Mechanized Masterpieces: A Steampunk Anthology (34 page)

“You foul crushers, thinking you can control everyone. One of these days you’ll get yours.” He spat on the floor. “I ain’t no snitch.”

Fred seized the man by the shirt front and yanked him forward. “You can be a snitch or I can beat the information out of you.”

Crocker turned pale and squirmed in Fred’s grip. “Typical law. I hate you lot. Bullies, the lot of you. But you win. I don’t like it, but I don’t want your kind of trouble, neither. I might be able to help, but you didn’t learn nothing from me, if anyone asks. Can’t have it getting around I squealed to the likes of you. Agreed?”

Fred nodded and let the man go.

“Good. I hear rumours sometimes. In this business you do. Word is, something is going down soon, by a group of nefarious types who like the mechanicals. Something at the Tower, you understand. And word is, it’s coming from underground.” He laughed. “That’s all you’ll get out of me.”

A pensive look blossomed over Fred’s face and he mumbled, “I wonder if he’s found the tunnel?”

“What are you blathering about? Wait, I don’t want to know, just get out of me shop.”

Fred took hold of Mary’s arm and rushed them out of the building.

“Fred, what is it? Do you know something?”

“I’m not sure. But I think we’d best investigate the situation at the Tower of London immediately.”

“How did you know about this underground entrance and tunnel, Fred?” Mary asked the question as she stepped gingerly through what she hoped was mud and tried to avoid the steady drips of water from overhead.

Fred shone his wrist torch into the darkness ahead. He gave its clockwork another crank for good measure, to ensure it didn’t fail and leave them in the dark. They were far underneath the Tower grounds, looking for any signs of recent passage.

“One of the old agency warhorses told me about it. Claimed it was built as a secret passageway around the time of Henry VIII. He said it ran directly under the castle, and it used to connect to other tunnels with entrances leading into the White Tower and the Martin Tower. He also claimed some thief tried to steal the Crown Jewels this way, in decades past, and that the other doors and tunnels were sealed off after the attempted theft.”

“Do you really think Muggins knows of the existence of these tunnels? And he plans to reopen them to steal the Crown Jewels? It seems a bit of a stretch in deduction. Even if he could gain entrance to the proper tower, he’d still have to access the Jewel House. It’s practically impossible. We’re most likely on another fruitless search.” Mary wrinkled her nose in distaste at the foul smell which wafted up from where she stepped.

“Perhaps, but we can’t ignore the possibility. It is just the type of outlandish thing he would attempt. And if Muggins is after the Crown Jewels, we have to stop him.”

“True, I suppose, but I don’t fancy the idea of encountering our foes down here. It’s a perfect place for an ambush.”

“Well, there’s a horrid idea: falling into another trap. I’ve had enough of being shot at this week. Of course,” Fred grinned wickedly, “that may not be the only thing we have to worry about. There may be a few ghosts down here as well.” His hand shot out and grabbed Mary’s shoulder. She started and let out a faint squeal of alarm.

“Stop that.” Mary swatted her hand at him in irritation and frowned disapprovingly. “Stop teasing. If we’re not careful, we may be the ones who end up as ghosts.”

As they travelled onward, they began to see signs of recent use, a few bits of metal, and odd tracks on the muddy floor of the tunnel.

“Perhaps your theory isn’t so far-fetched after all,” Mary whispered. “My apologies, Fred.”

They pulled out their pistols and peered into the dimly lit gloom for the slightest signs of trouble. Their footsteps grew quieter now, and their voices stilled as they stalked any potential enemies. They stopped in unison as noises sounded from far ahead in the tunnel.

“Careful, now,” Fred murmured. “We don’t know what lies before us.”

Fred and Mary crept forward, straining their eyes as they peered into the gloom. Slowly they saw shapes moving in the dark and the noises got louder.

“Fred,” Mary whispered, “That sounds like—”

“It is. It’s the rats.”

“What are we going—”

A great, deafening explosion shook the tunnel, sending them backward off their feet, bits of stonework debris raining around them.

Fred landed on his back, choking on dirt and dust, the stench of smoke in his nose, his ears buzzing and his head reeling. He could hear Mary to his right, moaning softly.

“Mary!” He croaked her name, coughing, sloughing off grime and small chunks of stone as he struggled to sit. “Mary, are you hurt?” He groped about until he managed to find her hand. He gripped it tight for a moment, squeezing.

“I think I’m fine. I don’t think anything’s broken. I’m just dazed, I think.” Her frail voice floated from the surrounding blackness. Fred’s torch had gone out. He fumbled about, checking his pockets, before rummaging out a match and lighting it. In the faint, flickering light, he found Mary, and then the match sputtered out.

”Can you stand?” Fred asked, as he lit another match.

“Yes, I think so.” He watched her rise on shaky limbs, as he found his own unsteady feet. His match died again. “Does your torch work?”

In the darkness, he heard her fussing with the wrist device as he cranked his own. No comforting glow came from either and Fred sighed.

“It’s no good, Fred. It’s broken.”

“Mine, too. We’ll have to use the matches to move forward.”

“Are you sure we should—no, we have to investigate.” Fred felt her fumble and then grasp his hand. “Lead the way.”

Fred lit another match. “Try to keep to the wall and watch out for loose stones and debris.”

They stumbled and groped through the murky tunnel, their way illuminated only by the slight flame of match after match. Fred guided the advance, Mary clutching to his arm, her pistol ready.

“Stop. I think I see light further on.” Fred dropped the already sputtering match he held and peered ahead. A steady gleam of light illuminated the passage, showing a spectacle of strewn stony rubble.

