By Royal Command (17 page)

The master in charge obviously felt that he should say something to show that this wasn’t just boys messing about and blowing things up.

‘You would be surprised how easy it is to make an explosion,’ he said, in that way that teachers have of making fun things slightly dull. ‘Many elements react violently to air or to water, and, of course, heat. If you mix together the right elements you can make a considerably more spectacular explosion than the ones we have been making here today. I shan’t give you the exact recipe, but if you wanted to make a really big bomb all you would need would be some potassium permanganate and potassium chlorate, which can both be found in commonly available products, such as weed-killer and fertiliser –’

James shoved through the crowd to the workbench where the master stood.

‘What did you just say?’

‘Erm, I was talking about bombs. Why? Are you keen on science?’

‘What did you say about weed-killer?’

‘Just that if you knew how to go about it you could make a rather nasty bomb out of potassium permanganate and –’

‘Sulphur powder?’ said James.

‘Yes, you would need that.’

‘Saltpetre?’

‘Yes.’

‘Silver paint?’

‘Silver paint? I’m not sure that – oh no, wait a minute, yes, there is aluminium powder in silver paint… You’re quite an expert, I see. I hope you’re not planning to blow anyone up.’

‘I’m not,’ said James, pushing back through the crush of people. ‘But I know somebody who is!’

18

The Infernal Device

It was as if a rusty cog had freed itself in James’s mind. It turned and everything fell into place. Dandy was planning to assassinate the King. He’d practically spelt it out for James. He’d been taunting him from the start.

What an idiot James had been. Why hadn’t he seen it? He felt like someone who had been wandering around Egypt unable to find the pyramids, when all along they’d been right in front of him.

Miles had told him that Graf von Schlick was related to the British royal family. Then Amy had told him that a cousin need not necessarily be a first cousin.

‘
Sie werden meinen Vetter Jürgen töten…
’

They are going to kill my cousin Jürgen…

The Graf’s cousin
Jürgen
was King George.

Somehow the Graf must have known about the plot. Maybe he had been trying to warn the Prince of the danger? That would explain why von Schlick had been so shifty when James had asked him about it.

But if they had known about the danger, why was the King still here today?

There was no time to work it all out now. James looked at his watch in a blind panic. The hands made no sense to him. He took a breath and tried to calm his racing heart.

He looked again.

It was a quarter to eleven. He had fifteen minutes before the service was due to start in the chapel.

Where were Charmian and the others?

There. At the far end of the room, looking at some newts and frogs in a fish tank. He was about to go over to them when he saw a flash of grey.

This time there was no mistaking her. It
was
Babushka. She was walking slowly down the length of the room, evidently looking for something – or someone. A few paces behind her was The Invisible Man, his distinctive trilby hat covering his face.

They were all in it together. It was a massive communist plot.

James had to think fast and act fast.

He couldn’t get to Charmian without Sedova seeing him.

He turned and ran out of the building the way he had come in. He tore past Lower Chapel and as he emerged on to South Meadow Lane he turned right and carried on running. He pounded along Keate’s Lane, barging people roughly out of his way, and on to the High Street.

There must be a policeman here somewhere. The only problem was that even if he found one would he have time to persuade him to do something? Would he even believe him?
Would anyone believe him?

He kept moving. If Dandy had built a bomb powerful enough to blow up the chapel it would need to be pretty big. The only place to hide it would be underneath in the crypt.

Dammit. There must be a policeman somewhere.
He was nearly at School Hall and the seconds were ticking away.

He crashed into a group of people coming round the corner from the library, stumbled through them and straight into a circle of boys, chatting on the pavement.

He ignored their angry shouts and was just about to head for the Burning Bush in the middle of the road when someone grabbed his sleeve and spun him round.

‘Bond! What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?’

‘Get off me, Bentinck!’

‘You’re behaving like a hooligan.’

‘I don’t have time for this,’ James yelled and shoved Bentinck away, knocking his spectacles off. Bentinck staggered back into another boy who supported him.

‘You’re going to pay for that!’ snarled Bentinck, and he advanced on James with an outstretched finger.

