‘Not really, Sir Arthur.’
‘No, of course. You are a man of action, a practical man. Come with me, Captain, and let me show you exactly what I’m talking about.’
Sir Arthur strode purposefully from the office, and Jim hurried to catch up. He slackened his pace when he saw where they were going: the ward. Sir Arthur walked briskly along a wide aisle, between curtained hospital beds, behind which Jim heard the occasional moan or ragged, stertorous breath.
Once they reached the end of the aisle, Sir Arthur pulled out a heavy-looking ring of keys, identical to the set that Jim had seen in Cherleten’s possession many times. The baronet unlocked a pair of metal-plated double doors. Within, Jim saw a large chamber, lit only by dim, flickering lamps, as opposed to the garish electrical lights that illuminated the ward. He felt some reluctance to enter, his limbs unwilling to move over the threshold. Sir Arthur seemed to sense it too, for as he stepped into the room he glanced over his shoulder and said, ‘Come along, Captain Denny. Time and tide, and all that.’
Jim followed Sir Arthur into the room, which he saw now was another ward. In the far corner of the room, five beds were arranged in a circle, the heads of their resting incumbents pointing inwards. Jim shivered as he noted the wires, coils, and tubes of unknown liquid passing from subject to subject, and outwards to large machines, such as those Jim had once seen in an exhibition of galvanism. The machines hummed steadily with electrical current; Jim felt as though he had drifted into the story of Frankenstein.
At the approach of Sir Arthur’s ringing footsteps, an attendant, who had been dozing in a rather uncomfortable-looking chair, now jerked awake. The man stood, revealing himself as a tall, blade-thin creature of singularly pronounced features. Jim had never laid eyes on him before, in all his time at the facility.
‘Anything to report, Mr Amworth?’ Sir Arthur asked.
The man stretched, long, skeletal limbs clicking. ‘Nothing, Sir Arthur. Sleeping like babes.’ He spoke softly, with pride and perhaps reverence for his charges.
‘Good, good. Will you excuse us? I have some business to discuss with the captain here.’
The thin man nodded and left the ward, though not before looking back one last time with a smile for the sleepers, and a suspicious glance for Jim.
‘Amworth is fond of our subjects,’ Sir Arthur said quietly, explaining away the man’s guarded behaviour. ‘He cares for them like family.’
Sir Arthur approached the beds, and beckoned Jim towards him. Jim did as he was bid, but reluctantly, for he saw at the farthest bed a shock of long black hair around a pale face. His stomach twisted in knots. It was not just the vestiges of his recurring nightmare that gave him this fear, though he could not show it; he had long ago sworn never to reveal what he knew of John Hardwick’s secrets. That the girl in the bed was surely the same girl Jim had seen here three years prior – a psychic from the Otherside, rescued from London Bridge. Elsbet, a gypsy girl, and the younger sister of John’s lost love, Rosanna; or rather, the doppelganger of that girl. Her counterpart was dead in the real world at the hands of Otherside agents, but this wretched girl had been consigned to a life of slavery in the Nightwatch by the Othersiders. If Jim’s suspicions were correct, and this was indeed Elsbet, then it was not merely the Othersiders who had enslaved her – she had, it seemed, traded one set of masters for another.
‘This is the beginning of something that I hope will be far greater,’ Sir Arthur said, his voice hushed. ‘This is the Nightwatch. Oh, I know it’s not much now – just five subjects, peaceful, dreaming of what may come to pass. But their predictions grow more accurate with each session. Soon, the likes of the Artist will be as nothing compared to this… this “divination engine”, for want of a better phrase.’
‘I…’ Jim was at a loss. ‘That is… are you saying that Miss Furnival’s assertion was correct? These people are simply cogs in the machine?’
‘Something like that.’
‘But… I… Forgive my impertinence, Sir Arthur, but do you not also have abilities like theirs?’
‘That is what people say, isn’t it?’
Jim nodded.
