The Monster Within

by Darrell Pitt

  They returned to St Pancras Station to find Inspector Greystoke leaving. ‘Doyle!’ he cried. ‘I just heard about the train!’ After Mr Doyle had described Jack and Scarlet’s exploits, Greystoke cried, ‘Good God! What do you feed these children? Jumping beans?’

  Despite everything he had been through, Jack still managed a smile.

  The trio returned to Scotland Yard, where they retrieved the Lion’s Mane and flew back to Bee Street. Gloria was waiting for them. She’d cooked up large plates of sausages and vegetables for dinner.

  ‘Heavens!’ she cried when she saw Jack’s dishevelled appearance. ‘What have you been up to?’

  ‘Just the usual,’ he laughed.

  After they’d eaten, Scarlet asked, ‘What next?’

  ‘First a night of sleep,’ Mr Doyle said. ‘I imagine the Valkyrie Circle—or whoever is responsible for the bombings—will contact us again soon.’

  Retiring to his room, Jack settled into bed with his copy of Zombie Airship and read for a few minutes, but his eyes were already closing. He blearily put his light out and was asleep within seconds.

  It was still night when he next woke. The only light came from the glare of a gaslit advertisement for bath powder on the building opposite. What had woken him? It sounded like something at his window.

  A bird?

  A shadow moved across the glass. Jack sat up. If it was a bird, it was a huge bird. After climbing out of bed, Jack tiptoed over to the window and peered out. He saw nothing out of the ordinary. It must have been my imagination.

  Click.

  He sat up again. The sound had come from the other end of the apartment. Jack went to his door, eased it open and padded down the hallway. The thousands of odd possessions lining the walls were like ghosts in the night. Normally he felt safe in the apartment at night, but now his nerves were jangling.

  He tiptoed through to the sitting room. No-one could walk through without knocking into anything—maybe it was a bird. A sound came from above. Jack glanced up, but he couldn’t see anything in the gloomy rafters or steam pipes that ran across the ceiling.

  Another noise came. He peered into the murkiness until his eyes hurt, but could see nothing. Then a shape moved, a shadow within the shadows. It moved towards the rear of the apartment to the balcony.

  Jack crept through the darkness, stubbing his toe. Ouch! No-one could be in the apartment. They certainly couldn’t be swinging from the rafters.

  Clack.

  The noise came from behind. Jack swung about, ready to yell if he spotted anything. Something flew overhead. A shape raced across the rafters, blended perfectly with the darkness and was gone.

  A breeze teased the back of Jack’s head. He skirted to the balcony doors. One was open. Glancing over the side, he saw a dark shape descending.

  What on earth?

  He could go and get Mr Doyle, but the thing had already reached the street.

  Jack raced over to the tiny elevator that clung to the side of the building and was on the ground in seconds.

  Reaching Bee Street, he was just in time to see the shape disappearing into an alley.

  Jack raced to the corner. He knew this alley. It was a dead end. Whoever—or whatever—he was chasing would not be able to escape.

  He swallowed hard. ‘Hello?’ he ventured. ‘I’d like to talk to you.’

  The darkness at the other end was absolute.

  ‘I’m not your enemy. But I’d like to know why you were in our apartment.’

  Something shifted in the dark. Something huge.

  ‘I want to be left alone,’ a man said, his voice gravelly and low. ‘I must be alone.’

  Jack’s heart thudded. ‘Why were you in our apartment?’ he asked. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I’m nobody. I wanted to see why the boy had come to see you.’

  The boy?

  ‘Do you mean Toby?’ Jack asked.

  ‘Toby.’ The guttural voice repeated the name as if unfamiliar. ‘I wish him no harm.’

  ‘I’m sure you don’t want to hurt anyone,’ Jack said. ‘Why don’t you come back to Bee Street. You can meet Mr Doyle and Scarlet—’

  ‘I can’t be with people. They want to hunt me. Kill me.’

  ‘We don’t want to kill you,’ Jack said. ‘We’re not like that. You can come back to our home.’

  The man gave a sad laugh. ‘Home,’ he said. ‘Monsters have no home.’

  Jack heard metal moving against stone. ‘What are you doing? Speak to me.’

  But only the night answered and it had nothing to say.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  ‘That’s incredible,’ Mr Doyle said. ‘Just extraordinary.’

  The sun was up and Jack had regaled Mr Doyle, Gloria and Scarlet with his tale. At first he was worried they would not believe him, but Mr Doyle quickly assured him.

  ‘I also thought I heard something,’ he said. ‘But I knew the doors were securely bolted. Nothing could get in.’

  ‘Then how did he enter?’ Scarlet asked. ‘Or should I say, it?’

  ‘He’s not an it,’ Jack said. ‘The visitor was a man. A person. And he needs our help.’

  ‘It sounds like he does,’ Mr Doyle said.

  Gloria appeared in the doorway. ‘A message has arrived,’ she said. ‘It’s from Toby.’

