The Extraordinaires 2

by Michael Pryor

  ‘I’ve given up trying to guess what he likes,’ Xerxes said gloomily. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. ‘Careful on the stairs.’

  As they descended into the Demimonde, Kingsley was grateful for the warning. The stairwell was unlit and so narrow that his shoulders brushed the walls on both sides, and Evadne had trouble with her awkward carpet bag. The stairs began as uneven wood, but soon became stone that was damp and slippery. Just as he was about to ask how far they had to go, he had to grab Evadne’s collar as her feet went out from under her.

  ‘Remind me to thank my dressmaker,’ Evadne said after she found the stairs again. ‘Good stitching on that collar.’

  Kingsley let out a long breath. He hadn’t meant to test his ribs that way, but they were healing well. ‘Perhaps I’d better go first.’

  ‘We should have thought about that before we started down. It’s too squeezy to change positions now.’

  For a moment, Kingsley enjoyed an image of the proximity required for this manoeuvre. ‘I’m willing to try. It’s a good cause, after all.’

  ‘In another time and place, perhaps,’ Evadne said. ‘Here, it’s important that he sees me first, not you.’

  ‘A pity,’ he said as Evadne plucked her pen light from a pocket. They started down again. ‘And who is he, by the way?’

  ‘He is the person we’re going to see.’

  ‘I gathered that. He has a name?’

  ‘He has many names.’

  ‘Like most of the Demimonde, in my tiny experience. What should I call him?’

  ‘Not Rupert the Bloody,’ Evadne said, ‘that’s likely to offend him.’

  ‘I can understand that. Awful name.’

  ‘An awful name and it’s not his, which is why he’d be offended.’

  Kingsley saluted her – an awkward gesture in such a confined space and one that Evadne couldn’t see anyway but one he couldn’t help offering. ‘I stepped right into that one, didn’t I? Are we thinking of changing our act? “Laugh Your Heart Out with the Extraordinaires”, that sort of thing?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘It might be worth it. I’ll be the straight one, you can be the funny one.’

  ‘That would be the most logical arrangement. Ah, here we are.’

  The wooden door was as ordinary a door as Kingsley had seen for some time – dark wood with no distinguishing features, not even a knocker – so he was surprised when it dissolved at Evadne’s touch and allowed them to step into a room that wouldn’t have been out of place in a bank, apart from the faintest trace of a smell of peppermint.

  A small angular man was sitting behind a desk. He looked up and Kingsley saw the very model of a clerk. He had a green visor, a white shirt with sleeve garters, ink-stained fingers and wildly bushy eyebrows. He wore a black waistcoat over his shirt.

  He didn’t look like the sort of person who could help them lure the Immortals. He looked more like a bookkeeper.

  ‘Ah!’ he said, standing. ‘Miss Evadne!’ He clapped his hands together and rubbed them. ‘You like to buy a bridge?’

  Evadne smiled. ‘Which one?’

  ‘Which would you like? London? Blackfriars? Tower Bridge is shiny new, you know. You can have it for a song.’

  Evadne shook her head. ‘I’ve no need for a bridge at the moment, but if that situation changes, you’ll be the first person I’ll talk to.’

  ‘Excellent. And who’s your friend?’

  ‘This is Kingsley Ward, escapologist. Kingsley, I’d like you to meet . . .’

  The gap Evadne left so intentionally was filled in by the small man. ‘I’m Cleghorn – Oliver Cleghorn.’ He plucked a card from his waistcoat and handed it to Kingsley.

  ‘So, you’re a scrap metal merchant, are you, Mr Cleghorn?’

  ‘Scrap metal?’ The small man took the card back. He blinked when he read it and with two decisive movements tore it to pieces. ‘I’m sorry, lad,’ he said, handing Kingsley another card. ‘I’ve no idea where that came from.’

  The new card had the same discreet black lettering as the first, with a significant change. ‘So you’re a poet, Mr Cleghorn. Much less noisy than scrap metal.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. I have no love at all for brass and copper, not currently. Wandering lonely as a clown, that’s more to my taste.’

  ‘That’s enough, Finny,’ Evadne said. ‘I’ve come to you for advice.’

