The Extraordinaires 2

by Michael Pryor

  A few minutes later, Kingsley caught sight of the shadowy figure ahead – the man he’d been tracking. He had an urge to run after him, but instead he crouched behind a copse of hazel saplings and watched. The shadowy figure hunched and disappeared.

  He sniffed, but the wind was blowing towards his prey. He scented nothing – but he worried that his prey might scent him.

  Kingsley darted from tree to tree, getting closer in a circuitous route so that he was unlikely to be seen. When he came close enough to his prey, he eased himself into a damp hollow, lush with ferns, and gave no thought to the state of his clothes. With small, careful movements, he parted the ferns until he could just make out the figure a stone’s throw away, lying prone, surveying the farmhouse.

  Kingsley looked over his shoulder. Evadne was back there, waiting for him to report. If she didn’t hear from him soon, she’d press ahead and startle this stranger. Kingsley didn’t want that, and not because he feared for her. This stranger, his prey, could be a useful source of information. Kingsley wanted him in one piece.

  He crawled closer. Each time, as he lowered his hands and knees, and before he put his weight on them, he knew what was there and judged if it were about to snap and alert his prey. If it were, he froze for a second or two, then shifted minutely to a more suitable spot.

  It sounded complicated when he contemplated it – and when he did he nearly tangled his limbs and fell. He realised then that the entire process was better done underneath his notice.

  Soon he came close enough to see that his prey was a big man. He wore a wide-brimmed hat and his boots were muddy. He was intent on the farmhouse, and was muttering to himself.

  Kingsley patted his pocket. He had the Shocking Pinch, but he was circumspect about its effects, Evadne being notably evasive when he’d asked about them. He’d rather trust to a more direct approach.

  Slowly, Kingsley stood. Then he ran, barely touching the ground, and leaped on the stranger. He used his full weight to drive the air out of the man’s lungs, then he rolled and took him face to face in a great bear hug. He lifted, squeezing, and a snarl ripped from his throat.

  Then he stared into the face of his prey, gasped and dropped him.

  ‘Sorry, Father.’ Feeling quite the fool, he extended a hand to the groaning Dr Malcolm Ward. ‘I suppose I should have expected you here.’

  Dr Ward eyed Kingsley askance as he stood and brushed himself off. ‘And I suppose I should say I’m glad to see you, but it’s hard to say that to someone who has possibly cracked a few of your ribs.’

  ‘I had to subdue you. I thought you could have been dangerous.’

  ‘I am dangerous, especially when someone I care about has been abducted.’ Dr Ward huffed a little, and fussed about for a moment. ‘But I must say you’ve handled me easily enough. You’ve grown, Kingsley, quite considerably.’

  Kingsley was immediately embarrassed at his foster father’s appraisal and was relieved when he noticed Evadne slipping through the darkness towards them. ‘Evadne, it’s Dr Ward.’

  Evadne had the Malefactor’s Lament in one hand, her carpet bag in the other, and Kingsley’s walking stick under one arm. ‘Dr Ward! Of course you’d be here!’

  ‘I suppose it’s my fault.’ Dr Ward took off his hat and slapped it into shape. ‘I should have contacted you and let you know I was after the swine, but I couldn’t spare a moment. If it weren’t for that bicycle . . .’ He looked uncomfortable. ‘I’ll have to make it up to that poor butcher boy later.’

  ‘You stole a butcher boy’s bicycle?’ Kingsley was shocked. Dr Ward was scrupulously honest.

  ‘I had to steal it. He wasn’t about to just give it to me,’ Dr Ward said. ‘With it, I was able to keep the Spawn creatures in sight and see which train they caught. They had a guard’s van all to themselves, you know.’ He glowered. ‘Bundled Selene into it in most unseemly fashion, they did.’

  ‘They must have organised that in advance,’ Evadne said. She tossed Kingsley his walking stick.

  ‘No, they simply swarmed aboard and threw the guard off just as the train was pulling out. The stationmaster was in a fearful bate about it, but the last I saw of him one of the swine was chasing him up the platform. I hope he escaped.’ He clapped his hands together. ‘I’ve been at my wits’ end about what to do here, but now you’ve arrived you can go for some help. I’ll watch the farm. The Agency is what’s needed. The police would be outmatched, and I’m afraid these sorcerers are beyond the army, too.’

  ‘We can send a message to the Agency,’ Kingsley said, ‘but it mightn’t provide the sort of help you expect.’

