Extraordinaires 1 (27 page)

T
he imminent demise of the human race didn't allow Kingsley time for second thoughts. ‘I have a way to get into the Neanderthals' lair and destroy the time machine,' he said, ignoring the dangers that his plan entailed.
And to save my father,
he added to himself.

Soames, bound and at gunpoint, laughed from where he'd been propped against a decorative stalagmite. ‘Preposterous. Nothing enters that place unexamined. Even my shipments are examined.'

‘That's why I have to do it the buried alive way.'

Evadne frowned. ‘I don't like the sound of that.'

‘It's very impressive, if it's performed correctly.'

Evadne raised an eyebrow. ‘I take it that “correctly” means you come out alive instead of dead.'

‘It's all in the technique. And it's much safer than many other effects.'

‘Such as?' Evadne asked, clearly unimpressed.

‘Oh, the bullet catch, for instance.'

‘The bullet catch trick?' Soames perked up. ‘Didn't Otto Blumenfeld die trying to perform that?

‘Er . . . I think so.'

‘In Frankfurt, if I remember correctly,' Soames said. ‘And didn't Michael Hatal suffer a similar fate in Brussels, attempting the same trick?'

‘Hatal? I seem to remember the name . . .'

‘A shame, really,' Soames said. ‘Hatal had a capital twist on a magic cabinet disappearance. Quite the finest I ever saw.'

Kingsley couldn't believe it. Soames was a magical aficionado.

Before he could take this up with him, he saw Evadne regarding him severely. ‘So your plan's being safer than the bullet catch trick isn't actually very reassuring.'

‘The buried alive escape leaves much less to chance. Nothing can go wrong.'

‘That's what Michael Hatal said,' Soames observed.

‘The buried alive trick,' Kingsley hurried on, ‘simply requires focus and discipline. Locked in a confined space, the escaper must breathe slowly and shallowly, making the utmost of every scintilla of air, until he emerges some improbable time later.'

Kingsley liked the idea of the buried alive trick, but had never actually been able to bring himself to try it. It perfectly encapsulated the principles of escapology, almost in the purest of forms. He knew the principles and he'd experimented with them – but without the additional complication of being confined and buried.

‘How will you get out?' Soames asked with the sort of fascination Kingsley had seen before in those who were attracted to the world of stage magic.

‘It would be best if I have a few tools with me. I'll need a saw, and a pry bar would be lovely. I'd like a drill, too.'

‘A drill?' Evadne asked.

‘Double purpose. If something goes wrong, I can open some airholes. If it goes smoothly, I can use it to see outside before I emerge.'

‘I don't like it,' Evadne said flatly.

Kingsley shrugged. ‘What are our alternatives?' He gestured at Soames with the pistol. ‘How do you make your shipments to the Neanderthals?'

Evadne stamped a foot. ‘Kingsley! I wouldn't trust him with a penny!'

‘Trust?' Soames chuckled. Kingsley had to admit that the man had considerable self-possession. ‘No, I'm afraid you can't trust me. But you can buy me.'

‘With what?' Kingsley said.

‘I know that our Neanderthal cousins have a considerable amount of phlogiston, since I just gave it to them. I think, however, that they may have more. Am I right?'

‘Go on,' Evadne said.

‘If I have a way to get you to the Neanderthals' lair, then I want their phlogiston.'

After that, Kingsley was grateful it was merely a matter of details. Firstly, Evadne insisted on a dash across the city to her refuge. In the darkness, while Kingsley leaned against the fence under the Olympic stadium with a manacled and compliant Soames, she disappeared, returning with another satchel full of equipment she insisted was vital – and a device she gave to Kingsley, telling him it was even more important.

Soames then took them down the river to Wapping, where he was obviously well known. At the docks, he ushered them to a dry goods warehouse. ‘It's mine,' he said to Kingsley's inquiring glance. ‘A presence at the docks is useful for a man in my situation.'

‘And you do business with the Neanderthals from here?'

‘Foodstuffs mostly, a great deal of it. They do love to eat.'

Evadne waved his pistol in front of Soames's face before they unshackled him. He nodded at the unspoken warning and appeared to accept this as reasonable in the circumstances. Briskly, he negotiated with some underlings, organising a cart, some barrels, and several navvies to take it all to the point where the Neanderthals would assume delivery.

‘You're thinking of his masters, aren't you?' Kingsley said to her.

‘You're practising a mentalist act now? “Kingsley the Reader of Minds”?'

‘The set you have against them shows in your face.' Kingsley refrained from mentioning that she'd also been tapping the finger that wore the silver ring. Part of her mystery lay in that ring, he was sure, but he was also sure that a direct query would be rebuffed.

‘That's unfortunate,' she said. ‘I'd been hoping to build a reputation as inscrutable.'

Two navvies rolled a barrel across the warehouse. Kingsley rubbed his chin. The barrel was smaller than he'd thought.

‘Kingsley.'

He turned. A myrmidon that hadn't been there a moment ago was at her feet.

‘Here,' she said, and thrust Soames's pistol at him. ‘Watch that man. I don't trust him.'

‘What? Where are you going?'

‘Outside. Someone wants to talk to me.'

‘Here? Who knows you're here?'

‘Someone who is now convinced who we are and who has also found a way to talk to my myrmidons.'

