by G. P. Taylor
The waiter lifted Mariah towards the railings. He heaved him over the top and then grabbed hold of his legs as if to tip him in the sea. Turning, he was taken aback by the sight of a giant, screaming woman with the voice of a man coming towards him.
Grendel skated towards him on the polished wooden deck with Grimm close behind. The waiter pushed Mariah as hard as he could. Grendel slid towards him, unable to stop, and hit the waiter with such force that the sound of the man’s groan echoed across the deck. Grimm grabbed Mariah just as he was about to fall, clutching at his legs and holding tight. The boy slumped forward as his weight pulled him to the sea below. The waiter fell into a crumpled heap on the deck with Grendel on top of him.
‘Got you!’ Grimm screamed as he pulled Mariah back on to the ship.
Charity took aim with his pistol. ‘Let go and you will be a dead man, Mr Grimm,’ he said with a hate-filled voice. ‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure.’
Grimm clutched Mariah even tighter as Grendel struggled to his feet. Red lipstick was now smeared across his face and his curled, bouffant wig was torn to one side. It made him look like a macabre monster, a half-man, half-woman vampire that never slept.
‘It’s not as it seems, Mr Charity,’ Grimm pleaded.
‘Then say nothing more and do not let go of Mariah Mundi,’ Charity said.
[27]
Pier 91
THE sun was barely breaking through the mist ofthe eastern horizon as the Ketos sailed quietly towards Bedloe’s Island in the bay of New York. Liberty reached upwards with her flaming hand and her words of righteousness as if to welcome them. The deck of the ship was crowded with those passengers wanting to look at New York for the first time. The city was shrouded in smog. The large finger of a skyscraper reached upwards. At its very top, tied to the scaffolding of the newly built tower, was the Bicameralist. It floated above the world unashamed and arrogant.
In the captain’s wardroom in the aft of the ship, Mariah Mundi banged his fist on to the long, oak table.
‘You can’t send them back, Captain Jack. They saved my life,’ he shouted angrily.
‘They are wanted men – wanted by the Bureau of Antiquities,’ he replied. He clicked the lock of a pair of handcuffs as he spoke.
‘But they helped me … They are leaving the old life behind and starting again – what good would it be to take them back?’ Mariah pleaded.
‘He’s right, Captain. We have no intention of going back to what we did,’ Grimm said as Grendel nursed his bloody nose from where he had struck the waiter.
‘That is not the case. You have been arrested and I am duty bound –’ Charity was about to go on before Mariah broke in.
‘They have seen Markesan,’ he said, remembering what Grendel had told him.
Charity looked at him, surprised.
‘I was captured by Markeson myself on the Triton,’ Mariah went on. ‘But he was dressed as a pierrot and his face was painted. These men have seen him as he is, and would recognise him again.’
Charity turned to Grimm and Grendel. ‘Markesan – do you know him?’ he asked hurriedly, as if the mention of his name would bring a curse on them all.
‘Saw him at the Prince Regent. Honest, Captain Charity, we could help you,’ said Grendel with a smile.
Charity looked at him. Grendel was still wearing the wig and the long dress. His face was smeared in gaudy make-up. In the morning light he looked like an aberration of humanity.
‘It would not be right, Mariah. Just think of what these men have done – think of what they are,’ Charity replied.
‘They want to be different – to live a different life and put the past behind them. I know they would have killed me given the chance, but don’t their actions prove the state of their heart? It would have been easier for them to allow that man to take me and cast me to the deep. Instead they chose to run after me and risk being captured – to save me.’
‘He argues well,’ said the Marquis from the back of the room. ‘And they are our only hope of finding Markesan – the man who killed Casper.’
Charity thought for a moment as he looked at Grimm and Grendel. They sat meekly, looking at the floor. Grimm picked the skin of his fingertips as Grendel flickered his tongue like a snake.
‘If you were to escape once you had helped us – where would you go?’ he asked quietly.
Grimm did not hear him. Grendel nudged his companion in the side with a sharp elbow.
‘Where would we go if we escaped?’ he asked.
