The Monster Within (7 page)

‘Suspicious people often wear eye patches,' Scarlet said. ‘Or have scars.'

Jack thought. There was
some
truth in what Scarlet was saying. They had certainly
come up against enough people who had either one or the other.
And some had both.

‘I wonder why,' he said.

‘Maybe it's something to do with the school they attend.'

‘The—what?'

‘The school.' She glared at him. ‘It's not a completely silly idea. In
The Adventure
of the Rogues Academy
,
Brinkie Buckeridge exposes a school training students to be
criminals.'

It wasn't such a crazy idea, either. ‘It does make some kind of sense,' Jack said.
‘But what about the scars? And eye patches?'

‘Well, you can't be an evildoer and look normal. Can you?'

‘So they cut each other with knives and poke out their eyes…so they can look evil?'

‘Now that's just silly. They get injured during the training process, of course.
That's how they end up so damaged.'

‘This is making too much sense to me,' Jack said. ‘I think we should focus on looking
for suspicious people—eye patches or not.'

He turned his attention to the crowds. Very few people had eye patches. The only
one he could see was an elderly lady with a walking frame, and her frail state made
her an unlikely evildoer.

Before long, Jack found his attention diverted by the incredible architecture.

He had seen some extraordinary buildings in his life, but this was breathtaking.
Ornately decorated archways led to corridors covered in mosaics of blue, white and
orange tiles. But these took second place to dozens of intricately carved columns
that seemed to defy gravity by supporting tons of stonework.

‘Incredible,' Scarlet said, gazing about with her mouth open. ‘It must have taken
years to do this work.'

‘Probably decades,' Jack said. ‘Longer if you're wearing an eye patch.'

They finally reached the Palace of Charles V. Different to the other buildings,
it was made of square stone, Renaissance in style, plainer but still impressive.
Jack was surprised to find an interior portico—a round outdoor area at its centre—surrounded
by two levels of ancient walkways.

They waited for Mr Doyle and John Fleming, the crowds milling around. A man and woman
had just been married, and a photographer was taking pictures with a bellows camera
on a tripod.

‘My goodness,' Scarlet said, pointing to the upper floor, where a man was walking
into the distance. ‘We know him.'

‘Is he wearing an eye patch?'

‘Don't be silly! We've seen him before!'

The man stopped once before entering a doorway, checking behind to see if he had
been followed. He was tall, with a grey moustache. He
does
look familiar, Jack thought,
his memory returning to the previous evening and the attempted attack in Barcelona.
It's the man who lured us from the bar!

Jack grabbed Scarlet's sleeve. ‘Come on,' he said. ‘We need to keep him in sight.'

‘What about Mr Doyle?'

‘You can wait here, if you want.'

‘Not a chance.'

They scrambled up a staircase and raced down
a corridor, just in time to see the
man descending a flight of stairs. He left the building, glancing back once again,
but Jack and Scarlet ducked behind a column.

‘Did he see us?' Jack asked.

‘I don't think so.'

They followed him down the steep hill. Trees gave shade on both sides of the path.
A few tourists walking uphill had parasols to shield themselves from the late afternoon
sun.

The man disappeared around a corner into a car park filled with vehicles of all types:
small airships, steamcars and horse-drawn carriages. An old man fed oats to his old
brown horse. Two small children chased each other around while their parents loaded
picnic baskets into the back of a steamcar.

‘I don't see him,' Jack said.

The vehicles were parked so close to each other they were almost touching. There
was no sign of the man with the grey moustache. Then Jack caught sight of him: heading
down another road further away from the palace.

Jack and Scarlet spent the next half hour trailing him until they reached a train
station. It was part of a whole new rail network that had been recently built across
Spain over the last few years. Crowds were streaming in and out of an egg-shaped
entrance made of iron and glass. Most of them were workers heading home for the day.

After the man paid for a train ticket, Scarlet purchased two: for herself and Jack.
They trailed him
down a flight of stairs to the underground, a hot tunnel stretching
into the darkness.

