The Society of Dread (13 page)

‘J
ust our little surprise, Master Theo,’ Mr Nicely said.

Theo gazed at his old butler. When Theo had been a captive of Dr Saint, Mr Nicely had been one of the Three – the sole three people Theo was allowed to see, who ran every detail of his life and confined him to three rooms. Theo still hated the number three because of it.

Mr Nicely had been part of the evil plan to shut Theo away from the outside world and study his special powers. But at the last moment, Mr Nicely had helped save Theo’s life. Seeing the chubby, smiling man now brought back a rush of mixed memories.

‘What are you doing here?’ Theo gasped. ‘Inspector Finley told me you were in prison awaiting trial.’

Mr Nicely made a face at the mention of Inspector Finley.

‘He isn’t in charge any more,’ Mr Nicely sniffed. ‘Thank goodness. This was His Lordship’s idea. Lord Gold says he needs my expert knowledge of Dr Saint and his doings. So he’s keeping me close to hand, as it were.’

Theo followed Mr Nicely down a long hall lined with statues of great men, scientists and philosophers. Theo had no idea what their names were, but the solemn statues seemed somehow to create a hush in the air. Just before they reached the doorway at the end, the butler turned to face Theo.

‘The idea being – if it might be all right with you – that if I, ahem, help sufficiently in this business and give away enough of Dr Saint’s secrets, then Lord Gold might let me be free . . . to go and work at Empire Hall again.’

Theo smiled. He almost wanted to hug his old butler, but didn’t quite know how to go about it. They both exchanged an embarrassed look.

‘“Displays of affection cause envy and resentment among members of a household”,’ Mr Nicely said, quoting Dr Saint.

‘“They are selfish and cause discomfort to sensible individuals”,’ completed Theo. They both grinned.

They arrived in a vast, beautiful library. A central reading table was surrounded by a series of enormous globes, depicting the earth, moon and various planetary bodies. Shelves radiated outwards in a clever, maze-like pattern, suggesting a labyrinth of knowledge. The high ceiling, adorned with paintings of heavenly clouds and cherubs, rose into an ornate dome.

‘Does this all belong to Lord Gold?’ Theo was struck with awe. It seemed to him that the police chief must be more like a king than an ordinary man.

‘Everything you see belongs to me,’ said a familiar, warm voice. Theo turned to see the Commissioner striding towards him. ‘Well, everything and nothing,’ he remarked. ‘I feel that
knowledge, beauty, wisdom –’ he gestured at the books and statues all around him – ‘all such things truly belong not to any one man, but to the whole human race.’

Theo felt too shy to speak, but deep down he agreed with the sentiments of this extraordinary man.

‘Golden words, Lord Commissioner Gold,’ Mr Nicely observed.

‘But there is one thing more important than all the knowledge of the world,’ said Lord Gold. ‘And that is afternoon tea. Are we ready, Mr Nicely?’

‘All in hand, Your Lordship,’ Mr Nicely said as a maid appeared from a side door with a shining silver trolley.

‘Tea?’ offered Lord Gold. ‘We have English Breakfast, chamomile, nettle, mint, Chinese green . . .?’

Theo eyed the range of pots and sachets with astonishment. He settled for nettle and a fascinating pink cupcake decorated with silver sugar balls.

‘You show excellent taste,’ Lord Gold remarked approvingly.

‘It’s very kind of you – Your Lordship,’ Theo said. He had been racking his brain for the correct mode of address for a Lord and a Commissioner of police, and decided to follow Mr Nicely’s example. ‘But I feel bad, having tea while my friends are down there in the network – slaving for Dr Pyre, and only drinking cave-water.’

Lord Gold bit into a thin cracker that was lightly buttered and sprinkled with cress. He raised a finger with gentle authority.

‘Theo, you and I may be enjoying some civilised refreshment, but back there at Down Street, not a moment is being wasted in assembling our forces.’

Theo felt ashamed of his own impatience. Of course Lord Gold had everything in hand. And perhaps afternoon tea was more important than a young person like Theo could realise.

