by Darrell Pitt
Running quickly across the sand, he carefully mounted the darkened rocks and wedged himself between them for cover. From here he could see the two men standing on the beach at the foreshore. One of them had something in his hand. A lantern. He slowly waved it backwards and forwards.
He was signalling to someone at sea!
Jack looked out over the moonlit water and expected to see a ship carving through the waves. Instead he saw nothing. A cool breeze drifted onto the shore. He wrapped his arms around himself. Finally he saw something break the surface. A long pole rose out of the sea, casting a shadow across the waves. A periscope. Seconds passed as the men continued to signal with the lantern. Then the periscope disappeared and a moment later a submarine broke the surface.
Once the conning tower had cleared the surface, a large rectangular hatch opened forward of the bow. A raft was flung into the sea as an object surrounded by men rose up out of the hatch.
Jack peered in confusion at the activity. They seemed to be unloading something, but what could be so important that –.
The bomb.
Of course, Jack realised. Mr Doyle had said M was still waiting for the device to be delivered. That’s what they were doing. A small crane erected on the hull of the sub lifted the bomb into the boat and men climbed in with oars. They pulled away from the sub and aimed for the shore.
Jack felt helpless as the bomb drew closer and closer to the shoreline. In all of England he was the only person who could stop the delivery of the weapon – and there was nothing he could do about it. The rowboat drew closer and closer to the shore until it nudged the pebbly beach.
It’s here, Jack thought.
If he expected some sort of fanfare to accompany the arrival of the super weapon, it did not happen. Instead, the men from the truck backed the vehicle down the beach and the men hoisted the bomb into the back of the vehicle.
It all looked so normal. Jack wondered how M employed such men. How did he find people to support him in his mad schemes? Did they not know the purpose of the device? Maybe they simply did not care. Money spoke all languages. Maybe M’s underlings were so obsessed with riches that the lives of innocents meant nothing to them.
The men from the submarine climbed back into their rowboat and made their way back to the submarine.
Mission accomplished, Jack thought angrily. Time to find some other sick and evil deeds to commit.
The men from the truck resealed the tarp, climbed into the vehicle and started the engine.
Jack knew what he had to do, which was quite different to what he would have liked to do. What he would have liked was contact the authorities and let them handle it from here. Unfortunately, police constables were few and far between on beaches in the middle of the night, so now the responsibility fell to him.
It’s now or never, he thought.
As the truck jolted past him, Jack scrambled from his hiding position in the rocks and chased it up the beach. He hoisted himself up over the tailgate and squeezed back into the truck. The vehicle jolted over the uneven ground until it met a main road and picked up speed.
Jack regarded his companion, barely visible in the darkness.
“Hello bomb,” he said.
It did not reply.
Chapter Thirty
The truck continued on its midnight journey for three hours. Jack knew there was no chance he would fall asleep this time. The tension in his stomach was too great. It occurred to him to try to disable the bomb, but he immediately knew the idea was pure folly. One second he would be pulling out wires and the next…
What was it Mr Harker had said?
…We are talking about a blast radius of some two miles. Anything within that zone will be annihilated…
Jack imagined himself jerking out a wire. In the next instant he would be reduced to dust and entering the pearly gates of the afterlife while people stared in wonder at a brand new crater carved into the English countryside.
No. Trying to disable the weapon might result in disaster. The only course of action was to follow the weapon to its eventual destination and alert the authorities.
Jack felt the truck slow down. He peered through the gap in the tarpaulin. The vehicle had pulled off the main road and chugged down a narrow lane bordered by trees. It drew to a halt outside a fence. One of the men climbed out and unlatched the gate. The vehicle passed through the gap and the gate was relocked.
Jack realised they were now on someone’s private land. Hence, they were nearing their destination. Now was the time to escape. Just as the truck started up again, Jack squeezed through the gap in the tarp and eased himself onto the tailgate.
He jumped.
Aaahh!
He bit back the cry. He hit the ground harder than he intended banging his left elbow. At least his years as an acrobat had taught him to roll and disperse his momentum. A moment later he sprang to his feet and gave chase to the truck.
At first Jack was worried the driver might glance back and see him, but the truck was moving so quickly he rapidly fell behind. After a minute it turned a bend in the road and roared completely out of sight.
Jogging as fast as he dared under the moonlight, Jack realised how much his elbow hurt. Every time he moved his arm, a jolt of pain arrowed all the way up to his shoulder. He doubted it was broken – he would not be able to move the arm at all if that were the case – but it had certainly received a very severe blow. He struggled to put the pain to the back of his mind.
I could use one of those hot chocolates right now, he thought. Maybe even a second. But right now Bee Street seemed a million miles away.
He could rest and recover once this whole episode was over. Now he had to focus on finding the truck.
The countryside lay bathed in moonlight. The road curved around a series of small, rolling hills, devoid of trees or cover. Jack could still hear the vehicle up ahead of him, but it sounded distant and remote. He continued to jog under the moonlight, feeling like the rest of the world had vanished and he remained the only living thing in creation.
