The Lazarus Gate (44 page)

There was silence for a moment. Ambrose’s shoulders sagged, and he seemed to grow weary all of a sudden. He looked up at me with a gravity that I had never before seen in him.

‘He was worse,’ Ambrose said, sounding unlike his usual self. ‘He was the greatest cad in England, and I had no qualms about strangling the life out of him and taking everything that was his. I was twice the man he was, and he didn’t deserve to be so privileged whilst I was living in a world of nightmares. That’s what you want to hear, isn’t it? There; you have your bloody confession. Now do what you will—kill me if you must—just end this tedious game.’

‘Not just yet, Ambrose,’ I said, coldly, sheathing the thin blade again. ‘I know that you’ve been stalling for time; that you’re only confessing now because you know it’s near dawn, and the war is about to start. But unfortunately for you, I do have some use for you still, and unless you want to look like me when this is done, you’d better start toeing the line… “old chap”.’

Darkness crossed Ambrose’s features.

‘You’re a bloody fool!’ he snarled. ‘When Lazarus comes, this river is going to run red with the blood of the fine people of London, and what are you doing? You’re skulking in this shit-hole with a bunch of stinking gypsies. There’s a fleet on the other side of the veil, couching at the door like the very hounds of hell, and there’s sod all you can do to stop them!’

‘There’s the Ambrose I’ve come to know—showing your true colours at last. But I wouldn’t be sure about any of that. What do you think, Captain Denny?’ I turned towards the open doors of the boathouse as I said this, and Jim stepped into view, cutting a lean figure amidst the wispy morning mist.

‘I think that in less than half an hour I’ll have twenty naval guns on the north bank, and a hundred marines ready to board any vessel that puts out in this river. Sir.’ He addressed me as his superior, purely for Ambrose’s benefit.

‘This is beyond the pale!’ snapped Ambrose. ‘Have you learned nothing, John? Why, even I don’t know all of the agents infiltrating this city. If he’s gone out of his way to earn your trust, he’s probably as crooked as they come. Why trust him and not me?’

I did not wish to play my hand completely; I wanted Ambrose to squirm. And so I did not mention that I had already killed Jim’s double. Instead, I leaned close to Ambrose, face to face with my betrayer, and I set my features as hard as stone. ‘If for no other reason than because he’s a captain in Her Majesty’s Army, Mr. Hanlocke. Service before country; country before Queen; Queen before God.’

Ambrose looked at me with incredulity. ‘You really are the greatest fool I’ve ever met. Do you think your dear father gave a monkey’s about the army when he came over to our side? When he abandoned you? Do you think he’ll hesitate when he has to kill you? Because I’m bloody certain you won’t have it in you to kill him.’

‘My father,’ I yelled in Ambrose’s face, ‘is a traitor, and I’m damned if I’ll follow his example. I know full well that he is the key to this invasion. I want to see him stand trial for what he’s done; and I’ll gladly see him hang.’

‘Oh, I’m afraid you’ll have to do better than that,’ he said, sardonically. ‘While Lazarus lives, we have hope. The power required to open the Lazarus Gate is immense—enough to shut down all of London twice over, I’d wager—but they won’t stop trying just so you can put their most valuable asset on trial. The best scientists of my world have transformed London Bridge into the greatest electrical conductor ever devised. His Majesty has assembled a fleet of shallow-draught vessels from all over the world, capable of bringing your London to its knees in a matter of hours. It took years to persuade Lazarus to defect, and to build these devices. These are not the actions of despots and conquerors; these are the actions of desperate people whose world is about to crumble. This is our final throw of the dice, and Lazarus is the key. They can keep the portal going as long as his heart beats, and they will stop at nothing to escape into this world.’

‘Escape?’ Jim interjected. ‘You make them sound like refugees, and yet they act like warmongers.’

‘We
are
refugees! Have you any idea of what’s happening on the other side, right now? The gates of hell are open. Demons cavort in the streets; blood rains from the skies, and the dead do not rest easy in their graves. Entire cities have seceded from the Empire, ruled by degenerates who feast on human blood. People die in their thousands every day, and every resource we have is geared towards holding the devil at bay. At least, it was until your father turned. Now we’ve let fire and blood wash the streets of every city in the civilised world while we prepare to make this one our new home.’

