Operation_Endgame

by Pip Ballantine

  The sheer inventiveness of that silenced Edison, which was an achievement in itself.

  "Mr Edison," Holmes said, placing his fine black bowler on top of his head, and motioning with his hand to the door. "If you wouldn’t mind. I would much rather have a man of your reputation, intellect, and stature walk out of a prison, instead of being carried."

  Edison looked to the other three Usher henchmen and knew this would not be a fight he could win. His days of such adventures were long over. "Then I suppose we should be off," he agreed.

  "Excellent, old sport." Holmes said, with a brilliant smile. "I am sure we are going to be the very best of friends."

  Letting out a long sigh, Edison nodded, and proceeded to walk from one terrible situation to another.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  In Which a Hard Decision Is Made

  "What happened in there, Books?"

  Doctor Sound looked particularly cross, and he had every right to be. Wellington had gone completely rogue and taken the law—quite literally—into his own hands. Then he'd served as an executioner. The director had frog-marched them into his office where no other agents or the clever Professor Falcon would witness his rage.

  "Sir..." Wellington said, his hands clenching and unclenching, "I made a choice."

  Oh, Welly, Eliza lamented, no going back now.

  "Is that what you call it?" Sound asked, his eyebrows threatening to touch the top of his forehead. "Because it looked like a cold-blooded murder from where I stood."

  "Now just a moment, sir," Eliza broke in. Sound turned to face her, and she wondered with his face that shade of red his head did not explode on the spot.

  Clearing her throat, she continued. "There are plenty of times when we kill for Queen and Empire. It is part of the job."

  "With my authority—and I most definitely did not give it in this case," Sound said, his lip curling into a snarl.

  She had not seen such passion from him since way back when she’d disobeyed orders not to kill Wellington in Antarctica.

  Sound’s hands clenched into fists. "We are trying to find out what Ragnarök is, and Jekyll could have given us a hint of what Usher was planning. According to a debrief with Campbell and Hill, the House was running a breeding farm in Italy.”

  “A breeding farm?” Eliza asked.

  “The women involved were being administered a serum that sounded very familiar to Jekyll’s,” Sound stated, his gaze fixed on Wellington. “Now, any opportunity we could have to find out what that might have been is gone."

  Eliza kept an eye on those fists, just in case. "With respect, Director, you didn’t know what this man is capable of. All you saw was the display at the Water Palace. Welly and I have been on this madman’s trail for months. Months. He was not a menace. He was not a danger. He was a bloody apocalypse outfitted by Saville Row."

  "That does not give Agent Books the right to kill him!"

  "If he is in danger, then he has to defend himself!"

  Wellington’s headshake was barely perceptible as he spoke. "I was not in danger."

  "You fail to realise, Agent Braun," Sound snapped, ignoring him, "what I am contending with when it comes to Wellington’s behaviour. There are members of Parliament that are still uneasy about the incident in Bombay, or did you forget his own countrymen that Wellington gunned down?"

  "That was in the heat—of—battle!" Eliza insisted. "You cannot hold him responsible for his actions there. They had him pinned down. No reinforcements. The Ghost Rebellion was upon him. If he had not tapped into his talents..."

  "Talents that he obviously cannot control," Sound interjected.

  "I was in full control of my faculties," Wellington offered, his words only just above a whisper.

  Eliza gave a huff as she turned on him. "Shut it, Welly, you are not helping your case!"

  "He wouldn’t stop."

  Eliza and Sound stared at Wellington, and she could only guess if the Old Man was seeing what she did. Her love was staring at the edge of the Director’s fine mahogany desk as if he had never seen such a thing before. The thousand-yard gaze, though, Eliza recognised as the look of an operative who had just returned from deep cover. Sometimes they came back from the place of horror, sometimes they didn’t.