Kingsley undertook what he had to admit was one of the worst jobs of supervising since a foreman in Pisa glanced at some foundations and declared they were plenty stable. He kept flicking his attention between Soames, who seemed genuinely absorbed in the delicacies of organising and haggling, and Evadne, who was talking to an extremely nondescript man in the courtyard outside the warehouse.

Kingsley was sure the man was the same one who'd been after them for some time, cloaked in his utter ordinariness.

Divided as his attention was, Kingsley had no idea how long it was before Evadne came back. Ten minutes? Twenty?

‘Kingsley,' she said. ‘I want to tell you my secret.'

‘Here? Now?'

‘Yes.'

Evadne's sudden urge to share unnerved him. Her voice was as steely as her gaze. ‘That man. What did he want?'

She smiled, but for once it didn't sit easily on her face. ‘He had a useful message.'

‘From whom?'

‘From the past.' She took out her watch, glanced at it and put it away. ‘Do you remember the Retrievers?'

‘Those poor souls back in the Great Fire?'

‘They certainly remembered us. They were grateful that the Immortals had left their London and the children were freed.' She glanced outside. A patter of rain touched the cobbles. ‘They charged a law firm in their Demimonde with some information, to be kept for two hundred and fifty years.'

‘For us.'

Another jarring smile. ‘I'm afraid, Kingsley, it was for me. We didn't leave names, you see, and my appearance . . .'

‘So that man finally found you. What did he tell you?'

‘Something interesting about secret river gates and diversions at Greenwich. Without too much effort, I should be able to flood the Immortals' lair.'

‘Capital! When I get back from this we can plan an assault, arm ourselves with some of those splendid weapons of yours . . .' He saw her face. He hesitated. ‘You're planning something. Something dangerous.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Telling me your secret. You're making a clean . . .' He stumbled. ‘You're wanting to set things right before you do something reckless.'

‘Nonsense.' Evadne did her best to affect briskness, but Kingsley could see how superficial it was – and for a fleeting instant he wondered how he'd come to know this surprising young woman so well and so quickly. ‘I know your secret and, if we're to have a useful working partnership, you need to know mine.'

‘I –'

‘Don't interrupt, there's a good fellow. This is going to be hard enough as it is.' Evadne took off her gloves and tucked them into the pocket of her coat. She held up her right hand. The ring glinted. ‘My story about leaving home to seek my fortune wasn't the entire truth. This belonged to my sister, Flora.'

Ah.
‘I didn't know you had a sister.'

‘I don't. Not any more.' Evadne's hands fell to her side. Then, she lifted them. Without looking, she made a few ghost throws with invisible juggling balls, but her pattern fell apart.

Kingsley took a step towards her, impelled by an instinctive urge to comfort the hurt, but she moved away. She clasped her hands and touched them to her chin, still not meeting his gaze. ‘Let me tell you what happened.

‘I was ten. Flora was five. We were playing in our garden. Naturally, I was in charge of my little sister but, as much as I loved her, I found her to be a terrible trial. I became absorbed in collecting pine cones.' She smiled at Kingsley, and his heart ached at the fragility of it. ‘I wanted to make a battalion of pine cone soldiers. I didn't notice her wandering away.'

‘She became lost?'

‘She was abducted. Three other children in the district were taken that week. Flora was the first of them.' She took a sharp breath. ‘Do you know the word
vendetta
?'

‘The blood feud. The Corsicans practise it.'

‘In some ways, vengeance is easy if you know who was responsible. Since I didn't, my
vendetta
is with all those who take children.'

‘Like these Immortals.'

‘They're the worst. Now that they're active again, I won't rest until I bring them down. With your help, I hope.'

‘And the help of Clarence?'

Evadne pursed her lips. She took hold of the chain around her neck and withdrew her pendant. She opened it. It was empty. ‘There is no Clarence.'

‘I had an inkling.'

‘I cut it out of a postcard. A comely chap.'

‘And you keep him in your locket for a reason?'

‘I've found him a useful defence. Certain people tend to leave me alone once I point out that I already have an intended.'

‘You strike a blow in advance.'

‘Precisely. It saves so much nonsense.'

Kingsley sensed that this was a time to leave well enough alone. ‘I appreciate your sharing, but I insist that it still suggests you're about to do something dangerous.'

‘Kingsley –'

He had it. ‘Your rat. It came just before the nondescript man. It told you something.'

Evadne trembled. Just slightly, but Kingsley took it as a sign of the effort it was taking her to remain composed. ‘Mrs Oldham's School for Girls has been burnt to the ground. All the children were abducted, according to Lady Aglaia. I'm going to rescue them and, finally, to destroy the Immortals.' She crossed her arms. ‘There. Now you have it, go and ready yourself, prepare, sing a song, whatever it is you do.' She turned away and when she turned back she'd changed glasses. These were so dark he couldn't see her eyes. ‘Please go quickly. I'm barely restraining myself at the moment. Every part of me wants to rush out and save Meg and the others.'

‘I can't let you go alone. I'm coming with you.'

‘Kingsley, there's no telling how soon the Neanderthals might act. They could have the dates and be ready to begin! You have to go and save the world!'

Kingsley sought for the appropriate words, and they were there so quickly that he hardly thought before he spoke: ‘I'm not sure that a saved world would be worthwhile if you're not in it.'