The Monster Within

by Darrell Pitt

  ‘We are,’ Jack agreed. ‘For now.’

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ‘What will we do?’ Scarlet asked. ‘We don’t seem to have any leads and we don’t have anywhere to go.’

  They were sitting in a small café in Soho with the late edition of The Times before them. The front page carried a photo of Mr Doyle being led away in handcuffs, the headline reading:

  Famous Detective Arrested in Valkyrie Raid

  Jack read the article for the third time. ‘This is ridiculous,’ he said. ‘Mr Doyle has solved more crimes than all of Scotland Yard put together—and now he’s being treated like a criminal.’

  ‘It’s that Inspector Wolf,’ Scarlet said. ‘He’s completely ignored all of Mr Doyle’s achievements. Anyone else would know that those bomb parts were planted to make us look guilty.’ She frowned. ‘But this doesn’t help our current situation.’

  ‘We should return to Bee Street.’

  ‘That’s exactly what Wolf and his men would be expecting,’ Scarlet said. ‘They’re probably watching the apartment.’

  ‘Then what should we do?’ Jack asked. Without Mr Doyle and Gloria, they were homeless and without resources. He was an orphan. He could hardly return to Sunnyside and beg for assistance, and Scarlet’s father was in China. Even if they could contact him, his help would take weeks to arrive.

  Scarlet’s brow creased in concentration. ‘I do have an idea,’ she said. ‘But you may think I’m crazy.’

  ‘I already think you’re crazy. What’s the idea?’

  She told him.

  Jack nodded. ‘You’re crazy.’

  An hour later they were walking down a street in Hampstead, a suburb a few miles north of London. It was a quiet area with neat modern homes: only a few people were out on the streets. Jack pointed to the letters VC scrawled onto a building.

  ‘There must be supporters in this area,’ he said.

  ‘Many suffragettes supported the Valkyrie Circle when they first began,’ Scarlet said. ‘Even me.’

  ‘What?’ Jack said, astonished.

  She groaned. ‘They were harmless in the beginning, sending messages to the newspapers and painting graffiti everywhere,’ she said. ‘It was Lady Death who changed all that.’

  ‘It’s hard to believe someone would be so evil as to plant a bomb that kills innocent people.’

  ‘Not everyone thinks like you and me.’

  They had reached a small terrace halfway down the block.

  ‘Are you sure this is a good idea,’ Jack asked. ‘I mean, of all people to choose…’

  ‘Do you have a better idea?’

  They knocked at the front door. After a moment, it swung open, revealing a severe-looking woman, thickset and strong. She bore an unfortunate resemblance to a frog.

  ‘Miss Bloxley,’ Jack began. ‘We—’

  ‘I always knew this would happen,’ their tutor boomed. ‘I told Doyle that encouraging children to investigate crime rather than focus on their studies would only lead to rack and ruin.’ She shook her fist. ‘Rack and ruin!’

  ‘We had nowhere else to go,’ Scarlet said.

  ‘I’m sure,’ Miss Bloxley said, her eyes flickering up and down the street. ‘Were you followed?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Come in.’

  They entered a hallway lined with bookcases.

  ‘You sure like reading, Miss Bloxley,’ Jack said.

  ‘Knowledge is the road to freedom,’ she said. ‘Do you know where that quote comes from?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘If you focused on your studies, you’d know! Surely you realise there is more to life than punching people in the face!’

  ‘Uh, yes, ma’am. I mean, no…’

  Miss Bloxley peered at Scarlet. ‘My dear, what on earth has happened to your hair?’

  After Scarlet had explained, the tutor rubbed her chin.

  ‘Hmm,’ she said. ‘Then we’ll use this to our advantage.’

  ‘Does this mean you’ll help us?’ Scarlet asked.

  ‘Of course. Ignatius Doyle may be foolish sometimes, but he’s a lovable fool.’

  ‘The papers are calling him a terrorist,’ Jack said.

  ‘The papers are idiots!’ Miss Bloxley declared. ‘Now, you must sit down and eat while we plot our course.’

  She led them to the kitchen at the back of the house. It was small, made smaller because it also held bookcases filled with cookbooks.

  Miss Bloxley rustled up cucumber sandwiches and cups of cocoa. ‘These hot chocolates are not the same as Doyle’s,’ she said. ‘His are so thick you can stand up a spoon in one.’

  Jack bit into a sandwich. It was delicious. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I’m hungrier than I thought.’

  ‘Who was it who said an army marches on its stomach?’ Miss Bloxley asked.

  ‘Uh, you just said it.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘Napoleon Bonaparte!’ she boomed. ‘Are you comparing me to the little corporal?’

  ‘No, Miss Bloxley!’

  ‘A shame. Apart from being a megalomaniac, he was one of history’s most successful leaders. Now, you must tell what you intend to do now that your mentor is incarcerated.’