  ‘On matters poetical? I could knock out a sonnet or two, if you like, but it’ll cost you.’

  ‘Of course it shall, Finny, but I’m after something more in your line of work.’

  ‘Finny?’ Kingsley echoed.

  ‘That’s his real name,’ Evadne said. ‘Or the name I first knew him by. And he’s not a poet.’

  Finny rubbed his chin for a moment, then crossed to the door. He bent and tapped on the frame about a foot from the bottom. ‘There,’ he said. ‘We won’t be disturbed now.’

  He went around to the wooden chair behind the desk. He gestured at the two chairs in front of it. ‘Why don’t you sit and tell me what you’re on about, Miss Evadne?’

  They sat. Evadne placed her carpet bag on the floor, but then spoke to Kingsley instead of Finny. ‘Kingsley, Finny here is the Demimonde’s foremost dodger.’

  ‘Dodger?’

  Finny grinned. ‘I am what our American cousins might call a confidence man. I separate fools from their money. By the way, lad – do you have the time?’

  Kingsley reached for his watch only to find it not in its pocket, nor on its chain. He looked up to find Finny dangling it in front of him. He applauded as Finny handed it back to him. ‘Well done. I assume you took it when you crossed to the door?’

  Finny shrugged. ‘One of my lesser skills, and handy when I need to switch an envelope or somesuch.’

  ‘Finny is the master of Demimonde deception,’ Evadne said. ‘He knows all sorts of people who can help lure our targets out of their hiding places.’

  Finny sat forward. ‘You want to set up a bait and switch, do you, Miss Evadne?’

  ‘We had some excellent bait, but we’re willing to be advised by you,’ Evadne said to him. ‘Kingsley, Finny is renowned for his dodges, both long and complicated and short and sharp. Isn’t that right, Finny?’

  ‘It is, but I’m not altogether happy about that “renowned” bit. It’s made my job all the harder.’

  ‘I take it,’ Kingsley said to Evadne, ‘that you want Finny to help us lure the Immortals.’

  ‘Having the bait is just the start. Finny can help us with the rest. Isn’t that right, Finny?’

  Finny wasn’t there.

  Evadne rubbed her forehead. ‘You shouldn’t have said it.’

  Kingsley hadn’t seen Finny move and yet the man was gone. ‘What? What did I say?’

  ‘You mentioned the Immortals.’

  TWENTY

  They arrived at journey’s end after travelling all night. Leetha and her kin blinked in the light, while the big people who herded them out of the lorry grumbled about the move. Their voices were low when they complained, with many a glance about to see who was listening. They paid no heed to Leetha and the others, seeing them as no threat, so Leetha knew it was the sorcerers who the guards were afraid of. This was not foolish, Leetha decided. The sorcerers were clearly mad and dangerous.

  She hoped the ghost girl and the wild boy had not been hurt in the fire. It might slow them down. For an instant she wondered if they might not have simply given up, but she shook that notion away. They would not. Not the girl, and not the boy either. They were true. Fierce and true. They were coming to help.

  Still, she wondered if she might need another plan to escape. Perhaps it was time to talk to Mannor, and Calli, and Ubbo. More heads together might be a better way.

  She and her kin chattered, for the air was cleaner than that they had become accustomed to and their hearts were uplifted. Smoke, and the smell of cooking, came from the buildings. She sniffed again. She could smell little of the
stink of the city. The richness of growth was close by, and animals. The sky over their heads was big, not crowded out by the great buildings of the big people. Green surrounded them, with wide expanses of grass. Many trees grew not far away. This was good country, good for living.

  While they waited under the reach of a broad, leafy tree, Leetha crouched and plucked a blade of grass. It was soft and juicy, different from the tough grass of her home, and it was a welcome thing after the city of stone and glass. She cast her gaze around. The green was different, too, from that of home. Not as bright. Softer. Or was that the light from a more mellow sun? It did not matter. It was a joy to be in a place like this.

  A bird in the tree chirped. Another answered. Life was all around and Leetha was, for a small moment, almost content.

