The Monster Within (16 page)

‘And there's something else in today's news,' Scarlet said, showing them the newspaper.

The headline read:

Suffragettes Set to March

‘The march for Saturday is being supported by most of the suffragette organisations
throughout the country,' Scarlet read. ‘Women will be coming from everywhere.'

‘But isn't the march illegal?' Jack asked.

‘The
banning
of the march should be illegal!' Scarlet snapped, her eyes flashing.
‘People have a right to protest.'

‘The government is afraid,' Mr Doyle said. ‘It's afraid of the marchers, but it's
afraid
for
the marchers. There may be further bombings, or riots.'

‘That's ridiculous,' Scarlet sniffed. ‘Suffragettes would never engage in violent
practices.'

‘Never?' Mr Doyle asked. ‘We are speaking of thousands of individuals, my dear. And
there's the Valkyrie Circle. They're more than happy to resort to murder.'

‘If they're involved at all,' Scarlet pointed out.

After breakfast, they went to the roof, where Mr Doyle had already prepared the
Lion's
Mane
for the journey. Jack was relieved to see the airship again after their time
on the run. He patted the control panel affectionately as they took off.

‘Inspector Wolf is similar to a man in the Brinkie Buckeridge books,' Scarlet said
to Mr Doyle. ‘His name is Tiger Emerson, an Interpol agent who constantly works to
foil her.'

‘Tiger?' Jack said. ‘What sort of name is that?'

‘It's silly, I know. His real name is Bob, but he insists on being called Tiger.
It's because he always pursues his prey. He never gives up.'

‘But why is he against Blockie?' Jack asked. ‘She's a hero.'

‘Brinkie
is
a hero. But she does walk a dangerous tightrope between following the
law and breaking it.'

Mr Doyle smiled. ‘I don't think Inspector Wolf's name is Bob or Tiger,' he said.
‘He probably prefers to be called
sir
.'

‘I'll call him mud if he tries arresting you again,' Scarlet said.

‘I'll call him worse than that,' Jack added.

They flew across London, coming in to land in the Scotland Yard docking station.
Jack was always in awe of the police complex—a huge pyramid-shaped building with
a shining sword on top. Nothing else in London resembled it.

Inspector Greystoke hurried over as they entered the foyer. ‘There's something I
must tell you,' he said in a hushed voice.

‘I can probably guess,' Mr Doyle said.

But before Greystoke could say anything more, he put up a hand, in warning. Wolf
had just exited one of the elevators and was charging towards them.

‘You may have escaped jail once,' he seethed, ‘but I'll make certain you all spend
the rest of your life behind bars.'

‘Then at least I'll have time to catch up on my reading,' Mr Doyle said. ‘But until
you find me guilty of something, I suggest we work together to find those responsible
for these bombings.'

‘Those responsible?' Wolf snorted. ‘I'm looking at them right now.'

‘How dare you speak to Mr Doyle in such a way!' Scarlet snapped. ‘You're lucky to
have him helping you.'

‘I wouldn't allow him in here at all if it weren't for orders.'

‘Orders?' Jack said.

‘Fortunately I have friends in high places,' Mr Doyle said.

Greystoke intervened. ‘There's a briefing due to start in ten minutes. I suggest
we make our way there.'

Wolf marched off in a huff. Mr Doyle and the others climbed into the nearest elevator.

‘What friends would they be?' Greystoke asked. ‘I know the orders came from fairly
high up.'

‘I've been of assistance to the prime minister and His Majesty on a number of occasions,'
Mr Doyle said.

Jack recalled their meeting with Prime Minister Kitchener on their first adventure
together.

‘They know I would have nothing to do with terrorism.'

They made their way to the Operations room, which was a windowless square clad in
timber. A coat of arms hung on the wall above a speaker's stage. Police officers
were already packed inside, leaving standing room only.

Greystoke got the briefing up and running. ‘There have been some new developments
in the case,' he said. ‘I want to invite Ignatius Doyle up here first to quickly
brief us on his investigation.'

