"Get back!" Colonel Pierpont cried out, throwing both hands skyward and accidentally knocking off his pince-nez glasses.
No further prompting was needed for the startled club members to dive for safety. With a loud crack, the display table broke apart and crashed to the floor. Rapidly, the ark continued to increase in size in every direction, all the while creaking and groaning as if was being tortured on the high seas. Five yards, ten, twenty yards in length it reached, before the rate of growth noticeably slowed.
"By Jove!" Baron Edgewaters roared, crouching behind an ottoman. "Look at that! The bloody thing actually is Noah's Ark!"
"Indubitably," somebody said from the other side of the craft.
"This is dehydration on a scale unheard of in the entire civilized world!" added another unseen member from the general vicinity of the prow.
"Or England," a patriotic chap added, from behind the window curtains.
"Congratulations, Benjamin!" Lord Danvers boomed from under the liquor cart.
Wriggling from their hiding places, the entire assemblage gathered around Lord Carstairs and gave him a thunderous round of applause. Beaming in unabashed pleasure, Carstairs suddenly took on a pained expression and pointed in horror. Everybody turned just in time to see the still slowly expanding prow of the vessel nose into the trough of the bubbling fountain.
"Bloody hell," Professor Einstein whispered, taking a step backwards.
There came a loud slurping noise, closely followed by a mighty groan of tormented wood, and the ark exploded into double its size. More than fifty yards in length, the vessel loomed over the scrambling men as it continued to grow, rapidly filling the Great Hall. With the sound of shattering stone, the fountain noisily collapsed and the ship settled over the stony remains, precipitating a great column of water that washed over the ship and yielded yet another massive spurt of growth.
"The mains!" Lord Carstairs shouted to the staff members who were staring in wonder through the doorway. "Turn off the water mains!"
Obediently, one of the servants spun about and dashed down the hall.
His mind swirling with dire mathematics, Professor Einstein could only scowl at the monstrosity forming before them. Two and seven of every animal on the earth. How big would the Ark get? Answer: too damn big. This was definitely not good!
Like a wooden express train, the traveling prow violently rammed into the fireplace, smashing the hearth, and tilting the oil painting of Her Royal Majesty. As the portrait fell, the stern of the ship slammed into the far wall, shattering the plaster and causing the bust of Marco Polo to rip free from its pedestal on the second floor balcony. As the massive bronze statue plummeted straight towards a horrified Jeeves, Lord Carstairs surged forward to shove the man aside. The heavy bust crashed onto Carstairs instead, the savage blow driving the lord to his knees as he barely managed to deflect the three hundred pounds of metal onto a seventh century pirate's chest. Even over the creaking of the Ark, the splintery explosion of the chest from the meteoric impact was clearly discernable.
White-faced and trembling, Jeeves had trouble speaking for a moment. "Y-you saved my life," the butler finally stammered, his nerveless fingers dropping the umbrella to the floor.
"Think nothing of it," Carstairs panted, flexing his hands to stop the stinging. "I'm sure you would have done the same for me."
Tilting his head, Jeeves glanced at the quarter-ton of metal explorer lying in the splintered midst of what had once been a sturdy steamer trunk. "Quite so," the manservant remarked in dry sincerity.
Now from beneath the Ark there came a series of squeaks and a banging metallic rattle. Its growth immediately slowed. With a final groaning lurch that shattered the eastern skylight, the titanic craft thankfully went still.
"By Gadfrey!" a member whispered in askance, wiggling free from between the broken rudder and a bookcase. "And I thought Williamson's recounting of his trip to Lake Geneva exciting."
Battered but undamaged, the explorers slowly crawled out from under the furniture, and dusted themselves off while staring at the impossible vessel. Going to the remains of the liquor cabinet, Lord Danvers poured himself a stiff drink.
Professor Einstein straightened the Queen's portrait back on the wall. Better .
"Damnation, sir," Duke Farthington cried out, clapping Lord Carstairs on the shoulder. "But you're a hard act to follow!"
Breaking into nervous laughter, the younger members began clearing aside the assorted debris, while the senior members contemplated the Biblical behemoth filling the hall.