‘Where are we going?' Jack asked.

‘I have no idea. My Spanish is poor, but I pretended we were with the other man and
needed tickets.'

They hid behind a pylon, keeping an eye on the man. It was less crowded down here.
A board listed a number of stations, the most distant being the southern town La
Zubia.

‘Mr Doyle will be wondering what happened to us,' Jack said. ‘Maybe you should go
back and tell him I'm following Moustache.'

‘Where you go, I go.'

‘Still, he'll be worried.'

‘I know. I wish we could have left him a message.' Scarlet snapped her fingers. ‘I
know what I should have done. There's a Brinkie Buckeridge story where she rips a
piece of her skirt off, leaving a trail of thread that Dudley Dusseldorf follows.'

‘Scarlet, you'll be wandering around in your underwear if you do that.'

‘True,' Scarlet admitted, frowning. ‘Brinkie must wear very thick dresses.'

A train pulled in, belching smoke and steam. Jack and Scarlet boarded, careful to
keep the man in sight. If he was part of the Valkyrie Circle, he might be on his
way to their hideout, Jack thought.
We might be able to corner the whole gang. This
could be finished by day's end.

An hour later, the train reached its final destination—La Zubia. The railway station
was in the heart of a small town filled with squat earth-coloured buildings. It was
late now and Jack was feeling hungry as they followed the man up a road that led
away from town.

‘Where's he going?' Scarlet said.

‘To visit his ageing granny,' Jack said. ‘How would I know?'

The road veered off to a path that wound around a hill before plunging into a deep
valley. Jack and Scarlet stayed as far back as possible without losing sight of the
man.

At the top of a crest was an abandoned-looking house. Several windows were broken,
and some tiles were missing from the roof. It was accessible via a rope bridge, stretching
across a hundred-foot ravine. It shuddered as the man crossed before disappearing
behind the house.

‘Quickly!' Scarlet said. ‘He's getting away.'

‘I'm not sure,' Jack said. ‘We'll be sitting ducks on that bridge if he comes back.'

‘Why would he come back?'

With Scarlet leading, they started across the bridge, gripping the handrails as wooden
planks creaked underfoot. Jack felt queasy. There was something not quite right
about this whole journey. Where was the man going? Surely he didn't live in the home
on the hill?

Reaching the halfway point, Jack began to breathe a little easier—until a figure
appeared on the other side
from behind some rocks. It was the man! And he was holding
a machete.

‘Jack!' Scarlet cried.

They started back. Jack pushed Scarlet in front of him as the man began hacking at
the ropes. One of the hand rails broke, then the second. Jack cried out as they dropped
away. He and Scarlet had to remain perfectly balanced or they would fall over the
side.

The wooden planks began quaking.
Now he's cutting away at the platform ropes
, Jack
thought.
Once he breaks them—

A sound like a whip cracking echoed across the ravine as the bridge tilted.

‘Keep going!' Jack cried. ‘Keep—'

But he got no further as the final rope supporting the bridge broke.

CHAPTER NINE

The rope ladder slammed into the wall.

Smack!

Jack clung to the crossbar for dear life. Above him, Scarlet screamed again.

‘Jack!' she said. ‘I can't…'

She fell.

Jack threw out his arms and managed to grasp her as she tumbled past. ‘Grab one of
the crossbars,' he grunted, clinging to her and the timber at the same time. ‘Quickly!'

Scarlet started climbing. Jack glanced down into the ravine. It was a hundred-foot
drop. They would be badly injured—or worse if they fell.

He steadily climbed after her and they were soon back on flat ground.

‘Oh my Lord,' Scarlet said, collapsing. ‘My heart is still racing a mile a minute.'

‘I don't think it's over yet,' Jack said, falling next to her. Moustache was nowhere
to be seen. ‘That man must have known all along he was being followed.'

‘Is there another way around?'

‘Probably. But let's not wait to find out.'