  She could only imagine where Wellington was right now. His voice never changed in inflexion or pitch as he spoke. "I had never achieved such a state of... clarity... like that. I think... I guess... this was the final step that my father and Jekyll were working towards. They had bred into me all these talents, but the one problem I had was control. I remember times when I served in the military, teetering on the edge of sanity. That would be my indication to pull back. Retreat inward, if you will, while leading the charge forward.

  "That was why I joined the Ministry. I knew what I could do, but I could not control it. So I buried myself in the Archives, well aware of what I was capable of, but knowing I could not trust myself. Then I met you," he said, turning his gaze to Eliza. Her heart clenched. "I had to tap into those talents. Far more than I felt safe in doing so because I was always on a razor’s edge. In that interrogation room, though, everything was so..." He paused, exhaling a breath that made his body tremble. "Focused. Yes, focused. Colours were vibrant. Sound was clear. Everything in that moment was elevated, heightened."

  The room fell into a tense silence. Eliza dared not break it as if he would shatter with it.

  "Wellington," Sound began, his anger absent and in its place an odd demeanour that was a marriage of pity and compassion, "what did Jekyll say that brought you to this heightened awareness?"

  "It's not what he said, sir. It’s what he promised." Wellington looked back to Eliza. "He promised me he would not stop until we claimed what he called our own Manifest Destiny. If I did not fully embrace what I was, Jekyll said he would remove any and all distractions from my life. The Ministry. The Seven.” His eyes welled with tears as he said to her, “You. I had been fighting the urge to give over to my talents, but when he swore to take you and..." He took another breath, and then turned his gaze to the window across the room. "At that moment, the world snapped into focus. I had become what my father wanted... and I knew exactly what I needed to do."

  "And you were in complete control?" Eliza asked. "For the first time?"

  Wellington nodded, but then paused. "No, wait, there was one other time."

  "When?"

  He looked up at her, and his smile tied her stomach in knots. She wanted to kiss him so badly in that moment, but would have been highly inappropriate.

  "Underneath the Havelock Manor. You were unconscious. We were pinned down. I tapped into those talents, and I... I got us out." Wellington gave a little chuckle as he looked over to Doctor Sound. "My father always told me I needed a focal point. I do believe I have it here, do I not, sir?"

  "Quite," the Director replied, his tone low and dry.

  Wellington looked so frail, and so exhausted, that Eliza wanted to throw her arms around him. He did not want this "talent" as they had called it. It was nothing more than a curse. Wellington’s father and Henry Jekyll were hell bent on creating the unstoppable soldier, a killing machine that could blend into British society. He would be the template for future regiments of Her Majesty’s military, or perhaps for a phantom army that Usher would unleash upon the world. They’d tried to purge Wellington of his humanity when he was just a boy, but Lilian Books held onto her son. Her husband recognised that and removed her from her boy’s life. To Arthur Books, his wife was nothing more than an unwanted variable in an equation he was anxious to solve. To Wellington, she had been lighthouse through a raging tempest.

  Now, Eliza had become that lighthouse.

  The sudden hard ring from the telephone made her jump. Sound had three telephones on his massive desk. It was the dark red telephone calling out for attention. Doctor Sound stared coldly at the phone, letting it ring a third time. Then a fourth. At the sixth ring he picked up the receiver and pressed it against his ear.


  Eliza could just hear the muffled, electronic buzzing of another voice speaking in the receiver. "Yes, mum," Sound replied with a nod. "Well, we have a development in that matter. Dr Henry Jekyll is dead." Eliza expected the voice to rise in pitch and volume, outraged at this unsanctioned assassination. Instead, the unintelligible voice continued. Doctor Sound’s expression never changed. "Yes, mum. That’s correct. How did you—" His words stopped abruptly as Sound’s gaze went to Wellington Books. "What are their conditions?" The Director’s complexion went ashen, and Eliza knew whoever was on the other end of that phone brought nothing but ill to Whiterock. "I see. Then I suppose we shall make preparations immediately." There was a pause, and then, "No, I am certain that he will be completely compliant in this matter." He nodded. "Yes, mum, I will tell him. Believe me, Agent Books is a gentleman of immeasurable character. He will not fail us." He gave a long, slow exhale and then said in a somewhat sombre tone, "God save the Queen."

