is they who must shoulder the blame.”
Blane looked appalled at his Laird’s logic, but only for a second.
“What about the Scottish Lords and Members of Parliament who will be at the ceremony? Surely it would be better to wait until Parliament is in recess and they are all home with their families?”
McBride pursed his lips and then spoke with quiet certainty.
“It is the one time when all the English scum will be in one place. There are always sacrifices in war. Most of the citizens of London are innocent of the crimes of their nation, but we must kill them too.”
“Aye, Laird,” Blane agreed in resignation, but there was a lack of conviction in his voice.
Saunders was tired of waiting and nearly ready to explode with anger. He had been kept waiting for nearly an hour. The old man sat and studiously ignored them.
He stood up and was about to suggest to the old man that he go and find out what was going on, when a kilted man approached from inside the castle. He had the look of a gamekeeper or gardener, the skin of his face was wrinkled and tanned like old leather.
“Good day to you, gentlemen,” the man said, offering Saunders his hand. “My name is Alan MacTavish and I have come to take you to the Laird.”
Saunders shook MacTavish’s hand and introduced himself and his two men.
“I was beginning to think that Lord McBride had forgotten about us,” Saunders confessed as MacTavish led them into the castle.
“Nay, the Laird would never forget about a man as important as yourself. I gather you are a senior officer in MM3. Whatever would bring a man like you all the way from London out to Glen Russell?”
“It is a matter of some delicacy and involves some rather irritating young people,” Saunders replied.
“Aye, the Laird said it might be something like that,” MacTavish said with evident satisfaction. He brought them to a halt in front of a small wooden door. Even Saunders would have to duck to pass through it. “Would you be going through this wee passageway? You’ll have to go single file, but it will save us a long walk through the castle.”
Saunders had been a little concerned at MacTavish’s reply. Surely, Lord McBride could not be aware of the team following the Spellbinder? As he stooped over to walk through the narrow stone passageway with Mick and Joe following close behind him, it occurred to him that MacTavish must have thought he was talking about Young and Carter.
As he emerged from the passageway, he suddenly realized just how dangerous that would make his visit from Lord McBride’s point of view. A large wooden club robbed him of his senses before he could warn his men.
Saunders woke in a dark room. He head was spinning and he had trouble hearing. He could feel clotted blood matting his hair. His arms were tied behind his back and there was a rough cloth gag in his mouth.
Saunders turned his head and nearly vomited into the gag with the dizziness that movement brought. He saw Mick and Joe tied up as he was and sitting on wooden chairs. That was the moment he became aware that he too, was sitting down.
“Aye you are back among the living then?” an educated Scottish voice asked. “Alas for you, it will not be for much longer.”
“I thought I would come and see you myself before you are dispatched. I am Lord McBride, if you didna know. I don’t know how you found out that I have the Spellbinder, but it makes little difference. That you know means you and your men will have to die.”
Saunders tried to tell Lord McBride that he worked for the Brotherhood and had come to help. The sounds he managed to get through the gag were incomprehensible.
“It is no good telling me how important you are,” Lord McBride said. “Nor any point in telling me that I can’t get away with it. Two days from now your headquarters will be destroyed, as will London. I plan to blow them both to little pieces in the biggest explosion ever created by man.”
Saunders eyes opened wide with incredulity. Lord McBride must be a madman. No such explosive could exist and even if it did, why would a British Lord want to destroy London? He must be crazy; there could be no other explanation.
“You probably think I’m crazy, unless you have heard the reports from Inverness. They were nearly twenty miles from the blast, but many of their buildings were destroyed. That was a test. The bomb we will set off in London will be bigger. I wanted to let you know how important the Spellbinder was to me, why I had to take her. Without her and her Healer lover I could not have been able to make the second bomb.”
Saunders struggled to free himself from his bonds and saw Mick and Joe making similar attempts from their chairs. He had the sudden insight that comes from a nearness to death that Lord McBride was not insane after all. Saunders now had a reason for the Hungarians lending the Spellbinder to McBride. The Hungarians would certainly benefit from the destruction of London, more than any other nation on the planet. And they could wash their hands of any responsibility; it would be an entirely British affair.
“I’m going to leave you now to think on the sins of the English that have led you here,” Lord McBride said softly. “Later in the evening, when no one is about, MacTavish and his men will come and take you to a boat
and row you out to the centre of the loch. I want you to know, it willna be a cold death as we use waste heat from the reactatrons to heat the loch. You’ll be weighted down, of course. I wouldna want your bodies floating up and scaring the local children when they go swimming. Think on it.”
McBride left the cellar and the men to their shocked thoughts. Mick and Joe attempted to shout through their gags, but to no avail. They looked at Saunders with accusing eyes, but there was nothing he could do. No matter how hard he struggled against them, his bonds held him fast.
44. Plans
Cam led the way down the cast iron steps as they headed back towards the railway station trying to avoid being seen. With the men working down in the factory, the risk of detection was far too high for them to go any further.
“And what exactly do you think you are doing?” a familiar voice asked. Cam straightened up from her crouched position on the metal stars and grinned sheepishly.
“Oh, good afternoon, Dougal. We took a wrong turn coming out of the railway station and ended up in the factory instead. We didn’t even realize it until we looked out of the windows at the top of the stairs. We felt a bit foolish, so we were hoping to get back to the station without anybody seeing us.”
Cam knew that as excuses go, that one was pretty feeble, and certainly would not stand up to close examination. Dougal looked far from convinced as he continued to frown severely at her.
Daisy trotted down the stairs followed closely by Ebb and Tricky. Dougal’s face broke into a smile as soon as he saw her.
“Don’t be cross with us, Dougal,” Daisy pleaded. “The boys have been nagging us to see where their older brother works and when we found ourselves in the factory; it seemed too good a chance to miss.”
Dougal’s smile grew warmer as Daisy came over to him and took his hands in hers.
“You will not report us, will you? It would reflect badly on Arnold, and his job is so important to him.”