Jack's legs were still trembling as they followed the path back towards town. Within
minutes, they were among homes and shops. Jack found it hard to believe they had
faced death just a few minutes before. The sun was low in the sky now. Mr Doyle would
be pulling his hair out! And how many times had he told them not to do anything too
risky?

‘We need to get back to Alhambra,' Scarlet said.

‘Yes,' Jack agreed. ‘But let me buy something to eat first.'

‘You and your stomach!'

They ate Spanish omelettes in a café before boarding a train. There was no sign of
the man with his machete, but Jack remained vigilant as the train thundered down
the tracks. Scarlet thrummed her fingers impatiently on the windowsill.

‘I keep wondering what Brinkie would have done,' she said. ‘Would she have continued
after Moustache, or would she have turned back?'

‘She wouldn't have done either. She's imaginary.'

Scarlet glared at him. ‘She's as real as you and me,' she said. ‘Almost.'

The train sped through the early evening and arrived back in Granada at eight o'clock.
Jack and Scarlet crossed the city on foot to get to Hotel Hermosa. ‘I can't wait
to get to bed,' Jack said. ‘I feel like we've been awake for a hundred hours.'

It had started to rain softly, making the streets slick with moisture. People in
a pub laughed and sang. The smell of hot food wafted through the air from an upstairs
kitchen. A couple kissed in a doorway.

By the time they reached the street where their hotel was, Jack felt ready to topple
over from exhaustion.

Passing a steamcar on the side of the road, a man stepped from the back seat and
approached. ‘Excuse me, senorita,' he said to Scarlet. ‘I have something for you.'

‘For me?' she asked. ‘What is it?'

The man produced a gun, pointing it at her chest. ‘You will both come with us if
you want to live,' he said. Turning to Jack, he added, ‘Do not think of running if
you want your girlfriend to live.'

They were bustled into the back of the waiting car. The driver slammed his foot down
on the accelerator and they sped away. Through the window, the hotel flew past.

We were so close!

Jack and Scarlet were jammed tight between two men as the car swept through the city.
They drove to the outskirts, an industrial area with factories and abandoned
warehouses.
Bouncing over uneven ground, the steamcar reached a mansion that looked odd in this
part of town.

‘Where are we?' Jack asked. ‘Why have we been brought here?'

‘You will find out soon.'

They were taken inside. The hallway was well lit, and furnished with fine-woven Spanish
carpets and lavish paintings of rural life on the walls. A chandelier hung above
the stairwell. Whoever owned this home was clearly wealthy.

A flight of stairs led to a basement. Jack cast a look at Scarlet.

Where are they taking us?

They were led downstairs and shoved into chairs. Pairs of handcuffs were produced
and their hands were secured behind their backs. The three men regarded them silently.

‘What's going on?' Jack demanded. ‘You're not going to get away with this!'

‘We already have, young one.'

The men turned and left. Scarlet shuffled about in her seat. ‘Can you reach your
lock pick?' she asked. ‘I have a piece of wire in a pocket, but I can't get it.'

Jack tried shuffling about in his seat. He could feel the weight of the items in
his pockets. His parents' locket. The compass. The lock pick was there, but he couldn't
reach it. Before he could reply, the door creaked open and a man entered.

Jack shot a look at Scarlet.

He's wearing an eye patch!

Scarlet glared back.
I told you so!

‘Little ones,' he said, with a slight Spanish accent. ‘I regret that we have taken
this course of action, but it was necessary.'

‘I demand our release!' Scarlet said. ‘We are visitors in your country!'

He smiled without humour. ‘Welcome to España,' he said. ‘My name is Carlos. You may
leave at any time, but there is a price.'

‘What do you want?' Jack asked.

‘You must tell me everything you know about X-29.'

‘That's going to be easy,' Jack said, ‘because we don't know what it is.'

‘That is not the answer I am seeking.'

‘It's the only one we've got.'

Carlos reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife, its deadly blade glinting
in the pale light. ‘Where is X-29?' he said. ‘Give me its location and you may leave.'