The Monster Within (17 page)

‘This is chaos,' Jack muttered.

Mr Doyle pushed the front door open.

‘Ladies!' he yelled. ‘I must ask you to evacuate the store!' He produced his library
card. ‘We have reason to believe a bomb may be on the premises!'

Dozens of faces stared at him in horror. Then someone screamed and a stampede ensued.

Jack threw himself to one side as women pushed past. Scarlet was shoved unceremoniously
into a rack while Mr Doyle took refuge in the window.

A woman bustled over. ‘I'm Mrs Primm,' she said. ‘The proprietress. This had better
not be a joke—'

‘This is no joke,' Mr Doyle said, pushing aside bags in the display. Several tasques
bags hung from hooks. ‘Do you recognise these?'

She frowned. ‘Of course,' she said. ‘They're my bags!'

‘All of them?'

Mrs Primm peered a little closer. ‘The blue-and-green one at the back,' she said,
paling. ‘I've never seen it before.'

Jack looked back at the clock. 11.57. ‘It's almost time,' he said. ‘We only have
three minutes.'

Mr Doyle gently unhooked the bag and looked inside. ‘This is it,' he said. ‘A timer
attached to three sticks of dynamite. Well designed.'

‘Glad you appreciate it,' Jack muttered.

Scarlet pulled the door open and they stepped onto the street. News had spread about
the bomb scare. People were running in all directions, screaming, dropping their
shopping, scooping up children, upsetting carts.

11.58.

‘A busy street,' Mr Doyle said to himself, his eyes scanning the block. ‘No river.
Unable to douse the bag in liquid. Not enough time. There's a bank down the block.
We could lock the dynamite inside, but the safe would be locked during trading hours.
And there's no time to reach it anyway.'

11.59.

‘Mr Doyle,' Jack urged.

‘Train station nearby,' he continued to mutter to himself. ‘No empty carriages.'
He peered upwards. ‘We have an airship above, but it could never transport the bomb
away in time.'

Greystoke appeared. ‘Good Lord!' he exclaimed. ‘You've got it!'

The second hand on the clock tower inched around the clock face. Sweat dribbled down
Jack's face. He looked at Scarlet. She had gone white. Reaching out, she took his
hand.

‘We are out of time,' Mr Doyle said. ‘And there is no place to transport the bomb.
So there remains only one possibility. The bomb must be smothered to contain the
blast and there is only one way to do that.' He held it tightly against his body.
‘You must go! As far as you can.'

‘Mr Doyle—' Jack started. ‘No! We can't leave you—'

‘Go!'

The clock tower showed 12pm.

Dong…Dong…Dong…

Greystoke dragged Jack and Scarlet down the street. Jack screamed for Mr Doyle, but
the inspector was too strong. With an iron grip, he dragged them behind a cart. Jack
glimpsed Mr Doyle falling to his knees, his head bent, his eyes on the pavement.

No!
Jack thought.
No…no…no…

‘He can't—' Scarlet started.

Then Mr Doyle reached forward and pulled up a manhole cover. He dropped the bag in,
edging the cover across, scrambled to his feet and ran after them as quickly as his
bad leg would allow.

Joining them behind the cart, he began, ‘This reminds me of a case involving a monk,
a rhinoceros and a singing—'

Ka-boom!

The ground shook and Jack saw something fly straight up into the air: the manhole
cover. Like a bullet, it sped across the sky into the face of the clock tower, freezing
the time at midday.

Greystoke helped Mr Doyle to his feet. ‘Ignatius,' he said. ‘Are you all right?'

A few windows were broken in the blast, but the destruction was nowhere near as terrible
as Carmody Street.

‘A few bruises,' he said cheerfully. ‘I've had worse.'

‘Mr Doyle…' Jack tried to continue. Then he gave
up as he and Scarlet threw themselves
into the detective's arms.

Wolf stalked over. ‘That's all very convenient,' he said. ‘Saving the day like that,
Doyle.'

‘You would have done the same,' Mr Doyle said. ‘If you'd thought of it.'

‘A nice way to deflect attention. How did you know where to find the bomb?'

Mr Doyle explained.

‘And you expect us to believe that?' Wolf said.