"Of course, how we will get it out of here is another matter entirely," Lord Danvers observed, finishing his whiskey.
"Damned inconvenient, holding meetings with this hanging above our heads," Judge Foxthington-Symthe stated, thoughtfully stroking one of his many chins. "We could always just tear down a wall or two and ease it out into the back courtyard. Make a fine gazebo, it would. Impress the neighbors no end."
All work paused as everybody turned to stare at the judge.
"Outside?" a man asked.
"Where it rains ?" another questioned.
The entire group of explorers paled at those words and looked at the Ark with growing expressions of horror. Exactly what were they to do with this thing?
Clapping his hands, Professor Einstein got the members moving again. Eventually, a path was cleared to the doorway, allowing the staff to rush in with brooms and dustpans to begin the Herculean job of straightening the hall. Leaving them to the task, the disheveled club-members now gathered round Carstairs and Einstein.
"Members of the Explorers Club," Duke Farthington shouted in his best Parliamentary voice. "I give you Lord Benjamin Carstairs!"
A formal round of applause came from the members, and the British lord made a sweeping bow. "Thank you, gentlemen. I am most gratified." Carstairs then turned to address Professor Einstein in a quieter voice. "And thank you, sir, for saving my reputation. If ever I can return the favor, pray inform me."
"Now would be a good time," Einstein said bluntly. "I came here to find two or three men to assist me on an extremely dangerous expedition." The professor smiled at the dapper young Goliath. "But then, it appears that you are two or three men."
As the observation was hardly original, Lord Carstairs accepted the statement complacently. "Pray tell, what is the nature of this expedition?"
"To save the world from total destruction."
Taken aback, Carstairs blinked a few times at the outlandish statement. "Are you quite serious, Professor?"
Einstein nodded. "Absolutely, Lord Carstairs."
Since honor lay on the line, the decision came instantaneously. "Then I am at your command, sir," Lord Carstairs said, extending a massive hand.
As gingerly as if grasping a spring-loaded bear trap, Professor Einstein accepted the offer and they shook.
"Excellent, lad!" Einstein said, glancing about at the scene of turmoil about them. "But this is no place to talk. Come, I'll tell you the details on the way to my home."
"Indeed. Why the hurry? Is the matter pressing?"
"Yes, time is of the essence."
"Accepted, then."
As the two men walked from the room, Lord Carstairs took the opportunity to add, "Is there any chance that we may be back from wherever we're going by early next month? Several friends and I had planned on taking another crack at locating the elephants' graveyard in Africa."
Having started a caustic reply, Professor Einstein paused, and then spoke tactfully. "Lad, if our expedition is not successful, then you won't have to worry about such matters."
Frowning darkly, Lord Carstairs uneasily chewed upon that cryptic statement. "Indeed, sir," he murmured.
In the foyer, the liveried page gave their coats to the doorman, who in turn primly passed them to the owners. In the background, there could be heard a great deal of cursing and hammering from the ruin of the Great Hall.
Donning their outer garments, the two men departed from the cl
ub, and walked down to the curb. Placing two fingers in his mouth, Professor Einstein gave a sharp whistle. From within the billowing fog there came the crack of a whip. A horse whinnied, and a brougham came into view with Davis at the reins.
Climbing inside, the two explorers seated themselves comfortably. Davis set the carriage into motion. As the cab moved into the deeper recesses of the river mist, a group of hooded figures stepped from the shadowy alleyway alongside the Explorers Club. Shaking the broken window glass from their robes, the men adjusted the scarves masking their features, pulled knives, and swiftly followed the departing vehicle. Oddly, their hard-soled boots did not make a sound on the granite cobblestones of the city street.
Chapter Two
Its tones clear and strong, the mighty Big Ben began to chime the midnight hour as somewhere in the gray mist, a muffled foghorn moaned in warning to ships on the Thames River.
Inside the jostling carriage, Lord Carstairs reclined on the sumptuous leather seating. "That was a spot of good luck to locate a cab this quickly on so poor a night," he commented. "Perhaps it is a good omen for our journey, eh what?"