  ‘And why not? It mightn’t be the most efficient organisation, but it should be equipped to confront such things, eh?’

  ‘It’s changed,’ Evadne said. ‘And, currently, the best that could be said for it is that it’s ineffectual.’

  ‘It’s been run down,’ Kingsley said. ‘The operatives are working hard but the place is old-fashioned and poorly funded.’

  ‘Hah! That’s what you get when you run an intelligence organisation as if it were a gentleman’s club. And what’s Norris got to say about this?’

  ‘Brigadier Norris retired. A Colonel Congreve-Knollys is in charge now.’

  Dr Ward gazed into the distance, as if he were listening to a song he remembered from long ago – a song he hated.

  ‘Father?’

  ‘Congreve-Knollys. I thought I’d heard the last of him.’

  ‘You know him?’

  ‘Oh yes. We worked together in India. He’s a rum fellow.’

  ‘India.’ The look Evadne gave Kingsley was so laden with meaning that he thought it needed special reinforcing lest it collapse under its own weight. ‘The Immortals, Mrs Winter and now this Colonel Congreve-Knollys, all in India at the same time.’

  ‘He wasn’t a colonel when I knew him, of course,’ Dr Ward said, ‘just an ambitious lieutenant. King’s Own Light Infantry. Special detachment.’

  ‘Special detachment?’ Kingsley asked. ‘Does that mean he was doing intelligence work?’

  ‘He was, and he was reasonably good at it. A dab hand at languages, always knew who to ask about what was going on, but he had no idea about organisation. Couldn’t keep his records and reports straight.’ He snorted. ‘Lucius would get lost in a map factory.’

  ‘Why do you say he was a rum fellow?’ Evadne asked.

  ‘Because he managed to get ahead while bumbling about. Charming, always smiling, always polite and he managed to get on because he knew everybody. He knew who was arranging billets, who was handing out promotions, who was in charge of cosy assignments. And if he didn’t know them, he went to school with their brother.’

  ‘Sounds as if he hasn’t changed,’ Kingsley said. ‘We met him at the Agency.’

  ‘Excellent manners,’ Evadne said, ‘but I think he’s found himself in a difficult position.’

  ‘As leader of a substantial organisation?’ Dr Ward said. ‘I’d say so. He’d be in well over his head. Wouldn’t want to give up, though. He’s stubborn, especially where his own interests are concerned.’

  ‘I think he’s desperate to produce some results,’ Kingsley said. ‘Finding the Immortals would be a godsend for him.’

  ‘Hrmph. So we might be helping Lucius here.’

  ‘We’re saving Mrs Winter,’ Evadne said firmly. ‘And the world.’

  ‘He knew Selene, you know,’ Dr Ward said. ‘A long time ago. He couldn’t believe it when she preferred me to him.’

  Considering the romantic life of his foster father when young made Kingsley feel as if he were an eavesdropper. Out of respect – and not embarrassment at all – he moved on. ‘As a first step, let’s inspect this farm before making any decisions.’

  Evadne was looking down the ridge. Kingsley saw her reach into her inner coat pocket and pull out a slender metal case. She opened it and extended a series of slots, accordion-like, each holding a set of spectacles. Evadne selected one, and swapped it with
her current pair. ‘That’s better.’ She looked around and tapped the rim twice before she was entirely happy. ‘Mallowside Farm, as clear as day.’

  ‘You can see in the dark with them?’ Dr Ward asked. ‘Remarkable. Where’d you get ’em? I wouldn’t mind a pair meself.’

  ‘Evadne made them,’ Kingsley said.

  ‘She did what?’ Dr Ward stared at her. ‘You did what?’

  ‘With my eyesight, some knowledge of lenses was a sensible thing. I’ll make you a pair, if you like, but I think we have a few things to do first.’

  ‘Dashed decent of you, Evadne,’ said Dr Ward. He pointed ahead. ‘Before night fell I could make out a bit of what’s going on down there. Construction, quite a lot of it, and it’s been going on for a while. They’ve already laid out a large concrete area and the base of what looks like some sort of tower. Metal. Big girders. I think they’re fabricating sections in one of the buildings behind the farmhouse.’

  ‘Here?’ Evadne frowned. ‘Not in London?’

  ‘You know what they’re up to?’ Dr Ward asked.

  ‘We think the Immortals want to use a combination of wireless telegraphy and sympathetic magic to take control of a vast army of mind-controlled slaves. The country would soon be under their thumb.’

