The Steampunk Detective (22 page)

“I will be fine,” Jack said firmly.

“Of course you will,” Mr Griffin said.

“Your safety is our number one priority,” General Churchill said.

“I don’t suppose,” Ignatius Doyle said, “it has occurred to anyone that there is more to this request than meets the eye?”

The men did not respond.

“Professor M has chosen a highly visible place for this exchange to occur,” Mr Doyle said. “He has no intention of being caught, so why has he chosen this location? And there is no guarantee he will actually release the bomb to us – if the bomb is even in England.”

“Do you think it is still on the continent?” Thomas Griffin asked.

“Isn’t it true that from the moment this crisis began, every airship port and shipping terminal across England was closed?” Mr Doyle asked. “You have effectively made England a fortress. Nothing in. Nothing out.”

General Churchill shook his head. “All it would take is one ship to deliver the weapon.”

“Agreed,” Mr Doyle said. “But if no ships are being allowed in –.”

“It would only take one to slip through,” Mr Griffin said firmly. “Do you really want to weigh up the life of one boy against half a million people?”

Mr Doyle said nothing, swallowing.

“I’ll be fine,” Jack said. “We’ve faced far worse danger than this.”

Mr Doyle looked into his face. “It’s just that I won’t be with you –.”

“I know,” Jack said. “I know.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Jack was dropped off at a street near to Kings Cross station in a steam car occupied by Mr Doyle and General Churchill.

“Be careful my boy,” Mr Doyle said. “Don’t take any unnecessary risks.”

“I won’t,” Jack said.

“Good luck, Jack,” General Churchill said. “We’ll be watching your every move.”

With that, their car moved off and another vehicle chugged down the street towards Jack. He peered into the interior. Mr Griffin and another man – a square jawed ape of a man – sat inside. The ape man produced a small pouch and handed it to Jack.

“Place this around your neck,” he said. “And then stuff the bag down the front of your shirt.”

Jack did as instructed.

“Keep your wits about you,” Mr Griffin said.

“I will,” Jack promised.

Their steam car took off down the street, leaving Jack alone on the busy road. He started down the footpath. A few people walked past him – an elderly man, a lady with a dainty umbrella, two children. Jack supposed there were MI5 agents all over the place, but he doubted he would recognise them.

Likewise, he supposed, M probably had accomplices hiding in the wings. Jack shivered. Mr Griffin had given him further instructions. He had to receive explicit instructions as to the location of the bomb. If it appeared the location of the bomb was not to be revealed, then he was not to hand over the diamonds.

If it appeared Jack’s life was in danger, Mr Griffin assured him, MI5 agents would swoop in and save him.

Jack had the statue in sight now. It stood a few feet away to the right of the bottom of the stairs. It suddenly occurred to Jack how ludicrous this whole episode was – men and women going about their daily lives and he was about to meet with a madman to deliver ten million pounds in diamonds in exchange for a doomsday bomb.

His heart began to race a little faster. Only fifty feet to the statue now. Dozens of agents were probably watching his every move. His mouth grew dry as he glanced past the statue and across the street. No sign of the figure dressed in the hat, scarf and coat. He looked up to a clock tower on the other side of the street. Five minutes to twelve.

Jack walked the final few feet to the bottom of the statue.

A bird sailed overhead. A steam car chuffed down the road. An elderly couple slowly crossed the street in the direction of the station. They ascended the steps and disappeared out of sight. A steam truck moved down the road towards Jack. The driver glanced at him. Jack stared back into his face.

The vehicle continued past.

Jack’s heart pounded in his chest.

He felt the compass sitting in his pocket. It was still there. Good.

I don’t know how I’d feel if I lost it
, he thought.

The clock on the tower chimed. A line of sweat ran down Jack’s face and gathered at the point of his chin. Two boys ran down the road, chasing each other. The clock continued to chime. The boys slowed down as they approached Jack. One of them yelled something rude at him and they sprinted away.

Jack ignored them.

