The Monster Within (19 page)

‘We can't—'

‘Sir,' Jack said. ‘The monster hasn't harmed anyone, but it seems that someone is
intent on harming him. Isn't it our duty to make certain he is safe?'

Mr Doyle pursed his lips. ‘I must remain here in case Scotland Yard hears from the
Valkyrie Circle,' he said. ‘Go to Whitechapel—but for God's sake, be careful.'

Within minutes, Jack and Scarlet were on a train heading to Whitechapel. They navigated
the winding streets to the factory where Toby's mother worked. The racket from the
inside of the building was deafening.

Standing in the doorway, Sally caught sight of them and hurried over.

‘You received Toby's note?' she said. ‘I saw Thackeray and Beel race out of here
an hour ago.'

‘Do you know where they were headed?' Scarlet asked.

‘I don't.'

I can make a guess,
Jack thought.
The sewerage building.

Thanking her, they ran to the building, where they
found the front door jammed open.
Voices came from below.

‘Maybe you should stay out here,' Jack suggested.

‘And let you have all the fun?'

‘You've got a very strange idea of fun.'

Creeping down the stairs, Jack heard men's voices echoing about the tunnels. They
were soon accompanied by the sound of rushing water.

Finally, Jack and Scarlet reached a doorway that led onto a wide underground river,
with gaslights set into the walls. Walkways ran along both sides, with a metal bridge
across the water. Thackeray stood in a doorway at the end, a burning torch in his
hand, Beel at his side.

A shot rang out.

‘Quickly!' Jack said.

They raced alongside the river as the men disappeared through the door. Beel was
yelling excitedly.

‘I think I got it!' he said. ‘I hit it.'

They came to a vast, circular room with another walkway around the edge and a bridge
across the fast-flowing river. The domed ceiling was dark.

‘What are you doing?' Jack cried.

‘What Scotland Yard should have done,' Thackeray snarled. ‘Hunting down this creature
before it causes any more damage.'

‘It's not a creature. He's a man,' Jack said. ‘Or was.'

‘I don't care what it is. It's costing me money.' Thackeray turned to Beel. ‘Bring
out the heavy weaponry.'

For the first time, Jack noticed a long bag on the
walkway next to the foreman. Unzipping
it, Beel produced a machine gun and a belt of bullets.

‘You can't be serious!' Scarlet said. ‘This is murder.'

‘Murder.'

The voice rang about the chamber, but did not come from any of them. It came from
the ceiling above.

‘Kill it!' Thackeray yelled. ‘Fire!'

Beel lifted the weapon, aimed it at the ceiling and pulled the trigger. It sprayed
a ream of bullets, the sound deafening in the domed room. Jack made a grab for the
gun, but Thackeray clubbed him to the ground.

Finally Beel stopped shooting, gunfire echoing away to silence. He was breathing
hard, his eyes glistening in the light of the torch.

‘I must have got it,' he said. ‘It must be dead.'

‘Then where's the body?' Thackeray asked.

They stared into the darkness. Jack had the eerie feeling they were being watched.
He clambered to his feet.

‘You mustn't do this,' he said. ‘He may not look human, but he has feelings.'

‘You think so?' Thackeray said. ‘Let's put that to the test.' Pulling a revolver
from his pocket, he aimed it at them. ‘Who wants to die first?'

‘What?' Scarlet said. ‘You're insane!'

‘This creature is costing me a hundred pounds a day. Losing that sort of money will
drive any man crazy.'

Jack glanced at the water. No doubt the sewerage led to the Thames, but who knew
what other tributaries and tunnels it passed through on the way. A person
could be
pummelled to death before they reached it. Still, they'd be better off taking their
chances by jumping in than staying here and getting killed.

‘Creature!' Thackeray yelled at the roof. ‘I have two young people here who I'm more
than happy to consign to oblivion. They think you have a soul. I'm giving you ten
seconds to prove it before I shoot them, and throw their bodies into the river.'

There was no sound from above, only the churning water below.

‘Ten.'

Jack glanced at Scarlet, who eyed the churning water. Would they be able to scramble
over the side in time?

