Horatio Lyle (16 page)

Thomas hesitated. He stared at Lyle, his mouth opening and closing slowly as he tried to think. The words that came were half-choked, forced out harshly. He hissed, ‘
Don’t look at the eyes
,’ and ran at Lyle.

Lyle let him come and, as he neared, ducked under the knife and stabbed up hard at Thomas with the wiry ends of the tube. There was a static sound, a smell of burning, and a shower of fat blue sparks as the charge stored in the metal and clay tube discharged, up through Thomas. Lyle heard a scream and tottered backwards, surprised to find himself still alive. The knife fell from Thomas’s hand and he staggered back, falling to the ground, screaming endlessly, twitching from side to side and holding his head as if in intense pain, and still he screamed, a deafening, unnatural sound, so loud that Lyle had to clutch at his ears, curling away from it in pain, and still the howling went on as Thomas kicked and writhed blindly on the floor, before going limp, head on one side, hands loose and eyes shut.

Tess exploded from the end of the stairs, Tate in tow, as the silence settled. She held a poker and charged with the headlong determination of someone about to do something heroic. She saw Thomas lying on the floor, dropped the poker and squeaked, ‘You
killed
him?’ She didn’t sound particularly offended - just surprised.

Lyle stared at the tube in his hand. ‘It’s never done
that
before.’

 

They put Thomas in Lyle’s bed and watched him uneasily. ‘What d ’you do to him?’ hissed Tess in a conspiratorial voice.

‘Nothing. I allowed a little stored charge to discharge, that ’s all.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘I gave him a little electric shock.’

‘I heard screamin’!’

‘Yes. No one’s ever started screaming when they get shocked before,’ he said, frowning in worry. ‘Confusion and unconsciousness, yes, maybe a tiny burn mark around the point of discharge, possibly, occasionally prolonged vomiting and nausea, sometimes heart attack for a little while - but never have I seen
anyone
roll around on the ground screaming after being hit by
that
.’

‘Will he be back to a bigwig soon?’

‘I’d be worried if he was back to being a black-market opium dealer with a criminal record soon.’ He saw Tess’s expression, and said in an embarrassed voice, ‘He should wake up quickly. People get more shocked than actually scarred by electricity.’

‘What happened?’

‘He had a knife.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Apart from that, Mister Lyle.’

Lyle looked with real worry at the slumbering Thomas. ‘It’s as if someone is going round hypnotizing anybody who’s come into contact with the case. I don’t know how. It seems impossible to contrive. But he said the exact same words as Mrs McVicar:
don’t look at the eyes
. Same words, different people, both connected with the case and the Fuyun Plate.’

‘Oh.’ Silence. ‘Mister Lyle?’

‘Yes?’

‘You know you were ’orrid when I said the “magic” thing?’

‘Teresa!’ he snapped irritably.

She raised her hands. ‘I’m just thinkin’ about what the file thing said. The cultural signifi
. . .
ficance thing.’

He stared down at the slumbering Thomas. ‘The Fuyun Plate was supposedly made for “Tseiqin”, demon-angel creatures. Legend places its origin in ancient Tibet.’

‘Is Tibet near here?’

Lyle rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily, eyes wrinkling closed to try and shut out distracting thoughts and fatigue. ‘No, Teresa,’ he said, sighing, but not unkindly. ‘Tibet is a province of China.’

‘An’ it were a Chinaman what followed us, weren’t it?’

‘Yes. It was.’

‘So?’ She waited expectantly.

In a slightly surprised voice Lyle said, ‘You know, you’re right.’

‘I
am
?’ She sounded astonished and delighted.

‘It ’s time we knew a little bit more about what we ’re looking for. I think I know who to ask, too.’

CHAPTER 10

Evening in London, a bruised sky turned blue-orange near the sunset.

Thomas woke in an alien bed, sat up, felt a stab of pain in his side and lay down again quickly. A familiar voice at his side said, ‘You’re still not bein’ stupid with knives, are you? Only Mister Lyle weren’t happy.’