‘I would trust Ignatius Doyle with my life,' Inspector Greystoke snapped. ‘Not
to mention the number of times he's helped Scotland Yard.'

‘Then you're a fool,' Wolf spat. ‘This man has you around his little finger.'

It appeared a full-blown argument was about to ensue. ‘We must stay focused on the
case at hand,' Mr Doyle intervened. ‘Mrs Primm, the owner of the store, may be able
to offer us some information.'

Wolf stormed off after announcing he was returning to police headquarters. Jack and
Scarlet accompanied Mr Doyle and Inspector Greystoke back to the bag shop. Ambulances
and fire brigade engines were now arriving, but they were largely unnecessary. Thanks
to Mr Doyle, countless lives had been saved.

At first, Mrs Primm was unable to remember anything out of the ordinary, but eventually
she recalled that two men had come in that morning. One had spoken to her while the
other had wandered aimlessly around.
She had gone out the back to check on supplies,
and when she returned, both men were gone.

Jack and the others gathered on the footpath after getting a description of them.

‘What will we do now?' Jack asked.

‘I imagine the police will be busy today,' Mr Doyle said. ‘The letter said another
message would arrive tonight. I suggest we go home and return to Scotland Yard prior
to the next message arriving.'

Greystoke joined them. ‘This is a bad business,' he said. ‘It seems the Valkyrie
Circle are ahead of us every step of the way.'

‘We have progressed a little,' Mr Doyle said. ‘I only glanced at the bomb, but it
was the same design as the others.'

‘There is something else that's unusual too,' Scarlet pointed out. ‘It was men who
visited the bag store. It seems strange when the Valkyrie Circle is supposed to be
behind this.'

‘It is strange,' Greystoke agreed.

Jack and the team returned to Bee Street. Mr Doyle disappeared to his study to smoke
one of his pipes. He never actually smoked tobacco. Instead, it was his own special
concoction of ingredients that included lawn clippings from France, poppies from
China and other herbs. He said it helped him to think.

Jack and Scarlet went to the sitting room where they further discussed the case.

‘When Mr Doyle smothered the bomb with his
body…' Scarlet's voice caught. ‘I thought…well…'

‘I know,' Jack said. ‘But it would take a lot to finish Mr Doyle.' He tried to put
a positive spin on it. ‘If there were zombies, he could be brought back to life.'

‘Jack.' Scarlet stared at him. ‘That is possibly the most ridiculous thing you've
ever said.'

‘That's pretty amazing,' Jack said, ‘because I've said a lot of ridiculous things.'

Gloria appeared in the sitting room. ‘Another letter has arrived,' she said, ‘from
your friend Toby.'

Jack read the note:

Dear Jack, Scarlet and Mr Doyle,

I saw the monster again last night. He was looking in the window where Mum sleeps
and watching her. I think he might not be bad. He looked unhappy. I need you to come.
Mr Thackeray and Mr Beel were at the factory talking about the monster. They still
want to hunt him down and kill him.

Toby

‘I
did
see something in the drains,' Jack said. ‘I didn't imagine it.'

‘We can't do anything about this now,' Scarlet said.

Jack wrote a note back to Toby, explaining they were busy, but would return when
they could.

Late that afternoon, Mr Doyle emerged from
his study, telling them the time had come
to return to Scotland Yard.

They travelled in the
Lion's Mane
. It was late afternoon and people were scurrying
home at the end of the long, working day. Newspaper cries were hawking the afternoon
edition of
The Times
.

The front page carried two headlines:
Another Bombing
and
Women Vow to Defy Marching
Order
.

‘I hope you're not going,' Mr Doyle said to Scarlet.

‘Nothing would stop me.'

‘I must remind you that I am obligated to protect you,' Mr Doyle said. ‘I promised
your father that I would keep you safe. Because of the nature of our work, it is
not always possible. But—'

Scarlet held up her hand. ‘I don't wish to argue with you, Mr Doyle,' she said. ‘But
my mind is made up. I don't intend to allow a terrorist organisation or unjust laws
to keep me from doing what is right.'

Sighing, Mr Doyle did not reply.

Entering Scotland Yard, they were led to the Operations room. It was even more crowded
than before, but this time a new man stood at the lectern.

