Jani and the Greater Game (The Multiplicity Series Book 1) (22 page)

In the event, a traffic jam along Rajpur Road put paid to apprehending the noon train. It was almost five past the hour when he pulled up outside the ornate Victorian portico of the station, paid the driver and rushed inside.

Any hope that the train had been delayed was stymied by the admirable efficiency of the Indian Railway timetable. Mr Singh, the station master, informed him proudly that the Dehrakesh train had departed punctually on the dot of twelve.

Alfie was about to leave the office and arrange his own passage to Dehrakesh when, glancing through the window at the platform, he noticed a plethora of British army personnel. He wondered if they too were on the trail of the Chatterjee girl.

Mr Singh noticed his interest. “They are looking for Russian spies, Lieutenant, sir. Russians have been reported in the area, so I have been reliably informed. We have been on the alert all day.”

Alfie left the station and considered his next move.

He found a phone box, got through to Cartwright’s office, and asked the secretary to put him through to the brigadier. “Lieutenant Littlebody here, on urgent business.”

Thirty seconds later Cartwright said, “Littlebody? What is it?”

He gave a resume of the morning’s events. “And I have a lead regarding the Chatterjee girl,” he said. “I was ringing in to see if she’s turned herself in.”

“No word at this end, Littlebody. I would’ve thought we’d’ve heard something by now, if so. I don’t like the sound of this at all.”

“Nor me, sir. And... and I understand that certain Russian agents are also on her trail.”

Alfie heard the brigadier curse under his breath. “The Russians, hm? This is worse than I feared.”

“I’d like to request an airship to take me to Dehrakesh, sir.”

“Dehrakesh?” the brigadier drawled. “Not thinking of taking a holiday are we, Littlebody?”

“No, sir. I understand that she might be heading there.”

“Very well, by all means requisition an airship. I’ll contact the airyard right away. Good luck, Littlebody. Keep me informed.”

“Yes, sir!” Alfie said.

Alfie considered returning to his bungalow and packing a few things for the journey north, then decided that, as time was of the essence, he would purchase whatever he needed once he was in Dehrakesh.

He took a taxi from the station and headed to the airyard.

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

In the warehouse of wonders –

No such thing as Annapurnite – A rooftop conversation –

“Oh, let him come with me...”

J
ANI WOKE SUDDENLY
, wondering for a second where she was. She recalled their arrival at Dehrakesh, then the Mech-Man’s march through the town to Mr Clockwork’s warehouse.

She opened her eyes and stared at Anand, who was peering down at her over the edge of the opening. She was reclining on the control seat, where Anand had left her a while ago to ensure that the way was clear.

“You can come out now, Jani-ji. The warehouse is empty.”

Jani yawned and slipped from the seat, found the hand- and foot-holds and climbed out. She stood on the concrete floor of the warehouse and stared about her in wonder.

What sprang to mind was a story from
One Thousand and One Nights
. Truly she was in Aladdin’s cave, a great chamber filled with all manner of jewelled trinkets and twinkling gems, golden gewgaws and scintillating treasures.

Anand laughed at her open-mouthed astonishment. “This is Mr Clockwork’s workshop and warehouse, where he builds and tests his many inventions. Next door is the showroom where he exhibits his latest clockwork wonders before he transfers them to his emporium in Delhi.”

Max stood to attention between a pterodactyl-like flying machine on one side, all gleaming golden spars, intricate cogs and scalloped wings, and on the other a spindly clock on legs, like some horological cross between the Eiffel Tower and Big Ben.

“Mr Clockwork calls this invention his Moon Clock,” Anand announced proudly. “Because it tells the time on the moon.”

Jani laughed as she stared up at the face of the clock, which was a faithful representation of the pitted lunar surface, with hands. “But how is that calculated?” she asked. “And the moon is a world like the Earth, so there would be many times all at the same time – if it were inhabited, that is!”

Anand frowned and shrugged. “That I do not know, Jani-ji. And this...” he said, moving on, “is what he calls his Criminal Aggravator.”

She stared at a device which resembled a mediaeval village stocks equipped with an arrangement of rotary tennis racquets.

“You see, the ne’er-do-well is placed in here, the device is switched on and the bats paddle his backside!”

Jani moved around the warehouse. There were hundreds of inventions crowding the floor, mechanical animals and clockwork homunculi, strange vehicles like cars with great inflated tyres and spindly coachwork, improbable flying machines and a drill-nosed contraption which Anand explained was Mr Clockwork’s Subterranean Excavator, which he intended to use to follow Arne Saknussemm to the centre of the Earth.

“But that was just a novel written by Jules Verne!” Jani said.

“Ah-ha, but according to Mr Clockwork, Verne based his novel on real events. Mr Clockwork plans one day to burrow deep under the Earth’s surface, just as he plans to fly to the moon!”

Jani stared about in wonder; it was as if Heath Robinson and the engineer Robert Stephenson had collaborated to create all manner of devices which defied not only description but logic. Jani was amused by the whimsical phantasmagoria, the sheer insane bravado of Mr Clockwork’s cornucopia of improbable machinery.