  Mr Doyle quickly read it. ‘Some sort of vigilante group has been formed,’ he said.

  ‘We’ve got to stop them,’ Jack said.

  ‘The Valkyrie Circle must be our priority for now.’

  ‘The monster—or whoever he is—needs to be warned.’

  ‘We can’t—’

  ‘Sir,’ Jack said. ‘The monster hasn’t harmed anyone, but it seems that someone is intent on harming him. Isn’t it our duty to make certain he is safe?’

  Mr Doyle pursed his lips. ‘I must remain here in case Scotland Yard hears from the Valkyrie Circle,’ he said. ‘Go to Whitechapel—but for God’s sake, be careful.’

  Within minutes, Jack and Scarlet were on a train heading to Whitechapel. They navigated the winding streets to the factory where Toby’s mother worked. The racket from the inside of the building was deafening.

  Standing in the doorway, Sally caught sight of them and hurried over.

  ‘You received Toby’s note?’ she said. ‘I saw Thackeray and Beel race out of here an hour ago.’

  ‘Do you know where they were headed?’ Scarlet asked.

  ‘I don’t.’

  I can make a guess, Jack thought. The sewerage building.

  Thanking her, they ran to the building, where they found the front door jammed open. Voices came from below.

  ‘Maybe you should stay out here,’ Jack suggested.

  ‘And let you have all the fun?’

  ‘You’ve got a very strange idea of fun.’

  Creeping down the stairs, Jack heard men’s voices echoing about the tunnels. They were soon accompanied by the sound of rushing water.

 
Finally, Jack and Scarlet reached a doorway that led onto a wide underground river, with gaslights set into the walls. Walkways ran along both sides, with a metal bridge across the water. Thackeray stood in a doorway at the end, a burning torch in his hand, Beel at his side.

  A shot rang out.

  ‘Quickly!’ Jack said.

  They raced alongside the river as the men disappeared through the door. Beel was yelling excitedly.

  ‘I think I got it!’ he said. ‘I hit it.’

  They came to a vast, circular room with another walkway around the edge and a bridge across the fast-flowing river. The domed ceiling was dark.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Jack cried.

  ‘What Scotland Yard should have done,’ Thackeray snarled. ‘Hunting down this creature before it causes any more damage.’

  ‘It’s not a creature. He’s a man,’ Jack said. ‘Or was.’

  ‘I don’t care what it is. It’s costing me money.’ Thackeray turned to Beel. ‘Bring out the heavy weaponry.’

  For the first time, Jack noticed a long bag on the walkway next to the foreman. Unzipping it, Beel produced a machine gun and a belt of bullets.

  ‘You can’t be serious!’ Scarlet said. ‘This is murder.’

  ‘Murder.’

  The voice rang about the chamber, but did not come from any of them. It came from the ceiling above.

  ‘Kill it!’ Thackeray yelled. ‘Fire!’

  Beel lifted the weapon, aimed it at the ceiling and pulled the trigger. It sprayed a ream of bullets, the sound deafening in the domed room. Jack made a grab for the gun, but Thackeray clubbed him to the ground.

  Finally Beel stopped shooting, gunfire echoing away to silence. He was breathing hard, his eyes glistening in the light of the torch.

  ‘I must have got it,’ he said. ‘It must be dead.’

  ‘Then where’s the body?’ Thackeray asked.

  They stared into the darkness. Jack had the eerie feeling they were being watched. He clambered to his feet.

  ‘You mustn’t do this,’ he said. ‘He may not look human, but he has feelings.’

  ‘You think so?’ Thackeray said. ‘Let’s put that to the test.’ Pulling a revolver from his pocket, he aimed it at them. ‘Who wants to die first?’

  ‘What?’ Scarlet said. ‘You’re insane!’

  ‘This creature is costing me a hundred pounds a day. Losing that sort of money will drive any man crazy.’

  Jack glanced at the water. No doubt the sewerage led to the Thames, but who knew what other tributaries and tunnels it passed through on the way. A person could be pummelled to death before they reached it. Still, they’d be better off taking their chances by jumping in than staying here and getting killed.

  ‘Creature!’ Thackeray yelled at the roof. ‘I have two young people here who I’m more than happy to consign to oblivion. They think you have a soul. I’m giving you ten seconds to prove it before I shoot them, and throw their bodies into the river.’

  There was no sound from above, only the churning water below.

  ‘Ten.’

  Jack glanced at Scarlet, who eyed the churning water. Would they be able to scramble over the side in time?

  Thackeray continued to count down. ‘Nine…eight… seven…six…’

  ‘You can’t really intend to kill us,’ Scarlet said. ‘We work for Ignatius Doyle, the detective. If anything happens to us, you’ll hang.’

  ‘A jury’s got to prove it first,’ Thackeray said. ‘Now where was I? That’s right…five…four…’

  A stone flew from the darkness, knocking the gun from Thackeray’s hand into the water. ‘That way!’ he yelled at Beel, pointing. ‘Up there!’

