Scotland Hard (Book 2 in the Tom & Laura Series)

by John Booth

  “I will forgive you this once, but you must promise never come into the factory again without supervision. It can be a dangerous place and the workers must wear special protective suits just to be in some parts.”

  “Oh, we do promise,” Daisy replied, planting a quick kiss on Dougal’s cheek. Cam and the boys nodded their agreement.

  “Daisy, if you will do me the honor of visiting me in the castle tonight, I will give you and your family a tour of our newly completed train The Endeavour, and its carriages. It is travelling down to London tomorrow for the State Opening of Parliament. Her Majesty and Prince Albert have been invited to examine it in the evening. You may have heard how keen Prince Albert is on new technology.”

  “I would love to visit with you,” Daisy said coyly, “Is there something in particular in the castle that you wish me to see?”

  Dougal grinned wickedly, though when he spoke his voice was the essence of innocence.

  “I have a fine collection of etchings as it happens. Perhaps you would like to see them?”

  “I would like to see the train,” Tricky said loudly. Dougal coughed in embarrassment and looked away from Daisy. He had quite forgotten that there were other people present.

  “We saw the train and its carriages from above and it looks most impressive,” Cam cut in.

  “It is magnificent,” Dougal exclaimed enthusiastically. “Let us not wait until tonight. Come and let me show it to you now.”

  Dougal led them through a door and out onto the factory floor. The rail lines the engines and coaches sat on were embedded in the concrete floor so that they were level with it, and there were wide wooden steps beside every door of the carriages so that the workers could get in and out easily. The working area was immaculately clean. The train and its carriages had been painted in lime green embellished with thick gold lines. Even the engine wheels had their spokes coated in gold paint. The McBride family crest was painted across the sides of the engine and on every single carriage. Workers swarmed over the train’s outer surfaces applying wax diligently to make the paintwork sparkle.

  Dougal invited them into the unusual sealed cab of the engine and explained how it was controlled. While the girls listened with polite interest, the two boys could barely keep their hands off the controls knobs and levers. Daisy had to speak to them quite severely to stop them attempting to set the train in motion. The reactatron was adjusted to keep the steam levels high as a running-in test and they could have easily started the train had they been allowed.

  Dougal took the party into the carriages, which were outfitted in outrageous luxury. Leather chairs had been arranged more as in a parlor than a vehicle. Electric lights in silk shades cast a pleasant glow over the finely polished mahogany surfaces of the fittings. Flock wallpaper, printed with elegant scenes lined the walls of the carriage. The feeling of wealth and opulence the carriage conveyed was almost overwhelming.

  “My father has had his own personal railway carriages for some time and the design of these new carriages is the result of all he has learnt from his previous experiences. The next carriage along contains some of the most modern kitchens in the world, while the bedchamber carriage is truly sumptuous.”

  “It is a carriage fit for royalty,” Cam agreed. “I would not be surprised if Her Majesty was to request a set of carriages once she has seen them for herself.”

  “I am sure my father would present the carriages to her as a gift, were she to ask,” Dougal said seriously. “We would only have to repaint the outside.”

  “You are very loyal to Her Majesty,” Daisy remarked. “I have recently come to discover that many Scots are not all that fond of the English and their Queen.”

  Dougal became somber.

  “Her Majesty is a Hanoverian and my sovereign and I would lay down my life for her. But were she of English stock, I would be equally loyal. There are some foolish Scots who hanker for home rule and independence, but we have been part of a United Kingdom for centuries. We suffer a little from being far away from London, as indeed do Ireland, Wales and the north of England. It is too late to turn back the clock now, we must work together to make Britain great.”

  “Does your father believe that too?” Daisy asked gently.

  “I hope and pray that he does,” Dougal said in a voice as soft as a whisper. “We have not been close in recent years and my mother has become a little obsessive on the subject of Catholicism and its persecution by the English, being a devout Roman Catholic. The English have not always acted in a reasonable matter on that particular subject.”