Thackeray continued to count down. ‘Nine…eight… seven…six…'

‘You can't really intend to kill us,' Scarlet said. ‘We work for Ignatius Doyle,
the detective. If anything happens to us, you'll hang.'

‘A jury's got to prove it first,' Thackeray said. ‘Now where was I? That's right…five…four…'

A stone flew from the darkness, knocking the gun from Thackeray's hand into the water.
‘That way!' he yelled at Beel, pointing. ‘Up there!'

Beel fired the weapon again and now Jack saw a shape scooting across the ceiling.
An unearthly cry rang out, and then something arrowed towards them—a brick—knocking
the machine gun from Beel's grip.

Defenceless, Thackeray and Beel gaped at each other.

‘Run!' Thackeray cried. ‘It's not human! It's from hell!'

The two men disappeared into a side tunnel, taking the torch with them.

Jack reached into his green coat and carefully lit a candle.

‘I don't think they'll be back any time soon,' Scarlet said.

Jack looked up to the ceiling. ‘Come with us,' he called. ‘You don't need to live
down here.'

But there was no answer. Jack led Scarlet away from the bridge. Just before they
left the chamber, he paused and listened hard. Against the roar of the rushing water,
he was certain he could hear the sound of weeping.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Back at the Bee Street apartment, Jack and Scarlet explained their encounter with
Thackeray and Beel. Mr Doyle sent an angry message to Scotland Yard.

‘I've told them about Thackeray's attack,' Mr Doyle said. ‘And asked he be arrested
immediately.'

‘Do you think that will happen?' Jack asked.

‘I'm not sure. Thackeray is a rich and powerful man. Unscrupulous villains like him
are not above bribing corrupt officials to stay out of jail.'

Gloria appeared. ‘A letter has arrived,' she said, passing the envelope to Mr Doyle.

He read it and sighed. ‘As I expected, Greystoke has asked us to attend the Yard,'
he said.

How many more times would the Valkyrie Circle strike before there was a breakthrough
in the case, Jack wondered as they headed to the
Lion's Mane
. It seemed all they
had done was run around like rats in a cage.

At Scotland Yard, they returned to the Operations room. It was empty except for Greystoke,
Wolf and Kemp, and each man had deep bags under their eyes.

‘You gentlemen look as tired as we feel,' Mr Doyle said.

‘Just doing our duty,' Wolf grunted.

‘Thanks for coming in, Doyle,' Kemp said. ‘We've received another message.'

He pushed it across the table for them to read:

Dear Oppressors,

Let's see if you're as smart as you believe. The third hour leaves you little time.
Six is a small number. Make me something sweet to eat. But be certain to keep it
contained.

Lady Death

Scarlet groaned. ‘My goodness,' she said. ‘This one's shorter than the others and
makes even less sense.'

‘It's a puzzle,' Mr Doyle admitted. ‘But its brevity may make it easier to solve.'

They pored over the note.

‘
The third hour
,' Wolf said. ‘
Six is a small number
.'

‘Numbers have never been my specialty,' Jack
admitted. ‘Along with languages, history
and most other things in school books.'

‘The third hour,' Mr Doyle frowned, glancing at his watch. ‘Good heavens. It's almost
nine o'clock.'

‘Do you need tea?' Scarlet asked.

The detective stabbed at the note. ‘In Roman times, the third hour was nine o'clock,'
he said. ‘I just pray I'm wrong.'

‘And the other clues?' Greystoke asked. ‘Something sweet to eat? Keep it contained?'

Mr Doyle frowned. ‘Six is a small number, but a small number for what reason? And
something sweet to eat that you keep contained. What do you keep contained?'

‘A fire, usually,' Wolf said.

‘A fire,' Mr Doyle echoed. ‘Of course, the great fire of London. It began in Pudding
Lane—'

‘Something sweet to eat!' Jack cried.

‘And despite the destruction it wrought, only six people lost their lives.' He looked
at his watch again. ‘But we'll never get there in time!'

They raced through the corridors of Scotland Yard. A constable stopped Greystoke
on the way and handed him a note.

‘It's another message from the Valkyrie Circle.'

