The Broken Sun (23 page)

‘If you stay quiet and do as I say, you might survive this in one piece,' Sandra
said.

‘Why are you doing this? Surely you're not in favour of attacking the Houses of Parliament?'

‘I'm doing what must be done.'

‘Murdering innocent people?' Jack asked. ‘How can that be right?'

‘Murder is wrong,' she agreed. ‘Just as murdering my sons was wrong.' Her chin trembled,
but she did not lower the gun. ‘They had names—Reggie, Anthony and Edwin. They were
people. Now they're lying in a field in France. Forever lost.'

‘Your sons…'

‘My real name is Darrow.' She smiled sadly. ‘You didn't really think my name was
Clegg, did you? The government took the lives of a generation. Good men who deserved
better than they got.'

‘But the war was years ago,' Scarlet said. ‘Why now?'

‘George wanted the injured men to help him of their own free will.'

‘But when that didn't work he tried to brainwash them.'

Sandra hesitated. ‘I know it wasn't right,' she said. ‘George wanted the technology
from New Atlantis to finalise his work, but it's too late now. It's only a matter
of time before we're caught.'

‘Then give up,' Scarlet said. ‘There's no need for bloodshed.'

‘There has already been blood,' Sandra said, darkly. ‘Now it must be repaid.'

She swung the gun, striking Jack across the temple.

When he opened his eyes again, his head hurt and the air was filled with dust and
debris. Broken shelves lay everywhere. A few lights feebly illuminated the storage
room. There had been an explosion. Turning his head, he saw Scarlet on the floor
next to him, her eyes fluttering open.

They had been dragged to the far end of the chamber. Voices echoed through the gloom.
Standing at the edge of a hole, Sandra had the gun trained on them. There was a railway
track below, the metal rails twisted by the blast.

A dozen machine men appeared in the tunnel. Jack and Scarlet huddled in terror as
they climbed through the gap. One carried George Darrow on his shoulders as easily
as a father might carry a small boy.

Darrow was lowered to the floor, his eyes fixed on Jack and Scarlet. ‘What are they
doing here, Mother?' he asked. ‘Why are they still alive?'

Sandra's face twisted with confusion. ‘They're just children,' she said. ‘Surely
they don't have to die too.'

‘If they're not with us, they're against us.'

Jack's eyes searched the masks of the machine men until he focused on one. The man
was almost identical to the others: covered in body armour, an engine attached to
his back, guns and grenade launchers strapped to his arms. But there was something
familiar about him.

‘Phillip Doyle!' Jack said. ‘Do you remember us? We know your father!'

George Darrow laughed. ‘You think these men are so easily swayed? They have sworn
to follow my every command. Within hours the prime minister, the entire Cabinet and
the King will be dead. The men who caused the war will pay with their own blood.'

‘It will not be as easy as you believe.'

The voice came not from Darrow but the shadows behind Jack and Scarlet, as Mr Doyle
broke from the gloom.

‘I have alerted the authorities to your attack and the building is being evacuated
as we speak. We know the automated attacks from your airship were simply a diversion.
There are hundreds of soldiers ready to defend this building—with their lives, if
necessary.'

‘Then they will pay with their lives,' Darrow snarled.

‘George,' Sandra said, lowering the gun. ‘We can't do that. They're not our enemy!'

‘They are all our enemies!' Darrow snapped. ‘We'll fight to the last man!'

Mr Doyle's eyes focused on a machine man. ‘Phillip?' he said. ‘Can you hear me? It's
your father.'

‘You are dead to him,' Darrow said.

‘I searched for you on the field after the battle,' Mr Doyle said to his son. ‘I
tried to find you, but you were gone. This man took you away—'

‘Ignore him!' Darrow said to Phillip. ‘He is our enemy!'

‘—from me and Amelia and Jason,' Mr Doyle persisted. ‘You remember them, don't you,
Phillip? You remember how you and I used to play when you were a boy? All the fun
we used to have.'

‘Prove your loyalty to me, Phillip!' Darrow demanded, pointing at Mr Doyle. ‘Kill
him!'

Phillip raised his arms.

‘No!' Sandra cried.