Wolf was seated in the front row. He went red, but somehow he contained himself while
Mr Doyle spoke to the crowd. Once he had explained the little they had discovered
about Joe Tockly, Mr Doyle went into detail about the castle in Scotland before resuming
his seat.

Greystoke thanked him and handed the stage over to Wolf.

‘We've now had a letter from the Valkyrie Circle,' Wolf said. ‘They've threatened
to increase the rate of bombings around London. Actually, it's somewhat of a riddle.'

He produced a piece of paper from his pocket and read:

To the enslavers of the female population,

Your response has displeased us and you will pay the price. We have told you that
women must have the vote. Now you will take us seriously—or the people of London
will be sorry.

The time between fools is the time of death. Glasses were broken against me. Time
has weathered me, but the cannon has had no effect.

You simply must solve the task to save lives. We will send another message tonight.

Lady Death.

‘How did the letter arrive?' Mr Doyle asked.

Wolf looked annoyed at the question, but answered: ‘A boy was slipped a coin on the
street and told to bring it here.'

‘And the person who gave him the note?'

‘An older woman with her hat pulled low. Nothing more.'

‘What does it mean?' a policeman in the audience asked. ‘Broken glass and cannon
fire. It's rubbish.'

Someone else suggested it might all be a hoax.

Greystoke stepped forward. ‘We've already discounted that possibility,' he said.
‘A symbol engraved on several of the bombs was also on the note. It must be from
someone within the Valkyrie Circle—or Scotland Yard.'

‘No-one within Scotland Yard would be involved,' another officer retorted. ‘It's
just a bunch of mad women.'

Everyone started speaking at once.

Jack turned to Mr Doyle. ‘What do you think, sir?'

The detective was staring into space. He didn't say anything, but then he strode
to the stage and asked to look at the note. After staring at it intently, he finally
glanced at his watch and raised his hand for attention.

‘We must act quickly if we are to prevent another tragedy,' he said. ‘I believe this
bomb is set to explode at midday.'

‘What?' Wolf said, astonished. ‘What on earth makes you think that?'

‘I haven't deciphered the whole riddle,' said Mr Doyle. ‘But I believe the time can
be determined by the reference to April Fool's Day.'

‘Reference…' Wolf trailed off. ‘What are you saying?'

‘
The time between fools is the time of death
,' Mr Doyle quoted. ‘As everyone knows,
April Fool's Day is when we play practical jokes on each other.'

‘But it's not April!'

‘It doesn't need to be. We all know the morning period is when the jokes are played.
But that changes after 12pm. If someone plays a joke after that time then
they
become
the April Fool.' He glanced at his watch. ‘That gives us less than an hour.'

‘What about the rest of the riddle, Mr Doyle?' Scarlet asked.

He examined the note. ‘If we assume for a moment that the rest of the note is simply
a threat, then the relevant lines would be:
Glasses were broken against me. Time
has weathered me, but cannon has had no effect.
' He frowned. ‘Glasses. Time. Weathered.
Cannon.'

‘It's all rubbish!' Wolf snapped.

‘I don't think so,' Mr Doyle said, ignoring his rage. ‘I believe we simply need to
find a common denominator.' He thrummed his fingers on the lectern. ‘Each of the
words are nouns, except for weathered, which is a verb.'

‘So what weathers?' Greystoke said. ‘Everything.'

‘It's quite true that everything deteriorates, but weathering…' He snapped his fingers.
‘Weathering tends to be an effect on the landscape. Or stone.'

‘Most of London is made from stone,' Jack said. ‘Is there a special kind of London
stone?'

Mr Doyle stared at him. ‘My boy,' he said, quietly, ‘you're a genius.'

‘I am?'

‘Not just any London stone, but
the
London Stone.'

Jack had never heard of it, but Scarlet piped up. ‘It's a famous stone marker believed
to have been in use for about a thousand years,' she explained. ‘But I don't see
how the other clues fit.'

‘They make sense when you realise the London Stone
is located on Cannon Street,'
Mr Doyle said. ‘And there is an old story dating back to the seventeenth century
that the Guild of Spectacle Makers smashed a batch of sub-standard glasses against
the rock. It all fits.'

