by Darrell Pitt
‘Wait here,’ Fleming instructed. ‘I’ll see what’s going on.’
After Fleming left, Jack said, ‘That’ll be the police. They’re probably surrounding the whole property.’
‘Shut up.’
‘You might only have seconds. The sooner you get—’
‘Another word out of you and you’ll be sorry!’
‘I don’t think so.’ The voice belonged to Scarlet. She stood in the doorway with a revolver in her hand. ‘Drop it! Now!’
The rifle clattered to the floor.
‘Now lie face down on the floor. Do it!’
Tony did as told. Scarlet snatched up the key and undid Jack’s handcuffs. She scooped up the rifle. ‘Don’t get off the floor!’ she warned Tony. ‘Or else!’
She dragged open the kitchen door and pulled Jack towards the nearby woods. ‘Come on,’ she urged, dropping the rifle in long grass. ‘We haven’t much time!’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I broke the front window. Then I rounded the house and came in through the side. Fleming was already out the front, so I locked him out.’
‘Bazookas! But what about the gun?’
‘I found it in one of their drawers,’ she said. ‘It’s not loaded!’
They sprinted through the forest. After following a small stream, they eventually came to a heavily wooded gully inhabited by a flock of black grouse. The birds took off as they approached.
Jack drew Scarlet to one side. ‘I can hear someone,’ he whispered.
They ducked under some growth overhanging the riverbank as the sound of footsteps drew nearer. It was Fleming and Tony, but they couldn’t make out their words.
‘What should we do?’ Scarlet whispered.
‘Stay here for the moment.’
They waited until the men moved away. It was quiet in the woods now, the only sound the gentle current.
‘Jack,’ Scarlet said. ‘I think they’re gone.’
‘I think so too.’ Jack touched the locket and compass in his pocket. ‘Let’s backtrack and find the road.’
They emerged from the undergrowth, following the stream back in the direction of the house. A line of partly submerged rocks formed a natural bridge, and they scrambled up the other bank towards the road. Then came the sound of an engine and they spotted a steamtruck moving among distant trees.
‘That’s the road,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’
The forest met the road about half a mile away. Jack began to breathe easier. Once they reached it—
Crack!
A bullet spattered into the tree next to them, the echo reverberating through the forest. Their pursuers were a hundred feet behind.
‘Run!’ Scarlet hissed.
More shots rang out. The trees flashed by: green splashes of oaks, willows white with lush leaves.
Jack could feel his heart thudding in his chest. An image flashed through his mind. A tiger named Rajar, back at the circus, had been raised and trained in captivity. Despite its fierce appearance, it was a pussycat for its owner.
But then it had changed completely. Over the space of a week, the tiger had turned from a gentle beast to a bad-tempered monster, eventually mauling its trainer, Eddie Taylor. The reasons had been a mystery, as had been so many things in that last year at the circus.
Another shot rang out, breaking Jack from his reverie. They were almost at the road now, but no closer to safety. In a moment they would be out in the open. He nudged Scarlet, pointing.
‘To that hill!’ he said.
Angling across the crest, they were momentarily out of their pursuers’ sight. Now they could reach the road in safety.
On the other side lay a field with grazing horses. After crossing it, they climbed over a fence. On a steep embankment, a sleek grey mare eyed them warily. She was a beautiful animal, well cared for and probably worth a fortune.
Jack approached her as calmly as possible. ‘There, girl,’ he said. ‘We just need a little help.’
Then Jack was on her. He may not have ridden for years, but he had ridden bareback a hundred times at the circus. He didn’t have reins, but he didn’t need them. Another shot rang out and Jack dragged Scarlet onto the horse behind him.
‘Come on, girl!’ he yelled, urging the horse on with a squeeze of his legs. ‘Go!’
The horse took them along the embankment beside the road and out of sight. A rise brought them to the fence where Jack geed the horse over. Rounding a bend, they followed the road for another mile until a car approached. The driver slewed the vehicle across their path.
‘That’s Lord McGahan’s prize steeplechaser!’ he yelled, bursting from the car. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
Jack and Scarlet dismounted, handing the horse over. The man’s eyes widened. ‘I know who you are,’ he said. ‘You’re those terrorists from the papers.’
‘No, not at all,’ Scarlet said. ‘We just look like them. People have been saying that all day.’
They hurried down a path, with the man waving his fist behind them.
‘I didn’t know you could ride,’ Scarlet said.
‘You never asked,’ Jack said. ‘Where to now?’
The sea came in sight as they came over a hill. ‘We’re only a few miles from the coast,’ Scarlet said. ‘I think that’s Musselburgh. The more distance we put between ourselves and Castle McDibben, the better.’
As they followed the road to the coast, Jack spotted a steamcar in the distance, heading towards them.