Fred and Mary inched forward slowly, struggling through the scene of destruction, clambering over the rocks and debris littering the floor of the tunnel. As they grew closer to the apex of the damage, they saw a gaping hole exposed in the wall, where the light filtered out.

“They’ve breached the sealed entrance. We must follow them.” Fred rushed his advance, hastening over more wreckage, Mary scrambling to keep pace.

“Fred, be careful. We still don’t know what we’re facing.”

Fred glanced back. “It doesn’t matter what we face. We must stop this attack.” He dashed through the hole and into the unknown.

“Just watch out for those rats!”

They found a crude stairway and raced up the steps, taking two at a time, as noises and shouts from above them became audible. They emerged from the stairwell into the confines of the Martin Tower, and a scene of havoc and chaos.

Around them darted mechanical rats: dozens of scuttling, scampering rodents, attacking the Tower guards; a complete infestation. Fred and Mary stared at one another and simultaneously said, “The Jewel House!”

The pair raced as one, fending off biting, snapping rats as they ran. They arrived at the Tower Jewel House in time to behold a dazzling display of mechanized rats bedecked in the splendid finery of crowns and tiaras, bracelets and rings, carrying sceptres and orbs, spoons and swords, fleeing the site. The mad metal league of thieves led a parade of guards on a merry chase, with Mary and Fred joining the melee, all in a wild dash to the courtyard. They emerged into dappled sunlight and a surprise attack.

“Take cover!” Bullets greeted Fred’s shouts as a gang of armed men filling the courtyard opened fire on them all. They had rushed straight into a gunfight. “Try to retreat to the Tower!”

He and Mary dodged bullets, making their way to safety, firing back with their own pistols, as did many of the Tower guards. The rats had disappeared into the crowd of foes, taking the Crown Jewels with them.

Fred glanced back at Mary who seemed to be rubbing her wrist. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, now pay attention. We’re being shot at, Fred.”

“I know that—”

His words were cut short by the sound of high pitched laughter ringing out above the sound of gunfire.

“Great Scott! Is that . . . ?” Fred scanned the courtyard and saw him: a gangly gentleman in a stylish black suit, standing out in a sea of men.

“Muggins.” Fred spat the word and ground his teeth.

“What! He’s here? Oh my, Fred! Look up!”

Fred raised his gaze to where Mary pointed.

“What the blazes!” Above his head flew a fantastic airship, a mechanical marvel of gears, propellers, and an inflatable balloon. “It’s a two-pronged attack.”

“And now he’s escaping. He’s getting away, Fred.”

Fred saw Muggins rising in the air, clinging to a suspended, ascending basket. “And, no doubt, he has the Crown Jewels with him.” Fred watched Muggins trade shots with guards as they tried to hold his basket to the earth.

“We’re never going to explain this one to Griffith.”

“We can if we catch Muggins. Come on, Mary.”

Fred leaped forward into the path of the enemy gunmen, dodging bullets and the still-attacking rats on an insane sprint for Muggins, who yet struggled to escape the clutch of defending guards. He heard Mary behind him, shooting, as he too, fired through the enemy; their guns and bravado somehow cleared a path. Fred jumped as the basket began to ascend again, and caught the edge. He hauled himself in and greeted Muggins with a punch on the nose.

Muggins staggered back, then raised his pistol and fired. The hammer clicked on an empty chamber. With a cry of rage, Muggins leaped at Fred, and the pair fought in the precariously swinging basket.

Muggins landed two blows to Fred’s stomach that doubled him over in pain. A vicious kick to the shins sent Fred to his knees. Desperate, Fred lashed out with an uppercut to Muggins’ jaw. Muggins staggered back a step and Fred rushed forward, tackling him. The pair hit the side of the basket. The wicker contraption swung violently and the frail connecting ropes creaked under the strain of their brutal brawl.

Fred slammed three punches into Muggins’ face while Muggins countered by smashing a fist into Fred’s gut. Fred wrenched away and both men stood apart, gasping for breath. An ominous lurch shook the basket. They both looked upwards.

Immediately, they grasped the awful danger. Helpless, they stared in horror as fast-unravelling strands of rope fiber gave way with a snap, and the left side of their lifeline released into the sky.

Time seemed suspended before Fred and Muggins crashed against the side of the basket, their weight upending it. Fred grabbed at the edge to break his fall, clinging on frantically. He watched a shower of jewels and crowns tumble to the ground and land in the midst of men and rats.

He dangled precariously from the rim of the basket. Below him, an angry, shrieking Muggins clung to a remaining piece of frayed rope. Shouts came from above and Fred saw henchmen lower a rope ladder to his enemy. He glimpsed another man slicing at the remaining line holding the basket aloft.

Unable to stop it, Fred shouted in frustration as Muggins ascended to safety. Then the final threads of the fraying rope broke and Fred plummeted to the ground. As he collided back to earth and lost consciousness, Fred witnessed Muggins climb into the airship.

When Fred regained his senses, the first thing he realised was that he rested on something soft, certainly not a tangle of men and mechanicals. He opened his eyes. Mary’s face filled his vision. She sat beside him, on a narrow bed.

“Finally decided to wake up, did you, sleepy head? You missed the last bit of the fun.”

“What happened? Where am I?” Fred tried to sit up and immediately changed his mind, staying supine, where a piercing pain did not invade his head.

“You’re in hospital. You came out of it all with a few bruises and scrapes, one or two broken ribs, and a bump on the head. You’re quite lucky.”

“I don’t feel lucky.” Fred sighed. “The last thing I remember is Muggins getting away.”