‘Save it!’ James snapped, but Bentinck took hold of his lapels and wouldn’t let go.

Without thinking, James brought his knee up sharply between Bentinck’s legs. Bentinck gasped and instantly let go.

James turned and ran slap-bang into a policeman.

Thank God.

‘All right, then, what’s all this about?’ the policeman asked. ‘You boys know better than to fight in public.’

‘It’s an emergency,’ said James.

‘What is?’

‘Someone’s planning to kill the King. You have to come with me.’

The policeman stared at James for a moment, and then started to laugh.

‘Very good,’ he said. ‘Had me going for a moment. One day you boys are going to go too far with one of your pranks.’

‘It’s not a prank,’ said James. ‘It’s a communist plot. They’re going to assassinate King George.’

‘Yes, and I’m going to fly to the moon,’ said the policeman.

James looked around in desperation. The policeman wasn’t the only one laughing. James was in the middle of a ring of howling, jeering boys.

‘It’s true,’ he said. ‘You have to believe me.’ But the policeman was already wandering off and Bentinck had got his breath back. In another moment he would be coming back at James even angrier than before.

James cursed, broke through the circle of boys, and sprinted across the street towards School Yard.

He ran through the arch and turned right, nearly knocking over two parents who were studying the plaques on the wall.

He apologised and slowed down. There was a throng of dignitaries in the yard waiting to go into chapel. At the centre James could just make out the small bearded figure of the King. He couldn’t risk drawing attention to himself. If anyone saw him, he would be thrown out.

He walked purposefully along the colonnade beneath Upper School, for all the world as if he was meant to be there, and went through the old door at the far end.

A colleger was standing guard on the wide, wooden stairs that led up to the ante-chapel.

‘You can’t go up there,’ he said as James approached.

‘The Head Master wants you,’ said James firmly.

‘The Head? What for?’

‘How the devil do I know?’ said James. ‘But he sent me to get you; he said it was urgent. I’ll take over here for you.’

The colleger dithered, but when James barked at him to hurry he dashed off in a state of some confusion.

James carried on up the stairs into the ante-chapel where a group of ladies was busy putting the finishing touches to some large floral arrangements.

James strode over to one of them.

‘How do I get to the crypt?’ he asked, and she nodded to the small vergers’ vestry where a circular staircase wound downward.

James was on the move again. Across the ante-chapel and down the stairs. At the bottom was the crypt, which was long and narrow and dark. Part of it had been closed off by a brick wall, but James saw that someone had recently dismantled some of this wall to create an opening.

James looked through. This part of the crypt, which ran the length of the chapel, was filled with ancient coffins. He could see no signs of movement, but lying on the floor near the opening was a verger. He was completely still. James climbed through to get a better look. He just had time to take in that there was a dark pool of blood spreading round the man’s body when there was a terrific crack, a bright flash, and he was sent flying backwards.

He hit the wall hard. His head whipped back on to the stonework, and he blacked out.

‘What was that?’

‘It must be those boys letting off another of their explosions.’

‘Any sign of James?’

‘No. He’s not out here.’

Charmian and Amy were waiting on South Meadow Lane.

‘He must have wandered off somewhere,’ said Charmian. ‘You know what boys are like.’

‘I saw him talking to a girl,’ said Amy. ‘I didn’t like to interrupt. Then I was with you looking in that tank, and when I looked again he had gone.’

‘The same thing happened last year,’ said Charmian. ‘He just disappeared. He was gone for ages.’

Amy looked disappointed. Charmian put a hand on her arm.

‘Don’t worry. He’ll turn up,’ she said. ‘He always does.’

James’s head hurt like hell.

That was good.

It meant that he wasn’t dead.

His eyes were closed. It would be too much of an effort to open them. If he just stayed like this, he knew he would never have to face whatever was waiting for him.

He was in a chair, his head slumped forward, and, if he hadn’t been tied to it, he knew he would have fallen on to the floor.

There were ropes round his chest, and his wrists were secured behind his back. There was a chain round his ankles.