‘Maybe we can hail them down,’ Scarlet suggested. ‘They might give us a lift into town.’
The glare of sunlight flashed off the windscreen as the steamcar chugged towards them. Jack raised a hand in greeting. At the same time, he heard another vehicle approaching from behind.
As the steamcar ahead drew closer, Scarlet grabbed his arm.
‘Jack!’ she said. ‘The driver—’
‘Oh no,’ he moaned. Fleming and Tony were in the front seat.
He looked back again. The other steamcar was growing near. We’re caught between them, Jack thought.
There was no time to clamber over the wall. The open field was their only way out. Fleming’s steamcar skidded to a halt and he leapt out, gun raised. Jack pushed Scarlet to one side as he fired.
The bullet whizzed past. Scarlet slipped and fell. Jack tried dragging her up, but he knew they would never escape in time.
This is it, he thought. This is the end.
CHAPTER TWENTY
A hail of gunfire rang out as they threw themselves flat to the ground. Jack thought of his parents. He thought of Mr Doyle and Gloria and Miss Bloxley. How sad they would be to hear of their deaths. He hated the thought of Mr Doyle being so unhappy.
He doesn’t deserve that, Jack thought.
Scarlet squealed. ‘Jack! Look!’
He raised his head. Fleming and Tony were motionless on the ground. Dead. But who—
Then Jack saw them. ‘Mr
Doyle!’ he cried. ‘Gloria!’
Mr Doyle and Gloria ran towards them and they hugged. They had been in the second steamcar.
Mr Doyle had Clarabelle in his hand. ‘I dislike killing people,’ he said. ‘But sometimes it is unavoidable.’
Jack had never felt so relieved to see anyone in his life. ‘But how…’
‘I will explain,’ he said. ‘It’s similar to a case I investigated involving a packet of mushrooms, a rubber donkey and a—’
‘Ignatius,’ Gloria interrupted. ‘That can wait until later. Shouldn’t we contact the police?’
After giving Jack and Scarlet another hug, she climbed back into the vehicle and left, leaving Mr Doyle to search the bodies of the two men. When he returned to Jack and Scarlet after a minute, he said, ‘They’re not carrying any identification. No papers. Nothing. It’s as if they’re ghosts.’
‘But how did you get here?’ Scarlet asked.
‘I sent a message to Greystoke at Scotland Yard after we were arrested by that idiot Wolf. It took some time, but he was able to wrangle a meeting with us.’
Jack felt like the world had turned upside down. ‘A meeting? Wasn’t he just able to get you out of jail?’
‘It wasn’t that simple. Bomb-making parts were found in our home,’ Mr Doyle pointed out. ‘Obviously they were planted, but the police could not simply release us. I had to contact Grimsby to get us released.’
‘Grimsby?’ Scarlet said.
‘My lawyer. He is excellent, but it was several hours before we were released. By that time, Gloria’s and my pictures were already in every newspaper in England. And when I reached Scotland, I saw I had been upstaged—by yourselves!’
Jack suddenly remembered. ‘Miss Bloxley! Is she—’
‘Fine. She only suffered a flesh wound. Enquiries in Edinburgh directed us towards Castle McDibben. There we encountered a man leading a rather beautiful grey horse. He was in quite a state.’
‘We…uh…borrowed his mare.’
‘So I gather,’ Mr Doyle said.
‘Have you discovered anything else?’ Scarlet asked.
‘Only that the Valkyrie Circle is a widespread and powerful organisation. I’m still not sure what their connection is to Domina. Why would a terrorist suffragette organisation be associated with a gang of technology thieves?’
Gloria returned with the police. The man in charge was a sergeant by the name of McPherson. He looked none too pleased to be confronted by the two dead men on the road. Or by Mr Doyle.
‘I understand you’re currently on bail,’ he said. ‘Which means you breached your conditions when you crossed the border.’
‘I apologise,’ Mr Doyle said. ‘I never have been very good with directions.’
McPherson glared. ‘I don’t like trouble in my town,’ he said, stabbing at finger at him. ‘And I want you out of here as soon as possible.’
Mr Doyle gave him some contact details before they all climbed into the steamcar to drive away. Jack sat in the back seat with Gloria, who gave him another hug.
‘I’m glad you’re all right, Jack,’ she said. ‘We’ve been terribly worried.’
‘We’ve been fine,’ Scarlet said.
‘Fine?’ Jack squawked. ‘People have been using us as target practice!’
They returned to Castle McDibben and searched the building, but found nothing.
‘It’s been used as an operations base,’ said Mr Doyle, ‘but these men are professionals. There’s no evidence of anything linking them to the Valkyrie Circle.’
‘What should we do now?’ Jack asked.
‘Back to England, my boy,’ he said. ‘We’ll make our plans from there.’