She made a grab for her son, but he knocked her to the ground.

‘I'm giving you an order, soldier,' Darrow told Phillip. ‘You're going to kill that
man. He betrayed you! He betrayed his country!'

Confusion crossed Phillip Doyle's face.

‘We had so many good times,' Mr Doyle continued. ‘You remember your mother and the
games we used to play? The songs we used to sing?'

‘He's the enemy!' Darrow cried. ‘Destroy him!'

Phillip pointed his arms at his father. The engines whirred as grenade launchers
locked into place.

Mr Doyle started to sing. ‘
The Minstrel Boy will
return we pray. When we hear the
news we all will cheer it—
'

‘Kill him!' Darrow screamed. ‘Kill him!'

The confusion cleared in Phillip's eyes. He looked about as if waking from a dream,
saw the devastation in the room, the machine men, Jack and Scarlet and finally his
father.

Darrow seethed with hatred. ‘If you won't kill him,' he cried, spittle lacing his
chin, ‘I will!'

Darrow produced a revolver. At the same time, Phillip's eyes narrowed. A bittersweet
smile played on his lips as he lifted his arms high, training his guns on the ceiling.
Firing them would bring the whole roof down.

‘Run!' Mr Doyle cried. He dragged Jack and Scarlet towards the back of the room.
Jack saw George Darrow fire his gun at Phillip and the bullet
ting
harmlessly off
his armour.

‘No!' Darrow screeched, terror in his voice. ‘No!'

Phillip Doyle fired the grenade launchers into the ceiling.

Woompf!

Everything moved in slow motion. Jack was airborne, catapulted through the air by
the blast. He hit the ground and rolled. Scarlet and Mr Doyle went sprawling. Choking
through the dust, Jack looked back to see the ceiling sagging precariously.

Phillip Doyle gave them a final nod. Then the building itself seemed to moan in
pain as the ceiling collapsed.
A wall of dust and debris swept towards Jack as night
closed in, a night without stars or moonlight, as if the whole world had been buried
alive.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

‘I need to know everything,' Gloria said. ‘Every last detail.'

A month had passed since the collapse in the basements of new Parliament. The building
had been evacuated, and Mr Doyle and the team rescued by firemen. They had sustained
minor cuts and lacerations from the explosions and falling debris.

There had been good news waiting for them at the hospital. The medication synthesised
from the Sleeping Death plant had been successful in waking Gloria and Professor
Clarke. Since then, the receptionist had spent weeks slowly regaining her strength
before rejoining them at Bee Street. She was still dangerously thin, but
the colour
had at least returned to her face.

Now she was curled up on the lounge in the sitting room surrounded by pillows and
blankets, ready to write up the case file, notepad in hand. Mr Doyle, Jack and Scarlet
had been obeying her every whim. Jack had the feeling she was enjoying the attention—and
he didn't mind at all.

‘It's rather a long story,' Mr Doyle said. ‘Are you sure you're up for it?'

‘You're treating me too much like an invalid,' she said. ‘Oh, but do pass the cream
biscuits.'

‘Well,' Mr Doyle paused. ‘Where will I start?'

‘At the beginning,' Gloria suggested.

‘Then we must begin with the war,' he sighed. ‘George Darrow was a doctor during
the conflict. He worked on the battlefields before being transferred to head up a
convalescence unit. One of his duties was to ship men back home to recover from their
injuries. England was desperate for doctors, so the authorities were not concerned
with Darrow or his past.

‘If they had checked, they would have realised he had already been dismissed from
two hospitals as well as the Darwinist League for illegal practices.'

‘That explains the bulls I found in the basement in Southwold,' Jack said.

‘Indeed.' Mr Doyle stroked his chin. ‘I do believe, however, that when George Darrow
first arrived in France, he genuinely wanted to help. He undoubtedly saved many lives.'

‘So what went wrong?' Gloria asked.

‘The war went wrong,' Mr Doyle said. ‘Darrow's brothers were killed. All three of
them. It didn't happen at once. Rather, over a period of months, he lost them. You
can understand the effect it must have had; each of them dying while he remained
alive.'

‘And Sandra Darrow, his mother?'

