Twincy Quinn and the Eye of Horus Part One (4 page)

‘
How is Miss . . . ?’ The Inspector
began.

My nonchalance
slipped away from me. In fact, I stiffened. However imperceptibly,
my fingers clutched tighter at my glass. ‘Miss Stanton?’

The Inspector
nodded firmly.

‘
Well,’ I forced myself to answer.

The Inspector
raised an eyebrow. A bushy mess, it reinforced the mental image of
the man as a twitching cat. ‘Daughter of the respected scientist
Alan Stanton, I heard that she has a lot of suitors.’

I offered him
a stilted smile, bringing my glass up, shifting my jaw around as I
took another sip, and nodding. ‘Elizabeth is well.’

‘
It would increase your standing in this town if you were to
solve these kidnappings,’ the inspector said, almost
conspiratorially as he took half a step towards me.

What the
inspector left unsaid, was that it would increase his standing
exponentially. As the head of my division, he would be the one to
most benefit from such an accolade.

Benefit.

Because that
was what a man like Inspector Coal was after.

He didn't want
to solve the kidnappings for the sake of protecting the inhabitants
of the city. He wanted to use it as a ladder to further his career.
Perhaps a part of him cared that children were disappearing, but
that part only cared when the children came from the far more
genteel part of town.

I wasn't
always a cynical man, but as I glanced down at my wine and raised
my own eyebrow, I realised today had certainly got the better of
me.

Clearing my
throat, I gave what I hoped was an affable smile, and took a step
backwards. Patting at my jacket, and finding a small table to my
right on which to place my glass, I nodded at the inspector. ‘You
have reminded me, sir, I must be pushing on. Unfortunately I had a
prior engagement for tonight.’

The Inspector
gave a slight laugh, and I knew what it meant. It was no secret
that I was courting Elizabeth Stanton, and though the inspector was
humouring me now, I would imagine the man thought she was far too
good for the likes of me. Though I was a twice-decorated soldier, a
detective with many commendations, and an authority when it came to
crimes involving any new modern-day machines, I had not been born
into money. Well not the kind of money that men like the inspector
would like to see.

Yet, still,
Elizabeth Stanton didn't seem to care.

Bringing my
watch out, I flipped it open, made a point of looking at the time,
and placed it back in my pocket with a distracted pat. ‘As I said,
I must be going.’

‘
It is important we put on a good show tonight,’ he said in a
low voice, flicking his gaze over and through the crowd into the
centre of the room. ‘We must show Lord Ridley that we are capable
of protecting his exhibition.’

I didn't
reply. ‘I do not believe Lord Ridley will care if one detective
goes missing from this event.’

‘
Lord Ridley is bringing the greatest of his treasures to the
London Museum, and financing the entire affair himself. His wealth
is inestimable, and the artefacts he will have on display are
beyond value. It is essential that we assure him we will do
everything we can to protect his assets.’

I raised my
eyebrows, scrunched my lips up into something that resembled a
smile, and nodded my head. ‘Which we will. However, Inspector, I
believe you would agree, I must focus on the kidnappings for now.
Also, Elizabeth Stanton cannot be kept waiting,’ I nodded.

At the mention
of her name, the inspector smiled. ‘I understand, I understand.
Give my respects to her father.’

‘
Of course,’ I took several more steps away, negotiating my way
through the crowd.

And there was
a crowd. A bustling one. Though not the kind of crowd you would get
out on the street on a night like this. They were not drunken, they
were not rowdy, and they were not brawling.

They were the
upper crust. The richest of the rich. London's finest brought out
at the prospect that one of the wealthiest among them deigned to
bless them with his presence.

Lord Ridley
was many things. But he was not a great man. Neither could you
argue that the objects he was bringing to the museum were his
own.

They had been
stolen.

He was a
tyrant. He used his companies and power overseas to steal artefacts
of value from other sovereign nations. He stepped on toes, he
slashed at throats, and he did whatever he wanted to get whatever
he wanted. He was a new breed of Londoner, one that made me sick to
my stomach.

It did not
bother me or interest me one single iota that the man would be
bringing jewels and artefacts of beauty from ancient Egypt all the
way to London. Though that far-flung land was a curiosity, I was
quite of the opinion that it was the height of imperialism to
travel to somebody else's country, appropriate their valuables, and
to take them home again, expecting everybody to cheer at your
cleverness and benevolence.

Bringing a
hand up, I scratched distractedly at my well-kept moustache,
running a hand down my chin and realising I needed to shave.

The Inspector
said goodbye again, telling me for possibly the 50th time that I
had his leave to use whatever resources I required to solve the
kidnappings.

With a wave, I
finally turned, and extricated myself from the room.

I walked past
the finery of London. Women in dresses from Paris, men in suits of
wool and silk that had been brought from as far off as India.

In other
words, pirates. The lot of them.

Though this
was the life I had chosen, and though I was currently courting one
of the richest women in all of England, it was not the life I
preferred.

I was a simple
man. A man of the land, or at least my father had been.

And my father,
unlike the inspector, unlike Lord Ridley, and unlike the other
fools, pompous and fat, around me, had been a moral man.

And you
certainly didn't meet many of those these days.

Finally
managing to get to the stairs, I placed a hand on the smooth,
polished bannister, and walked down. Catching a glimpse of myself
in a large, gilded mirror, I couldn't help but shake my head.

My suit sat
perfectly. And apart from the muck on my jacket, it was clean, well
pressed, and dignified.

Aside from the
stubble peeping through on my chin, my hair was well groomed. Two
pale brown eyes stared back at me, and for a moment I fancied I
couldn't recognise them.

I couldn't
recognise myself.

Shaking my
head, I pressed on.

Mustering up a
smile, I thought of Elizabeth.