The clock finished chiming. Another trickle of sweat found an avenue down Jack’s face. He let out a long breath. A train pulled into the station behind him. He glanced back and saw a rush of passengers. A whistle tooted and the train started off with a chuff.

He looked long and hard up and down the street. The few people within sight seemed to be ignoring him. Where was M?

“So,” a voice said from behind him. “We meet again.”

Jack turned around. The voice had a raspy quality to it, as if the speaker had smoked too many cigars or enjoyed too many late nights. Behind him the statue stood on a round marble pedestal about three feet high. Beyond it lay a high wrought iron fence. Frowning, Jack rounded the monument. No–one stood behind it or beyond the fence.

“At your feet,” the voice continued, “you will see a small bronze box with an antenna sticking out the top.”

Jack looked down. The box, as described, lay at his feet.  A small grill covered the bottom section. A red button jutted out from the top left side.

“Now pick it up,” the voice ordered.

Jack’s mouth fell open. The voice was coming from the box!

He picked the device up with amazement. He had never seen anything like it before.

“To reply to my instructions,” the voice continued, “you must press the button on the left hand side of this device and then release it to listen. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Jack said automatically, then realised the speaker could not hear him. He pressed the button and repeated the word.

“Good. You hold in your hands a radio transmitter. We will be using it to communicate with each other.”

“Who are you?” Jack asked. “To whom am I speaking?”

“You know who I am,” the voice said.

“You are Professor M,” Jack said. “When will the bomb be handed over?”

“When you follow my instructions,” the voice said. “Now, climb the stairs to the train station, buy a ticket for Hackney station, go down to the platform and wait for the twelve–o–five train.”

Jack walked up the steps on shaking legs. He purchased the ticket and waited on the platform for the train to arrive. There were few people on the platform. A train pulled in and the doors slid open. Jack climbed on.

The train was one of the new steam trains. Twice as wide as the older trains, it was divided into first and second class. It seated hundreds of people, but now in the middle of the day few people were aboard. A man boarded the carriage at the far end. He glanced at Jack, but made no indication of recognition. Jack remained standing in the vestibule area and gripped an upright pole as the train started.

Jack felt a surge as the train rapidly accelerated. The next stop was Barnshill Station. The train drew to a halt. A man moved past him into the carriage and took a seat some distance away. The train started again.

“You will depart at the next stop,” the voice said.

Jack glanced up at a train map plastered on the wall. “The next stop is Sabre Field station.”

“You will alight at Sabre Field.”

Three minutes later the train slowly pulled to a halt. The doors opened and Jack got out.

“There is a train departing on platform four,” the voice snapped. “You have one minute to catch it.”

Jack sighted a set of stairs to his left. He ran up the stairs, crossed the overhead bridge and arrived at the steps leading down to the platform. A train had just pulled in.

“Blimey,” Jack muttered under his breath.

The doors were just closing when he made a running jump between them. They sealed shut. Gasping for breath, Jack looked down the carriage. He was not sure if the man from the other train had made the switch. Jack swallowed. In one single move, he may have already lost his protection.

The train started again. Half a dozen stations flew past without any instructions from M. The train pulled into another station – Hammermouth.

The radio crackled. “Change trains,” M instructed. “Platform five.”

Jack raced from the train. He could see a train pulling into the other platform. He took the stairs two at a time and sprinted across the overhead bridge.

“Oof!” He crashed into a man in a suit.

“Sorry!” he yelled.

“Impudent, young –.”

Jack did not hear the rest of it. He raced down the stairs. The guard blew his whistle. He landed badly on a step, twisted his ankle and fell face first down the stairs.

Bazookas!
He thought.
No!

He rolled down the remaining stairs and jumped to his feet just as the doors started to close.

No!

He staggered across the platform and jammed his body into the closing doors. The train started to pull away from the station. Someone grabbed his arm and pulled him into the train.

The elderly man holding his arm looked at him severely. “That’s a foolish thing to do, young man.”

“Yes, I know,” he said. “Thank you, sir.”

Jack stumbled into the carriage, his heart pounding. When he was half way down the aisle, the radio crackled again. A seated man looked at him strangely and Jack continued to the far end where no passengers were seated.