‘It is beside the point,’ Sir Arthur said. He looked down at the nearest subject – a fair-haired man nearing middle age. Sir Arthur sighed. ‘These people are fugitives from justice. Two of them were brought in by you, Captain, although given your many successes in that regard I doubt you would recognise them from the multitude. They cannot be sent back whence they came, and execution would be barbaric. So their options become imprisonment, or this. Here, they sleep, and dream, and have not a care in the world.’
‘Then how do they… predict?’
‘That is the key question. We are still learning much about the process, and it is awful strange to see, but the results speak for themselves. These machines – they keep the Nightwatch in a state of utmost tranquillity, and record every tiny variation in their brains’ activity. When we are ready for them to make their predictions, we introduce a little of that etherium you’ve been gathering into their systems. Oh, don’t fret, Captain Denny – it is a tiny amount, rationed most carefully so as not to cause any… disturbances, if you take my meaning.’
‘Indeed I do,’ said Jim, with a frown. He had seen many ‘disturbances’ in the past three years, usually as a direct result of pursuing psychics – what the Othersiders called ‘Majestics’ – and almost always after they had injected themselves with etherium out of sheer desperation to elude him. Sometimes the Majestics had managed to move things with their minds, which had at first seemed miraculous to Jim, but had surprised the culprits with how little power they possessed away from their own universe. Sometimes, however, during these confrontations, Jim had seen… things. Shadows moving unnaturally; echoes of the distant past or perhaps of other worlds, projected into a room like stage trickery. Once, he had seen – or rather, felt – something clawing beyond the veil, gazing hungrily towards a Majestic who knew not what he was conjuring. On that occasion, Jim had responded with deadly force, lest something evil break through into the world. Something he knew all too well.
‘My people have calculated every variable to the most minute parameter, Captain,’ Sir Arthur went on. ‘We have seen nothing so far to indicate the slightest risk to our world, if that is what you fear.’
Sir Arthur moved around the arrangement of beds as he spoke, and came to a halt next to Elsbet. If he had any inkling of the girl’s significance, he did not show it.
‘Sir Toby dislikes being in here also,’ Sir Arthur said, when Jim did not follow. ‘He said that, when the Nightwatch make their predictions, it has the whiff of a parlour séance. He’s perfectly correct – it is exactly like a séance. Each of these subjects possesses tremendous psychical power – far and away greater than any medium we know of from our own world. Except for Tsun Pen, but then he was not really one of us, was he?’
‘So why do you need five of them?’
‘I believe we’ll need more before the experiment can be called a success,’ Sir Arthur replied. ‘You see, the future is uncertain – the skeins of fate are open to interpretation. Once the etherium takes hold of these sleeping subjects, they enter a trance, and begin to speak aloud what they see. They are guided towards particular subjects, their energies focused by our alienists, who gradually hone the Nightwatch until their visions are clear. You see?’
Jim didn’t see at all, but said nothing.
‘Sometimes, the five of them are not in agreement. Sometimes there is only one dissenting voice, who sees a different future, a different place or culprit. Sometimes all five speak at once, but differently, making the results almost impossible to decipher. That is where I come in, Captain. I have trained myself to interpret the Nightwatch’s visions. I am arbiter of their clairvoyance – it falls to me to make the final judgment, if one can be made at all, on where to send our agents.’
‘Ah.’
‘You see now why I wanted to show you this, Captain? If it is
my responsibility, then it falls upon my shoulders that you were steered false. If the answers were there, and I misinterpreted them, then it is to my shame. If the answers were not there, and I sent you anyway, then perhaps it was my hubris and pride in this work that I did so. In either case, I wish to extend my most sincere apologies, Captain Denny. Measures have been taken to ensure this will not happen again.’
‘What kind of measures, sir?’
‘Robust ones.’
‘Very well. And my next assignment… it comes from the Nightwatch, also?’
‘It does, but as I said –’
‘There are robust measures in place.’ Jim hoped he did not sound as wary as he felt.
‘Quite. I shall provide your written orders in full, as you would expect. Suffice it to say that we believe the tong to be within our reach. All of the intelligence provided by my subjects suggests that they will be moving their largest shipment of etherium yet tomorrow.’
