Mariah Mundi and the Ship of Fools

by G. P. Taylor

  ‘What do people put in these things?’ Vikash asked.

  ‘Their lives,’ Charity replied.

  ‘But why should Shanjing be here?’ he asked.

  ‘I think we found him by coincidence. Looking here for Biba was a chance of fate. Now Shanjing will have to find another hiding place,’ Charity said as he struggled to push a case out of his way.

  ‘No!’ screamed Vikash. ‘They will all fall. They are not safe. There must be at least three tonnes above us – we are blessed to be alive.’

  ‘But we will not be so if we stay in this place,’ Charity replied. ‘If we stay close to the walls and crawl through we can find a way out.’

  ‘And Shanjing will be long gone,’ said Vikash as he turned uncomfortably, his face bleeding.

  ‘We should go on – we could crawl out of here if we take care,’ Charity said. He looked about him for a way of escape.

  There was no way of seeing where they were going. The fallen trunks and cases had crashed to the ground to form a labyrinth of dark, narrow passages. Some of the cases had burst open, their secrets spilled out like entrails. Charity crawled slowly and carefully, as above him the weight of the luggage creaked and groaned as if it were to soon collapse. Vikash followed, his face streaming with blood. Together they struggled a few yards until they could go no further. A large stuffed antelope that looked at Charity through its glass eye blocked their way.

  ‘Amazing what people bring with them on a voyage,’ Charity said as both men managed to sit upright.

  ‘I can see light above us,’ Vikash said as he pushed his hand through a gap between a case and a coffin-like trunk. ‘There is a way out from this place …’

  Vikash pushed harder. The gap grew larger until it was the size through which he could squeeze himself. Charity followed and they both scrambled to the surface. It was as if they had escaped from the depths of a glacier. Finally Vikash pushed away the last case and sat on the top of the avalanche.

  ‘Do you think Shanjing got away?’ he asked.

  ‘The dwarf is fleet of foot and does not want to be caught – I suspect he is gone,’ Charity replied as he pushed his way through to the surface.

  From where he was, Charity could see the vastness of the ship’s hold. No longer were there avenues of neatly stacked cases. Everything that had once been so neat was now scattered and broken like the crumbling rocks of a mountain. High above, the electric lights clung to the roof. Charity could see the doorway. It was clear of cases; the green exit sign flickered meagrely.

  One piece of luggage caught his attention in particular. Unlike the others, it was still attached to the wall of the ship’s hold. Charity could see that it had been strapped separately to a thick metal beam. Had the other cases not fallen, it would never have been found. In itself it was quite unremarkable. The case was made of green leather with a gold-coloured handle and even from a distance Charity could make out the owner’s name – MARKESAN.

  The word brought back a terrible memory to him. He froze. A bead of cold sweat trickled across his forehead. It was as if he stared at death.

  Vikash saw the look on his companion’s face.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked as Charity pointed as if he had seen a ghost.

  ‘Do we have a list of passengers?’ Charity asked anxiously as he put his hand to his mouth.

  ‘It can be obtained – what is it?’ he asked.

  ‘Oscar Markesan,’ he replied. ‘He is on this ship …’

  ‘There are thousands of people on this ship, Charity. Why should one more make a difference?’ Vikash asked, the name of no significance to him.

  ‘Because I now know who intends to blow up the ship,’ he replied.

  ‘But the ransom has been paid,’ said Vikash as Charity clam-bered across the ridge of suitcases towards the door.

  ‘Markesan doesn’t care. He will have the money and destroy the ship. That is his way.’

  Charity got to the door and then began to edge his way towards Markesan’s suitcase. Once near, he heard a sound that called dread to his heart. Coming from the green crocodile-skin case was the ticking of a clock.

  ‘This is the bomb,’ Charity said as Vikash approached. ‘It will blow a hole in the side of the ship.’

  ‘The Triton is unsinkable. If water floods the hold the ship will still float,’ Vikash replied.

  ‘Markesan didn’t place it here by accident, Mr Vikash. There is an expansion joint just at this point to allow the ship to move without the steel plates of the hull bursting. If the bomb explodes, it will split the ship in two and it will sink within minutes.’

