Everyone else in the chamber, even Hannah Spoon, seemed stunned into stillness by what had just happened. Everyone except Dr Mangrove. Without a backward glance he made his way behind the glass wall to the far corner of the chamber.
Through pools of tears, Adele watched as the doctor squatted down and scanned a row of bricks. He tapped at several of them until he located the one he was looking for, and then he began to dig his fingers into the grouting around it. The flaky cement fell away easily. When the area was hollowed out he wedged his fingers around the brick and pulled it out. Next he slid his hand into the cavity, his face a knot of concentration. There was a sharp cracking sound and then Dr Mangrove pulled back and a brick hatch only slightly bigger than a manhole began to open from the wall. It swung out with a groan to reveal a pool of blackness behind it. Adele stared in amazement. A tunnel!
‘Most excellent,’ muttered the doctor. He turned briskly and walked back into the chamber. ‘Now, where were we?’
When Milo heard the doctor’s voice he rose up, hatred boiling in his eyes. ‘Unless you want another dose of that spray, sit still,’ hissed Hannah, pushing him back into his seat. She crossed the room to join Dr Mangrove by the pit, glancing at Mrs Hammer’s slumped unmoving body as she went. The old woman looked as dead as a doornail.
‘Hannah, my dear,’ said the doctor, ‘I was just about to tell these delightful girls why they must die.’ It caused the old man considerable grief that Isabella seemed not to hear him. Indeed she refused to take her eyes off the crocodile. But he comforted himself with Adele’s attention. ‘The reason is a simple one – I am doing it for your uncle.’
‘That is ridiculous,’ said Adele sharply. ‘He is dead.’
‘Exactly, my dear. He is dead. But had you and your cousin not interfered and come to Milo’s rescue, the soul transference would have been completed and a great man would be alive today.’
‘And Milo would be dead!’ shouted Adele. ‘You wanted to drive his soul into the withered body of a dying old man.’
‘What loss is the soul of a child?’ roared the doctor. ‘I am talking about Silas Winterbottom – a man without equal! Know this, my dear: he will rise.’ Dr Mangrove unclipped the safety latch on the crank and a new calm seemed to descend upon him. ‘Your deaths will be most unpleasant, I think. Each of these crates is several times your body weight but I doubt they will drag you under instantly. You will fight their pull but in the end the pain will be too much to bear . . . and you will let go.’
‘Don’t do this, Dr Mangrove!’ Milo shouted, jumping to his feet again. ‘I will do whatever you ask. I won’t fight or struggle. You don’t need to do this. I’m the one you want. Let us leave now and forget about them!’
‘Yes, that is a most excellent idea,’ said the doctor. ‘Let us leave now.’ He dropped his hand and released the crank. Free at last the crates plunged, rope spinning from the hoist in a blur. The heavy boxes hit the water with a thunderclap, sending waves surging across the chamber floor.
It was a splash of water hitting her face that woke Isabella from her grief. She saw the crates bubbling as they sank and she began to scream. Like sea snakes the ropes slid rapidly into the murky well. In no time at all the girls would be pulled under.
Adele looked across the chamber and met her aunt’s anguished stare. Bound and gagged, unable to protect her nieces, Rosemary’s tears were ones of rage. Despite the darkness of the hour (or perhaps because of it) Adele sent Aunt Rosemary a smile, warm and true, and waved goodbye.
‘Come,’ said Dr Mangrove, glancing at his watch. ‘Bring the boy.’
Milo tried desperately to hold his ground when Hannah came for him. ‘Get away from me!’ He charged at her . . . pulled away . . . tried to run. He would not leave his cousins, not now as they stood on the brink of death. But with bound hands and a body still weakened from the spray, the boy was no match for Hannah Spoon. She grabbed a fistful of his hair and marched him away.
‘When everything is done meet me at the tower,’ Dr Mangrove told her when they got to the hatch. ‘Do not delay.’
‘Yes, Doctor.’
Milo continued to watch his cousins through the glass. Adele had her arms wrapped around one of the wooden posts. He saw her yelling something to her cousin and then Isabella did the same on her side, hugging tightly to a thick beam. That was the last he saw of them. Without warning Milo was yanked away, his head was pushed down, his body forced through the hatch and into the narrow tunnel.