  Her kin were feeling happy, too. Laughter that had been a stranger for so long – fleeting, never lasting on lips – had returned. Calli sang a song that made them all sing along, even though the guard scowled like an angry boar. Ubbo found a small white flower with a yellow eye. He pushed it into his hair.

  The wagons went on to what the guards called the farmhouse and Leetha watched with interest. The two men guiding the animals jumped down and shifted large wooden boxes. They were heavy and the men swore and grunted. The men took the boxes into the farmhouse one by one. When the boxes were all taken away, the men climbed back onto their wagons and drove past on their way to the gate in the distance.

  A guard came out of the farmhouse and waved. Their guards growled and pointed and then Leetha and her people were off, marching along the track, arms swinging, wrapped in the outside world they’d almost forgotten.

  She recognised the guard who waved to them as Glass Face, from the factory in the city. His sleeves were rolled up and he looked almost happy when the other guards handed him a sheaf of papers. Perhaps the air here was good for him, too?

  Then Gompers came out of one of the other buildings, one of the newer ones. His black hat and long coat were gone, but otherwise he was the same. It would take more than country air and sunshine to change him. ‘They’re here,’ he said. ‘Good.’

  Glass Face had not realised that Gompers had stepped into the yard behind him. From the way he stiffened, Leetha saw that the guard was afraid of Gompers. ‘Yes, sir,’ Glass Face said, turning smartly. ‘And the boxes from the city base, too.’

  ‘All of them?’

  ‘This should be the first shipment. There’s more to come.’

  ‘Now, this is important: nothing was lost in that infernal explosion?’

  Glass Face flipped through the papers. ‘The documents and the artefacts that the Immortals collected in India had already been packed ready for the transfer. They were unharmed.’ He swallowed. ‘The stockpile of hair, though, all went up in the fire.’

  ‘Gah! That will affect our schedule badly.’ Gompers stamped off a few steps and then came back. ‘We’re expecting more deliveries next week, which should help, and we have stockpiles in the underground storage areas here, enough to start compressing and embedding it in the transmitter core.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘The base of the transmission tower is ready. We can begin assembling the pre-fabricated sections almost immediately. That should make the Immortals happy, especially after the debacle with the dodecahedron.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Glass Face said. He was sweating, even though the day was barely warm.

  ‘Continue,’ Gompers said. ‘Do not be distracted.’ He glanced at Leetha and her people but he showed no recognition, then he stalked back into the farmhouse.

  The guards took Leetha and her kin around the back to a yard with smooth stones underfoot. A long bucket was full of water, and the guard said they could drink. Chickens wandered about. These could have been from home, so alike were they to the birds that pecked and clucked around their caves. These chickens behaved the same way – a glance, and then Leetha was unimportant. Or, at least, the possibility of a tasty worm or forgotten grain or insect was far more interesting.

  Leetha shrugged. To a chicken, a person was less important than a beetle. It did one good to remember such things.

  Buildings surrounded the flat, open area. Most were old and dusty – homes for animals, Leetha guessed from the smell. Guards were still shifting boxes into the largest of them. Three other buildings were new and reeked of fresh paint, the same sort of smell that had given her a headache in the city. These buildings were large and many-windowed – but all the windows had bars on them.

  Calli nudged Leetha in the side and pointed, carefully, barely a twitch of her finger. Leetha followed her gesture. A group of small children, some barely older than infants, was being taken into one of the buildings. The wail of one of them tugged at Leetha’s heart. She took a step towards them, only for Calli to seize her arm and shake her head. She turned away from the children even though it hurt every part of her.

  Mannor pointed at what Leetha had thought were thin vines running between the buildings.

  ‘Electricity runs in those wires,’ Mannor said. He scratched his head. ‘I cannot hear a generator, though. They must have another source of power.’ He grinned. ‘No smoke, no noise. It is good.’

  Leetha was relieved. If clever Mannor believed they were safe, she was happy.

  Light began to shine through the windows of the front building. ‘See?’ Mannor said. ‘It is all electric!’

  They were taken to one of the new buildings. Her heart sank when she saw it had a long central corridor with doors on both sides. They were herded into a large room, all together, then the door closed behind them. Leetha heard the sound of a heavy lock and she dropped her head. They were further from home than they had ever been.