‘I don't believe we've met,' he said, awaiting the three of them. ‘I'm Chief Inspector
Charles Kemp, head of Scotland Yard.' Introductions were made all round. ‘I understand
you've clashed somewhat with Wolf and his men.'

‘If you can call being arrested “clashing”,' Mr Doyle said, wryly. ‘I'm sure his
intentions are sound, even if his methods are not.'

Wolf entered the room. Spying Kemp, he arrowed over. ‘I advise you to take anything
this man says with a grain of salt,' he said. ‘He's a part of this, I guarantee you
that.'

‘I take everything with a grain of salt,' Kemp said. ‘I understand another message
has arrived.'

‘It has. Again, a boy was given some money to deliver it by an older woman. It's
the same description.'

Wolf laid the note on the table before them. Jack read:

To the Men who would control all,

I see Ignatius Doyle was successful in derailing our last bomb. I congratulate him
on his efforts. Of course, the game is just beginning. The one who holds everything
in his hands is not Doyle. It is a love some would cherish, but not I. But what's
in a kiss, after all?

The next bomb will explode at 7pm. I advise you to hurry if you want to catch time.

Lady Death

‘Monstrous,' Greystoke muttered. ‘7pm. That gives us just over an hour.'

‘But what does the message mean?' Kemp asked.

They looked to Mr Doyle, who slowly shook his head. ‘I'm not sure,' he said. ‘But
I would suggest we take it phrase by phrase.'

‘There's the bit about derailing the last bomb,' Jack said.

‘She congratulates us and says the game is just beginning,' Scarlet said.

‘Then there's the business about Doyle not holding everything in his hands,' Wolf
said, grudgingly. ‘And that nonsense about love and a kiss.'

‘So what does it mean?' Greystoke asked.

But no-one had any idea.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Jack glanced at his watch. ‘We need to come up with something,' he said. ‘We only
have an hour.'

Mr Doyle repeated the phrases to himself, closing his eyes and meditating.

‘It may mean nothing at all,' Wolf said. ‘Just a ruse to put us off track.'

Mr Doyle opened his eyes. ‘That's possible,' he said, ‘but it seems unlikely they
would bother to send a message at all then. No, the sender of this note wants us
to play this game to fruition.'

Inspector Greystoke wrote the phrases on a blackboard.

‘Derailing the last bomb…the game is just beginning…not holding everything in his
hands…a love some would cherish…what's in a kiss…hurry to catch time…'

‘What on earth does it mean?' Scarlet asked.

Wolf said, ‘There are two phrases that may refer to trains: the “derailing” and “catch
time.”'

‘That's true,' Mr Doyle said. ‘But it's a very large network. What station could
it be?'

They continued to stare in silence at the words.

‘It's all Greek to me,' Jack finally muttered. ‘I just don't know what it means.'

‘
Greek
,' Mr Doyle said. ‘That's it.'

‘That's what?'

‘
Holding everything in his hands.
St Pancras's name comes from the ancient Greek
meaning “the one that holds everything”.'

‘So it may be St Pancras Station,' Greystoke said. ‘But what about love and the kiss.'

‘There's a statue at St Pancras Station. It's—'

‘
The Kiss
,' Wolf said. ‘By Rodin.' He looked embarrassed. ‘I'm a lover of great
art.'

Within minutes the group were in steamcars racing across London. Mr Doyle looked
at his watch. ‘There's still time to evacuate the station,' he said.

‘St Pancras is enormous,' Jack said, once they'd arrived. ‘I wonder where the bomb
is hidden.'

‘We shall see.'

The station was a huge brick building in a dilapidated state, the ceiling a huge
arch of glass with many of the panes broken.

‘The roof is the single largest span arch in the world,' Mr Doyle said. ‘A true work
of engineering genius. It's a shame it has fallen into such disrepair.'

Thousands of people were streaming across the concourse. The evening peak hour was
in full swing. It would remain like this for some time.

Mr Doyle and the others crossed to Rodin's statue. ‘Magnificent,' Mr Doyle murmured.
‘A true work of art.'

‘I'm not sure now's the time to appreciate it,' Jack said.