  ‘We’re not really sure,’ Scarlet said. ‘We’ve reached a bit of a dead end.’

  ‘Except you have forgotten one piece of information about this Joe Tockly fellow. You said he owned a house in Margate. ’

  ‘The police went there, but didn’t find anything.’

  ‘It’s worth visiting in lieu of any other course of action.’ Miss Bloxley glanced over them both. ‘Disguises will be in order.’

  ‘You don’t mean…’ Scarlet said.

  ‘I’m afraid so. I have some experience in hair cutting, so we should be able to do something interesting with what remains.’

  Jack was banished to the library while Miss Bloxley went to work on Scarlet’s hair. In here the books were arranged in a Dewey system. Whatever else could be said of Miss Bloxley, she was organised. There was a painting over the mantelpiece of an elderly couple and another of a young man. Jack wondered if he was Miss Bloxley’s son.

  It was strange seeing this side of their tutor. She seemed almost…human.

  The door opened.

  ‘Bazookas,’ Jack said.

  Scarlet’s hair had undergone a transformation: it was now short at the sides, the remainder piled on top.

  ‘It’s the best I could do under the circumstances,’ Miss Bloxley said. ‘But not too bad. Not bad at all.’

  ‘It’s…lovely,’ Jack said.

  ‘I would love to do something about your green coat, but we don’t have time.’

  ‘Do something?’

  ‘Clean it! My boy, it looks like you’ve become a resident of the streets. And we must do something about your appearance too.’

  ‘I have my disguise kit.’

 
Within seconds, Jack had applied a rubber nose and was wearing a cap that hid most of his hair. He looked like a new person…almost.

  ‘Not a bad job,’ Miss Bloxley said. ‘If you just put the same effort into your Latin, you’d become a master. A master!’

  ‘Margate is a large place,’ Scarlet said, as they left the house a few minutes later. ‘How will we find Tockly’s home?’

  ‘Fortunately, I have a friend who has lived there all her life.’ Miss Bloxley was a surprisingly fast walker. ‘Dottie knows anyone who’s anyone.’

  They passed a newsagency. One headline in the stands described the arrest of Mr Doyle. Another was about a new crisis: a march in support of the suffragettes was planned for the following Sunday, in contravention of government orders.

  ‘People should be able to protest,’ Scarlet said. ‘It’s a basic human right.’

  ‘The government is terrified,’ Miss Bloxley said. ‘I can understand their fear, but curbing our freedoms only hands power to the Valkyrie Circle.’

  Having boarded a train, the trio were in Margate within hours. Following a street to the coast, they caught sight of the airfield, the domestic and international hub for airships travelling through this part of the country.

  Miss Bloxley scooted into a newsagency and scanned the afternoon edition before leading them towards the awning of a bookshop.

  ‘Do not attract attention,’ she said. ‘You’re currently on Scotland Yard’s Most Wanted list.’ Jack laughed, but Miss Bloxley glared at him.

  ‘This is no occasion for humour. I’ve just seen your pictures in all the newspapers!’

  ‘I thought it was just Mr Doyle!’

  ‘That man Wolf has listed you as extremely dangerous. Wanted dead or alive.’

  She hurried down the street and knocked at a door. An elderly lady invited her inside.

  ‘Wanted dead or alive,’ Scarlet echoed. ‘I don’t know if I should be afraid or proud.’

  ‘I’ll go with terrified.’

  ‘Brinkie has been a fugitive on a number of occasions. She was once unjustly accused of killing the Prince of Sweden, except it turned out the murder was actually committed by a chair.’

  ‘A…sorry, did you say “chair”?’

  ‘Yes, a chair. Oh, it was the chair Brinkie was sitting on,’ Scarlet explained. ‘It had a timer that fired a poisoned dart at the prince. Obviously the chair didn’t plot his death. That’s ridiculous.’

  ‘I know. One minute chairs would be killing people. Then tables and sideboards. Before you know it, the human race would be engaged in a life and death struggle against the furniture of the world.’ He sighed. ‘The zombie apocalypse makes far more sense.’

  ‘A zombie apocalypse makes no sense at all,’ Scarlet told him.

  Miss Bloxley rejoined them. ‘I’ve had some success with Dottie. She was my teacher when I was a child.’

  ‘You were once a child?’ Jack said.

  ‘No, Jack,’ Miss Bloxley said, glaring at him. ‘I was created in a vat of chemicals and instilled with life through the application of an electrical current. Of course I was once a child!’

  ‘And a very lovely one, too, I’m sure,’ Scarlet said, elbowing Jack.

  ‘I’ve been given an address which is a few streets away. I suggest we visit.’

  They followed their tutor along the street. Jack felt guilty. ‘I didn’t mean you had never been a child,’ he said. ‘I saw the painting of the young man over your mantelpiece. Was that your son?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Basil is working on the London Metrotower as a space engineer.’