They drove back to Edinburgh, where they all caught a train. Jack and Scarlet sunk into their seats and fell immediately asleep. They pulled into Victoria Station late, and it was after midnight by the time they arrived back at Bee Street.
Jack felt strange returning to the apartment. It seemed like a million years had passed, but it had only been a few days. Wolf’s men had had little success in turning the apartment upside down. It would have taken months to search through all of Mr Doyle’s possessions. In his own room, he found his drawers open and the contents turned out.
Mr Doyle stuck his head in the door. ‘I’m sorry about the mess,’ he said. ‘All our rooms went through a similar search.’
‘How can they suspect you of being a terrorist?’ Jack asked. ‘It’s ridiculous. Especially after everything you’ve done for England.’
‘They were just following orders,’ he said. ‘You must sleep, my boy. We’ve all had a difficult few days.’
The next morning, Jack found Mr Doyle and Scarlet eating breakfast in the kitchen.
‘I’ve had a message this morning from Greystoke at Scotland Yard,’ Mr Doyle said as Jack piled strawberry jam on his toast. ‘It seems the prime minister is now insisting they work with the Wolf Pack to bring the Valkyrie Circle to justice. Greystoke has asked us to help.’
‘They’ve got a hide asking for help after they had you arrested!’ Jack said.
‘That wasn’t Scotland Yard,’ Mr Doyle said. ‘That was Wolf and his blasted men. Besides,’ he added, ‘when England calls, every Englishman must do his duty.’
‘And there’s something else in today’s news,’ Scarlet said, showing them the newspaper.
The headline read:
Suffragettes Set to March
‘The march for Saturday is being supported by most of the suffragette organisations throughout the country,’ Scarlet read. ‘Women will be coming from everywhere.’
‘But isn’t the march illegal?’ Jack asked.
‘The banning of the march should be illegal!’ Scarlet snapped, her eyes flashing. ‘People have a right to protest.’
‘The government is afraid,’ Mr Doyle said. ‘It’s afraid of the marchers, but it’s afraid for the marchers. There may be further bombings, or riots.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ Scarlet sniffed. ‘Suffragettes would never engage in violent practices.’
‘Never?’ Mr Doyle asked. ‘We are speaking of thousands of individuals, my dear. And there’s the Valkyrie Circle. They’re more than happy to resort to murder.’
‘If they’re involved at all,’ Scarlet pointed out.
After breakfast, they went to the roof, where Mr Doyle had already prepared the Lion’s Mane for the journey. Jack was relieved to see the airship again after their time on the run. He patted the control panel affectionately as they took off.
‘Inspector Wolf is similar to a man in the Brinkie Buckeridge books,’ Scarlet said to Mr Doyle. ‘His name is Tiger Emerson, an Interpol agent who constantly works to foil her.’
‘Tiger?’ Jack said. ‘What sort of name is that?’
‘It’s silly, I know. His real name is Bob, but he insists on being called Tiger. It’s because he always pursues his prey. He never gives up.’
‘But why is he against Blockie?’ Jack asked. ‘She’s a hero.’
‘Brinkie is a hero. But she does walk a dan
gerous tightrope between following the law and breaking it.’
Mr Doyle smiled. ‘I don’t think Inspector Wolf’s name is Bob or Tiger,’ he said. ‘He probably prefers to be called sir.’
‘I’ll call him mud if he tries arresting you again,’ Scarlet said.
‘I’ll call him worse than that,’ Jack added.
They flew across London, coming in to land in the Scotland Yard docking station. Jack was always in awe of the police complex—a huge pyramid-shaped building with a shining sword on top. Nothing else in London resembled it.
Inspector Greystoke hurried over as they entered the foyer. ‘There’s something I must tell you,’ he said in a hushed voice.
‘I can probably guess,’ Mr Doyle said.
But before Greystoke could say anything more, he put up a hand, in warning. Wolf had just exited one of the elevators and was charging towards them.
‘You may have escaped jail once,’ he seethed, ‘but I’ll make certain you all spend the rest of your life behind bars.’
‘Then at least I’ll have time to catch up on my reading,’ Mr Doyle said. ‘But until you find me guilty of something, I suggest we work together to find those responsible for these bombings.’
‘Those responsible?’ Wolf snorted. ‘I’m looking at them right now.’
‘How dare you speak to Mr Doyle in such a way!’ Scarlet snapped. ‘You’re lucky to have him helping you.’
‘I wouldn’t allow him in here at all if it weren’t for orders.’
‘Orders?’ Jack said.
‘Fortunately I have friends in high places,’ Mr Doyle said.
Greystoke intervened. ‘There’s a briefing due to start in ten minutes. I suggest we make our way there.’
Wolf marched off in a huff. Mr Doyle and the others climbed into the nearest elevator.
‘What friends would they be?’ Greystoke asked. ‘I know the orders came from fairly high up.’