  ‘Then?’ asked Vikash, not knowing what to say.

  ‘We take the bomb and throw it overboard,’ Charity replied as he unhooked the red strap that held the case in place. ‘He didn’t work alone. It is no coincidence that the suitcase was placed here.’

  ‘Are you sure it is a bomb?’ Vikash said.

  Charity took the case from the wall, placed it on the floor and opened the brass latches with a flick of his fingers.

  ‘I know Markesan’s work. He was meticulous in all things. Look at this,’ Charity said, rubbing his hand over the fine, hand-crafted leather. ‘This is the most expensive travelling case money can buy.’

  With that he lifted the lid open. Inside, as if it were a work of art, was the ornate face of a striking clock. The long black hands were encased inside a glass front that sat on a brass frame filling the case. It was as intricate as it was beautiful, and it looked as though the device had been specially designed to fit in the case.

  ‘Magnificent,’ Vikash said as he looked over Charity’s shoulder. ‘I have never seen such a beautiful thing as this.’

  ‘And to think it is made for death,’ Charity replied. ‘Jacquier de Paris – 1835, if I am not mistaken. One of the finest clock-makers in the world.’

  Charity looked inside. Beneath the beautiful and intricate workings was a lining of explosive. The wires from the clock were placed inside a small glass tube filled with mercury, wax and gunpowder. To one side was a crisp white envelope. It bore the words: Captain Jack Charity – Bureau of Antiquities.

  ‘It has your name,’ Vikash said as Charity lifted the envelope from the case and looked at the letter inside.

  Dear Captain Charity – I leave this note should you find the case – if not you dwell in the deep and this does not matter – once you took something precious from me – now I will take something precious from you … like for like. MARKESAN

  ‘He knows you … knows you would find the case. What does it mean?’ Vikash asked. ‘What did you take from him?’

  ‘Something precious – irreplaceable,’ Charity replied.

  ‘But what should a man own that he would want revenge for taking it?’ asked Vikash.

  ‘His only son,’ Charity said. He paused before he went on. ‘No one has ever seen Markesan face to face. I followed him through Paris – or so I thought. He had some papers of the seer Nostradamus. The lost Quatrain. The Bureau wanted them. It was dark. I saw the glint of a silvered pistol. I fired, and the man fell. It was not Markesan – but his son.’

  ‘Something precious – like for like – but you do not have a son?’ Vikash asked.

  ‘He wants to kill Mariah,’ Charity said.

  ‘But he is not your son,’ replied Vikash.

  Charity said nothing. He looked at the letter once more and then neatly folded the paper and put it in his pocket. Then, as if it had never happened, he examined the case, the clock and the explosives.

  ‘It will be safe to move. The mercury is quite safe,’ he said.

  ‘Is it set to explode?’ asked Vikash warily as he wiped the blood from his face.

  ‘I cannot be sure. All I can see is that if I remove the wires from the explosive then the bomb will explode. From the clock face, I presume we may have several hours. We should take it to the top deck and throw it into the sea.’

  ‘Could it explode if we move it?’ Vikash asked.


  ‘That is a chance we will have to take,’ Charity said as he closed the lid and smiled.

  ‘I am not convinced,’ said Vikash as he reluctantly took hold of the case and helped Charity lift it up. ‘I never thought that I would enter the next life holding a green crocodile-skin bag …’

  They carried the case carefully across the room until they came to the exit door. For several minutes they followed the labyrinth of tunnels until they came to the steam elevator. They never spoke, putting all their effort into holding the case as steadily as they could. As they walked, the case ticked malignantly. Vikash felt as though he was being watched all the time. To him it was as if he was being tested and if he failed, he would vanish in an explosion of light.

  ‘Does Mergyn know you are the son of the Marquis?’ Charity asked as they got to the steam elevator.

  ‘It was never a secret from her, but she chooses to say nothing,’ he replied as he pressed the pearled call button for the elevator. ‘And the Marquis, he is at best avuncular and at worst … Well, I am perhaps a useful reminder of happier times.’