Jack realised he could no longer hear the vehicle. He slowed to a walk, breathing hard. He was not used to running. Wiping sweat from his brow, he walked as quietly as he could on the deserted road. Voices came distantly to him from afar. The sound of clanking machinery sang out across the landscape.
Finally he reached a bend in the road and saw a light flowing out of a cave in the side of a hill. He could not see the men, but he heard their voices. They were inside the cave.
Doing what? he wondered.
They had taken delivery of a bomb and driven it to the heart of the countryside to secrete it inside a cave in the middle of nowhere. It made no sense. They were still miles away from London. Did M not intend to use the weapon? Was it being hidden here for some future date?
Crack! Crack!
The sound of two gunshots rebounded from inside the cave. Jack almost jumped up in astonishment. He took refuge in the shadow of a nearby hill, his eyes never leaving the light shining from the interior of the cavern.
A figure appeared in the light.
M.
Jack suddenly realised what had transpired within the cave. M had killed the two men assisting him. Just as he had killed his man Flint back at the empty house.
What had Mr Doyle said?
He leaves no witnesses.
M still wore his trademark hat and scarf. He stood in the entranceway to the grotto and looked in both directions. He was a cautious man, because he had no reason to expect anyone else to be out here in the middle of nowhere. The sounds of gunfire had sounded like cannon fire in the middle of the night, but Jack doubted they had emanated any further than the nearby hills.
Still, M lingered in the glow of the cave and listened. A full minute passed before he marched over to the truck and drew back the tarp. He went back into the cave and returned a minute later with one of the men over his shoulder. Despite any abilities he may have had as a master criminal, he still laboured under t
he weight of the dead man. He pushed the man into the vehicle. Then he returned to the cave and retrieved the other victim and shoved him into the truck.
A moment later M threw a liquid around the vehicle and set fire to it. The steamtruck burst into flames, lighting up the area around it. The light from the fire danced across M’s lithe form.
Jack felt sick. The men in M’s employ had probably not been angels, but they had not deserved to be burnt up like old rubbish. Possibly they had families – wives, children, parents. What would their families wonder when the men did not return home?
After a moment, with the truck fully ablaze, M returned to the interior of the cavern. Jack remained in his hiding place, waiting for the master criminal to emerge, but finally he heard a sound ring out from the interior. An engine. And a large engine at that.
Jack was torn between remaining where he was and moving closer to investigate. What on earth would M be doing with an –.
The answer came to him in a flash.
Of course. The cave was not a cave at all, but the entrance to a tunnel. Some sort of vehicle lay within. Probably a steam train. M intended to transport the bomb to London.
Jack had to hurry. He broke cover, throwing caution to the wind and raced across the open field. At any instant he expected M to suddenly leap out from the cave.
“I knew you were there! I was only fooling!”
But he did not appear. Jack made it safely to the cave entrance. Fortunately steam and smoke began to pour from the interior, providing some cover for him as he entered. A faint glow emanated from inside. The first thing Jack saw in the gloom was a train. The light came from the engineer’s cabin, illuminating the coal caboose and an open flat car with an object tied to the middle.
The bomb.
Jack had no idea how the train had ended up in this location, but for some reason a private train line had been constructed underground and ran away straight into the hill. It must have taken time and money and obviously M had both.
How long had M been planning this? It must have taken years, Jack realised. And now he, sixteen year old Jack Mason, was here to witness the final act. And he was the only person who could stop M.
Suddenly the orphanage didn’t look so bad.
The steam in the boiler must have reached capacity because at that moment the train started into motion. Jack grabbed hold of the rear of the flat car and climbed on. He pressed himself against the timber floor.
The train began with a gentle swaying motion as it picked up speed. After a few minutes its momentum increased so much it screamed along the tunnel at quite a pace, a steady stream of smoke pouring back at Jack like a horizontal waterfall.
Jack felt the urge to cough quite strongly, but swallowed the sensation. He was taking no chances.
The train chuffed on into the night. Time had no meaning. Jack felt like he had been swallowed up by the earth. He had no idea how far underground the tunnel lay. Up above there were probably houses and families asleep in their beds. Little did they suspect that the devil himself was beneath them, dragging an atomic pitchfork behind him.
The volume of the engine changed. Jack felt the carriage shudder as M applied the brake to the engine. As it slowed down, Jack wondered how he could avoid being seen by the criminal. A dim light shone up ahead. A platform, not unlike one at any underground station, lay ahead on the left hand side. Jack curled his damaged elbow up close to him and released himself from the back of the train.
Despite his caution, he hit the ground hard, rolled, banged his elbow, but managed to not cry out. Lying motionless, he saw the train receding into the distance, slowly down all the way before it finally came to a halt. It remained motionless for a moment. M yelled out instructions and a man leapt off the platform and hit a switching mechanism. The next couple of minutes were spent in realigning the train. The man helped to unload the bomb from the flat car. After that, Jack could see no more.
He wondered if the man would be so willing if they had seen the deaths of their comrades at the other end of the tunnel.