He half-turned his head and Tess slowly came into focus. ‘Where is this?’

She sighed. ‘Stupid question.’

‘What happened?’

‘
Well
, first you were all helpful, in a bigwig way, and then you got out this knife and decided to be all stupid and kill people, which were just
bad
. And you weren’t even very good at it, were you?’

‘Where ’s
. . .
Mister Lyle?’

‘Out,’ she said sharply. ‘But he says I’m to sock you if you do anythin’ bad.’ He realized Tess was holding the tube with the sharp wire antennae.

He sat up, carefully, taking his time. ‘I won’t hurt you.’

‘Too right!’ She frowned at him. ‘Why’d you do it?’

‘I don’t remember. It was a dream. I saw green eyes, the most beautiful eyes I’ve
. . .
’ He realized what he was saying and blushed. ‘And a voice. It was beautiful in my mind. I couldn’t argue with it.’

‘You’re mad!’

‘It’s all right!’ he said hastily as she stood up. ‘I’m feeling better now. It’s gone. It’s just like a dream. I didn’t know it was there before, but when I looked at Lyle and saw him working, the eyes and the voice were just
everywhere
, just
. . .
’

She leant close towards him, and hissed in a conspiratorial voice, ‘You want to know what I think?’

‘What?’ he whispered in the same hushed, dreadful voice.

‘Do you believe in magic, bigwig?’

 

Horatio Lyle was waiting. He stood, fingers twined together, on a bridge that spanned the purple-black Regent’s Canal, watching the dark water crawling towards the nearest lock. A barge passed underneath, laden with coal, black from its cargo. The lampman bumped his ladder across the bridge, pausing to light the lamp that hung on its support above and casting Lyle into a pool of yellow light that showed him to be the only person near the water. Lyle waited. After a while, he became aware of a black shadow standing a dozen or so yards away, keeping out of the light, watching him intensely. He smiled.

‘It’s you I’m waiting for,’ he called.

The shadow slunk into deeper darkness.

Lyle waited. He didn’t hear the footsteps behind him, though he had been concentrating for all he was worth, but nor did he jump when the man spoke at his shoulder. ‘Mister Lyle.’ There was a faint accent there, something foreign and mysterious. He didn’t turn to face the man in the crooked top hat.

‘You know my name. What ’s yours?’

‘Feng Darin.’

‘Very pleased to meet you, Mr Feng.’

‘If you are here to confront me, Mister Lyle, you are wasting your time.’

‘Why are you following me, Mr Feng?’

‘You are looking for the Fuyun Plate.’

Lyle seemed surprised. ‘That was easy.’

‘In what way?’

‘You just answered my question.’

‘Why should I not tell you something you already know?’

Lyle smiled politely, and nodded. ‘If I turn to look at you properly, will you be offended?’

‘Yes.’

‘Very well, then. Do you know where the Plate is?’

‘If I knew that, why would I follow you?’

‘What does the Plate do?’

‘What legend says it does.’

‘
How?
’

‘How legend says it does.’

‘Forgive me for scientific doubt, but that hardly seems plausible. ’

He felt the shrug behind him. ‘Be that as it may, it is the truth.’

‘What is the significance of the eyes?’

‘I do not know what you mean.’

‘I’ve been attacked twice today, by people acting as if hypnotized. They mentioned eyes. Why did they attack me?’

‘People will want to stop you getting the Plate.’

‘Why?’

‘It has power.’

‘Oh yes, the cultural significance. Not to mention legend. Are you a Chinese spy, or is that really just a bit melodramatic?’

‘I am
. . . was . . .
Tibetan.’

‘Really?’ Lyle brightened. ‘Was?’

‘I serve a cause within China, not Tibet.’

‘That ’s rather interesting.’

‘Why?’

‘You’re the first Chinese man I’ve met who serves a cause
within
China, rather than the Emperor. Will you stop me getting the Plate?’