  TWENTY-ONE

  When they caught up with Finny, he was scurrying along a tunnel that had been hidden by an illusory wall behind his desk. Kingsley admired the cleverness of the magic that had concealed the escape route, even while they were pushing through cobwebs in pursuit of the dodger.

  Finny yelped when Evadne caught his collar.

  ‘What’s the matter, Finny?’ she asked as she slowly turned him around. She trained her pen light on his face. ‘Has the Demimonde’s greatest dodger lost his nerve?’

  He shook his head so violently he had to grab at his green visor to stop it flying off. ‘I’m not having anything to do with those Immortals! And you’re bleeding doolally if you do! Both of you!’

  Evadne was a model of disappointed patience. ‘Finny, you wouldn’t like certain aspects of your life to become public knowledge, would you? How would it sound if it were known that you were a major contributor to Miss Oldham’s School for Girls? Finny, the hard man of the Demimonde, the man without a conscience, helping little orphans? You’d be laughed into the mundane world.’

  As far as dark secrets are concerned, that’s not so bad. Kingsley supposed that among blackguards, helping little old ladies instead of robbing them would be seen as a weakness.

  Finny was appropriately crushed at the prospect. ‘That’d be the end of my business. The end of everything I’ve worked for.’

  ‘Most probably,’ Evadne said. ‘But cheer up. With your background in deception and double-dealing, you could always go into politics.’

  Back in Finny’s office, Evadne was brisk. ‘Yes, Finny, we’re pitting ourselves against the Immortals. But never mind – you won’t have to do a thing. We’re just looking for some advice, some help setting up, then we’ll handle everything else.’

  Finny shook his head gloomily. ‘I don’t know. The Immortals and all.’

  ‘It’ll be all right. It’s not as if we haven’t gone up against them before.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Kingsley and I had a run-in with the Immortals last year.’

  ‘Wait – you had a run-in with the Immortals and you’re still here?’

  ‘And thriving. Did you hear reports about a little incident under Greenwich?’

  Finny gaped. ‘That was you?’

  ‘That was us,’ K
ingsley said, hoping to remind Finny that he was there. ‘Greenwich was mostly Evadne, while I handled the Neanderthals.’

  Finny’s eyes actually bulged. ‘You were the one who took it up to the Neanderthals? Not the League of Righteousness?’

  Evadne crossed her arms. ‘Are they claiming that they were responsible? The League of Righteousness?’

  ‘That’s what I heard,’ Finny said.

  ‘Wait until I catch up with Sir Donald,’ Evadne muttered. ‘That’s just too much.’

  ‘So you’ve managed to tangle with the Immortals and come out all right,’ Finny said. ‘That sheds a different light on it, so to speak.’ He leaned back in his chair and gazed at the ceiling. Kingsley was astonished to see his face undergoing a series of startling contortions. His lips wobbled about and his cheeks sucked in and out alarmingly.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Evadne whispered. ‘He’s just thinking.’

  ‘Thinking? His face is exploding.’

  ‘He’s just moving his false teeth about. It helps him concentrate.’

  It may help him concentrate, Kingsley thought, but it makes me feel ill.

  A few minutes of this remarkable display were enough. Finny tilted forward again, his false teeth clicked into place and he clasped his hands in front of him. ‘You’ll need money if you want to attract these Immortals.’

  ‘I have money,’ Evadne said.

  ‘And you’ll need daring.’

  Evadne nudged Kingsley. ‘We have daring in abundance,’ he said smoothly.

  ‘And you’ll need premises deep in the Demimonde where no-one will ever find you.’

  ‘What?’ Kingsley frowned. ‘Don’t we want to be found? By the Immortals, for a start?’

  Finny shook his head pityingly. ‘You have so much to learn, my lad. In my line of work, the best way to draw attention to oneself is by not drawing attention to oneself.’

  It took a moment, but then it came to Kingsley. ‘It’s like stage magic. A little misdirection, a few key gestures, and suddenly the audience is looking exactly where you want them to look.’

  ‘That’s it exactly,’ Finny said.