‘We'll look at it shortly,' Kemp said. ‘First we must get to Pudding Lane.'

But they had only just reached the concourse when a distant explosion echoed across
the city. A column of smoke rose up from the city centre.

‘Dear God!' Kemp said. ‘We're too late.'

Everyone piled into police steamcars and navigated their way to Pudding Lane, where
they found a huge hole in the middle of the street. Black smoke choked the air.

Part of a building had collapsed. Glass and timber lay everywhere and there was a
dead horse on the road.
Poor beast
, Jack thought sadly. Ambulances were already taking
people away to hospital.

Greystoke made some enquiries. ‘We've got three dead and more than a dozen injured,'
he said. ‘But it could have been much worse. Fortunately part of the street was closed
for building repairs.'

‘What does the latest note say?' Mr Doyle asked.

He read it out:

Dear Oppressors,

I'm sick of playing games with you. I liked what you did at St Pancras Station, but
I think we'll show you how serious we really are. Ten bombs will explode at ten railway
stations at midday. The same thing will happen every day until women are given the
vote.

Lady Death

‘But that's three hours away,' Greystoke looked shattered. ‘And ten stations…'

‘And we have no idea which stations they intend bombing,' Kemp said. ‘It'll be carnage.
Utter carnage.'

‘They must be evacuated immediately,' Mr Doyle said.

‘Which ones?'

‘All of them. Every railway station in London.'

‘We'd never do it in time,' Greystoke said. ‘London has hundreds of stations. We'd
need every police officer in England.'

‘But it must be done,' Kemp said. ‘Doyle, return to Scotland Yard. See if you can
get us ahead of the Valkyrie Circle.'

Mr Doyle and the others headed back to their steamcar. Workmen were already stabilising
the huge hole in the road.

Jack peered gloomily out the window as they travelled back through the city.
It's
all getting worse by the minute.
They had been following leads for days and achieved
nothing. Now the whole city was being held to ransom. Where would it end?

‘What will we do once we get back to Scotland Yard?' Scarlet asked.

‘Review what we know,' Mr Doyle said. ‘Hopefully several heads are better than one.'

The police vehicle was inching through the traffic. The driver spoke over his shoulder.

‘Looks like it's going to be a while,' he said. ‘The whole city's in gridlock.'

‘Closing every station in London will only make things worse,' Scarlet said.

Mr Doyle nodded. ‘You're quite right, of course,'
he said. ‘Undoubtedly that's part
of the Valkyrie Circle's plan—to keep the police busy.'

‘Every pickpocket in London will be free to steal at will,' Scarlet said.

‘Indeed.'

Mr Doyle frowned in thought. Leaning forward, he asked the driver to stop the car,
and he gestured to Jack and Scarlet to climb out with him.

‘Are we going to walk back to Scotland Yard?' Jack asked.

‘I don't think so,' Mr Doyle said. ‘We're returning to Pudding Lane.'

Without further explanation, Mr Doyle led them back the few blocks they had travelled.
The construction crew was still shoring up the sides of the hole in the ground. Skirting
the disaster, Mr Doyle arrowed towards a dilapidated ten-storey brick building.

‘
Ballantyne
,' he said, reading the sign over the front.

They entered the foyer, a voluminous chamber with whitewashed timber walls and a
cracking ceiling. Mr Doyle scanned the Occupants Directory.

‘Did you notice anything unusual about this building?' he asked.

‘It's old,' Jack said. ‘Run down.'

‘Looks like it's just about ready for demolition,' Scarlet said.

‘Yet none of its windows were broken in the explosion,' Mr Doyle said.

Jack frowned. Mr Doyle was right. Most buildings
in the street had been badly affected
by the blast, yet this one—directly in front of the explosion—had been left entirely
unscathed.

‘Are the windows unbreakable?' he asked.

‘I imagine so,' Mr Doyle said.

‘But why would there be unbreakable windows on an old building like this?' Scarlet
asked.

‘Why indeed?' The detective led them over to the nearest elevator and punched a button.
No sound came from the shaft. ‘They seem to be out of order, except…' He produced
a candle from his pocket, lit it and waved it before the small window set into the
elevator door. ‘Hmm.'