‘That depends entirely on what you are planning to do with it. If you swear to hand the Plate over to me on recovering it, then I will not stop you.’

‘I can’t swear that.’

‘Then I cannot promise not to stop you.’

Lyle sighed. ‘I thought you’d say that.’

Quietly, Feng asked, ‘Can you find the Plate, Mister Lyle?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘It is of paramount importance that you find it before they do. If they can find it and restore it to its original form, they will be unstoppable.’

‘They?’

‘The Tseiqin.’

‘Oh yes, I should have guessed.
Them
,’ said Lyle in a dejected voice. ‘You don’t seriously expect me to believe any of this, do you?’

‘You are an intelligent man, Mister Lyle. I hope you can believe whatever the truth happens to be.’

Lyle frowned. ‘How do you mean, “restore” it?’

‘The Plate was damaged a long time ago - deliberately - to prevent the Tseiqin from using it for their intents. Now the time has come when they can repair it, as the time has never been right before. They will repair it by the iron that they revile. It is vital that they do not achieve this. You must not let them. We will kill to stop this, as they will kill to achieve it. They are watching you, Mister Lyle.’

Lyle stared at the water, and ran his hands wearily through his hair. ‘This is horse manure,’ he muttered under his breath. Silence from behind. ‘Mr Feng?’ He turned and looked into darkness. Feng Darin was gone.

 

‘Just let me try to understand this. You say you saw me working and suddenly your head was full of green eyes and beautiful voices and you couldn’t resist their exhortations to murder.’

Thomas thought about it. ‘Sir, I am so very sorry, I
. . .
’

‘He were bewitched, Mister Lyle,’ said Tess brightly. ‘Just like that other one.’

‘The other one?’ said Thomas weakly, feeling his heart trying to jump out of his chest.

Lyle shot Tess a look. ‘Why is it I seem to go through life meeting stranger and stranger people who either threaten menace or actually charge at me with carving knives? Who
are
these people who just happen to have carving knives stashed in every pocket and sleeve?’

‘Mister Lyle, you carry chemicals and electric things and magnets an’ all,’ pointed out Tess in the best serious voice she could muster.

‘That is beside the point.’

‘Well, actually, it really ain’t, ’cos
. . .
’

‘Teresa!’

They lapsed into silence. Finally Lyle said, ‘You’re certain you’re not feeling any murderous compulsions at the moment?’

‘No, sir!’

‘He might be rep
. . .
repress
. . .
’

‘Repressing, Teresa.’

‘Like he were when he come in!’

Lyle stared thoughtfully into Thomas’s eyes, and Thomas met the gaze head on, standing up a little straighter and matching his stare with the full force of Elwick arrogance that he could muster, while inside his stomach churned and his elbows shook in his sleeves. At length Lyle said very quietly, ‘All right, lad, say I believe you.’

‘Lyle never believes no one,’ whispered Tess helpfully into Thomas’s ear.

‘Teresa! You are not assisting the situation!’

‘Just thought he deserved to know, Mister Lyle.’

Silence. Thomas swallowed, feeling it drag at his self-esteem. At last Lyle said, ‘I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t like it and it ’s probably bad. You don’t seem like the unstable kind, and nor did Mrs McVicar - and the fact that you both said the same thing is disturbing too. The letter that you brought from the Bank is written in your father’s hand, on your father’s paper, with your father’s seal, and I’m willing to swear that it isn’t a forgery. How is it possible that your father would deliberately choose to put into his vault a sarcophagus containing a thief?’

Thomas opened his mouth to speak, but Lyle quickly raised a hand. ‘I know. It isn’t possible, or at the very least isn’t rational. But there have been a lot of people doing a lot of irrational things of late, and perhaps your father’s inexplicable action is one of those irrational things. Still, there’s a chance I might need you, lad, so I’m going to take the chance that what you say is true and that you’re not really a murderer in the making. If, though, you are lying, and if you attempt to hurt Teresa or myself, I swear that a massive electric shock will be the least of your worries. Do you understand?’