The Lazarus Gate (49 page)

I looked back at the sinking ship one last time as it turned onto its side and came to a final rest on the bottom of the river. As it did so, the ship’s name flashed up towards the rising sun, and I stood open-mouthed as I read it. It was the ship from my dreams.

It was the
USS Helen B. Jackson.

T
he weeks that followed were all a blur. I spent a period of time in hospital, and was subjected to the most thorough and tiresome series of interviews and ‘debriefs’ from Home Office officials, Her Majesty’s Army and, of course, Apollo Lycea. Occasionally I would see Jim wheeling along the hospital corridors in his invalid chair, though we were rarely permitted to speak to each other whilst the official reports of the Lazarus affair were being drawn up. When I was discharged from hospital, I spent a few days in barracks at Horse Guards, voluntarily; the offer had been extended by the major who had been sent to question me, and I felt as though a bit of military routine would help to discipline my mind before I returned to the more chaotic civilian life. My body healed quickly enough, to be sure, but I did not feel myself in my mind, and feared I never would after what I’d seen. In truth, I wanted nothing more than to get my affairs in order, pack up my things from Mrs. Whitinger’s house, and set off to find Rosanna, hoping that she would welcome me even though I had destroyed all hope of a reunion with Elsbet. I knew that her ultimatum had been delivered out of grief, and was certain that my absence would have sweetened her disposition.

On the morning of 28th May, Jim paid me a visit. This was not in itself unusual, for we had spent much time together since the battle on the
Helen B. Jackson
, but on this day he was uncommonly serious, and I knew that duty called.

‘It’s time,’ Jim said, simply.

I nodded. ‘Let me change into a suit,’ I said. ‘I doubt Sir Toby would appreciate seeing his agents in army uniform.’

Half an hour later, we were in a cab, heading towards the river.

* * *

The address that Jim had been given was on St Katharine Docks, opposite the Royal Mint. After walking fruitlessly back and forth along the crowded street, we finally noticed a narrow doorway sandwiched between two Port Authority buildings, anonymous but for a small stone cameo of Apollo above its lintel. I rapped on the door, showed my card to the porter, and we were led down a long flight of stairs, at once transported to a world of espionage away from the hustle and bustle of London’s streets.

The size of the facility was impressive, spanning far beneath the water level, with large corridors and service tunnels feeding storerooms directly from the docks. It was into one of these secure storerooms that we were led, although the description perhaps does not do it justice. A large, vaulted cellar stretched before us, with whitewashed walls and electric light illuminating the space. Smartly dressed scientists and their assistants marched along aisles between massive tables and rows of lockers, carrying out tests on bizarre-looking machinery and cataloguing recovered artefacts from the wreck of the
Helen B. Jackson
. Overseeing all of this were Sir Toby and Sir Arthur Furnival, and another man, who was introduced to me as Lord Cherleten. At last, we met.

His lordship was a lean man, with a stern face and a weak, clean-shaven chin. His unruly crop of red hair was fading to grey, and he held himself with such rigid and haughty bearing that he appeared always to tower over us, although he was little taller than Jim and me. He said little, merely nodding to me when we were introduced. Sir Arthur, on the other hand, shook my hand warmly, for we had not seen each other since that fateful meeting with William James, which seemed like a lifetime ago.

‘Here you have it,’ Sir Toby said. ‘This facility houses the salvage from the Lazarus Gate incident.’ The word ‘incident’ barely seemed to do the ordeal justice, but I said nothing. ‘There is more out there, we’re sure,’ Sir Toby continued, ‘but where it is now is anyone’s guess. We’ll be trawling the Thames for months to come, and we have agents sweeping every warehouse and fencing operation in London and beyond.’

‘What will be done with it all?’ I asked.

‘If there’s anything that our scientists deem safe to use, then it will be signed over to the armoury under Lord Cherleten’s care,’ Sir Toby replied gruffly. Anything else will either be destroyed, if possible, or else locked away in our most secure vaults and never spoken of again.’