‘Do not look back,’ whispered the doctor to the boy. ‘There is nothing for you there.’
But all Milo heard were the piercing screams of his cousins as they were wrenched from the posts and pulled into the water.
The tunnel was round and narrow with sharp corners that appeared abruptly. The doctor and his captive walked for several minutes without a word exchanged between them. Dr Mangrove had insisted that Milo walk in front of him for safety reasons. He held the pistol at the boy’s back and instructed him to keep his eyes straight ahead at all times. The tunnel was set on an incline, the curved concrete floor rising steadily as they walked. Several times Dr Mangrove grabbed Milo’s arms and pulled him to a halt so that the winded old man could rest. There were many insults Milo could have flung at his captor. Murderer. Villain. Devil. All were true. But none were going to bring his cousins back and that fact snatched away all the fight he had left.
As they passed deeper into the tunnel the boy did not feel any fear about what lay ahead. He did not care. And when they made a final sharp turn and he found himself walking towards a small metal door with a large wheel at the front he didn’t blink. What did it matter? It was all over. Everything. He thought of his secret and marvelled at the cruelty of life – how it gave and snatched away in the blink of an eye.
‘Your uncle was a man of great imagination,’ said the doctor, moving Milo to one side and placing his hands on the wheel. ‘He wanted Sommerset to be a riddle. There is more hidden within the bones of this island than you will ever know, dear boy.’ As Dr Mangrove began to turn the wheel, the strain spread across his face. The wheel moved slowly to begin with, squawking like a chicken as it turned. But soon enough it began to spin freely and the door unlocked.
‘You first, dear boy,’ said the doctor, pushing Milo through the opening. On the other side Milo found himself in a small octagonal room. It was surrounded by a grid of thick metal walls and was crammed with the most extraordinary contraption the boy had ever seen. Despite his grief Milo’s eyes flew all over the machine trying to make sense of it. In fact there were so many parts that he did not know where to start looking.
‘In geographical terms,’ explained the doctor proudly, ‘we are beneath the rocky outcrop on the western side of Sommerset.’
‘Near the great lake,’ Milo heard himself say.
‘Correct,’ said the doctor. ‘The whole area is screened by a bank of pine trees. As the land was never cleared, few people have cause to venture here. It was perfect for your uncle’s needs . . . and ours.’
Milo looked at Dr Mangrove but did not speak, a dark pall returning to his face. His thoughts flew back to his cousins in the water and his doomed aunt and Mrs Hammer lying in the passageway and Thorn bleeding to death and Levi covered in blisters.
‘Let me show you what I mean,’ said the doctor, ignoring the boy’s scowl and pushing him further into the octagonal room. They came to a stop before a large clutch fixed in place by a row of jagged metal teeth. ‘Silas wished to know that if he ever had cause to make a sudden exit from Sommerset and was unable to use the roads, then he would have a way out.’ He leered at Milo. ‘I think even you will be impressed, dear boy.’
Dr Mangrove pulled back on the clutch and as he did a cloud of steam rose from the machine. Milo looked up and saw several columns of thick interlocking gears connected to a bank of metal racks begin to rise and fall. An army of pistons sprang into action as four large metal cylinders began shooting bursts of steam into the air, causin
g the network of copper pipes weaving around the machine to rattle violently. At the very top were three horizontal wheels of equal size linked by chain belts. It was when they began to move, grinding slowly against each other, that the walls began to lift.
Milo spun around when he heard the deep groans of rising metal. His mouth fell open as the eight-sided plates rose up towards the pointed ceiling – a ceiling that appeared to be moving further and further away every time he looked at it. The whole room cracked and shuddered as the walls climbed higher, and as they did Milo began to understand what was happening. The metal plates were lifting and narrowing as each layer of the wall locked into place. A tower was rising up from the ground! When it was all over it stretched up eight storeys high, narrowing to a small opening at the top.
Then a series of rapid clanks began to drum through the tower, beginning at the top. Small metal steps began dropping from the sides of the tower like dominos, circling around the interior wall from the top to the bottom. When each step was extended the machine hissed and spluttered then chugged to a stop.