‘If we tell them they will find us,’ Grimm replied in a whisper.
‘Charity wants to know – what city are we bound for?’ Grendel asked.
Grimm looked confused. He stared blankly at Grendel, hoping he would speak for him.
‘It’s not that I would follow you, but I have to be convinced that I would never see you again,’ Charity said as he walked towards them and stared Grimm in the face, nose to nose. ‘Where are you bound?’
‘San Francisco,’ Grimm said nervously.
‘And you promise you will never return?’ he asked.
‘Promise,’ Grendel said as he nudged Grimm again.
‘Very well, Mariah – set them free,’ Charity said as he turned from them. ‘If they find Markesan they will have earned their freedom.’
Mariah felt unsure. There was something about the way that Charity spoke that made him feel uneasy. He had given in too quickly; Mariah knew that was not like him. He knew he had a plan.
‘But how will we find Markesan?’ Mariah asked.
‘We will put our new friends by the gangplank when we dock at Pier 91. They will be able to see everyone who leaves the ship and tell us if they find Markesan. We will have men ready and waiting,’ Charity replied.
Mariah could see there was more to the plan than this. Charity schemed. Mariah could see it in his face. Whenever Charity plotted, he would never look at Mariah and always scratched the back of his hand.
‘Shall I see to it?’ Mariah asked. Charity nodded. ‘And leave them just as they are?’
‘Of course. This is how they intend to lead a new life – so let it be from now.’ Charity smiled.
‘We dock in one hour. The Ketos will deliver its passengers on the port side on Deck 6. Just by the grand staircase,’ said the Marquis.
‘So, Mariah, I will leave it all to you,’ Charity said as if he were exasperated with him for some misdeed.
‘You will leave the boy alone?’ asked the Marquis.
‘If he can plead the case so eloquently for those who would see him dead, he is capable of looking after them for the next hour,’ Charity moaned puckishly as he and the Marquis left the room.
‘He doesn’t trust us,’ said Grendel nervously. ‘I could tell it from his face. I’m not a detective for nothing.’
‘Then you better make sure you can identify Markesan when he leaves the ship,’ replied Mariah.
‘Well,’ protested Grimm. ‘It might not be that easy. People do change – he could have put on another disguise.’
For the next hour Mariah listened to their excuses. The ship got nearer and nearer to Pier 91. The crowds on the quayside cheered and rockets were launched in celebration. Grimm, Grendel and Mariah went to the grand staircase and waited for the sea doors to be opened. They could hear the shouting, the brass bands and the cannons being fired in Central Park.
Inside the ship the passengers waited. The Marquis had arranged for all those who had travelled on the Ketos to disembark first. He knew that they would tell those waiting of the disaster they had seen on the ocean and the loss of the Triton. He knew it would give time for the Press to lie in wait for all who were survivors of the disaster. It would also give time for news of the strange guard on the door of the ship to spread through the crew. He had made it no secret that they were on the lookout for a stowaway – a dangerous man whom only they could recognise.
The final cannon fired and its blast echoed through the streets of New York. Grimm and Gre
ndel stood by the sea doors. To those leaving the ship they were a marvellous spectacle – ‘the painted lady and her beau’, as one American woman with a small pug dog with a prettier face than her own remarked cordially.
Grimm and Grendel watched everyone who left the ship. They did not see Markesan. He was not in the long line of fine ladies who had travelled alone, neither was he with the bedraggled survivors who had come from the Triton. He was not, as was soon discovered, hiding in the petticoats of a rather large lady who insisted that Grimm searched her for a stowaway.
Outside the ship on the quay, the brass band had stopped playing. The lines were almost at an end when three men came towards the exit near the grand staircase carrying a long narrow trunk made of leather and wood. Mariah watched them approach. They neither spoke to each other nor glanced at their companions, but kept their gaze fixed on the door and the world outside.
Grendel looked at each one of them and shook his head.
‘Not them,’ he said as he saw the handful of people that were left. ‘He is not here.’
‘But he has to be – he can’t have got away from the ship,’ Mariah replied. ‘There are guards on the quayside.’