Even now, Sir Toby was stressing that secrecy was the order of the day; as if that were lost on any of us.

‘And the Othersiders’ weapons?’ I asked. Sir Toby raised an eyebrow. ‘Those lightning guns would come in handy in a tight spot.’

I made a wry smile, and was surprised to see it returned by Lord Cherleten.

‘His Lordship is of a similar opinion,’ said Sir Toby. ‘However, it seems there are certain… side effects… to their use, which we have yet to fully investigate. Until then, they will be kept down here for further tests.’

‘Side effects?’ Jim asked.

‘It’s what—ahem—Sir Arthur here calls “psychic resonance”,’ said Sir Toby. ‘Perhaps you could explain it?’ he asked the other baronet.

‘I only wish I could do so satisfactorily,’ said Sir Arthur. ‘It seems that our scientists are struggling to ascertain quite how these weapons work. The construction is brilliant, but straightforward enough, and can be replicated… except that our versions do not function well, if at all. By all rights, the Othersiders’ weapons should not work, and yet they do. And this, I believe, is to do with the unique resonance of the other universe.’

‘A frequency,’ I said. ‘Like a tuning fork pitched to an off-key.’

Sir Arthur looked at me with surprise. ‘Precisely, my dear fellow. On the other side, this “frequency” allows psychic phenomena to flourish, often with deadly results, and appears to permit the creation of outlandish weaponry. Whatever… entities, shall we say… prey on the Othersiders, I believe they do so because they are attracted to this frequency.’

‘Like a beacon in the darkness,’ I muttered, feeling a coldness sweep over me.

Sir Arthur nodded gravely. ‘Each time our men have used the weapons, I have felt a strange sensation, as of a presence in the room, trying to enter our world. But this is only the half of it.’

‘Oh?’

‘Captain Hardwick, Captain Denny,’ Sir Toby interjected, ‘I think perhaps you had better accompany us.’

We left the room and walked along another broad corridor, stopping at the door of another large chamber. Sir Toby opened the door, and we peered inside. What I saw within gave me pause. Laid out on mortuary slabs, covered with white shrouds, were bodies. Dozens of them.

‘What… who are they?’ I asked.

‘Othersiders,’ said Sir Toby. ‘Forty-two of them. Drowned in the Thames, or killed in battle.’

‘And not dragged back to their own side?’

‘No. As we suspected, the common soldiery were not fitted with the devices that were afforded their best agents. In death, they are stuck here. Our medical staff wishes to study them before they are… disposed of.’

‘Disposed of?’ Jim asked. ‘Will they be given a Christian burial? Whatever their nature, they are still men and women of England, are they not?’

‘Their nature is not entirely understood,’ said Sir Toby. ‘They still resonate with the other side; what will become of them over time is anyone’s guess. And… they are not entirely alone in there.’

‘I don’t understand,’ I said.

‘These bodies are a danger to us all, Captain,’ said Sir Arthur, as if the words pained him. ‘Something… terrible… hungers after these poor souls, and the longer their remains are here, the stronger the force becomes. Whether the sensation will fade over time now that the Lazarus Gate is closed, or whether we have irrevocably brought some threat into our world, only time will tell. What we will do with the survivors is anyone’s guess.’

I knew there were survivors from the wreck, but did not know what had become of them.

‘How many?’ I asked.

‘Scores of them, that we know of,’ Sir Toby said. ‘Probably more out there, fleeing justice. And who knows what weapons they carry, or what powers they wield.’

‘You think some of their psychics crossed over?’ I asked.

‘We are certain of it. We have two of them here.’ Sir Toby and Lord Cherleten were stony-faced. Jim looked at me in disbelief. ‘Come,’ said Sir Toby. ‘Come and meet them.’

* * *

We stood in what resembled a small hospital ward. Two patients—an old man and a young girl—were strapped down to metal-framed beds, much as I had seen in my vision of the other side. They were heavily sedated, and it was plain to see the red marks on their foreheads where the Othersiders had clamped them in cruel apparatus. I could not look at them. I trembled, and struggled to control myself as Sir Toby explained things to us, lest he see my agitation.