‘Larger than the haul from the Glarus? Good grief. And the… subjects… they are all in agreement this time?’
‘As it happens, Captain, all but one. This one.’
Sir Arthur placed his hands either side of Elsbet’s head. As he did so, Jim felt sure he saw the girl’s eyes flicker beneath their dark lids. Then they opened.
Elsbet’s back arched, her fingers curled like claws as she struggled against her restraints. A great hiss rose from the machinery behind her, like a pair of bellows suddenly compressing. Jim stepped back. Sir Arthur, having fair jumped out of his skin, now stroked the girl’s hair and spoke soothingly to her.
‘The… dark…’ she croaked, her voice paper-thin. ‘The lines. The lines lead to the dark. Monsters wait in the dark… They wait in the house of the dead.’
Sir Arthur put his ear close to the girl’s lips as she spoke. Jim heard her perfectly well from where he stood, as though she were whispering directly in his ear.
‘Tunnels. Once a place of healing. Now… the house of the dead.’
‘Be still, girl. Shh… shh…’ Sir Arthur muttered.
‘Monster!’ Elsbet shrieked. ‘Red in tooth… red in claw… the Red Lord knocking at your door…’
The girl convulsed, rattling the metal-framed bed to which she was strapped. Foam spilled from the corner of her cracked blue lips. Jim winced, for with the girl’s convulsions came a horrific sound; a skittering, scratching noise, as though a teeming swarm of insects were tearing at the inside of his skull, mandibles champing dryly behind his eyes. It was a noise Jim knew only he could hear. He heard it often, and mostly he could block it from his thoughts. But not now. He clutched at his head as the noise grew louder, and a sensation like daggers stabbed behind his eyes.
‘Nurse! Nurse!’ Sir Arthur called.
They were already on their way, heels pattering like raindrops on the polished floor. Soon they were holding Elsbet down. One took out a large syringe, and injected its contents into the girl’s arm.
Elsbet’s body relaxed almost at once, but she managed to turn her head towards Jim, fixing him with a blank stare, before her eyes rolled back into her head.
‘We… are… one…’ she groaned, and then fell back into a deep sleep.
Jim breathed a great sigh of relief as the discomfort subsided, and did his best to ignore the curious look Sir Arthur gave him.
* * *
‘I am sorry you had to see that,’ Sir Arthur said later, passing Jim a tumbler of brandy.
‘I am not altogether sure what I just saw. Is that normal? Is that what passes for peaceful interment in the Nightwatch?’ Jim was shaken, and he saw that Sir Arthur was too. The baronet’s pale face had turned a sickly grey-green hue, and his eyes were full of sadness.
‘No. Not at all. I have not seen such a thing… not since the earliest days of the experiment. Until just now I thought it impossible. They are heavily sedated when their abilities are not being put to the test.’
‘And the things she said – they relate to the assignment?’
‘Perhaps. I… I do not know. Sometimes, the visions come piecemeal. It sounded like a warning. But just as likely she was receiving some glimpse of another possible future; something painful and upsetting that caused her to wake from her dreams.’
‘Or her nightmares,’ Jim said.
‘Who knows?’ Sir Arthur put his brandy down, untouched. ‘Is that what you saw, Captain? Your nightmares?’
‘Perhaps she was not predicting the future at all,’ Jim said, ignoring the question, and looking away from the baronet’s inquisitive gaze. ‘Perhaps she was remembering something from her past.’ Jim had to be careful; fishing for information could easily expose his own knowledge of the girl. Whatever had passed between him and John, he had still made a promise not to reveal her identity, though heavens knew why John had stipulated it.
‘A peculiar remark, Captain. Again you prove yourself astute. Sometimes the past of our Majestics does come back to haunt them, which is why we have alienists on the staff to placate them. That particular subject has always been one of the best. She’s the only one to have graduated from the earliest experiments to where we are now. Many of the Majestics enslaved on the Otherside were subject to regimes far harsher than those we impose, and they simply could not adjust to even a sliver of comfort or kindness. She, however, endured it all, and now knows peace. Beyond her great mental fortitude, we know nothing about her. She may have been raised in captivity, for all we can glean. There was one thing the girl said that made me think she was indeed referring to your assignment,’ Sir Arthur said.
