by Rod Duncan
Retreating, I sat on the lowest stair. My hair and sleeves dripped. If inches of water stood in the yard, it would surely be deeper on the road, which lay below it. I shivered, partly from the cold and partly from the thought of the filth that must be rising from the sewers.
Water was inching over the flagstones. I backed up another couple of steps and watched as it crept towards me. In half an hour the entire floor would be covered. Yet such was Jeremiah’s distress, I didn’t want to go back up to him. Therefore, I climbed to the turn of the stairs, where there was more room, and curled up as best I could.
Since I could not sleep, I thought about the story Jeremiah had told me. It was the undoubted truth. Money would never be sufficient motive for such an artist to give up on his craft. But the guild had betrayed him. That he would turn against them was no surprise. He had taken his oaths believing the guild to be a thing of high ideals. When he discovered the truth, how sour those oaths would have tasted.
There was corruption in the guild and corruption also in the Patent Office. The two institutions had become deeply intertwined.
The Patent Office had rewritten history. In doing so, they’d created secrets that would become more toxic the longer they were held. I remembered the fear in Professor Ferdinand’s eyes as he told me what he’d discovered. A little revolution isn’t always a bad thing, he’d said. But if these secrets escaped, it could trigger a revolution that might sweep away the order of the world.
The biggest secrets require the best locks and the most skilled of locksmiths. But what happens when one of those locksmiths believes himself betrayed?
Fabulo’s offer must have seemed like the perfect opportunity to Jeremiah. The only way the court building could be broken into would be with the guild’s secret knowledge. The Patent Office would know that. Whatever special privileges the locksmiths had enjoyed might well be pulled away.
A satisfying revenge.
One niggling doubt remained. I didn’t understand why Jeremiah had held back his true story from Fabulo. With that question on my mind, I slipped into a fitful sleep.
I awoke in near darkness, aware that something had changed outside. Thunder still rumbled, but it was distant. The shutters no longer rattled. The steady rhythm of dripping water inside the house sounded louder than before. Realising that I was sitting in water, panic touched me. But looking down, I could make out the flood level in the workshop, not much deeper than it had been. The puddle at the top of the stairs must have over-spilled and cascaded down to where I slept.
It was as I stood, dripping, that the answer to the question came to me. I found myself climbing the stairs.
The shutters had been opened. Moonlight caught the side of Jeremiah’s face as he stared out. He did not turn as I stepped across to join him. Stars shone in half the sky.
“I couldn’t get through the flood,” I said.
“I know.”
He pointed towards the south where a column of smoke was rising. “Lightning strike.”
“Will the fire spread?”
“I doubt it.”
“Your workshop’s flooded. And your roof leaks.”
“I do know that.”
“When will the water go down?” I asked.
“It’s going down already. Might be a couple of hours before you can get through.”
For a minute we stood in silence. Perhaps he was thinking of his lost wife. It would surely have been her who arranged for such details as the fixing of roofs.
I had a question to ask. It had come to me out of nothing. Perhaps I’d dreamed it. But I could see no way of phrasing it that wouldn’t cause him pain.
“I think your story about the examination was true,” I said.
He did glance at me then, annoyed. “Well, thank you!”
“But you were still deceiving.”
“I was not!”
“I think you’ve been deceiving yourself.”
“I think you’d better go!”
“I will. But first tell me why you hid your real motive from Fabulo. You say you wanted revenge on the guild? Revenge should be made of stronger stuff.”
He flinched. “I just didn’t want him to know.”
“You told me you were angry the High Master cheated, that he helped his nephew win.”
“Yes!”
“I think it’s the other way around. Somewhere deep in your mind you’re afraid he didn’t cheat. Because if the test was fair, it’d mean you just weren’t good enough to pass it.”
Jeremiah shook his head, but didn’t speak. The annoyance on his face had turned to pain.
I pressed on, though it felt cruel. “The thought that you’d failed in a fair test was so terrible, you couldn’t admit it. And you couldn’t talk to Fabulo about the examination, because it was too close to the real truth.”
“You’re wrong,” he said, but with no conviction.
“It was easy for you to agree to the plan when it seemed impossible. But with each barrier that’s been removed, it’s become more real to you. And that fear, which you can’t admit to – it’s grown stronger. It wasn’t the men-at-arms that frightened you off. It was the bit of you that thinks you’re not good enough to crack the locks we’ll find once we get inside.”
“Why… why are you saying this?”
“To remind you of the reason that made you agree in the first place. If you could break into the International Patent Court, if you cracked the locks that your rank in the guild hasn’t let you see – it’d prove you were good enough to pass the exam. And that would prove they cheated.”
“You’re taunting me.”
“No. I’m trying to save you. I’ve been running from a monster since as long as I can remember. I kept running because there was always somewhere I might escape to. But the faster I went, the closer he followed. Then – it was a few days ago – I needed to run and there were no more roads. So I turned to face him. That was when I started to understand. I’d been carrying him around in my head all those years. The fear of him. That’s why I could never escape. But when I looked him square in the face, he wasn’t inside me anymore.
