Out of Time: . (Steamside Chroncles Book 1)

by Symon A Sanderson

  “Why did they take my daughter?” Jacob’s guttural voice stopped Bert’s eyes from watching a small boy push his way through the room.”

  “You were asking too many questions, getting too close.”

  “We had nothing.”

  “Finch couldn’t take that chance. He already knew all about you of course.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Jacob

  “Finch and your daughter’s governess were courting.”

  Jacob’s cheeks started to flush. “I don’t believe you.”

  “You don’t know anything about Finch, do you?”

  “Keep talking,” Jacob’s voice was trembling, “or I swear to God I’ll kill you here and now.”

  Bert licked his lips as beads of sweat formed on his forehead, “He was the first mate on the H.M.A. Wasp.”

  “The airship that exploded in Battersea Park?”

  Bert nodded, “Half the crew and all the convicts were on board when it exploded. Finch wasn’t on board, but was close enough to get a daily reminder,” Bert rubbed the side of his face, the same side where Finch had a large burn mark. “The survivors got stitched up by everyone, the Admiralty, the Government, the papers. They couldn’t get a job anywhere, so they did what they could. They started out small before building up to blackmail…and murder.” Bert let the last word hang in the air before continuing. “Your wife was well known in society circles. The word is that Finch found out she had some letters in her private safe. Letters from before she knew you. He figured if he had the letters she would pay handsomely to get them back, you know, to prevent a scandal.”

  “Are you telling me Finch is responsible for the death of my wife?”

  Bert suddenly looked at the space above Jacob’s head and said in a loud voice, “I ain’t telling you nothing.”

  Before Jacob could react several pairs of hands seized him by the shoulders and arms. A muscular arm whipped across his throat and got him in a stranglehold as he was lifted from his seat. Jacob struggled and he tried to move his hands to the arm that was now restricting his breathing, but both arms were securely held down. A man appeared in front of him and Jacob kicked out. His legs flailed in the air, but made no contact with his assailant. He was dragged a short distance backwards before a solid punch landed in his stomach. Jacob gasped the air out of his lungs. If he could have doubled forward in pain he would have, but at least three men had a tight hold on him.

  “You ask too many questions,” said the man who had punched him. “We’re going to take you somewhere and put a stop to it.”

  Jacob watched as the man took a cork out of a small bottle marked, ‘laudanum’ and poured its contents onto a dirty rag. As the last drop soaked into the rag the man held it up to Jacob’s face and said, “But we need you to be quiet.”

  ***

  The two horse brougham was parked a short distance from the pub. Jacob had said it would be less intrusive. As far as Kate was concerned it still stuck out like a sore thumb. She had been sat in the cab for the last ten minutes and the bitter cold had started to bite. She tucked her hands inside her cape and drew it as tightly as she could around her. Wiping the condensation from the window she watched a small boy come out of the front door of the pub and run up the street. He ran a short distance before stopping at a small terraced house and knocking on the door. The door opened and the boy pointed back towards the pub. Kate knew Jacob was in trouble.

  Getting out of the brougham Kate told the driver to wait at the end of the street and not to leave without her. As the cab began to turn she saw the child walking back towards the pub, closely followed by four men. With the turning brougham as cover she ducked into the shadows of an alleyway and pushed herself against a wall.

  The boy stopped outside the pub and pointed. One of the men gave the boy a coin and bent down to say something to him. He ran down the street as the others walked straight in. Kate had to do something, but what? Her gaze was fixed firmly on the front door of the Anchor when a small flash of light to the side of the pub caught her attention. Through the darkness and mist Kate saw an old man sat on a wooden bench by the side of the pub lighting a pipe. Without hesitating she ran to the side of the pub towards the old man.

  “Give me your matches,” demanded Kate.

  The man lurched backwards in surprise and meekly handed a box of matches over. Snatching them out of his hand she ran to the back of the pub. The pub’s back yard was easily identifiable. Wooden barrels and crates stacked taller than Kate lined the walls leaving a gap for the back door. She tried the handle. The door popped open and swung silently outwards into the yard.

  Kate found herself in a small stock room. The walls were lined with shelves and she switched on her torch to examine the contents. It only took a couple of second before she found what she was looking for. Kate took two bottle’s down, it was brand of whiskey she had never heard of before.

  Reaching into her trouser pocket she pulled out a multi tool. Flicking the knife blade out, she cut a strip of material from the cape and held the remnant between her teeth. Kate flipped the corkscrew out and began to take the cork out of the first bottle. A wry smile pierced her face. Jacob has a shotgun, she thought, and I have a multi tool. The realisation that she had left Jacob’s shotgun in the cab resulted in a whispered curse just before the cork popped.

  Kate dowsed the piece of cape in whiskey and stuffed it into the neck of the bottle. She placed both bottles on the floor next to the door which she hoped would take her behind the bar. She opened the door as quietly as she could and looked through the gap. The pub was full but only one man was talking. Kate opened the door a little further and saw three men holding tightly onto Jacob. He kicked out, but a fourth man punched Jacob hard in the stomach, leaving him winded. Kate saw the fourth man start to pour the contents of a bottle onto a rag and knew she had no time to waste.

  Striking a match Kate lit the whiskey sodden strip of cape. Flinging the door open she stood behind the bar just as the fourth man was holding up a rag to Jacob’s face. She threw the bottle as hard as she could towards the far wall and held her breath. The bottle sailed over everyone’s heads and smashed into the wall. The whiskey splashed everywhere followed instantaneously by a deafening explosion.

  The wall and floor caught fire immediately. Several patrons who had been unfortunate enough to be standing next to the wall started screaming as their clothes were engulfed in flame. Most headed towards the door in panic. A window was smashed as a wooden stool was flung through it.

  Kate made her way into the room, placing the second bottle on the bar. Two out of the three men that had been holding Jacob had run out of the pub when the bottle exploded, but her eyes were fixed on the fourth man. Whatever his plans were they had been discarded along with the rag which was now on the floor. The man reached behind his back and Kate saw the unmistakable glint of a blade.

  “Hey,” shouted Kate as she again reached into her pocket. The man looked at her with a bewildered look on his face. Bewilderment turned to amusement as he saw a young woman with a metal tube in her hand walking towards him.

  “What are you going to do sweetheart? You ain’t got another bottle and you ain’t going to shoot me with that.”

  “Wrong,” she said as she grabbed the second uncorked, bottle and lofted it towards the far wall. It had the desired effect. The man’s attention was caught between Jacob, Kate and the second bottle of spirits flying through the air. Kate took her opportunity and pressed the button on her can of Pava. A thin jet of liquid hit the man on the bridge of his nose and splashed into his mouth and eyes. A smirk was short lived as the spray burned. He started screaming obscenities before doubling up in pain and dropping the knife.

  Kate turned and pointed the canister at the man still holding Jacob. Realising what was about to happen, and knowing all too well the effect of the spray, screwed his eyes tight and moved his head down into his chest. He heard the splat of the liquid on the man behind him and it was only a couple of second
s before he managed to wrestle himself free.

  “This way,” said Kate. Jacob followed her behind the bar and into the yard at the back of the pub.

  As they reached the entrance to the yard Jacob looked onto the street and asked, “Where’s the cab?”

  “I sent it further down the street and told him to wait. I just hope he did.”

  They made sure the street was clear before crossing the road and running in the direction they had originally come. Sure enough the brougham was waiting. Jacob opened the door and followed Kate into the cab. As he climbed onto the step he shouted at the driver, “Go. Now. Anywhere.”

  The driver cracked his whip at the two horses and the cab lurched forwards.

  “Are you alright?” she asked as Jacob took large gulps of air.

  “Yes. Yes I’m fine, thanks to you.”

  “Did you find out anything?”

  “Yes,” said Jacob. “I think I know where Grace is,” his eyes fixed on her, “but if that’s anything to go by, it will be dangerous.”

  “That’s okay. Next time I’ll take the shotgun.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Amos hadn’t realised how heavy the security automatons were until he and Mia dragged one into the cell. Mia locked the door and put the key through the hatch. They made their way back to Mia’s laboratory where she stuffed a small satchel full of documents and money.

  “Looks like you have enough to be going on with,” he said.

  “I have several bank accounts, Mr Coleman, each of which has more than enough for my needs. However, I need the documentation to access them. This will provide somewhere comfortable for tonight.”

  Amos followed Mia down the corridor to a room he recognised from his previous visit.

  “Is this how you plan to get out of here?” he said looking at several disused jet packs half covered with dust cloths.

  “It is, but the one I intend to use is significantly more advanced than the one I strapped to you. It has a longer range and is much more manoeuvrable.”

  “How come you didn’t strap that on me?” said Amos, remembering his uncontrolled descent into the River Lea.

  “Like I said, Mr Coleman, I have always had an escape plan.”

  Amos shrugged as he helped place the straps of the jet pack onto Mia’s shoulders and watched as she fastened the leather straps around her waist. The window which had been smashed on his last visit had been replaced with a thin sheet of wood. He kicked it out of the frame as Mia climbed up, switching the jet pack on.

  “I’ll alert the authorities and get people up here as fast as I can,” said Mia, checking on the gauges.

  “Make sure you get to that address first.”

  Mia nodded as she stood on the window frame. “The armoury is at the end of this corridor on the left. That skeleton key will get you in,” she said as she flicked the switch and the pack began to hum. “There’s one other thing you should know about those pistols, Mr Coleman.”

  “What’s that?”

  “They have a short range.”

  “How short?” asked Amos but it was too late. He could see Mia answering but the jet pack had ignited and he watched as she was lifted into the air and headed towards the Thames.

  Amos opened the door and checked the corridor. The jet pack made a lot of noise but with the airship being loaded there was so much noise in the factory he doubted anyone would have heard. He headed down to the armoury and tried the skeleton key. The door opened without a hitch and he went in. The gun racks contained mainly hand guns and rifles. He immediately decided the rifles were too bulky and he only had so many pockets. He looked around and found a canvass shoulder bag on one of the shelves. He put six electric pistols into the bag before putting another into the waistband of his trousers. He then selected a revolver from another rack, loaded it and emptied several boxes of cartridges into his pockets before tucking the revolver next to the pistol.

  Amos poked his head out into the corridor making sure he was alone before heading towards the main hangar. It wasn’t long before he found what he was looking for. An area about fifty yards from the main gas pumps where crates of old machine parts had been discarded. Amos crouched down behind the crates and watched for several minutes. There were two pumps, one either side of the airship, filling two nacelles full of the gas which had been taken from his steamer.

  He looked around but could see no security apart from a couple of automatons on the far side of the airship. He took the electric pistol from the waistband of his trousers and placed it into his coat pocket before checking his plaque and walking as confidently as he could towards the airship. The pumps were not as big as he had expected and as he got closer he could see the pump was a connecting station. The canisters pumped the gas into the station which in turn sent it into the nacelles.

  He tapped the man at the station on the shoulder and told him to go for a break. The man nodded in agreement and left Amos alone with the station and Nydrolium. He was wondering how to slow down the transfer of gas when he noticed several guards running towards the cells. Their escape had been discovered. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled back the hammer of the electric pistol.

  Amos watched as more guards gathered and recognised one as the first officer, Isaac Reynolds. A senior guard explained the empty cell to Reynolds who immediately began ordering the guards to search for the two escapees. The moment the orders had been given Reynolds looked towards the pumps. Amos tried his best to look as though he knew what he was doing when he noticed Reynolds had started walking towards him.