‘You speak of this act as though it is understandable—forgivable even!’ I replied. ‘And yet you plan nothing short of genocide. Did none of your kind try to find a peaceful solution? Or did you not stop to think that a people who could fall so far deserve to be damned?’

Ambrose looked stung by this reproach, and hung his head.

‘There is no peaceful solution. How could there be? Could millions of wretches really cross over to this world seeking asylum, especially as they are all doubles of people already here, living or dead? No, John—the powers that be have long since set their minds to this course of action, and today it all comes to fruition.’

‘Unless I kill my father. Why? Why does he have to die, Ambrose?’

He looked at me forlornly, and I wondered then if this trickster could have some genuine feelings of comradeship for me.

‘You know of the devices that we all carry within our bodies—the devices that return our mortal remains posthumously to our own world? Well, they are located near our hearts. I said that we still have hope whilst Lazarus’ heart beats, and I meant it quite literally. The device that he carries is… unique. It helps to form the bridge between our worlds, making it a more stable passage that can support travel in both directions. In fact, it has allowed even our normal gateways to remain open for longer periods than ever before—perhaps even indefinitely. When he dies, the gates that have sustained our presence in this universe for so long will close. We have to pray that, at the very least, the invasion is successful before we lose him.’

‘If he is so vital to your plans, why place him on the front line? My father should know better than that.’

‘He has no choice, John. He has to be with the first wave in order to give the gate the best chance of working. Just as he has had to return here regularly over the past few years.’

‘I don’t understand,’ I said.

‘Nor do I,’ Jim echoed. The blank looks on the faces of the gypsies indicated that they hadn’t understood anything at all that had been said so far.

‘Look,’ said Ambrose, with a defeatist air, ‘I am no scientist. I’ve been here so long that my knowledge may not even be up to date. But it was explained to me thus: every living thing has a resonance, a pitch, like a tuning fork. You can’t hear it—no one can—but it’s there all the same. Things on this side resonate differently from things in my universe, and the two have a hard time coexisting. It’s as though the universe recognises invaders, and tries to push them out—only if it succeeds in doing so, the results are rather messy for the traveller. Short visits are fairly easy, but longer trips, well… they need a locus, something to stabilise the frequency. Do you follow at all?’

‘Partly,’ I said. It was outlandish, and I began to realise the genius of the Othersiders. After all, if Ambrose Hanlocke could grasp such recondite theories, then everyone on their side must be at least as devilishly clever. But of course, I was forgetting that the Ambrose I thought I knew was merely the part of an accomplished actor. ‘Please go on… at least humour me.’

‘Very well. When your father defected to our side, he was implanted with a device similar to the one that all of us carry. The devices ease our passing and prolong our stay by tuning our frequencies partway towards yours, and for Marcus Hardwick it was essential in order for him to remain in our universe. However, your father is different. Our scientists discovered that the longer he spent in this universe with his new implant, the longer all of our gates remained stable. This was the discovery that ultimately led to the Lazarus Gate. Perhaps he is unique—he’s the only true defector from your side ever to cross the veil, so we’ll never know. But in any case, he has somehow helped to disguise our presence in this world from the natural forces that seek to expel us. This universe treated us as foreign bodies—a virus, I suppose—but no longer. Lazarus is our Trojan horse, and today is the time of our
coup de grâce
.’

I turned to Jim, who had taken out his pocket-watch. He nodded to me.

‘And the time is imminent, it would seem,’ I said. Ambrose glared at me.

‘Don’t look so surprised, Ambrose, it’s not only your kind who can be one step ahead. As soon as I discovered the date and place, and that the invasion would be a naval one, it was obvious that it would have to begin at low tide. London Bridge was not designed with large vessels in mind. So, I believe 3 a.m. is the optimum time for Lazarus to strike.’

‘Very clever, John,’ Ambrose said. ‘But you don’t seem terribly well prepared. I suppose there aren’t many people you can trust. I wonder if any of Captain Denny’s soldiers are actually agents from my side? Even I wouldn’t know for sure. That is the gift that your father has given us—the ability to infiltrate your world with impunity.’

‘Those men are hand-picked,’ snapped Jim.