  ‘That sounds very impressive,’ Scarlet said.

  ‘He’s been assigned to the moon project.’

  ‘Bazookas,’ Jack said. A space station had been built with the intention of landing a ship on the moon. ‘You must be very proud of him.’

  ‘I am,’ she said, swallowing hard. ‘I miss him very much.’

  A few minutes later they reached a rundown street. A few houses, Jack observed, looked about ready to be knocked down.

  Miss Bloxley stopped out the front of one, glancing in both directions. ‘Normally I would not suggest entering via the front door,’ she said, ‘but no-one seems to be around.’

  An empty steamtruck was parked further down the road.

  ‘Doyle tells me you’re adept in opening locks, Scarlet,’ Miss Bloxley said.

  Scarlet began working on the front door with her pick and had it open in seconds.

  ‘Well done,’ their tutor said. ‘I could have strong-armed it open, but that may have been too obvious.’

  Upon entering, they could immediately see that Tockly had moved out. The house was completely empty of furniture. The ground floor had a bare kitchen and living room. It had no backyard or rear exit. A small flight of stairs led to three compact bedrooms.

  Jack was disappointed. They had come a long way to inspect an empty house. Still, Mr Doyle had trained them to not take anything for granted, so they began a room-by-room examination.

  After a few minutes, Scarlet called them into one of the bedrooms where a built-in bookcase filled one wall.

  ‘There’s something strange about this room,’ she said. ‘This wall is a little short.’

  They gripped the bookcase, but it wouldn’t budge. Miss Bloxley felt along the top. ‘This feels smooth,’ she said, ‘but there is a raised section…’

  Something clicked, and the shelf swung open like a door, revealing a second chamber containing a desk and racks of chemicals.

  ‘This would appear to be the workshop of your bomber,’ Miss Bloxley said. ‘An evil character. Quite evil indeed.’

  There were bunches of wires, pieces of clocks and a collection of boxes. A metal lathe looked like it was used to make custom parts.

  ‘Do not touch anything,’ she warned. ‘These items look most dangerous.’

  A small bin lay under the bench and from it Miss Bloxley began removing scraps of paper. ‘It seems Mr Tockly enjoys fish and chips,’ she said. ‘But this is rather more interesting.’

  ‘What is it?’ Scarlet asked.

  ‘A list of dates and addresses.’

  Scarlet read over her shoulder. ‘I know what this is,’ she said, after a moment. ‘These are the dates of the first bombs.’

  ‘So that links Tockly with the attacks?’ Jack said.

  ‘It does.’

  ‘Is there anything on the other side?’ Miss Bloxley asked.

  ‘No.’ Scarlet glanced at the chair. ‘But Mr Tockly has a lovely taste in fabric.’ Draped over the back was a piece of chequered tartan. ‘This is very nice.’

  ‘And a clue!’ Miss Bloxley boomed. ‘Possibly I should give up teaching and become a detective. A detective!’

  ‘Uh, it’s a clue that he likes tartan?’ Jack said.

  She picked up the cloth. ‘Tartans are as distinctive as fingerprints,’ she said. ‘More and more Scottish clans and castles are designing their own to promote their identity.’

  ‘So this tartan
would only come from one area?’

  ‘This is a fine tartan,’ Miss Bloxley said. ‘And quite modern. Mr Tockly must have some connection with this castle.’

  ‘It may even be the headquarters of the Valkyrie Circle.’

  ‘Then we need to go to Scotland?’ Scarlet said.

  ‘That would be my suggestion,’ Miss Bloxley said. ‘We can track down the castle from there.’

  After they’d trooped downstairs, Jack found the front door shut. ‘I don’t remember closing it,’ he murmured.

  ‘You didn’t,’ a man said, stepping into the hallway from the living room. Four others joined him from the kitchen, each with an ugly smile. ‘Just hand over that fabric,’ he said, ‘and you won’t get hurt.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  With a sense of doom, Jack remembered the house had no back exit. He shot Scarlet a look. We’ll have to fight our way out.

  But what about Miss Bloxley? She had endangered her own life to help them and now she was sure to be hurt.

  ‘You’re in our way,’ Miss Bloxley said. ‘If you’re smart, you’ll move.’

  The man laughed. ‘We’ll move,’ he said. ‘Upstairs, where you can answer some questions.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  Jack swallowed. How could Miss Bloxley appear so calm? She didn’t look afraid at all, and his heart was about to explode with terror!

  The gang leader produced a knife and started forward. ‘Look, you old bat,’ he said, ‘you play nice with us—’

  ‘Snake strikes!’ Miss Bloxley cried, raising both arms high. ‘Mongoose falls!’

  She took a step forward, knocked the knife aside, grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted until something snapped. He screamed. She forced his arm back, slamming the knife into the shoulder of the man behind her. Another man made a grab for her, but she poked him in both eyes.