"Nothing of the sort, lad. I had it waiting for me," Einstein remarked, checking the time on a gold Beugueret pocket watch.
"How unusual," Carstairs noted, stretching out his legs. "You must pay the driver exorbitantly for such a service. Or is he part of your staff?"
"Merely professional courtesy," the professor corrected, showing an ornate signet ring on his left pinky.
Arching an eyebrow, Lord Carstairs studied the unusual bit of jewelry. "You're a member of the Cab Drivers Guild?" he asked incredulously.
"The Coalition of the Street, we prefer to be called, but yes, I am an honorary member," Einstein said, breathing on the ring before polishing it on a trouser leg. "Quite often in my work I have found it highly useful to belong to as many private associations and restricted clubs as possible. One can never tell when the assistance of a fellow member will be highly desirous."
"That certainly seems to make sense," Carstairs replied politely.
Resting the ebony cane across his lap, the professor smiled ruefully. "So far, the only society that has totally refused me admittance is the Daughters of Lesbos."
Unsure if that was a joke or not, Lord Carstairs leaned back and reached inside his coat to produce a gold cigar case. Snapping it open, the lord politely offered an assortment of hand-rolled Cubans to the professor. Einstein stared at the leafy cylinders with dismay.
"An imported Havana mixture," Carstairs said encouragingly. "My own private blend."
Recognizing the futility of arguing health with a confirmed smoker, the professor relinquished his usual adamant position and joined his associate in lighting a slim panatela. Soon, the atmosphere inside the cab was as thick as the air outside and, despite his scientific abhorrence of the practice, Einstein was forced to admit that it really was a damn fine cigar.
From the front of the carriage came the crack of a whip and a horse's whinny. The vehicle angled sharply about for a tight turn. Almost losing their seats, both men grabbed hold of the convenient leather straps set next to the door and fought to stay upright.
"Incompetent bounder," Lord Carstairs muttered angrily.
"Evasive tactics," Professor Einstein corrected.
"Are we being pursued, sir?"
Inspecting the end of his cigar, Einstein said nothing.
Allowing the pungent smoke to trickle from his mouth, Lord Carstairs turned to glance out a window. Even through the dense river fog, he could see the vast halls of Parliament, noting that the great stone building was still encased in a maze of scaffolding.
"Appears they're almost done with the repairs," he remarked with pride, the smoky words momentarily visible in the air.
Puffing contentedly, Professor Einstein nodded. "A nice job too, considering how much damage it received in the…"
"Troubles," Carstairs interjected, gesturing with his cigar.
Furrowing his brow, Einstein scowled in irritation. "It was war, damn it. War! Why can't anybody just admit that?"
"Tact," the lord replied simply.
Because politeness formed the backbone of civilization, the professor had no possible retort to that. Angrily, he flicked cigar ash out the window just as the fog briefly parted, admitting a wealth of silvery moonlight into the cab.
Gesturing with the smoldering stub, Einstein indicated the misty sky overhead. "Well, is polite society willing to talk about the moon?" the professor demanded. "Or is that also something else people decline to discuss?"
"Not a bit of it," Lord Carstairs replied, shifting the cigar to a new location in his mouth. "I heard about the phenomenon before I left the continent. The Royal Astronomical Society is completely foxed about the whole thing."
"As so they should be, lad," Professor Einstein said, blowing a smoke ring at the crescent. The fumes joined the fog and moon vanished again. "By celestial mechanics beyond our understanding, the moon is revolving to show us its long-hidden face. What do you think of that, eh?"
Inhaling deeply, Carstairs gave the matter a few minutes of somber thought. "Be a nice change, I dare say."
"What? Is that all it means to you?" the professor asked, staring agog.
The lord shrugged. "Honestly, sir, considering the state of the world, I don't see how this development can be of any real importance. Except perhaps to poets, and a few painters."
"Indeed," Einstein said, sounding disappointed, his fingers drumming on the coach seat. "Lord Carstairs, how familiar are you with the mythology of the Dutarian Empire?"