‘Oh? I hope you aren’t going to say it was the “monsters”.’ Jim forced a smile.
Sir Arthur remained grave-faced. ‘I am afraid I am, Captain Denny. The things you encountered aboard the Glarus will likely play some part in your fortunes yet. It is one aspect of this affair on which all of my Nightwatch agree. This is why I shall be sending my niece along with you. You understand why I do not wish Marie to know about any of this?’ Sir Arthur gestured towards the door of the office. ‘She may present a hardened – sometimes brash – persona to the likes of you, and her colonial manners only exacerbate the unfavourable impression some people form of her; but Marie is a Furnival. She is my niece – my ward. Underneath it all, she is a lady, and this operation would seem distasteful to her, at best. Women are wont not to understand the difficult actions men must take for the good of the Empire.’
‘I understand entirely, Sir Arthur. You have my word that I shan’t mention a word of this to Miss Furnival.’
‘The Nightwatch represent hope, Captain Denny. But there are many, even within the Order, who might disagree. As far as anyone is concerned, this project was abandoned before it was really begun.’
Jim nodded.
‘So now you know everything that I know, Captain Denny. As you can tell, I am not versed in espionage. I do not believe in withholding such information from an agent that may save their life in the field – which is why Lord Cherleten disapproves of my appointment as head of the Nightwatch.’
‘I’m sure he’s spitting feathers, Sir Arthur,’ Jim said with a wry smile.
Sir Arthur returned the sentiment. ‘I assure you, it gives me no pleasure to see Lord Cherleten put out,’ he said, unconvincingly. ‘Anyhow, I have already taken up too much of your time. Your orders, Captain.’
Sir Arthur took a small envelope from his breast pocket, bearing the Apollonian Club seal, and handed it to Jim. Mission specifics were never discussed openly. Jim would have to read them, memorise them, and burn them, as procedure dictated.
‘Thank you, Sir Arthur. How long do I have to prepare?’
‘Take the rest of the day. Happy hunting.’ The baronet forced the pleasantry.
Jim extended a hand to Sir Arthur, then withdrew it awkwardly when he recalled that Sir Arthur never shook hands. Instead, the two men exchanged nods, and Jim went on his way, relieved to get out of the stifling ward, with its stupefied incumbents.
* * *
‘Denny, just the man. Wait there.’
Jim turned. Cherleten ushered an unfamiliar man out of his office; a white-haired, mutton-chopped fellow, with a smart suit beneath an open white laboratory coat.
‘Dr Crookes, this is Captain Denny. Told you about him earlier.’
The man bowed his head curtly. ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance, Captain. I have you to thank for my latest specimen, I hear.’
‘The creature from the Glarus?’ Jim asked. ‘Ah, you work in the mortuary.’
Crookes chuckled to himself, as though Jim had said something amusing. ‘I suppose I do. Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I must return to my work. My lord.’
As quickly as that, he was gone. Jim’s interest was piqued, for there was something strangely clandestine about the interchange between Crookes and Cherleten, even for this place.
‘I thought I knew all the doctors here,’ Jim said. ‘What does he do here?’
Cherleten smiled and patted Jim on the shoulder. ‘Never you mind, my boy. There are some secrets I keep even from my most trusted agents. You met with Sir Arthur just now?’
‘I did.’
‘Well, I want you to remember that you’re my man, Denny. You are seconded to the Nightwatch, but I want a full and frank report after the fact, as always.’
Jim frowned. ‘Of course, sir. I see no reason to –’
‘Full, and frank,’ Cherleten repeated. ‘I’m talking about the girl. There may be some activities you would rather withhold from Sir Arthur, for obvious reasons. Do not withhold them from me. Understood?’
The Apollonian Case Files Page 6