“He must be an amazing person,” she said.

“Oh, Mr Clockwork is truly amazing. He comes from a long line of Brahmin priests, but he turned his back on the way of the spirits, so he told me, and devoted his life to ‘the pursuit of the mechanical.’”

Anand took her hand and dragged her across the chamber. He stopped before a magnificent mechanical elephant, decorated with great iron cogs and flywheels, jewels and fabulously embroidered drapes – but twice the size of any elephant Jani had ever seen. It was as if a wealthy maharajah had decided to duplicate his finest bull elephant in brass and gold, with no expense spared.

“And this is Mr Clockwork’s latest wonder!” he announced proudly. “This is the magnificent beast I have come to collect. I will leave Max here and take Mel all the way back to Delhi, where he will go on show at Mr Clockwork’s Emporium.”

“You call him Mel?”

Anand laughed. “Why, of course! Mel – for Mechanical Elephant! He is extra-special, and powered by Annapurnite.” He stared up at the invention, frowning. “The only trouble is that he is heavy and slow. You see, he is too heavy to travel by train, and so slow that it will take me two weeks to plod back to Delhi.”

“You’re taking him by road?” Jani asked, sad that soon they would be parted.

“I am due to set off tomorrow.”

She moved around the warehouse, lost in thought as she took in marvel after marvel, mechanical monkeys and bizarre automata, and things that defied easy definition – something that might have been a calliope or a giant orrery, and another invention that combined the oiled black chitin of a giant stag beetle with the tracks of an ironclad. She recalled something that Anand had told her earlier.

“And you say that Mel is powered by Annapurnite?” she said.

“That is what Mr Clockwork claims, yes.”

Jani smiled and strolled around the warehouse. “But Anand,” she said, “I told you on the way here what my father said: that there was no such thing as Annapurnite. Oh, I wonder what he meant?”

The boy shrugged. “But how do you explain the super-fast trains, Jani-ji, and the airships, and the weapons employed by the British to keep the heathen Russians and Chinese in check?”

Jani smiled. “I don’t know how to explain anything, Anand. My mind is in a total whirl.”

Anand smiled at her. “Come, Jani-ji, I would like to show you something. And while we stare in wonder, we shall eat, ah-cha?”

“You’ve brought food?” she said, following him across the floor of the warehouse to a rickety flight of timber steps that disappeared up into the rafters. “How long was I asleep?”

“I was gone for over an hour, Jani-ji. First I had to talk to Mr Gopal, the warehouse manager, before he closed it up. I arranged a time to take Mel, and gave him Mr Clockwork’s instructions regarding Max. Then I slipped into town and asked for directions to the nearest restaurant.”

At the foot of the wooden staircase, Anand picked up a bag from which the aroma of hot spices issued. Jani realised how hungry she was.

She followed Anand up the staircase, wondering where he was leading her. At the top was a platform just beneath the eaves of the building, from which she had a view of the massed, twinkling artefacts in the warehouse down below.

“I come up here every time I visit the warehouse,” Anand said, reaching up to open a skylight. He slipped through, and turned to help Jani after him.

She found herself standing on a narrow timber walkway overlooking the lights of the town and the distant forested hills. Far below, cars and rickshaws beetled along the main boulevard and the muted thrum of engines reached them as if from far away. Along with the sound came the many smells of the town, cooking food and wood smoke, diesel fumes and incense.

They sat side by side on the walkway, their backs against the raked tiles. Jani stared out across the town, taking in the sights and the sounds of her homeland and knowing in her heart – despite the many lures and attractions of England, of Cambridge and London – that this was truly where she belonged. India was in her blood, as her father had often said, and no one could take that away from her. Even death, she recalled him saying, when the blood was finally stilled, only brings about a return to the land that is home.

She realised that she would miss her father’s funeral, and a dark, hopeless despair filled her chest and forced a muffled sob from her throat.

And Anand would be leaving her at sunrise.

But now the boy was busy beside her, all smiles as he unpacked their supper. Aloo gobi and vegetable phal wrapped in banana leaves, a pile of oiled puri, and bhaji and burfi, and a bottle of Henderson’s lemonade.

They ate as if deprived of food for days, and Jani relished the curries of her homeland which she had missed – despite the occasional trip to Shafi’s in London – for so many years.

At one point Anand paused, a piece of roti dripping masala before his lips. “But Jani-ji, tell me something... Do you trust this creature you told me about, this Jelch?”

She thought about it. She recalled coming across the being in the wreckage of the airship, and what he had told her. And how, later, Jelch had saved her life.

“He was strange, but I didn’t fear him – even though he was like nothing I had ever seen before. He was not – and I know this might sound strange – but I didn’t feel that he was threatening in any way. And then he gave me the coin, or whatever it was.”

“And then,” Anand said in awed tones, “the creature saved your skin, killed those bloody Russian soldiers.”