“He’s still a monster. And he’s still chasing. More than ever. I’d be a fool if I wasn’t afraid. But I feel lighter because I’m not carrying him with me.
“You have it the same, but worse. Because your fear’s different. There’s always going to be another road for you to run down. That means you’ll carry it with you to your grave. Unless you turn around and stare it in the face.”
It seemed he had aged ten years as I’d been speaking. “So-be-it,” he said. “Now please go. I want to be alone.”
The walk back to St John’s was long. Mud and slime coated the cobblestones, making every step a challenge. Several times I had to detour to avoid roads still flooded. The sun rose into a sky washed clear. The oppressive heat had mercifully gone with the storm, but there was warmth enough for my clothes to dry on me. Mud began to cake on my shoes and ankles. My feet seemed twice their size and more than twice their weight.
Wanting to delay my meeting with the others, I found a cafe in which to spend my coins. The ground floor was thick with filth, but the upper storey was open. I sat for an hour, nursing a pot of Ceylon tea. The scones were stale and there was no cream to go with them, because of the flood, the manager said. But I hadn’t eaten since the previous morning so they tasted delicious, particularly when heaped with strawberry preserve.
The direct route being closed to me, I crossed the river at London Bridge and then cut east along Lower Thames Street until I was back on familiar ground. With heavy feet, I climbed the steps of our tenement. The bedroom was empty, so I continued up to the attic where I knocked on a roof beam, two times light and three times heavy. The answering knock came back. Light shone from the hole in the end wall. Ellie and Lara came scrambling out and took turns to throw their arms around me.
“You’re safe!”
“We worried for you, Lizzy!”
“When th
e rain came… we were all aflood.”
“Them holes we’d made in the roof!”
“We put the slates back, but still it came!”
“And we thought you’d be drowned for sure!”
“I need to talk to Fabulo,” I said, extricating myself from their embrace.
“He’s inside,” said Lara. “Talking to the locksmith.”
“You’ve found a new locksmith?” I asked.
“Whyever would we do that?”
At which point I turned and saw Jeremiah crawling out through the hole in the wall.
“You took your time,” he said.
CHAPTER 19
October 8th
If the catcher of the bullet chooses the moment, it is called conjuring. If the shooter chooses the moment, it is called murder. Never let them rush you ahead of your plan.
The Bullet-Catcher’s Handbook
Fabulo called the meeting to order by rapping his knuckle on the upturned tea chest. There was no need for him to do it. We had been seated in a loose circle on the floor, watching as he paced the attic room, waiting for him to start. But something felt right about the formality of it nonetheless. For the first time, it seemed to me, we were all of us together. All focused on the same goal.
“This is it, comrades,” he said. “Some of you have been with me on this for longer than others. But here we are. The number’s complete. And it’s been decided between Jeremiah and me that we’re all going to be equal partners. Whatever comes of this enterprise, we each get the same share. That’s because the danger’s the same for all. And what we’ve put up front in risk – that’s been equal too.
“We’re going where none but those Patent Office bastards have gone. We’re going to see what not even the Grand Master of your guild has seen, Jeremiah. Isn’t that right?”
“That’s right,” said the locksmith, his face grave.
Fabulo looked around the circle, meeting everyone’s eyes, mine last because I was sitting next to where he stood. “There’s going to be machines in there. We don’t know what it is they’ll do. But there’s going to be marvels. That much I can promise. And there’s going to be documents and books – things the Patent Office don’t want no one to see. We’ll be the first to see them.
“From all these treasures we get to choose which bits to take. It’ll only be what we can carry, but that should be enough. Then we ride away and we don’t look back. Not ever. They’re going to know they’ve been robbed. And they’re going to know what’s been taken. But not who did it.
“What will happen after that? I can’t tell you. Depends on what we’ve found. We know there’s a machine there can punch a hole through metal like a bullet through wax. Lizzy – you tell them.”
“It’s true,” I said. “I’ve seen it.”
“She’s more than seen it,” said Fabulo. “She’s used it.”
“Does it make a fire?” asked Lara.
“No fire,” I said. “It mixes chemicals and water to make a beam of light. There are tubes and mirrors. I don’t understand it, but I know how to make it work.”
“It’s a marvel,” said Fabulo. “And there’s going to be other marvels besides. Maybe there’s a machine that makes you invisible. Or one to make you fly without an airship. Or breathe underwater. Or one to let you whisper across a thousand miles. We can’t know till we get there. But, whatever it is, we can use it to make our fortunes.”
Lara put up a hand. “How can we use it if the Patent Office won’t let it be used?”
“They can never know,” said Fabulo. “Whatever we do with what we take, it’s got to be a secret thing. It’s got to be out of sight from the law. What we do now makes us criminals forever. But we were always that.”
Jeremiah sat up straighter. “I wasn’t,” he said.
I tensed, fearing another argument would break out between them. But then the locksmith sighed and his doughy frame subsided once more. “I’m content with it, little man. Don’t worry. As soon as I told you the secrets of the guild, I put myself on the other side. It’s done already. It’s what I want.”