He couldn’t have moved even if he’d wanted to.

‘I know you’re awake.’

Dandy’s voice.

James’s head whipped to the side and there was a harsh burn on one cheek. Dandy must have slapped him.

James opened his eyes at last. The light was dim but it made his head hurt worse than ever.

Dandy was standing in front of him, smiling.

‘That’s better,’ he said, then he tutted. ‘Jesus, you took your time getting here, didn’t you, Bucko? I was beginning to think you weren’t going to make it to the party.’

James looked around the crypt. There was a big steel drum tucked in between two of the coffins. A long fuse led away from it and snaked down the crypt and back again.

So that was the bomb. It looked so dull, so ordinary. But he could tell from its size that it was designed to bring the whole building down.

‘Yes,’ said Dandy, ‘there she is, my Brenda. You know what they call a bomb?
An Infernal Device
. Well, Brenda is all set to blast them upstairs to hell. I picked up most of the stuff I needed with you the other day. I already had some mothballs, some flour, some sugar and the other bits and pieces I needed. It’s going to be quite a bang.’

‘What’s it going to achieve?’ said James.

‘It’s going to get rid of a king for a start. He’ll be sitting right above here, at the west end. As long as old Georgie-boy is in power the ordinary working people of this country will never rise up and take control. Revolution, James, it’s the only way to change things. A short sharp shock.’

‘And me?’ said James. ‘How do I fit in with all this?’

‘You’re an enemy of the people.’

‘What?’ It was so ridiculous James almost laughed.

‘I had orders from the start to do you in, James,’ said Dandy, checking the fuse. ‘Orders from the top.’

From Sedova?

She had obviously never forgiven James for ruining her plans in London. He was wishing with all his heart that he had never let her escape. She must have been plotting all this time to strike back at him.

‘It was me that pushed you in front of that lorry,’ said Dandy. ‘You’ve the luck of the devil.’

‘And in the park?’ said James. ‘You were going to stab me, weren’t you?’

‘The thought did cross my mind, but you were saved by the princesses. And then I had a better idea. To bring you here and blow the lot of you up together. Say your prayers, Bucko, because the princesses won’t save you this time, and
you
won’t save their grandpapa.’

Dandy straightened up from his work, wiped his hands on his trousers and tested the ropes round James.

‘They’re going to be pleased with how well it’s worked out, Bucko,’ he said. ‘True, there won’t be anything much left of you, but once this has all gone off I’ll be posting some letters to the newspapers. They explain all about how communism is going to spread throughout Europe, and they explain how you helped by putting this bomb here.’

‘Don’t be an idiot,’ James scoffed. ‘Nobody will believe that.’

‘Won’t they? Why do you think I made sure your face was seen picking up the chemicals? You’re going to be the villain of the piece, a clumsy villain who went and died in his own blast! A martyr for the cause. How does that make you feel? Keeping the red flag flying?’

‘Everyone knows I’m not a communist,’ said James. ‘I’m not the type.’

‘I’ll tell you what type you are, Bucko,’ said Dandy harshly. ‘You’re a dissatisfied type, who’s had a difficult life, parents dead, no father-figure, being bullied at school, looking for revenge.’

‘No,’ said James. ‘It’s not like that.’

‘Come on. A boy like that could be easily influenced by the wrong
types
. Everyone knows you’ve been moping around after Roan. It was plain for all to see that you were sweet on her. People will do crazy things for love.’

‘So she’s in this with you, is she?’

‘Afraid so, Bucko.’

‘Why did you warn me to stay away from her the other day?’ said James.

‘She’s not as hard-hearted as me,’ said Dandy, taking out his knife. ‘I was worried she might be getting too fond of you. But she’s proved what she thinks of you by sending you here today. Well, we live and learn, we love and learn. Except in your case, you’re not going to live. So the lesson’s come too late to save you. Well, never mind. You always wanted to be a hero, didn’t you? This way you will be. Not in Britain, though. You’re going to be a hero in the Soviet Union. They’ll probably put up a statue of you.’ He pinched James’s cheek.