  “The Church of Rome sent armadas of ships and assassins like Guy Fawkes against the English in the past,” Cam pointed out.

  “Not for over a hundred years though,” Daisy retorted, “Perhaps it is time for us to forgive and forget.”

  “My own thoughts exactly,” Dougal said, smiling warmly at Daisy. She returned his smile, equally warmly. “Will you do me the honor of calling on me at nine tonight?”

  “I will,” Daisy replied, “I may even take a quick peek at your etchings should circumstances permit.”

  Giles Summers and Gordon Kemp left the laboratory with the engineers who retrieved the dantium. Arnold suspected that they didn’t trust the engineers to get it over to the factory in one piece and were going along with them simply to make sure it got there.

  It took a long time for the engineers to move the dantium dust from the muslin cloth into the airtight lead box they brought with them. They were all aware of the danger of the dust getting onto them, or even worse, reaching their lungs, so the men worked slowly and carefully.

  Once the dust was deposited in the box, the engineers washed themselves and the box in the shower room connected directly to the lab. Only after they changed were they ready to move the box to the foundry.

  Laura sighed with relief after checking at the lab door to ensure they were out of sight.

  “Everything has gone terribly wrong.”

  “You must not blame yourself,” Tom said stoutly, “You are a Class A after all, and your mind must have been considering the task on a subconscious level. It was inevitable you would succeed at some point, whether you wanted to or not.”

  “Thank you, Tom,” Laura said, patting him on the hand, “However, I am responsible for the things I do, whether I plan them or not. What we must do now is find a way to recover the situation.”

  “Now Lord McBride has sufficient material to make his second bomb; how long will it take his engineers to make the cannonballs?” Arnold asked.

  “We have reason to believe that Lord McBride intends to use the bomb in the next couple of days,” Tom pointed out, “And it will take him the best part of a day to get the bomb from here to London. I think that means that he expects the bomb to be completed by tomorrow morning.”

  “Therefore we must act tonight and steal the bomb before he has a chance to use it,” Laura told them.

  “Cam and Daisy are investigating the railway timetable to see when trains leave Glen Russell,” Arnold explained. “They also intended to send a telegram to Trelawney first thing this morning.”

  “We cannot expect Trelawney to race to our rescue,” Tom stated, “He has no idea how serious the situation is, and he would need the permission of the Prime Minister to arrest someone of Lord McBride’s status.”

  Laura’s fist hit the bench as she vented her frustration.

  “We cannot wait until tomorrow to do something. We must strike tonight and if there is no train available to escape on, then we must hide the bomb and face the consequences.”

  “Lord McBride will kill us if we steal his bomb and get caught, or more likely he will torture me until you tell him where it is hidden,” Tom informed Laura tonelessly.

  “Then you will suffer terrible pain and may die, Tom, because I will not allow him to destroy London and all the people in it just to save your life.”

  “He will certainly kill me and the girls,” Arnold pointed out, “We are of no value to him
.”

  “I will steal the bomb on my own, if I must,” Laura said defiantly. “I will not let this explosion happen regardless of the cost.”

  “Of course we will steal the bomb with you, Laura,” Arnold said wearily, “You are the weakest link in the plan though. If we are captured and you cannot bear to see us tortured and killed without revealing where we have hidden it, then we will certainly die for nothing. Are you sure you are strong enough, Laura?”

  Laura looked at him through eyes puffy with emotion. “Yes,” she said simply.

  “Then we have a plan,” Tom said bleakly. “Arnold, can you get back here with the others at ten tonight?”

  “If we cannot, then we would not be very good at the spy game, would we?” Arnold replied dryly. “Why here though and not the factory?”

  “I was given a full tour of the factory by Lord McBride yesterday and know where the device is being constructed. You and the others have never been in the factory and it is a massive place. The Laboratory is the one place we all know the location of, so we should meet here or just outside it, if it is locked. I can lead us directly to the bomb.”