‘And can I suggest that
this
is important,’ Lord Gold said, drawing an imaginary line in the air
between himself and Theo, with a sun-browned finger.

‘You and I,’ he continued, ‘we have to know each other, trust each other,
be
each other!’

Theo almost choked on a gulp of nettle tea that threatened to go down the wrong way. ‘Be each other?’

Theo frowned. The last person who had wanted to be him had been Dr Saint. He had stolen Theo’s powers with disastrous consequences.

Lord Gold smiled.

‘Excuse me,’ he said with a grave look. ‘Like my heroes around me –’ he gestured at the statues and portraits of great figures of the past – ‘I am somewhat of the philosopher.’ He rose and, with a faraway air, span his enormous globe of the world.

‘It is an idea I have,’ Lord Gold explained, ‘that in order to survive, the human race must rise above mere individuality. People must forget what
they
want, and act for the good of all. My aims become yours and yours mine. We become each
other, and in doing so we achieve things that mere individuals cannot.’

Theo sipped his tea and nodded his head in agreement. Being with such a learned man made him wish to appear clever himself.

‘Are you ready,’ Lord Gold asked, ‘to forget your own worries and think as I think? Believe as I believe?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Theo said quietly. A sense of relief filled him. He liked being told what to do. Thinking for himself had been one of the hardest parts of all his adventures, since he had escaped his old guardian.

‘The fate of our dear friends – our dear city even – is at stake,’ Lord Gold said. ‘Only I have the knowledge to handle the crisis.’ He looked meaningfully down at Theo. ‘And I am convinced that only you, Theo, have the power to defeat Dr Pyre.’

The sudden arrival of the name of his deadly enemy into the conversation made Theo almost as uneasy as if the faceless, fire-wielding figure had just come through the door.

‘My friends don’t seem to think I’m ready to face him yet,’ Theo said.

Lord Gold nodded his head as if in agreement.

‘There are legends,’ he said, ‘that suggest Dr Pyre was the man who destroyed the original Candle Man.’

Theo nodded, his spirits sinking.

Lord Gold gave a smile that revealed tiny lines crinkling all over his bronzed face.

‘They are not true. I have read the old police files, in Scotland Yard’s Black Museum of Crime. I’ve pored over the Victorian newspapers at the British Library. There is no evidence, in any record of the time, that the power of the Candle Man was ever defeated.’

Theo looked up at his host, hardly daring to believe this good news.

‘But Chloe said –’

Lord Gold laughed. He motioned for Theo to follow him towards the door. ‘Detective Sergeant Cripps – for I have promoted her – is now part of a great plan to turn the tables on this Dr Pyre. I
think you will find she has changed her tune. And you, of course, are part of the plan too. All will be revealed tomorrow.’

Theo found himself back on the gravel outside. Night had fallen. The luxury car was purring on the drive, all set to whisk Theo back to Down Street.

‘With you and Sergeant Cripps working for Orpheus,’ Lord Gold said, ‘I think we shall be just about ready for anything. Farewell – for a short while!’

Theo sank back in the soft red leather, his mind reeling. Theo’s guardian Dr Saint had been an imposing figure to face every day, but Lord Gold seemed to be altogether more dazzling.

Back at Down Street, he was surprised to see a grim, helmeted figure waiting for him at the ward. Then, with a strange misgiving, he realised it was Chloe.

‘Promoted!’ Theo said.

‘A big cheese now,’ she said, taking off her helmet. Chloe smiled, but her eyes seemed to tell
another story. She looked tired and worried.

‘I’m afraid it rather changes things. Now that you’re in Orpheus too, we both have to follow orders. We can’t make things up as we go along any more.’

‘We were good at that, weren’t we?’ Theo replied. He gave a tired grin, but inside, his spirits were sinking.

‘Wheels are turning,’ Chloe went on, ‘and they’re making you and me into little parts of a big machine. I’m first into the network, five a.m. tomorrow. It’s the big attack. And oh, yes – we’re being separated.’

‘T
ake a look at this!’ Freddie called out to Sam, who, rake in hand, was dragging debris out of a soot-caked furnace, and dropping it into the waiting row of trucks. Although it seemed that they had been slaving in the ash tunnel for days, it was less than fifteen hours since they had last seen Theo.