  Beel fired the weapon again and now Jack saw a shape scooting across the ceiling. An unearthly cry rang out, and then something arrowed towards them—a brick—knocking the machine gun from Beel’s grip.

  Defenceless, Thackeray and Beel gaped at each other.

  ‘Run!’ Thackeray cried. ‘It’s not human! It’s from hell!’

  The two men disappeared into a side tunnel, taking the torch with them.

  Jack reached into his green coat and carefully lit a candle.

  ‘I don’t think they’ll be back any time soon,’ Scarlet said.

  Jack looked up to the ceiling. ‘Come with us,’ he called. ‘You don’t need to live down here.’

  But there was no answer. Jack led Scarlet away from the bridge. Just before they left the chamber, he paused and listened hard. Against the roar of the rushing water, he was certain he could hear the sound of weeping.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Back at the Bee Street apartment, Jack and Scarlet explained their encounter with Thackeray and Beel. Mr Doyle sent an angry message to Scotland Yard.

  ‘I’ve told them about Thackeray’s attack,’ Mr Doyle said. ‘And asked he be arrested immediately.’

  ‘Do you think that will happen?’ Jack asked.

  ‘I’m not sure. Thackeray is a rich and powerful man. Unscrupulous villains like him are not above bribing corrupt officials to stay out of jail.’

  Gloria appeared. ‘A letter has arrived,’ she said, passing the envelope to Mr Doyle.

  He read it and sighed. ‘As I expected, Greystoke has asked us to attend the Yard,’ he said.

  How many more times would the Valkyrie Circle strike before there was a breakthrough in the case, Jack wondered as they headed to the Lion’s Mane. It seemed all they had done was run around like rats in a cage.

  At Scotland Yard, they returned to the Operations room. It was empty except for Greystoke, Wolf and Kemp, and each man had deep bags under their eyes.

  ‘You gentlemen look as tired as we feel,’ Mr Doyle said.

  ‘Just doing our duty,’ Wolf grunted.

  ‘Thanks for coming in, Doyle,’ Kemp said. ‘We’ve received another message.’

  He pushed it across the table for them to read:

  Dear Oppressors,

  Let’s see if you’re as smart as you believe. The third hour leaves you little time. Six is a small number. Make me something sweet to eat. But be certain to keep it contained.

  Lady Death

  Scarlet groaned. ‘My goodness,’ she said. ‘This one’s shorter than the others and makes even less sense.’

  ‘It’s a puzzle,’ Mr Doyle admitted. ‘But its brevity may make it easier to solve.’

  They pored over the note.

  ‘The third hour,’ Wolf said. ‘Six is a small number.’

  ‘Numbers have never been my specialty,’ Jack admitted. ‘Along with languages, history and most other things in school books.’

  ‘The third hour,’ Mr Doyle frowned, glancing at his watch. ‘Good heavens. It’s almost nine o’clock.’

  ‘Do you need tea?’ Scarlet asked.

  The detective stabbed at the note. ‘In Roman times, the third hour was nine o’clock,’ he said. ‘I just pray
I’m wrong.’

  ‘And the other clues?’ Greystoke asked. ‘Something sweet to eat? Keep it contained?’

  Mr Doyle frowned. ‘Six is a small number, but a small number for what reason? And something sweet to eat that you keep contained. What do you keep contained?’

  ‘A fire, usually,’ Wolf said.

  ‘A fire,’ Mr Doyle echoed. ‘Of course, the great fire of London. It began in Pudding Lane—’

  ‘Something sweet to eat!’ Jack cried.

  ‘And despite the destruction it wrought, only six people lost their lives.’ He looked at his watch again. ‘But we’ll never get there in time!’

  They raced through the corridors of Scotland Yard. A constable stopped Greystoke on the way and handed him a note.

  ‘It’s another message from the Valkyrie Circle.’

  ‘We’ll look at it shortly,’ Kemp said. ‘First we must get to Pudding Lane.’

  But they had only just reached the concourse when a distant explosion echoed across the city. A column of smoke rose up from the city centre.

  ‘Dear God!’ Kemp said. ‘We’re too late.’

  Everyone piled into police steamcars and navigated their way to Pudding Lane, where they found a huge hole in the middle of the street. Black smoke choked the air.

  Part of a building had collapsed. Glass and timber lay everywhere and there was a dead horse on the road. Poor beast, Jack thought sadly. Ambulances were already taking people away to hospital.

  Greystoke made some enquiries. ‘We’ve got three dead and more than a dozen injured,’ he said. ‘But it could have been much worse. Fortunately part of the street was closed for building repairs.’

  ‘What does the latest note say?’ Mr Doyle asked.

  He read it out:

  Dear Oppressors,

  I’m sick of playing games with you. I liked what you did at St Pancras Station, but I think we’ll show you how serious we really are. Ten bombs will explode at ten railway stations at midday. The same thing will happen every day until women are given the vote.