The three men pushed the case towards the door. One of them brushed close to Mariah. He smelt of cologne – it was bitter and stale. He had smelt it before on the night Markesan had tried to kill him.
‘You!’ he shouted ‘It was you!’
The man looked surprised and turned away to hide his face.
‘He doesn’t speak English,’ said his companion. ‘He is a stranger to this land.’
‘Let me see his hands,’ Mariah demanded.
‘No,’ said the man as he pushed Mariah away from him and made for the doors.
‘It’s him!’ he cried as he gave chase.
The man grabbed hold of Grendel and threw him to the floor. His companions ran to the gangway. One jumped from the ship to the river below. The swell moved the Ketos back towards the quayside as the man fell, and he was caught by the hull of the ship against the wooden balustrade of Pier 91. There was a sound like the crushing of a snail shell. A cry and a scream came from those still leaving the customs house. No one dared to look.
Mariah gave chase after the others, quickly followed by Grimm and Grendel who now felt they were his protectors.
They never saw the case of leather and wood open by itself. The lid slammed to the carpeted floor and a man stood up at the back of the crowd that had gathered by the door to watch the distraction. He straightened the tie and collar of his crisp white shirt and pulled the lapels of his checked jacket into place. With one hand he squeezed the ribs of an umbrella tightly. Without being seen he joined the crowd of onlookers who watched young Mariah chase the fleeing men into the arms of several waiting customs officers.
Charity approached and tapped the man on his shoulders. ‘I thought you would find a more exciting way of escaping?’ he said.
‘You must be Jack Charity,’ the man said without turning.
‘Charlemagne – or is it Markesan?’ Charity asked.
‘What would you like to call me?’ the man replied.
‘Eric Bloodstone … from Wigan,’ Charity said as he clicked a handcuff onto the man’s wrist. ‘Why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance?’
‘It would have taken all the fun out of the game,’ Markesan replied. ‘I enjoyed being close to you. It gave me satisfaction in a way you would never understand.’
‘But you were caught,’ he said.
‘The only people who could recognise me just happened to be on this ship. I noticed them when I came aboard from the Triton. I thought I had escaped. Gormenberg assured me that Grimm and Grendel would be disposed of,’ he said solemnly as he turned to look at Charity. ‘A twist of fate?’
‘I prayed that I would find you,’ Charity said as he took him by the arm.
‘So all this was just an elaborate way of having me caught?’ Markesan asked as he fumbled discreetly in his pocket.
‘Of course,’ Charity replied.
Mariah pushed his way through the host of people who had gathered by the sea doors. Grimm and Grendel appeared to be more reluctant to show their faces.
‘So now you can see me face to face, Mariah Mundi,’ Markesan said as Charity twisted his arm into his back. ‘Tell me one thing before this brute beast does what he has been waiting to do for years. How did you escape from the circus?’
‘Casper Vikash – he died so that I could live,’ said Mariah. ‘So it was you all along. You wanted me dead. I sat with you and talked to Shanjing and you never said.’
‘One day you will understand – revenge is best done when the blood runs hot,’ Markesan said as Charity pushed him towards the doors. ‘And Shanjing, what was his fate?’
‘Eaten by tigers when he tried to kill Biba DeFeaux,’ said Mariah as he looked hard at Markesan so he would never forget his face.
‘I am surprised he didn’t try to escape – perhaps like this …’
Markesan threw a handful of purple dust high into the air. It fell like snow until it touched the floor and then there was a sudden, loud, blinding explosion and a ball of silver fire engulfed the crowd. Charity was blown back, his hands locked together by an unseen force. The fireball overwhelmed them all. The magician’s flames were cold as ice, the smoke like thick treacle. Charity reached out to grab the shadow of Markesan. He found his hands were manacled together.
‘Mariah, quickly!’ he shouted. ‘The key is in my pocket.’
Mariah wiped the smoke from his face. He found the key and fumbled to unlock the handcuffs. Charity struggled to break free as he set off to give chase after Markesan.