  Doctor Sound replaced the headset into its cradle and stared at it for a few moments. The silence was maddening, and all Eliza wanted to do was scream for answers.

  "That was the Countess of Kimberly, Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. Usher, according to the Secretary, has done the unthinkable. They have broken their silence."

  Eliza furrowed her brow. "Yet you don’t seem surprised."

  "Because this is not my first time standing here, facing this decision." He crossed the office to a more comfortable corner, a table decorated with glassware, decanters, and high-back chairs. "In one instance, Miss Braun, I order you to eliminate the opposition with extreme prejudice," he said, pouring himself a drink. "Another instance, Jekyll was still alive, spirited away to the Arctic Circle and locked away in isolation. We mounted a full assault against Usher. Agents died, but we eliminated the threat, nonetheless. In another, your Ministry Seven mounted a rather clever confidence scheme that bested Usher." Sound took a deep drink from his tumbler, and then fixed his gaze on Wellington. "The last time I stood here, I ordered you to tap into his superior soldier abilities and unleash everything you possessed."

  Eliza stepped closer to the both of them. "How many times have you been here before? At this moment?"

  Sound took in another deep drink before answering. "I stopped counting after twenty. Every solution I dreamt of—and in several timelines, we dreamt of—did nothing to resolve the blackout. My future remained altered, plunged into darkness, and now I find myself with only one remaining option."

  A muscle in Eliza’s jaw twitched. "Which is?"

  Doctor Sound looked to each of them. "We are invited to participate in a prisoner exchange."

  "What does that mean?" Eliza inclined her head to one side. She did not care for the conclusion that was dawning over her. "Are you suggesting—"

  Sound held up a solitary finger. "Miss Braun, we have no choice. This comes directly from the Secretary."

  "And we’re supposed to agree to handing over Wellington on account of Usher dropping their card at Buckingham Palace?"

  "Usher did not contact us. As I said, we’re invited—by the Office of the Supernatural and Metaphysical."

  "Usher contacted—?"

  "The United States government." He polished off the remaining amber liquid in his glass before continuing. "Usher demanded Henry Jekyll in exchange for this OSM asset. The Secretary informed me of this, so of course I was obliged to tell her of Jekyll’s demise. Seems that Usher had a contingency plan in case of such a matter. They are demanding we hand over Wellington Books in exchange for the asset."

  Eliza let out a mirthless laugh, making Sound flinch. "Oh, that is just mad! You know that at the best they will reduce Wellington to some mindless killing machine answering to Usher. The worst..."

  "I am a lab specimen," Wellington said, slumping back into his chair. "Dissected. Catalogued. And discarded."

  "You cannot do this, sir," Eliza said, her jaw tightening.

  "Yes, he can."

  Sound turned to face him, surprised etched on his face. "Wellington?"

  Her partner looked up from where he sat. "Sir," he began, "am I to assume this is something you haven’t tried in your numerous attempts to restart the Timeline Tracker?"

  "I have avoided this option so many times, Agent Books, Agent Braun," Sound replied, his gaze boring into Wellington. "I even tried to alter the timeline before this moment, remove you completely from the equation." His eyes jumped to Eliza and a wry smile crossed his face. "Imagine my surprise to discover that your meeting the indubitable Miss Braun here was, indeed, an immovable point in time."

  "I do hate to be predictable," she sniped in return, "but I’ll make an exception this one time."

  Sound let out a low chuckle. "At this point, I have found myself in some kind of control, or at least as one can be within a timeline. I had concerns that this particular crossroad would demand something dramatic. With each failure..."

  "Sod the timeline," Eliza seethed. "You have infinite options, yes? So pick another one!"

  "Time does not necessarily work the way theories would dictate..."

  "I don’t think you hear me, Sound," Eliza snapped.

  "I don’t think you realise what is at stake, my love," Wellington said to her softly.