‘There is something strange happening to those of a… “psychic” persuasion across the city,’ said Sir Toby. ‘Many of them have been reporting strange dreams and visions, something to do with a storm. They say the Thames will flow red with blood, and fire will rain from the skies. Sir Arthur has experienced this for himself.’

‘Where did you find them?’ I asked. I was beginning to feel faint.

‘We believe they were aboard the ship,’ said Sir Toby. ‘They were found floating down the river, attached to a piece of wreckage, half drowned. Their fellows were not so lucky.’

‘There were thirteen in all,’ said Lord Cherleten. This was the first time he had spoken, and it startled me. His voice was thin and cut-glass. ‘All of them secured to the very workings of the Othersiders’ ship—like a living engine, designed to ease the passing of the vessel through the portal. Ingenious, really.’

‘Cutting them free seemed to cause them great distress,’ Sir Arthur interjected. ‘And when they become distressed… strange things happen.’

‘Such as?’ I asked, although I knew the answer already.

‘Lights flicker on and off; objects fly about of their own accord. The policemen who disentangled them were incapacitated by sudden headaches that caused them to lose control of their own limbs. And apparently they saw… things.’

‘Wh… what things?’

Sir Arthur looked at me with trepidation in his eyes. ‘Monsters, Captain. They saw monsters.’

‘We keep them sedated at all times now, until we can determine the cause. Or until we can send them back.’ Sir Toby broke the fraught moment that Sir Arthur and I shared, and I was almost glad of it.

‘If their own universe does not somehow claim them,’ Lord Cherleten mused absently, ‘they may yet have a part to play in the ongoing struggle.’

‘Ongoing, my lord?’ I asked.

Cherleten looked askance at me as though appalled that I had addressed him directly.

‘We cannot be sure the conflict is over,’ he said with distaste. ‘We must prepare ourselves as if for war; to do otherwise would be foolish.’

‘You have struck a great blow for our side,’ said Sir Toby, reassuringly. ‘If the intelligence you provided is correct, then it is highly unlikely that the Othersiders could attempt another invasion. But there are certain… complications; other threats that we must consider.’

Jim spoke up. ‘Sir Toby, do you mean to say it is not over?’

‘I mean to say we don’t know, my boy. If some of those sailors that came through the gate were left stranded here rather than being returned to their own side, it stands to reason that there may have been other… refugees… who took their chance to flee their world. William James thinks that their presence here may be causing some kind of temporary upset. Sir Arthur here says the number of sightings of ghostly apparitions in London has more than trebled this last week alone. We are hearing reports of haunted houses, demonic possession, strange lights in the sky… it’s happening across the country. We are keeping this to ourselves for now, for there is no need to cause widespread panic over what are, thankfully, isolated cases. But we here must all face facts—what happened on the other side could happen here, unless we are vigilant.’

I could think of nothing but the shadow on the sky, of clouds of fire and swarming things swooping over a shattered city. I remembered, too, the scrabbling claws that I had seen during Rosanna’s séance, and the recollection struck me dumb.

‘Isn’t it rather dangerous to keep such volatile prisoners and materiel together?’ asked Jim.

‘There’s a reason this place is built beneath the docks,’ said Lord Cherleten. ‘Should our… assets… become too unstable, or should our enemies attempt to liberate them. Well…’

‘You flood it,’ Jim said. Lord Cherleten nodded.

‘Come,’ Sir Toby said. ‘We have seen enough here. We should return to the Apollonian. I believe Lord Cherleten has an assignment for Captain Denny, while I would speak to you further, Captain Hardwick.’

I nodded, and allowed the others to leave the room before me. As I joined them, I took one last look back at the sleeping girl covered in bruises and needle-marks; the psychic Othersider whose presence had so unnerved me, and who might yet spell calamity for us all.

It was Elsbet.

* * *