Fabulo nodded as if he’d never had a doubt about Jeremiah’s dedication to the cause, though I knew him well enough now to recognise relief from the sloping of his shoulders.
“Good,” he said, then turned towards Lara and Ellie. “You’ve been keeping watch on the men-at-arms?”
“Yes,” said Ellie.
“Since the storm they’ve started searching again,” said Lara. “They’ve got as far as Mary Anne Street.”
Not recognising the name, I looked around the circle, searching for a reaction. Tinker, Yan and Jeremiah seemed as confused as I. But Fabulo had tensed.
“Good work,” he said, with a forced smile.
“How close is that?” I asked.
“Three streets across,” said Ellie, gesturing with her thumb towards the back of the tenement.
All of us who hadn’t known inhaled in the same moment.
“Only three streets?” said Yan. “But…”
“They’ve got quicker,” said Lara. “And there are more of them. There are two carriages where there was one before.”
“How soon before they reach us?” I asked.
“Depends which streets they do first,” she said.
“What’s the shortest time – if they move directly here?”
“Maybe five days.”
“Five?” blurted Yan, alarm in his voice.
“They’ll never reach us!” barked Fabulo. “In five days we’ll be gone from London forever.”
It took a second for the meaning of his words to unfold in my mind. “When are you planning to break into the Patent Court?”
“Just as soon as everything’s ready,” he said. “That’ll be in four days’ time.”
“As most of you know, we’re going to break in at the back of the court, which is the north side of the building. It’s like the wall of a castle back there. No windows near the ground. Buttresses to keep it strong. Enough grey stone to block out half the sky. There’s just one door, which is towards the east side of the plaza. It leads down to the cellars, which is where we’re going.
“But first we have to get past the railings. These the Kingdom built just to irritate our lords and masters in the Patent Office. There’s but one way through, which is via a gate. You saw the key holder there, making a nuisance of himself, keeping the Turkish soldiers waiting. The Kingdom built it to be about as inconvenient as possible, putting it over towards the west side of the plaza, giving the soldiers a good long march. I’ve timed it at one minute. Regular as a clock.”
He fished in his waistcoat pocket and extracted the key that Jeremiah had crafted. Everyone stared at that small object as Fabulo placed it on the tea chest. I nodded to the locksmith, who managed to return a smile, despite the tension in the room.
“This will open the gate,” said Fabulo.
“It’s simple enough when you have the knowing,” said Jeremiah.
“But we’ll be seen,” said Yan. “Even at night.”
“True,” said Fabulo. “There’s lights around the Inns of Court. They’re far enough from the gate to be feeble. But the soldiers guarding the door would see us – if they were looking in the right direction. That’s where Ellie comes in.”
She beamed at the mention of her name. Lara reached over and squeezed her hand.
“Ellie has a way with the horses, so she’s the one in charge of the carriage to take us there and get us away at the end. At twenty minutes to eleven, she drives it up the road and stops in just such a place as will cast its shadow on the gate. The soldiers guarding the door will see it in silhouette, but they won’t be able to see us opening the gate and getting inside. The carriage can’t stay more than a few seconds, or they’ll send one of their number to check. Once we’re through and the gate’s closed, Ellie drives on and away.”
“But we haven’t got a carriage,” said Tinker.
“We will have in four days’ t
ime,” said Fabulo. “It’s being made for us. With hidden compartments for the most precious of the marvels, in case we get searched.”
“Won’t the soldiers see us as soon as Ellie drives off?” I asked.
“Not if we keep low. The railings sit on three foot of wall. We can make it most of the way in shadow.”
“Easy for a dwarf,” growled Yan.
“It’s sixty yards from the railings to the wall of the Patent Court. You can crawl that far. We’ll have time enough to do it. You can crawl on your belly like a worm if you like. And you won’t be seen once you’re in the shadow of the buttresses, even if it’s an owl doing the looking.
“That’s the way it’s going to work. We sneak into one of them corners and wait. When the Patent Court clock starts to strike eleven, we’ll see the soldiers marching away towards the gate. As soon as they’ve passed us, we can walk along next to the Patent Court wall. We’ll see them if they walk between us and the gas lamps. But even if they look back, all they’ll see will be grey walls and shadows.
“From the moment the key holder lets them through, we’ll have nine minutes and twenty-one seconds. Plus another sixty seconds for the new guards to march from gate to door. Jeremiah – will that be enough for you to pick the lock and let us into the building?”
“That door’s easy. It’s a simple warded lock. I could teach any of you to pick it.”
“Why a simple lock?” I asked, suspicious of anything so easy.
“Because the door’s always guarded.”
“They’re complacent,” said Fabulo. “It’s their weakness. No one’s ever tried to break in.”
“How do you know?”
“We’d have heard about it.”
That seemed unlikely to me, but I could see my questioning was disturbing the others so I let it lie.
“Once inside, we’ll see a corridor ahead, sloping down. After thirty paces there’ll be doors to right and left. Jeremiah has seen this with his own eyes. He can open them. But further in, there’s a door blocking the way that he can’t.”