‘Leave him to me,’ Charity shouted as he ran down the grand staircase to the lower deck. ‘He is mine …’
No one moved. Everyone stood in awe of the explosion. Grimm and Grendel lay dazed on the floor as others tried to get to their feet.
Mariah looked at them momentarily and then gave chase. He could hear Charity shouting for Markesan to stop. Explosion after explosion rang out as Markesan threw more of the coloured dust as he ran. Mariah followed on. He ran faster, gaining ground on them quickly, and soon he could see Markesan ahead. He burst through the heavy wooden doors and onto the lower deck.
‘Don’t be stupid, Mariah,’ Charity shouted, out of breath. ‘Leave him to me.’
‘Not this time,’ Mariah bellowed as he ran. ‘He was going to kill me and for that he will not get away.’
As he emerged onto the deck Mariah looked up and glimpsed the New York skyline. The Bicameralist was high above him, still tethered to the Manhattan tower. Markesan gave it little thought. He twisted in and out of the scattered canvas chairs that littered the sun deck as he ran on. Every now and then he reached into his pocket and threw a handful of dust. It exploded in silver flames and momentarily blocked him from view.
Charity was three paces behind and out of breath. Mariah pressed on, running faster than ever. He gained on Markesan and was now just a few yards behind him. Markesan turned. He looked at Mariah and laughed as he took hold of a ladder that led up to the next deck. It was as if he waited for Mariah to get near.
‘You’ll have to be quicker than that to catch me,’ Markesan shouted just as Mariah took hold of his leg.
‘Let him go!’ shouted Charity from behind as Mariah looked up.
He saw Markesan reach into the pocket of his coat, pull out a handful of dust and throw it like a salt curse over his shoulder. Mariah couldn’t escape. The dust fell about him. It exploded on his chest, knocking him to the floor. The Spiderweb took the force of the blast. He heard a gunshot. Markesan shrieked.
‘You cheated, Jack Charity … you shot me,’ Markesan shouted indignantly as he clutched the bleeding wound on his leg. ‘That is not how it was to be.’
‘I’ve given up on your games, Markesan,’ replied Charity as he took aim again.
Mariah could just see Markesan as he leapt from the ladder to the bridg
e of the ship. It was as if he were a large plaid cat in a checked suit and dazzling shoes. He vanished above them, only to be seen again on the long red ladder that led to the top of the funnel.
‘My turn,’ Charity said as he went after Markesan with Mariah close behind.
‘We have to catch him before he escapes,’ said Mariah, climbing to the bridge as fast as he could.
‘That’s not what I intend to do,’ Charity replied as he ran across the roof of the bridge towards the funnel.
‘He’ll never escape from up there, there’s nowhere to go,’ said Mariah as he looked at Markesan high above them, almost at the top of the funnel.
‘He has a plan of escape – Markesan is not a cornered cat,’ Charity replied as he took aim and then quickly fired. The bullet smashed into the metal just below Markesan’s feet.
‘Too late,’ he shouted as he began to pull at the sleeves of his coat. ‘I will be away from this place.’
Charity took to the ladder as Mariah watched from the roof of the bridge. He climbed quickly as up above him Markesan pulled more at his sleeves until a furl of cloth hung down from under both arms.
‘He’s going to fly!’ Mariah shouted as he realised what Markesan had planned.
‘So right, Mariah – you work for the wrong side,’ Markesan said as he held out his arms to the sky and stood on the edge of the funnel high above Pier 91.
Charity stopped on the ladder. He raised his pistol and took aim. Markesan looked back and smiled just as he pulled the trigger.
Mariah watched him fall like a stone as the silk batwings released from his coat swirled about him.
‘No!’ he screamed as the man crashed towards the earth.
It was as if Markesan heard his cry. Just before he crashed to the deck of the Ketos, Markesan opened his arms as wide as he could.
The wind roared across the batwings. Markesan pitched to one side. Instead of smashing to the deck, he suddenly flew towards Mariah. He laughed manically.
‘Never too late for a perfect escape,’ he shouted as he soared towards the Hudson River.