  “You always were good at plans, Tom,” Arnold said. “We shall be here at ten tonight. Try to stop Laura from making you late.”

  Laura punched Arnold lightly on the arm and the three grinned at each other. It was decided and all they had to do now was to make the plan work.

  45. Bombs

  “Mr. Hans Clerkes to see you, Laird,” Donnan Campbell intoned solemnly. It was five in the evening and Clerkes had arrived on the afternoon train from Inverness only minutes before.

  Lord McBride sat at his writing desk in his study. He had been examining the factory accounts for the previous month, a necessary task he hated. Clerkes arrival gave him the excuse to put it off for another day.

  “Hans, you have returned to us safely,” Lord McBride said, rising from his desk. Clerkes rushed across the room in great excitement and clasped McBride tightly to him McBride in turn, opened his arms to greet the man with his own stout hug.

  Hans Clerkes was a small, thin and very neat man. He invariable wore a white waistcoat and yellow cravat. That and the round pair of wire framed glasses made him easily recognizable, even at some distance. He had small beady eyes that peered out from below a shock of dark lank hair, cut as if someone had used a bowl.

  “Did you doubt it for a second, Alistair?” Clerkes replied almost mockingly. “I have built you the most powerful bomb this world has ever seen and yet you assume me foolish enough to get caught up in its blast? I am insulted.”

  “No insult was intended, Hans,” Lord McBride said jovially, though he hated the man’s continual use of his Christian name. “We were slightly concerned when we found out about the extent of the blast. It shook the walls of the castle here, though its centre was over thirty miles away.”

  Clerkes nodded excitedly.

  “I must admit it was even bigger than I calculated. But I told you I had devised a clockwork timer, though you were too busy to come and see it for yourself. I gave us twelve hours to get clear and we were safe in Inverness before the blast occurred.”

  McBride nodded, though he still had a matter of concern.

  “You did not arrive on the morning train though.”

  “I get out to the city so rarely, Alistair. I thought I would spend the morning shopping, though many shops in the centre had closed because of blast damage. I always thought the Scots more resilient than to let a little thing like a little damage stop them from making money.”

  “Quite so, quite so. I fear that many of my countrymen have grown soft in recent years. Did you buy more of your mechanical toys?”

  “I bought something even better than a toy. I must show it you now, if you do not mind?” Clerkes asked in excited delight.

  Lord McBride had learnt from experience that it was best to let Clerkes show off his toys when he asked; he sulked for days if denied the opportunity.

  “See,” Clerkes said. “Assume you are a thief who is pointing a gun or a knife at me.”

  Lord McBride felt a little foolish, but reluctantly pointed his right index finger at Clerkes as though it was a barrel of a gun. Clerkes lifted his empty hand and there was a loud click. Lord McBride was astonished to see a miniature, but lethal looking pistol pointing at him from what had previously been an empty hand.

  “This has just arrived at the gunsmiths in Inverness, all the way from Zurich in Switzerland. They assured me it is the only one of its kind in the whole of Great Britain.”

  Clerkes rolled up his sleeve revealing a rail like mechanism strapped to his forearm.

  “The gun is propelled along this rail by a powerful spring when I press my elbow hard against my chest. Halfway along a mechanism uses the force of the gun’s travel to cock its firing pin. There is no front guard on the trigger so that when the gun reaches my hand the trigger needs only the lightest of touches to fire. Naturally, the lethal range of such a small gun is only a few yards and it does require you to be a good shot to kill an opponent. But as you know, I am an excellent shot.”

  “I take it the gun is not currently loaded?” Lord McBride asked as he realized only the gentlest touch by Clerkes finger would have sent a bullet hurtling into his chest.

  “Of course it is loaded,” Clerkes said disdainfully. “What would be the point of carrying a gun if it is not?” He pushed the gun down the slide and reset the mechanism, pulling down his sleeve when he had finished.