‘Fits?' Wolf looked ready to explode. ‘I've never heard such poppycock in my life!
Racing off to the London Stone to find a bomb! It's ridiculous!'

But one officer in the audience seemed inclined to disagree. ‘It would seem to match
the clues, sir,' he said. ‘The midday time and Cannon Street and—'

‘What clues! It's rubbish.' Wolf pointed a finger at Mr Doyle. ‘If there's a bomb
at that location, it's because you planted it!'

‘Mr Doyle would never do such a thing!' Jack yelled. ‘You're completely wrong about
him!'

‘And don't think I've forgotten that trick with the snake! I swear—'

‘This isn't getting us anywhere,' Inspector Greystoke intervened. ‘Unless someone
has a better idea, I suggest we make our way to the London Stone.'

‘Time is running out,' Mr Doyle said. ‘I pray we aren't too late.'

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Jack, Scarlet and Mr Doyle climbed into one Scotland Yard steamtruck while Inspector
Greystoke and the others poured into another. Both vehicles screeched down the road
at top speed.

‘What do you think we'll find?' Jack asked.

‘The bomb must be hidden in the vicinity of the London Stone,' Mr Doyle said. ‘Otherwise
anyone could have picked it up.'

Reaching Cannon Street, they found a busy district filled with shoppers—some lunching—and
tourists. Jack was horrified when he recalled the Carmody Street bombing: the attack
had been so devastating, and that particular section of the street had been almost
empty.

Cannon Street ran for several blocks. Hundreds of people were streaming in and out
of the new railway station. Elsewhere, steamcars and horses and carriages filled
the street.

‘The area's jammed,' Scarlet said, as they climbed from the steamtruck. ‘What will
we do?'

‘Think,' Mr Doyle said. ‘Our brains are our best friends.'

The other steamtruck screeched to a halt and the police officers piled out.

‘Where's the London Stone?' Greystoke asked.

An officer pointed to a nearby window. The London Stone had been placed behind barred
glass, with a plaque displaying its history. Jack glanced about. He couldn't see
any bags or boxes that could contain a bomb.

‘This is a waste of time,' Wolf grumbled. ‘It would be impossible to find a bomb,
even if one was here—which it's not!'

‘We must think,' Mr Doyle said, ‘and observe.'

Jack stared up and down the street. Every type of shop imaginable was within view.
A grocer, smallgoods store, livery stable, bag shop… He felt an impending sense of
doom: they would not find the bomb in time.
The carnage will be far worse.

‘We should spread out,' Greystoke said. He ordered his men to start searching up
and down the street. ‘There's no time to order an evacuation,' he said. ‘We'd cause
a panic.'

Jack and Scarlet started down the block, but Mr
Doyle called them back. ‘We must
think,' he insisted.

‘I'm trying to think,' Jack said. ‘But we don't have a clue where to start.'

‘We do have a clue,' Mr Doyle said. ‘The letter.'

He produced it from his pocket. ‘
You must solve the task to save lives
,' he read.
‘
I will send another message tonight.
'

‘They sound just like instructions,' Scarlet said.

‘They do, but what kind of instructions?'

Jack looked across the road. The belltower above the railway station showed 11.53am.
We've got seven minutes
, he thought.
Seven minutes and then…boom!

‘A butcher, a baker, smallgoods, greengrocer…' Mr Doyle's eyes raked the shopfronts.
‘Then we must link that up with the message…solve the task to save lives…send another
message—'

‘Mr Doyle,' Scarlet interrupted. ‘It may be nothing…'

‘What is it? Tell me.'

She shook her head. ‘Well…' she said. ‘There is a type of bag. An old bag, a—'

‘—
Tasques
bag,' Mr Doyle said. The detective led them to the bag store. ‘It's a type
of drawstring bag dating back from medieval times.'

‘There,' Jack pointed. ‘In the window.'

A square shoulder bag hung on display next to a dozen others. Jack looked back at
the clock. 11.55. The shop was named
Mrs Primm's Bags & Accessories
. A sign in
the window read:
Sale. Everything Reduced!
The store was full of women. Several stood
at the counter,
but others were rifling through display racks as if their lives depended
on it.