“Jack Mason,” the voice rasped. “Get off at the next stop.”

“I barely made this train,” Jack protested. “I can’t keep jumping from train to train.”

“You have almost reached your destination,” the voice continued. “Disembark at the next station. Take the stairs to the South side. Take the next steam bus to the end of the line.”

Jack’s heart slowed as the train continued along the line to the next station. It was a stop called Bigglesworth. The doors slid open and Jack stepped out. He wearily climbed the stairs. Sweat drenched his back. The day had grown warmer and his physical exertions had pushed him to the limit. Crossing to the South side of the station, he saw a bus chuffing down the road towards him.

He paid money to the conductor and took a seat near the exit. Jack wondered if M could be the bus driver, then dismissed the idea as ridiculous. The bus stopped three more times until it reached the end. Finally the driver turned to Jack.

“Last stop, chappie,” he said.

“Thanks,” Jack said.

A row of houses lined one side of the road. Jack climbed from the bus and saw a river on the other side bordered by shrubbery. The waterway was about thirty feet across. A small barking dog ran circles in a front yard a few feet away. A formation of ducks drifted down the river.

The radio crackled again. “Walk to the centre of the bridge.”

Jack saw an old stone bridge further up the bank. He approached it with a feeling of dread. He had been promised he would be followed every step of the way. They had told him he would be safe. Nothing could be further from the truth. Whatever MI5 agents had been following him had been lost somewhere on the other side of London.

He was on his own.

His whole body shook with fear as he walked along the riverbank. Somehow he had to negotiate with someone who had the lives of half a million people in his hands. He had to deal face to face with the Napoleon of crime.

How had he ended up in this situation?

Jack reached the foot of the bridge and slowly walked to the middle.

He waited.

Looking in both directions, he saw no–one approaching the crossing. A forest lay on the other side of the river. He became aware of the pouch of diamonds next to his chest. They had seemed so light before – now they weighed a ton.

A low humming sound carried across the water towards him – the sound of a steam engine. He looked up and down the river, but could not see a boat. Still, the sound continued and slowly grew louder.

A shadow crossed his face.

Jack glanced up. An airship was coming in to land. The vessel appeared similar to Mr Doyle’s Lion’s Mane, but this ship bore no markings and it looked smaller. The windows of the gondola appeared to be covered in curtains. The vessel slowed until it rested a few feet over the bridge.

A window slid across and the top half of a familiar figure appeared in the gap. The man with the scarf and hat pulled down low over his face leaned over the side. He dropped a basket on a line and it fell, almost hitting Jack in the head.

“Put the diamonds in the basket,” M rasped.

“Where is Lucy Harker?” Jack asked. “And where is the bomb?”

“I will send instructions later,” M replied. “Give me the diamonds first.”

Jack swallowed. “No. I must have Lucy and the bomb before I can give you the diamonds.”

“You impudent child!” M snapped. “I can kill half a million people with the flick of a switch.”

“You’ve given no proof the bomb is even in England,” Jack said. “For all we know it’s still in Europe.”

“You’ll just have to trust me,” Professor M rasped. “Now give me the diamonds.”

“No.”

Jack saw hatred in the man’s eyes. “You dare to speak to me like this?”

“I dare,” Jack felt dizzy with rage and fear. “Now where is Lucy and the bomb?”

Whatever reply M was about to make was stifled by the sound of another steam engine. Both Jack and the professor looked at the same time and saw a small airship arrowing directly towards them.

M let out a cry of rage.

“You fools!” he screamed. “You have just signed your own death warrants!”

M sprang back from the window and Jack stood back, expecting his airship to take off at full speed. Instead, it suddenly began to ascend. Jack leapt back and fell sprawling to the ground as the gondola crashed into the bridge.

A door flew open and the criminal leapt from the interior. Jack jumped up and made a grab for him, but the man spun around with a flying kick. It connected with Jack’s stomach. He let out a gasp of pain as the man moved in with two swift blows to his jaw.