  McBride turned the conversation back to the matter at hand.

  “I obtained the services of a Class A while you were away and also a staggering good Healer. The boy has healed Giles of his illness while the girl extracted the remainder of the dantium we needed for the second bomb.”

  Clerkes looked even more delighted.

  “Then we must retire to the workshop at once, Alistair. Now that you have the time, I can show you how to set the new timer on the bomb. I take it your plans for the opening of the English Parliament have not changed?”

  McBride expression became grave.

  “Not now we have tested the bomb and have the dantium for the second.”

  “Good, I am pleased to hear it. Let us go down to the factory at once. I will need to supervise the final stages of loading the dantium.”

  McBride nodded his head in agreement and Clerkes turned towards the door. The two men set off down to the factory, Clerks hurrying in front of McBride as was his way.

  “We have prepared the dantium ball as you instructed, Lord McBride, and we are just waiting for it to cool down,” Josiah Arkwright, the chief foundry-man informed them as the two men approached the device.

  “Put the ball in water at once,” Clerkes ordered sharply. “We do not want to waste the time waiting for it to cool in the air, it will still be hot tomorrow if we do.”

  Josiah looked at McBride for approval before carrying out the task. Like most of the men in McBride’s employ, Josiah loathed Hans Clerkes, and would not give him the time of day if he could avoid it.

  The bomb looked like a cannon made by a highly skilled idiot. Its barrel, with a breech at each end, rested horizontally on two mahogany blocks that looked something like the bottom half of a guillotine. At the centre of the barrel, there was an incongruous metal box. Metal strips ran round the barrel clamping the metal box in place.

  “This is the new timer?” Lord McBride asked. The only protuberances breaking the smooth surface of the box were a circular dial and a switch. The switch was enclosed within a rubber casing. Lord McBride assumed this was to keep the inside of the box dry.

  “Inside the box are a battery and a clockwork mechanism. The dial sets the time in hours between one and twelve. The switch turns the bomb on and off.”

  Lord McBride turned the dial to two hours, feeling the clockwork spring wind as he turned it.

  “If I were to flip this switch down now, the bomb would go off in two hours?” he asked.

  “Yes, flipping
the switch starts the clockwork and two hours later an electric charge would detonate the two charges and fling the dantium balls towards each other. The balls are set tight in the barrel and have to be rammed into place. The charges require only the air trapped in the barrel to work and the whole bomb is watertight to a great depth. I have designed it to be used in a harbor or a river if need be.”

  “Hans, it will be sitting in a carriage of a train, safe from the elements,” Lord McBride pointed out in mild exasperation.

  Clerkes looked offended.

  “It is a matter of pride to design the device the best I can, and we do not know what you will need the next device to do, the time after London.”

  “There will be no third time, Hans. The destruction of London will be sufficient for my needs.”

  Clerkes shook his head.

  “Weapons rarely stop being used once they have been invented, Alistair. You should know that.”

  “This weapon will not be used after London. Unless the English annoy me, I suppose,” Lord McBride mused.

  “Now you understand,” Clerkes replied and chuckled.

  Trelawney woke with a start. Sweat dripped from his brow and it took him a few seconds to remember he was in a railway carriage travelling at speed to Scotland.

  “Are you all right, Ernest? Belinda asked. She had been dozing and woke at Trelawney’s sharp intake of breath.

  “I have had a precognition,” Trelawney told her. He was a Grade 3 Precog, though not given to having an abundance of visions. One reason for his rise to the Director of MM3 was that the visions he did have usually involved saving the realm from imminent disaster.

  “About McBride and our young agents?” Belinda asked rather unnecessarily. She was trying to help him collect his thoughts as it looked as though he was having trouble.

  “We must get the troops on the train as soon as we get to Perth and then move straight out to Glen Russell. I believe from my vision that we will arrive at Perth at ten tonight and we must be gone within half an hour, if we are to be in time.”