Before Milo had a chance to take in the view he was being pushed up the spiral staircase. ‘Hurry, dear boy,’ said Dr Mangrove, following closely behind him. ‘The future is waiting.’
‘He . . . lp!’ A mouthful of foul-tasting water rushed into Adele’s mouth. She coughed but as she did another torrent swept down her throat. Her bloody fingers clawed at the edge of the well as she struggled against the awesome pull of the sinking crate. ‘Hannah . . . pl– please . . . help . . . us!’
Hannah was trying very hard not to hear the screaming and pleading going on behind her. Why didn’t they just sink and be done with it? She knew why. Winterbottoms never gave up without a fight. Still, despite the steel in her heart, the desperate cries of two drowning girls were awful to hear. Hannah hadn’t set out to be a murderer – just a thief. But jewels like the Lazarus Rock did not come without a price; Dr Mangrove had been clear about that from the start. Besides, what did she care if a few spoilt billionaires got hurt? Hannah felt the pull from the bag slung over her shoulder and it made her tingle. The Rock was heavy but she did not mind a bit.
‘Get us out of here, Hannah!’ shouted Isabella, shutting her eyes against the churning water as another wave of pain tore through her leg. ‘Do . . . what is right before we . . . drown!’
A cramp seized Adele’s calf and the pain was unbearable. Instinctively she reached down to rub at the clenched muscles, but as she did her other hand, clinging to the side of the well, slipped under the strain. Her body sank like a stone.
‘Cousin!’ shouted Isabella. ‘Cousin, come back!’
Adele’s arms churned through the water as she tried to swim back up, but the dead weight pulling at her leg was determined to drag her down. Her chest felt as if a fist was closing around it. She clawed at the slippery wall and managed to grip a jagged piece of rock . . . and then another. With every ounce of strength left in her body Adele pulled herself towards the waterline. Her fingers ached but she did not let go, gripping and pulling and stretching until her face broke the surface.
‘Oh, Cousin!’ cried Isabella, her own hands trembling from the stress of holding on. ‘Cousin . . . please don’t do that again . . . my nerves cannot take it.’
Adele drew several delicious lungfuls of air into her exhausted body. ‘I’ll try, Isabella.’
Two minutes. That’s all the time Hannah needed. Two minutes to take care of the fat aunt and the interfering butler. Then she could leave that filthy chamber and never think of it again. Dr Mangrove had made it clear that if she was not at the tower on time he would leave without her. Hannah worked fast, turning knobs and flicking switches. The machine was not complicated and in the end it was really just a matter of pushing the lever from Off to On.
‘Electricity will do the rest,’ Dr Mangrove had told her.
When the machine was ready Hannah grasped the lever. She cleared her throat to get Levi’s and Aunt Rosemary’s attention, but unfortunately the two captives were in such a state of anguish watching Adele and Isabella splashing about in the well that they did not pay Hannah any heed. Oh well, thought Hannah, better if they don’t know it’s coming. With that thought in her mind she shut her eyes and pulled down on the lever. She waited for that familiar buzz to fill the air and the blistering crackle of bodies rippling with volts. But it did not happen.
Hannah opened her eyes. Rosemary and Levi were perfectly unharmed. The only change was that now they were gazing fearfully at her – torn between what was happening to the girls and what was happening to them. Hannah looked down at the lever. It had jammed approximately ten centimetres from the On switch. Pulling the lever back she brought it down again – this time harder. Again it jammed. Several more attempts followed, all of them failing to reach their destination and activate the machine. In frustration Hannah began to smash the lever back and forth in a series of rapid flicks. The lever would not slide all the way down no matter what she tried. While Rosemary and Levi looked greatly relieved, Hannah was anything but. Time was short. She had to go. But what would she tell Dr Mangrove?
‘Cousin,’ cried Isabella, spitting out a mouthful of water, ‘Cousin, you must pull yourself up. You are too low!’
‘Isabella . . . I can’t hold . . .’