I had not seen
her for several days, as I had been busy working on the
kidnappings. It would be nice to refocus my attention at least for
tonight. No more slums, no more talk of disappearing children, just
that smile of hers, and her light, bubbly conversation.

Latching a
hand on my white, stiff-collared shirt, I neatened it as best I
could, nodded at the butler before me, and finally walked out onto
the street. Though it was a warm night, I still brought up the
collar of my jacket, angled it around my neck, and huddled into it.
Slamming my hands into my pockets, I listened to my own footfall as
it rang out over the marble steps I now half jogged down.

Taking a
moment to stare up at the sky above, I offered the scant stars in
the night sky a smile too.

That would be
when I saw it.

Just a
flash.

A shape, dark,
crouched low, it looked like a human.

But it
couldn't be.

Perhaps a cat,
or maybe a piece of fabric flapping in the wind.

For nothing
could move that fast.

Staring up at
it with a thin-lipped frown, I eventually turned away, and finally
headed across the street.

Elizabeth
would be waiting.

Though I could
no longer muster up the exact good humour I had once enjoyed around
her, I would try.

She was my
future, or so everyone kept on telling me. And this was my future.
I was a detective, climbing up the ranks of Scotland Yard, and
things looked bright ahead of me. Yet if it were so bright, why on
earth did it seem so mind-numbingly dull?

With that
question rattling inside my head, I made my way through the
streets.

As I did,
occasionally I glanced up to the roofs above. I never saw that
shape again, though every time I angled my face towards it, hoping
to catch even a glimpse of something strange, my stomach kicked
with excitement.

Because that
was what I was after.

Excitement.

On some deep
level I was bored with my life, and frustrated by the experiences I
now had.

If I had been
smart, in that moment I would've stopped, brought up my hands, and
clapped myself around my ears.

Because after
this day, I would never be bored again. So much excitement was
about to land in my lap that I wouldn't be able to handle it.

And by
excitement, I meant a woman. A woman like no other. Twincy
Quinn.

But for now, I
walked on. Unaware of what my future held.

Twincy
Quinn

I made it to
the edge of the city as quickly as I could. Clambering from rooftop
to rooftop, jumping from windowsill to windowsill, if anyone had
seen me, they would have thought perchance they were dreaming. The
physical abilities I had went beyond that of any human, no matter
how extraordinary.

For the
abilities I had were mechanical. They were rendered to me by the
devices that were grafted onto my very bones.

Realising I
was probably running out of time, I pushed myself faster and
faster. At times I probably became indiscreet, clambering too close
to the sides of the buildings I travelled over. If anybody had been
looking up, they may have caught a glimpse of me. Yet fortunately
there were no screams, there were no shouts, and no one pointed my
way.

I pressed on
with a single purpose—track and intercept the suitable and the
child.

The
modifications Doctor Esquire had made to me enabled me to somehow
sense machines.

I could not
explain it. In fact, there were many things that Doctor Esquire had
done and many devices he invented that I could not begin to
describe. Yet that did not change the fact that if I closed my eyes
and concentrated, and if I pushed my concentration way out, I could
sense it. At the edges of my mind, like whispers barely audible, I
could make out the hint of that technology.

It felt like
dark shapes. Impressions, shadows, moving around out of my
reach.

Well now I
lunged towards them—following like a bloodhound would a faint
scent.

As the seconds and minutes ticked on, the child would be
running out of time. And if it ran out of time, it would run out of
hope. Though it would take several days to a week for the doctor to
begin grafting technology onto another one of his
suitables
, I would have
little chance of finding her if I lost that scent now.

The doctor
often moved his primary laboratory around. Though always in the
country and outside of the city, I did not have the means to
continually track his movements.

I was only one
woman, after all.

So it meant
everything that I capture this suitable now.

Putting on a
burst of speed, I planted my hand onto a rusted metal drain, and
forcibly pulled it from the wall, holding onto it as it fell down.
Jumping at the last moment, I rolled as I hit the ground, stood up
with a snap, and ran forward.

It had to be
around here; it had to be close.

I did not stay
on the street for long. Though I had landed in a darkened alley, I
could hear other people close by. At the first opportunity, I
jumped up onto a doorframe, pulled myself towards a windowsill,
flipped, and leapt back onto the roof.

I could
continue to keep up a pace like this for hours, possibly days.

Yet so could a
suitable. Though they were not as fast as me, the doctor was always
tweaking and adjusting their devices to maximise their efficiency,
as he often put it. To the doctor, a human was a machine. An
extension of his own technology, nothing more than a warm, fleshy
vessel in which to carry his devices.

As I ducked
and rolled over a section of roof, allowing myself to skid down
some loose tiles, I finally caught sight of it.

A horse and
cart.

Far away.

Through all of
the traffic travelling along, I narrowed in on them.

Because I
could feel it.

Technology. It
was as if it reached a hand to me, beckoning me forward.

Well I would
not fight that invitation.

Allowing the
smallest of victorious smiles to spread to my lips, I ran to the
edge of the roof.

In that moment
my attention was so locked on that carriage, and the prospect of
finally reaching it, and plucking the child away from the suitable,
that I did not have enough focus left over to assess the street
below me.

With half an
ear and half a mind I assumed that it was silent down there, and I
leapt off.

I didn't
blink. The exhilaration peaked in my belly, but that was it.

I sailed down
from the top of that three-storey building, and landed with a
thump. Again the cobbles cracked underneath me.

And that would
be when somebody turned around.

They had been
in the shadow of the building almost 30 feet up the alley.

Pulling a pipe
slowly from their mouth, they twisted to face me, their eyes wide.
In the little light that made it into the alleyway, the flicker of
dancing flames made the wide whites of their eyes all but glow.