The Monster Within (18 page)

‘There is always time to appreciate great beauty.'

They checked around the statue, but found no parcel. A siren began to wail plaintively.

‘That must be Greystoke's doing,' Mr Doyle said. ‘They're starting an evacuation.'

Within minutes, police officers were blocking off entrances and diverting people
to other stations, although it sounded like the trains were still running; Jack could
hear engines reverberating up through the ground.

While officers searched cloakrooms, waiting areas and ticket offices, Inspector Wolf
came marching across the tiles. ‘I hope you're right about this,' he growled. ‘We've
got half the department here.'

‘We can't be certain,' Mr Doyle said. ‘This is an educated guess based on scanty
information.'

Wolf stalked off.

‘Such a lovely man,' Mr Doyle muttered. ‘He must be wonderful at parties.'

‘What about the platforms below?' Jack asked.

‘We had best see what's happening.'

They went down a steam-powered escalator. The smell of smoke filled the air. Trains
were still coming and going.

‘Most of the trains have been stopped,' Mr Doyle said, ‘but it looks like the express
services are still running.'

They scanned the board. Mr Doyle tapped his chin. ‘It's a long shot,' he said, ‘but
St Pancras's Day is the twelfth of May.'

‘So we'll try Platform Twelve?' Scarlet asked.

‘It's better than nothing.'

They went down another escalator. It was so hot and stuffy down here that Jack could
barely breathe. A few listless commuters stood around; they had obviously ignored
the order to evacuate the station. A distant rattle sounded from the tunnel.

‘Must be an express service,' Mr Doyle said.

There was a rush of wind and a train, bellowing smoke and steam, chugged by the platform.
Jack observed that it was moving fairly slowly.

‘Many of the express services slow as they pass through the inner-city stations,'
Mr Doyle explained. ‘The wind is so powerful it can knock people over.'

Jack saw movement at the engineers' compartment—then something tumbled out onto
the platform.

‘Great Scott!' Mr Doyle cried. ‘That's the driver!'

Another figure leapt out of the train and raced away down the platform. Jack ran
to the driver, who had a knife jammed in his chest.

‘Dead,' he said.

‘Why isn't the train stopping?' Scarlet asked.

It should have come to a halt without the driver, but it continued to charge along
the platform.

‘The safety brake must be disabled.'

‘So the bomb must be on board,' Jack said.

Jack ran alongside the train, his eyes darting between the doors. Most of them were
shut due to the steam-powered pressure switches—but there were always a few broken
ones that slid open. Picking up speed, Jack leapt on board—and someone came crashing
through after him.

‘Scarlet!'

‘Who did you expect?' she asked. ‘Joan of Arc?'

‘But if there's a bomb on board—'

‘I'm a modern woman, not a cream puff!' she snapped. ‘Besides, this may be a two-person
job.'

They raced through the carriages. The number of passengers tapered off closer to
the front. Ahead lay the train's coal skip, and beyond, the engineer's compartment.

The train left the tunnel as Scarlet tried the door. Locked.

‘What about the window?'

Jack pushed the nearest one open. A blast of cold air poured in. There was just enough
room to squeeze
through. Good thing he was small.

As he started to climb out, an elderly lady charged over.

‘What on earth are you doing?' she demanded. ‘That's highly dangerous!'

‘I know,' Jack said, ‘but the driver's been murdered and a bomb is planted on the
train, probably in the guard's compartment. If we don't stop it, we'll all die.'

The woman let out a small shriek.

Jack leant out. The train was charging along, buildings whizzing past. Night was
falling fast. He spotted a woman hanging her washing. Seeing Jack, she dropped it
in astonishment.

Searching for a handhold, Jack found he couldn't reach the coal skip, but he thought
he could reach the ridge running over the window. He began to pull himself up.

‘Bazookas,' he muttered. ‘There's got to be a better way to spend an evening.'

But his fingers were slippery. He should have dried them first. As long as—

Jack fell. One moment he was holding the train, the next he was freefalling backwards
with only his legs looped over the windowsill. Then he felt Scarlet grab him, and
he hung out sideways from the train like a flag. A metal stanchion came flying towards
him.