‘She was in England, helping Darrow run the hospital. After the loss of his youngest
brother, he started evacuating men from the field and sending them back to England
under false names.'

‘Why?'

Mr Doyle paused. ‘It's impossible to say exactly when he grew to hate our country.
Regardless, at some point he decided to take revenge by using veterans as soldiers
for his exoskeleton experiments.'

‘But…' Gloria didn't have the words. ‘Using men who had already lost so much? Using
men who were themselves victims?'

‘These men were traumatised. In a way, they were the ideal recipients for Darrow's
brainwashing techniques: they were already addled, their minds in a state of shock
and confusion. To twist them to his way of thinking was a shorter leap than for someone
of sound mind.'

‘And the exoskeletons themselves?' Gloria asked. ‘Where did they spring from?'

‘The body armour for the machine men was already being built by Darrow's father prior
to the war. He was a genius. Not only a brilliant chemist, he was also an
engineer.
He died just as the suits were completed.'

‘But the brainwashing process was not perfect?'

‘No. The men would carry out Darrow's orders, but would falter at inopportune times.
Darrow needed them compliant to his every command. When he heard about the legend
of the Living Machine, he realised the ancient Atlanteans had exactly what he needed.'

Scarlet spoke up. ‘It's ironic that his desire for revenge led to the discovery of
New Atlantis,' she said. ‘And, tragically, the city was destroyed.'

‘A terrible historical loss, but we are fortunate that Darrow's secrets of mind control
were also lost. He and his mother were the only ones who knew their techniques, and
they died in the basement collapse.'

‘I'll take freedom any day,' Jack said.

‘How did Sandra Clegg—I mean,
Darrow
—fit into all this?' Gloria asked. ‘She was helping
her son, yet she seemed adverse to violence.'

‘I believe it was Sandra who sent the watch to Amelia,' Mr Doyle said. ‘Later, she
wrote to us about the British Museum. I think she was torn between helping her son
and doing what she felt was right.

‘She knew that George Darrow was building up to an attack on the government and possibly
the disabled men in his care would be hurt or killed.

‘After the house in Southwold burnt down, she made some enquiries and realised her
good deed had brought me into the case. Later, when Smythe joined the crew as the
first mate, she enlisted as cook. I think
George Darrow wanted them both there in
case one was discovered.

‘On the island, Sandra slipped away, leaving a scrap of blood-soaked fabric to make
it look like she'd been taken by a wild animal.'

‘How did she end up at the Houses of Parliament?' Gloria asked.

‘There was no subterfuge involved there. She had already worked in the kitchens of
new Parliament for years. On the day of the attack, she was required to drug the
guards. With them out of the way, it left clear access for the machine men to enter
the building.'

‘And how did you end up on the scene when Darrow broke in? What made you realise
he intended attacking from underground?'

‘I had begun my rather fruitless search on the roof of new Parliament when I happened
to glance across the river. There were several dilapidated warehouses on the other
side. One of them was a building bearing the sign, Old Oak Industries.' Mr Doyle
took a piece of cheese from his pocket and popped it into his mouth. ‘It's amazing
what you remember when you least expect it. Why, just the other day I was thinking
about penny-farthing bicycles…'

‘Mr Doyle,' Jack said.

‘Of course.' The detective smiled. ‘I recalled the name Darrow originates from the
ancient words for “oak tree”. It meant that Darrow may have owned the building. I
remembered then that a cross-city railway
project had been discontinued when new
Parliament was built and the line ran under the building.'

Gloria shook her head in admiration. ‘What a brain you have, Ignatius,' she said.
‘And what about the native man who was guarding Atlantis? What was his name?'

‘Etruba,' Jack said. ‘He and his brother were the last Atlanteans. Etruba wanted
to avoid bloodshed, but Andana was prepared to do anything necessary to keep the
city secret.'

‘How did they get involved with Darrow's plan?'

‘We can't be certain,' Mr Doyle said. ‘But they must have heard about the unearthing
of the Broken Sun and followed the pieces back to England. They may have realised
Darrow was watching the museum. Andana infiltrated Darrow's group, but always had
the intention to take back the Broken Sun.