  ‘And your mother?’ Charity enquired as they waited for the elevator to arrive.

  ‘She is dead – grief broke her heart,’ Vikash replied simply and then laughed. ‘You English choose the strangest times to talk of such things. Here we are standing in the bowels of a ship, clutching a bomb powerful enough to blow us to heaven, a madman wants you dead – and you ask me of my life?’

  ‘It was something I desired to know and now seemed a good time,’ Charity replied as the elevator chimed its arrival.

  Stepping inside they held the case as if it were a fragile small child. Both men tried to avoid the gaze of the other as the elevator rattled higher and higher. The clock ticked on and on. Charity could feel each second pass as the hands skirted across the clock face.

  The elevator stopped suddenly. The doors opened and a woman in a black ball gown stepped inside. She smiled at them both in a way that showed her wonder why two men should stand precariously holding a travelling case.

  ‘They had fireworks from the top deck,’ she said unsteadily in her best Tennessee drawl. ‘To think I have danced all night.’

  Vikash and Charity smiled politely. It was obvious from the look on the woman’s pinched face that she would not desist until she knew what they were doing.

  ‘An unusual case – is it yours?’ she asked as she stared worriedly at Vikash’s blood-soaked and scarred face. ‘I enquire because I saw a man with a whole set of luggage just like that coming onto the ship and he certainly didn’t look like you.’

  ‘What was this man like?’ Charity asked.

  ‘I don’t know if I should tell – after all, you could be thieves and stealing what’s not yours, wanting to know your victim,’ the woman said. Her corset heaved like the creaking timbers of a sailing ship about to strike a reef. ‘And I a woman alone …’ she went on, her voice faded.

  ‘It is of no consequence, Madame. I am the assistant of the Marquis Lyon DeFeaux, the owner of the Triton, and in this case is a bomb,’ Vikash spoke as if he talked about the price of bread.

  ‘Bomb? Did you say bomb?’ the woman stuttered.

  ‘The man – what was he like?’ pressed Charity as the woman fell back against the doors.

  ‘Old … a beard, spectacles, a top hat … beady eyes … he was French,’ the woman said as she stared at Charity. ‘Is it really a bomb?’

  Vikash casually opened the lid of the case to expose the clock and the explosive.

  ‘With enough explosive to blow you from your corset,’ he said as the woman swooned to the floor.

  ‘An unusual way of informing the passengers there is a bomb on the ship,’ quipped Charity as the lift stopped suddenly and the doors opened automatically in the crowded restaurant.

  ‘What shall we do with her?’ Vikash asked as they stepped over the woman and left her in the elevator.

  The woman got to her knees and looked as if she had just been beaten. ‘Bomb!’ she screamed. ‘They have a bomb.’

  The room was silent. A waiter turned and, seeing Vikash and Charity carrying the case, dropped a tray of champagne.

  The woman shrieked the warning again.

  ‘Did you hear that? They have a bomb …’ said a man by the door.

  Vikash was about to explain when Charity spoke.

  ‘It’s stopped ticking,’ he said in disbelief as he opened the lid of the case. He could see the phial of mercury was clouding. It had lost its shimmer and had turned dark brown. Vapour poured from a small cylinder as acid dripped inside the tube. ‘We have been tricked, Vikash. Quickly …’

  ‘GET DOWN!’ screamed Vikash as they ran to the door that led on to the top deck.

  Vikash kicked at the door – it burst open. The night was cold and still. Charity stumbled … the case fell. Vikash grabbed the handle. With all his might he threw the bomb …

  The night sky burned brightly as the Triton shuddered in the blast of the bomb – then all was still again.

  [17]

  Carasbandra

  THE paddle steamer sailed silently into the night. It had no silhouette as the moon had set in the sea. The ocean slopped icily against the side of the steamer and the engines churned with the monotonous drone of the paddles.

  Inside the cabin behind the bridge, Biba DeFeaux stood next to Mariah. She had been found and dragged from the hold to the bridge. Cartaphilus sat in his chair, feet on the black stove and arms folded. Behind him, two of the crew looked on. Biba picked at the strands of fur on her coat.