Shrieking, Scarlet pulled him upright, as the stanchion flew past.

‘Thanks!' he yelled.

Jack didn't hear Scarlet's reply. Wiping his fingers, Jack reached again for the
ridge and climbed up to the roof. He stood, steadied himself for a moment and then
jumped into the heart of the coal skip, landing face first.

Ouch!

He leapt over to the roof of the engineer's cabin. As the train took the bend, the
entire locomotive squealed like a feral cat. Jack climbed down through the doorway
and spotted the controls. The accelerator had been jammed into position with a piece
of pipe.

When Jack removed it, the train immediately began to slow. Eventually it would stop
of its own accord.

But he already had a bigger problem. At his feet lay a doctor's bag. It looked so
out of place here in the driver's cab that it could only mean one thing—it held the
bomb. He carefully edged open the top. Time was running out. Surely he had less—

Bazookas.

The second hand on the clock was ticking away.

Fifteen.

Fourteen.

Thirteen.

He needed to get rid of it now! The train crossed a bridge over the Thames. More
stanchions raced past. Jack had to time this perfectly. If the bomb hit a stanchion,
it would rebound back at the train, killing them all.

Just a few more seconds
, he thought.
I just need a gap.

One appeared in the metalwork. He threw the bomb as hard as he dared and ducked.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The evening turned white as the locomotive jolted sideways. Jack's head hit the wall,
and the next thing he knew was that a man was carrying him away on a stretcher.

‘You're right, lad,' the man said. ‘We'll have you at the hospital before you know
it.'

No
, Jack thought.
I don't need a hospital.

He pushed against the stretcher and then saw a face at his side. Scarlet. She grabbed
his hand.

‘Jack,' she said. ‘Can you hear me?'

He looked about in confusion. He was at the base of the bridge on the south side
of the river. The blast had thrown the train off its tracks. It was upright, but
zigzagged across the bridge. Coal, broken glass and shattered timber lay everywhere.

‘You did it, Jack,' Scarlet said. ‘You saved the train.'

‘It doesn't look like it.'

He climbed off the stretcher and thanked the carrier. He was still groggy as Scarlet
threw her arms around him. ‘Don't be hard on yourself,' she said. ‘If you hadn't
risked your life, it would've been a complete disaster.'

As she led him away, they both heard a shout.

‘Jack!' A figure weaved towards them. ‘Scarlet!'

‘Mr Doyle!'

The detective gave them a mighty hug. ‘You've both been incredibly brave,' he said.
‘Normally I would chastise you for risking your lives, but if you hadn't…'

The evidence lay in the train wreck.

‘What about the man who killed the driver?' Jack asked.

‘Escaped,' Mr Doyle said, bitterly. ‘He took a service route away from the platform
without being seen.'

‘He must have known the station,' Scarlet said.

‘Undoubtedly.'

They returned to St Pancras Station to find Inspector Greystoke leaving. ‘Doyle!'
he cried. ‘I just heard about the train!' After Mr Doyle had described Jack and Scarlet's
exploits, Greystoke cried, ‘Good God! What do you feed these children? Jumping beans?'

Despite everything he had been through, Jack still managed a smile.

The trio returned to Scotland Yard, where they retrieved the
Lion's Mane
and flew
back to Bee Street. Gloria was waiting for them. She'd cooked up large plates of
sausages and vegetables for dinner.

‘Heavens!' she cried when she saw Jack's dishevelled appearance. ‘What have you been
up to?'

‘Just the usual,' he laughed.

After they'd eaten, Scarlet asked, ‘What next?'

‘First a night of sleep,' Mr Doyle said. ‘I imagine the Valkyrie Circle—or whoever
is responsible for the bombings—will contact us again soon.'

Retiring to his room, Jack settled into bed with his copy of
Zombie Airship
and read
for a few minutes, but his eyes were already closing. He blearily put his light out
and was asleep within seconds.