Sam dropped the rake and joined Freddie. With unusual boldness, the young lord had stopped working and crept along the tunnel to the end. From here, the two captives could peer down, over a railing, towards the Furnace’s main entrance. There was great excitement, as Dr Pyre had returned from the mission to the Crypt. Sam stared, half in hope, half in fear, but saw no sign of his friends.

‘No Theo! No Chloe!’

‘Looks like they’ve flown the coop,’ observed Freddie. ‘But take a gander at this!’

Coming into the building was a horde of crelp, carrying a dark figure wrapped in many tendrils.

‘Look at the head – those horns,’ gasped Freddie. ‘It’s a garghoul.’

The momentous arrival had caught the attention of most of the workforce. Crelp scurried past to gather news. Even Hollister had stopped bullying the slaves to take a look.

‘Right,’ said Sam. ‘Here’s my chance!’

‘What?’

‘While everyone’s distracted. I’m going down to the dungeons. I heard old Hollister say they’re just underneath us. The rumour is they’ve got Grandad down there. I have to make sure he’s all right!’

Freddie gave Sam a long look. ‘You’re crazy,’ he said. ‘They’ll kill you if they catch you. That Hollister – he’s a thug. He’d love an excuse to crack your skull, believe me!’

‘I didn’t know you cared!’ Sam said with a
grin. ‘You’ll just have to work like two men, so nobody notices.’

Freddie looked so dismayed at this prospect that Sam felt a pang of pity for him.

‘Sorry, Freddie,’ Sam sighed, ‘but I’ve got to see Magnus. You’d go if it were your dad down there.’

Freddie turned away. ‘You’ve got to be joking,’ he groaned, and picked up his rake. ‘Push off, then. But be quick!’

Sam ducked down behind the trucks again and scuttled off to the stairway. He rushed down the stone steps and was soon in the lower tunnel. Dark, airless and hot, it made him feel sick just being there. But he put the discomfort out of his mind. All that mattered now was finding his grandad.

At the first fork in the passageway Sam stopped and clapped his hand to his head in dismay. Already, he was in danger of getting lost. He looked around, took a deep breath and tried not to panic.

Then, by the light of a fungus globe, he
noticed something. The right-hand passage was covered with a fine layer of the soot – the ever-present mantle of dust that coated everything in the Furnace. But in the left-hand tunnel, freshly disturbed ash was brushed into little streaks by the telltale passing of crelp tentacles.

‘Someone has been down here,’ Sam told himself. At the next corner, he spotted the clear print of a human foot.

In moments he was at the dungeon door. He pushed his face up to the narrow, barred window and saw Magnus lying down on a stone bed. Sam stared as if the old cemetery keeper were a mirage that might disappear at any moment.

‘Grandad!’ Sam called, as loudly as he dared. ‘It’s me!’

Magnus opened one wary eye.

‘Sam?’ he gasped. ‘Thank heaven you’re all right!’

The old man rose stiffly and walked to the cell door. ‘You have to go!’ he croaked. ‘It’s not safe here!’

Sam looked at his grandfather with exasperation. ‘I know it’s not safe here!’ he said. ‘This
place isn’t exactly Battersea Funfair. Theo’s been here too. There’s a plan to get help. I . . . I think he got away –’

Magnus interrupted. ‘It’s more dangerous than you realise! The whole network, and the whole city above, could be in the most terrible peril. Get out –
hurrrgh.’
The old man bent over, gasping for breath.

‘But what happened?’ Sam pleaded. ‘Why did Dr Pyre take you away?’

‘This is old business, Sam. You could not possibly understand. A battle that goes back to the very darkest days of our Society, and I’m afraid it could be our final one.’

‘No,’ said Sam. ‘I don’t believe it! We’ve got the Candle Man!’

Magnus’s pale old eyes sparked with emotion. ‘That’s enough!’ he croaked. ‘Go! I order you to go! Try to get away. It is your duty to the Society to stay alive!’

‘Calm down, