The Friday Society (22 page)

PART FOUR

The Team

37

. . .

A
ND THEN THERE
was an explosion.

It happened in the morning. Just as the foot traffic was picking up in the city, as those manning the market stalls were greeting their first customers, and as a bright sun fought bravely to make its presence known through a thick veil of gray cloud.

It happened as Cora and Lord White had just arrived at Westminster.

It happened as Nellie and the Magician were feeding the animals.

* * *

A
ND IT HAPPENED
as Michiko and Hayao sat on a slanted rooftop and took a break from the marathon they were running across the city skyline.

They had both overslept and were now making up for lost time. And though it was dangerous to run in daylight, it was amazing how easy it was to avoid detection in a city where everyone kept a firm gaze on the street beneath their feet. A city of bowed heads.

Taking a break was a luxury they enjoyed, knowing Callum was out of town. Michiko had no idea when he’d be back, but it wouldn’t be for a day at least, which meant she not only had time to train and be a teacher, but also to hunt the Fog.

She had taken the extra precaution, nonetheless, of wearing her new mask along with her usual black outfit. She was getting used to it now. It wasn’t nearly as tricky to see through as it had been that night at the Tower. Though, she suspected, daylight helped.

Right now the mask lay in her lap as she and Hayao sat in silence. She’d said it was another test of patience, but truly she’d just wanted some quiet in order to sit and admire the view, the one that looked out toward the river and St. Paul’s domed cathedral roof. She knew that under the layers of soot there was a gleaming white building. But it seemed to make sense that one of the tallest structures in the city should reflect the general dirty gray. She’d never been inside. She thought it might be nice to go visit someday.

She saw the explosion before she heard it. As if to taunt her little fantasy, something like a meteor flew from out of a low-hanging cloud and struck the dome. It was so shocking and unbelievable that Michiko was pretty determined to believe it hadn’t happened. Then . . . the inside of the cathedral burst outward, and less than an instant later Michiko heard the roar of destruction.

The moment of the explosion was accompanied by a wave of air that pushed toward Hayao and her, along with dust and debris. Instinctively, she pulled Hayao down against the roof, protecting him, and holding her other hand over her head, a feeble attempt to prevent an injury. Which, really, didn’t offer much protection.

But, fortunately, they were far enough away from St. Paul’s that they were in little danger. Their greatest threat, really, was the chance of getting some grit in their eyes.

“
Are you okay?”
asked Michiko nonetheless.

Hayao nodded, but didn’t look at her; he just gaped at the altered view in front of them.

Michiko gaped, too. Though less obviously. Where moments ago there had been a grand cathedral, now there was . . . nothing. Just a cloud of dust and smoke, and flames licking the sky.

Michiko watched the dark smoke curl upward, and then her ears were drawn to a faint siren far to the east. The fire brigade’s airships would be dispatched soon to shower down a heavy spray of water. Turning the heat into a white steam.

“Can you believe we just saw that?”
asked Hayao, staring in awe at the fire burning bright.

Michiko shook her head.

What a week.

* * *

I
T WAS AMAZING
how easily grown men could turn into young boys. Cora quickly dove into an alcove, pulling Lord White with her as the Members of Parliament collided with one another in the chaos.

“My goodness, Miss Bell. This is all rather frenetic,” said Lord White, adjusting his glasses and sitting on the narrow bench below the window, crossing one leg over the other.

“Indeed. What was it? It shook the whole building.”

Lord White shook his head and then pulled a small brass box from his pocket.

“Not now,” said Cora, assuming its contents to be some means of relaxing his lordship.

But Lord White only smiled and slid the top of the box open so that it was now a long rectangle. “Keep lookout, would you?” He extended a small, metal, strawlike thing from one end, and Cora couldn’t help but look over his shoulder. The open box didn’t contain any illicit substance, just some gears and a glowing yellow center.

“What in the blue blazes is that thing?” She had been pretty confident she’d seen all his inventions. Obviously, this confidence had been misplaced.

Lord White gave her a wink, turned a dial, and a strange crackling sound emanated from the box. And then . . .

Barker’s voice. “Sir?”

“I need more information,” instructed Lord White.

“About that sound, sir? And the shaking?”

“Yes. As quickly as possible, thank you, Barker.”

“Of course, sir.”

The crackling stopped as Lord White turned the dial again.

Cora was speechless. “Where is he? He’s not at home, surely?”

Lord White smiled. “Oh yes. Isn’t life just like that sometimes? Today is the first long-distance test of my tele-audio device, and it just so happens to be a day that it comes in rather handy. Funny, don’t you think?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“Why do you think I wanted you and Harris to work on the commissions? Why do you think I hired him in the first place? I had to focus all my attention on this.”

“Oh.” Was that what it was all about, then? Why hadn’t he just told her? “I thought . . .”

“What?”

She felt really silly now. “I thought . . . you were slowly trying to replace me.”

Lord White looked stunned. “By hiring an assistant for you?”

“An assistant for
me
? What in the world do you mean?”

“Well, he’s a clever young man, but he doesn’t have your gifts. I thought you could maybe teach him a thing or two. Thought you might need help doing the tedious work while you got cracking at the inventing.”

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” Honestly, sometimes his lordship could be infuriating.

“I thought it was obvious.”

“He said he was your new assistant.”

“Well, he was mistaken.”

Cora was astonished. She had nothing to say. She just stared ahead at the MPs running to and fro, and felt altogether ridiculous. Why had she ever doubted Lord White? Well . . . it wasn’t like he went out of his way to let her know she mattered either.

There was a crackling sound again.

“Yes, Barker?”

“Sir, St. Paul’s has been completely demolished. There was an—”

“. . . WILL LISTEN TO THE WORDS OF . . .”

“. . . water ships. Seems to have been curtailed, however . . .”

“. . . ST. PAUL’S CATHEDRAL AND UNDERSTAND THE GRAVITY OF . . .”

Cora looked at Lord White, who was staring at the device with deadly seriousness. “What’s going on?”

“Something’s interrupting the current. Someone else is talking.” He twisted the dial and the yellow glow faded out. He gave the device an unhelpful hit on the side with his palm.

“. . . A MERE DROP COMPARED TO AN OCEAN . . .”

Cora turned and stared out the window. The tinny voice emanating from Lord White’s device sounded far off suddenly. Not coming from his now-defunct tele-audio machine, but from somewhere else. She glanced back toward the room and noticed that the MPs had stopped their racing about. She stood and looked around the corner of the alcove. The men lined the walls, their heads sticking out through the windows, making Cora flash in her mind to the decapitated body of Dr. Welland.

It was only a moment, though, and she had their alcove window open, her head joining those already sticking out. The voice was magnified, seemed to be coming from the sky. It echoed loudly around the city.

“. . . ONE MILLION POUNDS AND I SPARE LONDON. YOU HAVE UNTIL MIDNIGHT TO COMPLY. I CAN AND WILL DESTROY YOU ALL.”

“Ominous,” said Lord White wryly, his head joining hers in the morning air.

“Don’t you think it’s serious?” asked Cora.

“What? The mysterious voice in the sky? Might be. But I’ve never responded well to histrionics.” He pulled his head back inside and Cora followed suit.

“Didn’t Barker say something about St. Paul’s being destroyed? I don’t think this is an empty threat,” she said, bringing herself back to sitting next to him.

“I don’t know what it is. But I think it would be best to leave it to Scotland Yard.”

“Lord White!” Mr. Fish ran up to them and doubled over, short of breath. “Thank goodness you’re here. We’re calling a meeting of the House instantly to discuss how to respond to this threat.”

Lord White rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. For a man who wasn’t a fan of theatrics in others, he certainly made use of them when it suited his purpose. “Don’t tell me we’re even thinking of giving in to such a demand . . .”

“We need to debate the situation. Come, come now, sir. . . uh . . . your lordship.”

Lord White was whisked away, and Cora followed, intending to observe the proceedings from the gallery.

If there had been chaos after the explosion, it was nothing compared with the chaos in the House of Commons after being blackmailed by a voice in the sky. Cora was used to watching the men all standing and shouting at one another. Or at least shouting at the Speaker of the House in the way a brother might passive-aggressively yell at his sister through his mother: “Tell Sally I never want to play with her again . . .” “Tell Bobby that I don’t want to play with him either . . .” and so on. But Cora had never seen anything quite like this before.

“Mr. Speaker! Would you explain to Mr. Weatherington that we can’t spend the taxpayers’ money on blackmail . . .”

“Mr. Speaker, kindly tell Mr. Cox we have no time to deal with political philosophy . . .”

“Mr. Speaker, will you tell Mr. Weatherington to just shut up . . .”

And more conversations of the same kind, each overlapping the other. And worse, MPs were actually throwing things at one another, a pencil here, a shilling there, to get the attention of someone across the aisle. And then there was the haggard-looking Speaker of the House sitting at the far end, his forehead cradled in his hand, looking like what he needed more than anything was a good cry.

Lord White stayed seated in his prime position in the front row and was having a quiet chat with two other MPs. Cora highly doubted that it had anything to do with the topic at hand.

Cora knew how politics worked. She knew that eventually the Members of Parliament would have to settle down. Eventually, they’d all agree to take some action that nobody was happy with. But God only knew when that would be.

She also knew something else.

Cavorite had been stolen from a murdered Dr. Welland.

The British Museum and the Tower had been robbed.

Citizens were dropping like flies.

Moments ago St. Paul’s had been destroyed somehow.

Now this loud, magnified voice was threatening London?

None of this was a coincidence.

Watching the men below her, yelling and red-faced, Cora felt surprisingly calm. She turned and left the gallery.

Left the Palace of Westminster altogether.

She’d never walked out on her job before. Certainly she’d procrastinated between tasks. But mid-job? No, she was a good worker.

But what was the point of doing good work when everyone around you was acting foolish?

The streets were empty. They were never empty at this time of day. But they were now. Quiet and still, and with a strange sensation of discontent, as if the hard stone beneath her feet were distinctly unhappy.

She wandered to the edge of the river and looked to her left to see the smoke and steam rising from the place where a spectacular cathedral had once stood. An airship was still circling the spot, but the fire seemed to have been put under control by the water ships. Cora decided to move along the river’s edge toward the chaos.

Still a little dazed.

Even more than a little determined.

She arrived at Embankment, very near the spot where all this had started. At least, for her. In the distance, two figures materialized as she approached. She said nothing even as she recognized one of them when it pulled off the unsettling silver mask. Not until they were face-to-face.

Clearly it made sense that she’d be one of the only other people out and about. It made Cora reason that one other person was likely somewhere to be found as well.

“Michiko.”

“Cora.”

Cora glanced at the boy at Michiko’s side. He was all limbs and at least a head shorter than her friend. And like Michiko, he was covered in dust.

“We saw it,” said Michiko.

“You saw what happened?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

“There. Bright light. Flew to there.” Michiko pointed up to the sky, quite near where the airship was circling, then toward the burning cathedral. The boy tugged at Michiko’s arm and said something to her in Japanese; he seemed to stumble over his words, and once in a while he glanced at Cora as if his explanation needed to be heard as quickly as possible.

Michiko nodded. And nodded. And then finally gave one sharp nod and pushed the boy behind her.

“He say, come from there.” Michiko pointed to the water. “Come up, up, and come from there.” She pointed back to the spot she’d originally indicated.

“That’s all he said?” asked Cora. The stream of Japanese she had just heard had seemed considerably more involved than that.

Michiko looked at her steadfastly, and Cora decided to drop the subject.

“Do you think,” she said instead, “that all of this is connected?” Michiko looked at her, not seeming to understand. “Connected,” Cora said more slowly.

Say yes and make me feel sane.

“All . . . connected. Energy. All,” Michiko replied.

“Yes, but this, the robberies, the man in the fog, all the . . . death. Is it connected?”

For a moment Michiko looked puzzled, and then slowly said “yes,” as if she’d already answered the question and wasn’t entirely sure what she’d said wrong the first time.