  Dr Ward sagged. ‘My stars. I’m going to sit down before my knees give out. I suggest you do too, and tell me everything.’

  Evadne recounted their meeting the Agency, then Leetha, and the ruse with the Ficino Institute. Kingsley contributed. Dr Ward took it all in with a mixture of frank incredulity and growing anger. By the time Evadne had finished, he was ready to march up to the farmhouse and give everyone inside a robust thrashing.

  ‘The beasts,’ he fumed. ‘I’ve come across plenty of nasty types in the Demimonde, but these beggars are prize winners in the ghastliness stakes. Who would have thought of using primitive magic on such a scale?’

  ‘And why here?’ Kingsley wondered.

  Dr Ward was picking a leaf from his sleeve, but he stopped and shook his head. ‘My boy, don’t you realise where we are? Fenny Drayton is the geographical heart of England.’

  Evadne had it a split second before Kingsley did and her eyes went wide. ‘Locating a transmitter here gives them the best chance of reaching all of England.’

  ‘So they could enslave the whole kingdom at once, instead of piece by piece?’ Kingsley was appalled.

  Dr Ward shook his head. ‘How does Selene come into all this? She’s no expert on wireless telegraphy.’

  ‘They have one of those,’ Kingsley said. ‘Musgrave Gompers.’

  The stream of invective that followed this was impressive and, in Kingsley’s experience, unprecedented. His foster father was generally not given to extremes of passion, but the vehemence with which he described Gompers was evidence of the antipathy he had for the man. ‘Musgrave Gompers,’ Dr Ward said eventually. ‘His working with the Immortals doesn’t surprise me. He’d do anything to further his ends.’

  Kingsley wasn’t surprised that his father knew Gompers. He knew many, many people, in all walks of life. ‘Tell us what you know of him.’

  ‘Brilliant,’ Dr Ward growled. ‘But unscrupulous in the extreme. He’s probably with the Immortals because they’d give him the opportunity to experiment in ways he couldn’t anywhere else. Totally selfish man, but driven.’

  ‘Selfish?’ Evadne said, seizing on the word. ‘Does that mean he could be bribeable?

  ‘He’s not driven by money.’

  ‘Unlike Jabez Soames,’ Kingsley said, ‘which is unfortunate. You know where you stand with someone as greedy as Soames was.’

  ‘And he’s not driven by ambition,’ Dr Ward added. ‘All he wants to do is quell his fear.’

  ‘Fear?’ Kingsley said.

  ‘Call it researching and experimenting if you like, but that’s just dressing it up in pretty clothes. Gompers is afraid that he isn’t human, that he’s missing something vital that everyone else has.’

  ‘That sounds like him,’ Evadne said. ‘The Musgrave Gompers I knew seemed to be searching for something. Fiercely, perhaps, with little thought of consequences, but searching nonetheless.’

  ‘What an appalling way to live,’ Kingsley said. ‘Always doubting yourself like that? Wondering if you were human or not? It would drive me mad.’

  ‘Quite,’ Dr Ward said. ‘Gompers has staved off collapse by turning his gaze to the question of humanity itself, as if to prove to himself that he is one of us.’

  ‘That’s sad,’ Evadne said, ‘but it doesn’t excuse cruelty like he’s unleashed on Leetha and her people. If he’s as intelligent as you say, surely he can see how awful such treatment is?’

  ‘He might be intelligent, but he isn’t wise. Wisdom is intelligence plus insight plus compassion. Gompers is missing two of those qualities.’

  Evadne went on to share her knowledge of Gompers with Dr Ward. Having heard all this before, Kingsley wandered a few yards away to the tree line, threw himself on his stomach, and studied Mallowside Farm. What looked to be the original farmhouse was still there and, judging by the light in the window, somebody was still awake. A yard separated the farmhouse from a scattering of dilapidated buildings – stables, a barn, workshops. Behind them came half a dozen bright new buildings, long and low, which looked like a military installation. While his night sight wasn’t as acute as Evadne’s enhanced vision, under the stars he could make out guards patrolling the perimeter.

  ‘Kingsley,’ Evadne called softly. ‘Dr Ward wants to tells us something.’

  ‘Needs to tell you both, my dear, not wants to.’ The urgency in Dr Ward’s voice made Kingsley worried. His father was the most self-possessed person he knew – at least, he had been until Kingsley met Evadne.