  Turning to look at Wellington, she glowered at him. "Director, give us the room, please."

  Sound cleared his throat. "This is my office, last time I checked."

  Eliza did not take her gaze off Wellington. "And you will give it to us."

  "Agent Braun—"

  "Doctor Sound, are you sure you want my undivided attention?"

  "Very well then," Sound returned. "Do take your time."

  She continued to stare at Wellington, even after the door closed. For a moment, only the tick-tick-tick of Sound’s bloody desk clock broke the silence.

  "What are you doing?" she asked.

  "You’re angry. That is to be expected."

  "No, Wellington, I am not angry. I am enraged. I am incensed. I am..." She ground her teeth together. She wanted him to know, but she also needed to understand why Wellington was so willing to surrender, to simply give up on them. "... furious."

  "Eliza, this is not about us. This is about what is at stake. The world is facing a darkness that compels HG Wells to create the Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences. He is travelling back and forth through time, trying to find one moment within countless possibilities, to avoid whatever this doomsday is."

  "Did it ever occur to you that humanity is broken, has always been broken? Perhaps this is a fate that we all are destined to face? Why are you so willing to sacrifice the happiness we have to save the world?"

  "Isn’t it selfish to bring about the end of days just so we can have some joy?"

  "Why can’t we be selfish?" she demanded. "Have we not earned a bit of peace by now? We have saved the Empire, and in some instances, the world, from secret societies, mad scientists, and all-around nutters." Eliza shook her hands out in frustration.

  He stared at her for a moment, and then replied with a sigh, "This is not how duty works. In our line of work, we’re expected to lay down our lives in service to Her Majesty."

  "You mean the same queen that ordered our swift removal barely a year ago?"

  Wellington waved a hand in the air dismissively. "A terrible counter-argument, and you know it. The queen was not in her right mind when she issued that order."

  "No, no. I am done with this. I am tired of always putting my life on the line for an empire that does not give a toss about us!"

  "Then why don’t you do something about it?"

  He asked in a firm enough tone that it grabbed her attention, but there was no anger or malice in his words. Wellington’s query had been calm, but his words held resolve she could not ignore.

  Turning back to him, she bent to one knee to look in his eyes. "Welly?"

  "I am what Usher really wants, we all know that. You. Me. Sound. This has to play out and I must be turned over to th
em so that you can do what you do best."

  A headache began creep behind her eyes. "What exactly is that?"

  "Rescue me," he said, tears welling in his eyes. "One last time."

  "Wellington..."

  The door opened, and Sound marched back into the office. "Agent Books, Agent Braun, we can no longer dally. We have a duty to perform."

  "Yes sir," Wellington stated, his eyes fixed on Eliza’s. It was the same silent way they communicated with one another in the field, and in the bedroom. She had never had a connection like this with any other man, and she didn't want to lose it. "I am certain we are all clear now in what we need to do."

  "Agent Braun?" Sound asked. "Are we—"

  "Would you mind shutting it, Old Man?" Eliza yelled, and it felt good.

  "Enough of that, Eliza Doo," Wellington said, his words barely perceptible to her, even when she pressed her forehead to his. She became aware of the tears drying on her cheeks. How long had she been crying? Before Sound came back into his office?

  "You have to end this, my love," Wellington whispered to her. "You know what to do."

  Eliza knew what he meant.

  Wiping the tears from her face, Eliza got to her feet and strode out of Sound’s office. Everyone and everything passed around as if some surreal nightmare had her in its grasp. Eliza reached the operations room on the main level of Whiterock Manor, Wellington’s final words to her echoing in her head. This had once been a ballroom, with lords and ladies dancing to beautiful music beneath the chandeliers. Now it served as the main offices of both stationed agents and agents visiting from other branches of the Ministry. When she came to a stop at her desk, her eyes lingered on the desk opposite of her own. It was Wellington’s and from this spot, the two of them had pieced together clues on Jekyll’s whereabouts.