Lord Carstairs thoughtfully puffed on his cigar before answering. "Only vaguely," Carstairs replied honestly. "It was small secluded city-state in the Sumatra region, founded around 3000 BC. They were a rather vigorous empire with a pronounced reputation for bloodthirstiness. They were on the rise for slightly over a hundred years, until they suffered some sort of natural disaster and completely disappeared."
Tapping the excess ash from the glowing tip of the cigar, Carstairs replaced it, to savor another deep puff. "As to religion and myths, they worshiped some sort of fish, I believe. Don't remember anything about the moon." He focused his attention onto the professor. "I assume there is a connection."
Although he tried not to show it, Professor Einstein was extremely impressed. Most university scholars would have had to consult numerous volumes to unearth the information this man had so casually tossed off. Obviously, Einstein had made the correct choice in an associate.
"There absolutely is a connection. And the Dutarians did not worship a fish, per se," Einstein corrected, "but a giant squid. The Squid God, they called it, although demon might be a more accurate translation. It was supposed to be a horrific beast that had a thousand tentacles, a dozen mouths, and was totally invulnerable to man-made weapons."
"And it fed on human blood."
His cigar drooped as Einstein eagerly leaned forward in the smoky cab. "Great Scott, you've heard of the creature?" he demanded.
"No, but it would have been a rather unusual deity for a warrior-state to revere if it didn't," Carstairs said, puffing away steadily. "Rather reminds me of that Aztec god of war, Huitzilopochtli. He required massive amounts of the stuff to make the dawn come."
"Ah, but in the sun god aspect of Tonatiu, he was perceived as a bringer of life," Einstein noted with a raised finger. "The Squid God was known only as a destroyer, just barely controlled by the Dutarian priests who summoned it. In the end, not even they could do so."
"You're talking as if the thing really existed," Carstairs chided, flicking his cigar butt out the window. "And that is patently absurd, sir."
"As absurd as Noah's Ark?" Einstein asked quietly.
The British lord closed his mouth with an audible snap. For the next several seconds, conflicting emotions battled for supremacy across his handsome face.
"Oh, at least as absurd," Carstairs conceded with a smile. "However, sir, you actually saw my proof."
"And soon," the professor said, leaning back into the seat to gaze out the window, "you shall see mine."
***
With a clatter of hooves on cobblestone, the brougham came to a halt at the curb in front of a simple brick mansion bordered by a high wrought iron gate. Exiting the cab, Professor Einstein tried to pay Davis, who adamantly refused. Sensing that a battle of wills was in progress, Lord Carstairs took the opportunity for a good stretch after his confinement. The lord was still in the same position when the professor joined him on the sidewalk.
"Something wrong?" Einstein asked, taking the fellow by the arm.
"The International British Museum for Stolen Antiquities?" Lord Carstairs said, reading the huge sign above the front door. "Good lord, Professor, isn't that laying it on a bit thick?"
With a cavalier gesture, Professor Einstein completely dismissed the matter. "Purely advertising, lad. It gives the patrons a vicarious thrill. You should have seen the newspaper headlines on the day we opened shop."
"But still," Carstairs hedged uncomfortably.
"And it's not entirely true," Einstein continued, unlocking the front gate and holding it open. Carstairs walked through and the professor securely locked it again. "Well over twenty percent of our exhibits have been legally purchased."
Quite impressed, Lord Carstairs gave a whistle. "As many as that? My apologies."
"Think nothing of it," Einstein said, unlocking the front door and swinging aside the heavy oak panel.
Entering a vestibule, the two men dodged round a group of velvet ropes set to direct patrons to a ticket booth, and continued past a sturdy brass turnstile. The foyer was lined with various old world maps, some on parchment, others on papyrus or sheepskin. Each was highly illuminated with imaginative renderings of the creatures that supposedly lurked in the deep waters, waiting to devour anybody rash enough to venture beyond the safety of land.
As they proceeded through a curtained alcove, brilliant light washed over them. Carstairs gasped in astonishment, while Einstein snorted in disgust.
THAT DARN SQUID GOD Page 2