  ‘Kingsley.’ Dr Ward stopped, cleared his throat and started again. ‘Kingsley, I may not have been entirely forthcoming about Mrs Winter. Not in every detail. Not fully.’

  Kingsley shared a look with Evadne. ‘We may have had an inkling of this.’

  ‘Our side trip to St John’s Wood wasn’t part of our original plans.’

  ‘We didn’t think that you’d find much in the way of dialect studies in St John’s Wood.’

  ‘No.’ Dr Ward looked away, towards the farmhouse, then back. ‘You see, Mrs Winter and I, with everything that was going on with the Agency and the like . . .’ His voice trailed off, but then he rallied. ‘Mrs Winter and I are married. You have a foster mother rather sooner than you expected.’

  THIRTY-ONE

  ‘You eloped?’ Evadne said. ‘Oh, how romantic!’

  ‘Romantic?’ Dr Ward looked puzzled. ‘I suppose it was, but it was the practicalities that brought things to a head. The Hebrides idea was really Selene’s way of getting us away from any hint of the Immortals, but when we were underway she pointed out the difficulty of travelling around the countryside together if we weren’t married. Most innkeepers have a surprising regard for propriety, apparently.’ He coughed. ‘I’m sorry. We should have let you know earlier.’

  ‘Never mind.’ Evadne slipped her weapon through her belt, then took his hand in both of hers. ‘Congratulations, sir. Every happiness to you.’

  Kingsley seized Dr Ward’s other hand and shook it vigorously, not giving a fig for the incongruity of the surroundings. ‘It’s wonderful, a fine thing.’

  ‘So you can imagine that I’m more than eager to rescue Selene from these scoundrels, since she’s my wife.’

  ‘Sir, we were ready to act even before this news, but now . . .’ Kingsley raised an eyebrow at Evadne. ‘Since we didn’t get you a wedding present, can we count a rescue as a gift in lieu?’

  ‘Nobly said, Kingsley, but I need to let you know that we’re all in extreme peril.’

  ‘Yes, the Immortals and their plans for a slave army, we know.’ Kingsley reached for his weapon, the Shocking Pinch. When matters became heated, he didn’t want to grasp it by the wrong end.

  ‘I’m afraid it’s far worse t
han that,’ Dr Ward said. ‘It touches on what else I haven’t told you.’

  Evadne stopped in her checking of her Malefactor’s Lament. ‘While I’m prepared to march blindfolded into the valley of death – in the right circumstances – I’d much rather step into anything dangerous with my eyes fully open.’

  ‘Ah. Yes.’ Dr Ward cleared his throat again. ‘It’s Mrs Winter . . . Mrs Ward . . . Selene, you see. She’s very, very dangerous.’

  The hair on the back of Kingsley’s neck rose. ‘This is your new bride you’re talking about, or is it some other Mrs Winter we haven’t met yet?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t mean dangerous to me. Or you two, most probably. But I’m afraid that if the worst comes to the worst here, the entire world could be in great danger from her.’

  Kingsley had another of those moments, the sort he’d been experiencing often since his introduction to Evadne and the Demimonde, where he felt as if he were stepping deeper into a pool of water. Even when the water was ankle-deep he’d been startled by the sensation. Now it was chest-deep he was somewhat accustomed to it but no less startled.

  ‘Very well.’ Dr Ward rubbed his chin for a moment. ‘I have a story to tell you, one that you really deserve to know. It may take some time.’

  ‘I hope we’re not in any hurry,’ Kingsley said.

  ‘I think conducting a frontal assault on the Immortals’ lair in the dark would be reckless.’

  ‘I agree,’ Evadne said. ‘And since we’re waiting, we can wait a little longer for some help I’ll send for.’

  She reached into her carpet bag and withdrew a wriggling furry shape. When she saw the barely concealed horror on the faces of both Kingsley and Dr Ward, she took Beanie off some distance and spoke to him in a low but urgent voice.

  Kingsley glanced at his father. ‘Myrmidons. Evadne made them from rats. They’re quite appealing when you get used to them.’

  ‘And how long before that happens?’

  ‘In my case? Oh, a decade or two, perhaps.’

  Evadne came back empty-handed. ‘He’ll be as quick as he can, the dear,’ she said as she snapped her carpet bag closed. ‘Now, Dr Ward, since this is a night for astonishing revelations, I’d say we’re ready for yours.’