It was still night when he next woke. The only light came from the glare of a gaslit
advertisement for bath powder on the building opposite. What had woken him? It sounded
like something at his window.

A bird?

A shadow moved across the glass. Jack sat up. If it was a bird, it was a
huge
bird.
After climbing out of bed, Jack tiptoed over to the window and peered out. He saw
nothing out of the ordinary.
It must have been my imagination.

Click.

He sat up again. The sound had come from the other end of the apartment. Jack went
to his door, eased it open and padded down the hallway. The thousands of
odd possessions
lining the walls were like ghosts in the night. Normally he felt safe in the apartment
at night, but now his nerves were jangling.

He tiptoed through to the sitting room. No-one could walk through without knocking
into anything—maybe it
was
a bird. A sound came from above. Jack glanced up, but
he couldn't see anything in the gloomy rafters or steam pipes that ran across the
ceiling.

Another noise came. He peered into the murkiness until his eyes hurt, but could see
nothing. Then a shape moved, a shadow within the shadows. It moved towards the rear
of the apartment to the balcony.

Jack crept through the darkness, stubbing his toe.
Ouch!
No-one could be in the apartment.
They certainly couldn't be
swinging
from the rafters.

Clack.

The noise came from behind. Jack swung about, ready to yell if he spotted anything.
Something flew overhead. A shape raced across the rafters, blended perfectly with
the darkness and was gone.

A breeze teased the back of Jack's head. He skirted to the balcony doors. One was
open. Glancing over the side, he saw a dark shape descending.

What on earth?

He could go and get Mr Doyle, but the thing had already reached the street.

Jack raced over to the tiny elevator that clung to the side of the building and was
on the ground in seconds.

Reaching Bee Street, he was just in time to see the
shape disappearing into an alley.

Jack raced to the corner. He knew this alley. It was a dead end. Whoever—or whatever—he
was chasing would not be able to escape.

He swallowed hard. ‘Hello?' he ventured. ‘I'd like to talk to you.'

The darkness at the other end was absolute.

‘I'm not your enemy. But I'd like to know why you were in our apartment.'

Something shifted in the dark. Something
huge
.

‘I want to be left alone,' a man said, his voice gravelly and low. ‘I must be alone.'

Jack's heart thudded. ‘Why were you in our apartment?' he asked. ‘Who are you?'

‘I'm nobody. I wanted to see why the boy had come to see you.'

The boy?

‘Do you mean Toby?' Jack asked.

‘Toby.' The guttural voice repeated the name as if unfamiliar. ‘I wish him no harm.'

‘I'm sure you don't want to hurt anyone,' Jack said. ‘Why don't you come back to
Bee Street. You can meet Mr Doyle and Scarlet—'

‘I can't be with people. They want to hunt me. Kill me.'

‘We don't want to kill you,' Jack said. ‘We're not like that. You can come back to
our home.'

The man gave a sad laugh. ‘Home,' he said. ‘Monsters have no home.'

Jack heard metal moving against stone. ‘What are you doing? Speak to me.'

But only the night answered and it had nothing to say.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

‘That's incredible,' Mr Doyle said. ‘Just extraordinary.'

The sun was up and Jack
had regaled Mr Doyle, Gloria and Scarlet with his tale. At first he was worried they
would not believe him, but Mr Doyle quickly assured him.

‘I also thought I heard something,' he said. ‘But I knew the doors were securely
bolted. Nothing could get in.'

‘Then how did he enter?' Scarlet asked. ‘Or should I say,
it
?'

‘He's not an
it
,' Jack said. ‘The visitor was a man. A person. And he needs our help.'

‘It sounds like he does,' Mr Doyle said.

Gloria appeared in the doorway. ‘A message has arrived,' she said. ‘It's from Toby.'

Mr Doyle quickly read it. ‘Some sort of vigilante group has been formed,' he said.

‘We've got to stop them,' Jack said.

‘The Valkyrie Circle must be our priority for now.'

‘The monster—or whoever he is—needs to be warned.'