M called out more orders in his raspy voice and soon Jack heard footsteps receding into the distance. The tunnel fell to silence. Jack carefully started down the black passageway. He reached the platform and carefully raised his head over the top. A ramp led up to the platform from the tracks. Obviously this was how they had moved the bomb. A long wide tunnel led away from the chamber.
Jack cautiously made his way along the passageway. It reached a T intersection. To his left he saw only darkness. The opposite direction was fitted with gas lighting. He turned right.
He was half way along the passage when he heard the shot. The sound seemed to ring throughout the underground tunnels forever. Jack thought of the man he had seen at a distance, now, undoubtedly, dead. Swallowing hard, Jack continued along the corridor. A large circular chamber opened up at the end.
Two trucks sat before a half semi-circular tunnel. Jack felt a slight breeze waft at his hair. Obviously an exit lay at the other end. The breeze carried an unpleasant scent. Sewerage. Possibly this tunnel connected with the London sewer system.
Jack shifted his attention to the exposed interiors of the vehicles. A single crate lay in the rear of one of them. Four crates lay in the other.
With some amazement, he crossed the chamber and peered into the back of the first truck. The bomb lay in a box in the rear. The weapon had been opened as if someone were operating on it. In the back of the second truck he saw four almost identical weapons, smaller in size, but still identifiable as bombs.
Five bombs.
What was going on here?
Jack heard distant footsteps. He hurried away from the truck and took refuge behind a supporting column. In the next instant he saw a figure hurry from a side passage.
Lucy!
“Lucy!” he hissed, breaking cover.
An expression of complete astonishment crossed her face.
“Jack!” She raced over to him and drew him close. “Thank God you’re here.”
“Did you escape?” Jack asked. “How did you get away from M?”
“I was tied up,” she explained. “I found a piece of sharp metal and cut through the rope.” She gripped his shoulder. “How did you find me? Is Mr Doyle here?”
“No,” he said, looking past her. “I lost him on the way. We need to make our own escape.”
“You mean no–one’s coming for us?” she frowned.
“They don’t know I’m here,” he said.
“Well, thank God you are,” she said. “I think the exit is through that tunnel.” She pointed in the direction of the breeze.
“I think so, too,” Jack said.
“We need to move fast,” she said. “You lead the way.”
Jack started towards the tunnel, but he had only taken a few steps when a thin arm wrapped itself around his throat, choking off his breath. He reached back to fight his assailant, but he found himself in a vice–like grip. Within seconds his vision swam with darkness.
He heard Lucy’s voice as if from a distance.
“Don’t struggle,” she said. “It’s easier that way.”
Chapter Thirty-One
The unpleasant stench of sewerage awoke Jack. He drifted into consciousness slowly. The sound of running water seemed to come from all directions. He opened his eyes and saw a chamber dimly lit by two lanterns. A series of round tunnels connected to it, water flowing from them into a deep pool about six feet beneath him. The pool appeared to be some sort of overflow well that led to an exit shaft to his left.
My throat hurts, Jack realised. What happened?
His hands clanked behind him when he tried to move them. He was handcuffed to a chair. None of this made any sense.
A face hovered before him.
“Hello Jack,” Lucy said. “I thought you’d never wake up.”
“What’s going on?” Jack’s memory came racing back to him. “Why are you doing this?”
Lucy clasped her hands behind her
back and slowly paced back and forth before him. Finally she stopped, tilted her head and stared deeply into Jack’s eyes. Peering back, Jack could see no trace of Jon Harker’s loving daughter. Instead, he saw something disturbing in her eyes.
Madness.
“Why am I doing this?” Lucy repeated. “Because I can, Jack. Allow me to share some of the facts of life with you. The world is full of small people. They go about their small lives and eventually die their small deaths. Mr Darwin has spoken about survival of the fittest. Only the strong survive. The weak perish. It stands to reason that it is better to be strong than weak.”
“But your father –.”
“He was weak.” Lucy said the words simply. She gave a wan smile as if momentarily saddened. “He and the Phoenix Society, a bunch of weak silly men working in secrecy, dictated by the doctrine of men dead for centuries.” Her face exploded into amazement. “But to what end? To hide the inventions away to never be used? The Phoenix Society had absolute power in their grasp and then refused to use it.”
Jack remembered what Mr Doyle had said about absolute power.
“Lucy. Don’t tell me -.”
“He had to die.”
This whole episode seemed completely unreal to Jack. He felt almost as if he were dreaming the entire experience.
“Lucy,” Jack felt sick in the stomach. “Did you murder him?”
“He was sick and foolish. Old.”
“But he was your father,” Jack said in horror.
“And all men must die,” she said. “Eventually.”
Lucy stared up at the ceiling for a long time as if gathering her thoughts. Finally she turned again to Jack. “It takes vision to command the world, Jack. Vision and the ruthless application of power. My father did not have that.” She added. “I do.”
Jack Mason felt like he was in a hallucination. He shifted his hands and the cuffs clanked noisily.
Those are no hallucination, he thought.