  Amos reached into his pocket and took a couple of steps back from the pump. He looked up to see Reynolds had started running. He was obviously shouting, but at that distance and with the amount of noise in the factory he was impossible to hear. Amos however, had no doubt that he had been discovered.

  Realising that he had no choice, he took a couple more steps back, took the electric pistol out of his pocket and fired it at the pump. A bolt of electricity shot out of the spinning barrel and hit the pump mid-section. The front panel splintered in half with several glass gauges melting under the intense heat. As Amos could hear gas hiss from the pump he pulled the pistol’s hammer back again and started backing away. He glanced up to see where Reynolds was and saw he had stopped running. Amos looked round and realised no-one was trying to stop him. It was only when he turned his head towards the airship that he realised why. A steam powered Gatling gun, possibly the same one that had killed the six soldiers on his steamer, was being aimed at him.

  Amos lurched to one side just before the familiar purring sound was heard. The Pumping station exploded as he managed to get behind the cylinders. Figuring the gas was too important to destroy, Amos started to topple the cylinders over and roll them in different directions. He was hoping the airship would stop firing if they thought the gas would be lost.

  He was right. The purring stopped and he ran for the nearest cover. A human guard tried to stop him and Amos aimed the electric pistol at him and fired. Electricity crackled out of the barrel and dissipated before hitting the target. The guard was too far away. Amos was about to grab the revolver when he heard the purring resume. He did the only thing he could do, fall to the floor. Amos heard the bullets as they hummed past, missing his head by a fraction of an inch and hitting the guard, tearing him to shreds.

  Amos scrambled behind a steam powered winch hoping that the airship wouldn’t risk firing and causing the pressurised boilers to explode. His luck was holding. The firing stopped, but that meant he would be surrounded by guards in a matter of seconds. He took the electric pistol and pulled back the hammer before wedging it between the winding gear and the boiler. He looked for possible escape routes. The only one was a storage area at the far end of the hangar. Without hesitation Amos got up and ran, keeping the airship directly behind the winch.

  Just as he reached a collection of wooden crates and barrels the pistol exploded. He managed to get behind one of the crates and look b
ack towards the winch. It was a scene of devastation and confusion. The bodies of several guards lie scattered on the floor as their comrades ran, hopelessly, to their aid. Security automatons scuttled by, disinterested in the ongoing carnage. Amos saw one of the bodies pick itself up. It had been further away than the others and couldn’t have been hit by the full blast of the explosion. It was then Amos realised it was Reynolds.

  Amos pulled out the revolver and was about to fire, but realised that would give his position away. He decided to move, circling around to the exit nearest the river.

  The storage area was like a maze. Bags, boxes, crates and barrels lined to form haphazard, makeshift streets. Amos began to work his way round, stopping at various locations to pull the hammer of an electric pistol and carefully concealing it, all the while constantly checking he was not being watched or followed. As he approached the doorway through which he had originally entered the hangar the first hidden pistol exploded. Amos climbed onto a crate to ensure the diversion had had the desired effect. Men were running to the scene of the blast and confusion reigned. He climbed down and pulled the hammer of the last pistol before placing it in a gap between two crates. As he stood up a security automaton scuttled round a corner of stacked wooden crates. Amos froze, his heart racing, his mind counting down; seventy-five seconds.

  He only had the revolver and didn’t know how effective it would be. The automaton scanned Amos up and down before stopping, focussing on his chest. He stopped breathing as the machine stared silently at him. Another pistol exploded, but the automaton never wavered; sixty seconds.

  Amos slowly pushed his hand under his lapel and moved the brass plaque to the middle of his chest. The automaton bounced up slightly on its five legs before swivelling round and moving away.

  Amos breathed out and ran his hand across the back of his neck to wipe away the sweat. He walked round the corner to see the automaton quickly moving down the next makeshift street.