Adele’s arms had nothing left to give and each muscle and tendon in her leg felt as if it were being torn from the bone. For ten minutes she had fought against the relentless pull of the crate, trying to bear it, telling herself again and again to just hold on. But hold on for what? Nobody was going to save them. The well was a beast trying to swallow her whole and it would have its way. Her fingers lifted, releasing her fragile hold on the well’s edge, and she slipped silently beneath the surface. Isabella screamed.
‘Cousin! Cousin, I’m coming!’ She too let go of the wall and plunged under the water.
Isabella’s blood-curdling cry sent a cold shiver racing up Hannah’s spine, but when she turned to look it wasn’t a drowning girl that made her gasp. Thorn was rising up on his haunches, his bloodied scales glistening like hot tar. He was only centimetres from the glass and his eyes were trained on Hannah. A growl rumbled from his clenched jaw like distant thunder and a cloud of steam blew from his nostrils and fogged the glass. Then he turned, his tail scraping heavily across the floor, and clawed rapidly towards the well.
With a crocodile on the loose, time running out and a lever that would not work, Hannah Spoon had reached her limit. She had the Lazarus Rock; nothing else mattered. Wiping cold sweat from her brow she fled into the tunnel, shutting the hatch behind her.
THE GREAT ESCAPE
Adele was drowning but there was a peace about the girl; arms outstretched, her face calm, hair rippling like scarlet seagrass. The water darkened as she sank, shrouding her, but it was her hands that Isabella spotted; two white blooms in the cloudy water. With her leg bound to the crate Isabella could not swim on her own. Instead she let the dead weight pull her down. She plunged quickly, using her arms to hasten her drop until at last she was within reach.
Isabella grasped Adele’s hand. Her cousin’s eyes sprang open. With her free leg Isabella tried to lift herself and Adele, her other arm madly thrashing through the water. Her body moved but the crate did not – and Adele had little strength to help her. Isabella tried to keep her mouth closed but as her body cried out for air she could not stop herself. Water spilled into her lungs.
She looked at Adele – their eyes locked together, hands clasped – and at first she did not realise that she was no longer struggling. Her leg was still, her arm floating above her head. Both girls were falling fast. The struggle was over. Suddenly a current of water threw them sideways, as if a torpedo had passed by them. Isabella spotted him first: a green shadow tunnelling through the water with ease. She shook Adele’s arm and pointed. Thorn darted beneath them, his parted jaw snapping down on Isabella’s rope, slicing it as if it were a piece of string. Then he did the same to Adele’s. With
the weight suddenly lifted from her leg Isabella began to rise. But Adele did not. Her eyes had closed.
Thorn swam in a circle and came up under Isabella. Without thinking about it she grabbed hold of his back and held on. The beast dived deeper into the grey water then turned, twisting his body nimbly until he was directly underneath Adele. Then his tail began to move, his legs clawing rapidly through the water. He shot up, catching Adele in the small of her back, his broad snout pushing her through the water. Isabella held on tight, the water rushing furiously at her face. When he broke the surface Thorn lunged from the well, his pale belly sliding across the slippery edge of the pit. Adele tumbled from his snout, rolling across the chamber floor. As Isabella fell from the crocodile’s back, spilling to the ground, she was coughing up water and bile and gasping for breath.
Unable to stand, she crawled slowly towards her cousin. Adele was lying face down and when Isabella rolled her over and saw how peaceful the girl looked she began to cry. ‘Cousin, don’t do this! Please wake up!’
She put her ear to Adele’s chest to listen for a heartbeat. A weak, irregular thump echoed from within. Then Isabella noticed a slight tremor in her cousin’s hand. She reached down and began to shake the girl. ‘Open your eyes, Cousin! Please try!’
Adele’s lips began to quiver, her mouth parting then closing again. A raw choking sound crept up from her throat. Then she began to retch, her face flushing red then quickly draining to a snowy blue. She was choking! Aware that her cousin must have an ocean bottled in her lungs, Isabella quickly rolled her onto her side. Almost instantly a torrent of grey water shot from Adele’s mouth. It went on for some time, great heaves of fluid emptying from her lungs. While it looked ghastly, Isabella was certain it had to be a good sign. When at last Adele’s eyes began to flutter and open she was certain of it. ‘Oh Cousin, you’re alive!’
The Vulture of Sommerset Page 21