‘So was I,’ sneered Hanlocke. ‘By Sir Toby Fitzwilliam, no less. We can all be poor judges of character—I mean, look at the company John is keeping these days.’

‘Please Ambrose, be civil,’ I said. ‘Gregor needs little enough invitation to snap your neck, after what your fellows did to his people. Your friend Lillian killed a gypsy princess in front of us both—it has given us common cause.’

He thought about that for a second before replying: ‘Lillian Hardwick is hardly my friend. I barely know the girl, save that she is Lazarus’ right hand. She came from nowhere, promoted by virtue of being the daughter that Lazarus thought he’d lost, all those years ago.’

‘If my sister had survived in this world, I would have recognised her sooner, when I first laid eyes on her at Commercial Road.’

‘Good Lord…’ he said. ‘I didn’t even know she was the one. God’s own truth, John—I received the order to flee the building. I caught only the briefest glimpse of the agents.’

‘They seem to keep you in the dark quite a bit, Ambrose. Perhaps you aren’t so important to their plans after all,’ I said, hoping to rile him.

‘I never was, John. I am one of many agents sent to live among you. My reports are doubtless useful, but my fate is inconsequential to the greater mission. Information is one-way; no one tells me anything in case…’ He paused.

‘In case you find yourself too deep in the mire? In case you start to feel at home on this side of the veil, and decide that you’d like a cosier life, away from the dangers of “hell”? Is that it?’ I prompted him.

‘Something like that,’ he replied, quietly. He looked down, ruefully. Perhaps I had hit the nail on the head.

‘Ambrose… you have been surprisingly forthcoming with information. I thought I’d need to be more… persuasive. I hope you haven’t been feeding us more lies.’

‘Believe what you will, John,’ Ambrose said, wearily. ‘Truth be told I’m tired of it all. I knew the time of the invasion was near, but didn’t know when exactly until you dragged me down here. I felt relief—I’ve been too long living this lie; living like him. Would you believe that I was nothing like the Ambrose Hanlocke from your world before I took on this role and now… now I cannot work out where he ends and I begin. I promise you, John, I haven’t lied to you. It’s just that your efforts will be in vain—there’s no point pretending otherwise. I wish it wasn’t so; there are good people in this world who are about to die. If there was another way I would take it. But the decision does not rest with me; it never has. I can change nothing. Why don’t you run along and try to save the world, and leave me be.’

‘Ambrose, I… Look, why don’t you help us? You can still be of consequence, and you can save millions of lives.’

‘No, John, I can’t. Nor can you. You’re merely trying to postpone the inevitable.’

‘John, we need to get moving,’ said Jim. ‘Not long to go.’

I instructed Gregor to pick one of his men to stand guard over Ambrose, and the rest of us went outside and began to make our way to the bridge. In the early hours of the morning, even the great metropolis was calm and still, and it was hard to imagine what chaos was to come into the world, as if from nowhere. Even as I reflected on that, a low tolling bell could be heard sounding off in the distance, marking the hour.

‘Three o’clock,’ said Jim. ‘If your theory is right, all hell should be breaking loose right about now.’

* * *

We made our way to the water’s edge, in the shadow of the great bridge, where a skiff was waiting for us. Six armed men crewed the boat, and I eyed them warily—Ambrose had given me enough suspicion of my fellow man to last me a lifetime. However, if I could not trust these men then what hope was there? We were few in number and the danger was great indeed. I instructed Gregor to take the other gypsies up the wide stone stair of London Bridge and position themselves above us in the many parapets of the bridge’s piers. They had been given rifles, and I thought it best that they fight at a distance; I had promised Rosanna, after all, that I would take no unnecessary risks with their lives. A band of armed gypsies was not easily concealed in London, so Jim had taken precautions. The local beat bobbies had been paid to keep their distance, and soldiers stood on every street corner nearby, disguised as civilians, ready to turn back anyone who tried to access the bridge. There were not enough of us to fight a war, but there were enough to board the first vessel to appear, and hopefully to end the battle before it even began. I wondered if Sir Toby had heard of the operation yet, and what he would think of my actions in circumventing Apollo Lycea in favour of the army. I imagined he would take a dim view, and I did not relish my next meeting with him, should I survive the night.