  ‘How much do you think you are worth to your father?’ Cartaphilus asked as she sobbed. ‘Stupid thing, getting in the lifeboat – you deserve all you get.’

  Biba couldn’t speak. She gulped back her tears angrily.

  ‘You’ve got the gold, isn’t that enough?’ Mariah asked as he put his arm around her.

  ‘Gold is never enough, Mariah. I have promised the crew a larger share for their loyalty. I can’t go back on my word, and I have a partner who will take half of the money if not more. This will be for me.’

  ‘But you can’t just kidnap us,’ he replied.

  ‘I could have you killed instead – would that suit you?’ Cartaphilus asked with a laugh. He turned to Biba. ‘I intend to contact your father and tell him that I have you and ask him for a million dollars for your return or else I will send you to him piece by piece.’

  Biba sobbed even more. Vikash was not here to protect her. She felt alone.

  ‘He said he would never pay a ransom,’ she sobbed. ‘Told me that if I was ever kidnapped that would be it. His empire is worth more than family – that’s what he said.’

  She held tight to Mariah’s coat as if it were all she had.

  ‘Then you better pray that he changes his mind. There is a bomb on the Triton that will be exploded – I am sure he will pay for that information as well as his daughter,’ Cartaphilus said without any sentiment. ‘Take them to the brig and make sure they don’t get out.’

  ‘But how will you tell him? The Triton is far ahead and unmatchable in speed,’ Mariah asked.

  ‘We don’t work alone in this – it will be as I have said. The Carasbandra may look like a rotting hulk, but she can keep pace with the Triton – especially if the wonderful Zane Generator should be in difficulty.’

  ‘Sabotage?’ asked Mariah.

  ‘I would prefer not to use such a word,’ replied Cartaphilus. ‘I have lived so long that I have made many friends.’

  Biba and Mariah were dragged from the cabin and taken to the brig. The cold night air cut at their skin. It was as if the breeze was tinged with sharp steel and blew like unseen daggers about them.

  ‘Not good, this,’ said one of the men as he pointed to the north. ‘Sky shouldn’t be like that – never seen a green sky in the dead of night.’

  The other man just grunted in reply as they dragged their captives below deck and along the passageway past the galley.

 
The men locked the door of the brig and Biba and Mariah were left in the gloom of the dim, smoking whale-lamp. Mariah pressed his ear to the door and listened for the men. Their footsteps echoed as they climbed the metal stairs back to the deck.

  ‘We will have to escape,’ he said urgently when he was sure they had gone.

  ‘How? Don’t you realise we are on a ship in the middle of the ocean?’ she snapped.

  ‘As soon as Charity realises I have gone and your father finds the note they will come looking for us. I am sure of it. The Triton could ram this ship out of the water. Cartaphilus would have to give you up – he could trade you for the gold,’ Mariah said quickly. ‘It has to be that way. We have to get out of here and hide in the ship.’

  ‘He said there was a spy on the Triton – and a bomb,’ Biba said.

  ‘More reason to escape,’ replied Mariah. He checked the flare gun deep in the pocket of his thick coat. Without speaking, he then took the other pistol from his pocket and pointed it at the door. ‘Stand to the wall and cover your face …’

  ‘You have a gun?’ asked Biba, surprised.

  ‘I have two. They never thought to search me,’ he said.

  Mariah pulled the trigger of the pistol. There was a bright flash as the flame shot from the gun. The lock burst open and fell from the door as it opened. Mariah cautiously looked outside the brig. The corridor was empty.

  ‘Where shall we hide?’ Biba asked as she tried to rub the burst of the flash from her eyes.

  ‘It will soon be dawn. We have to make them believe we have jumped overboard. I think I know what to do,’ Mariah said. He took hold of Biba’s hand and led her from the cell. ‘We can put a lifeboat over the side of the ship and throw our coats in the water. I’ll set off a flare and then we hide.’

  Biba raised an unconvinced eyebrow. ‘Not my coat,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t.’

  ‘It has to look real if you want to live, Biba,’ Mariah replied as they walked towards the metal stairs that led to the deck.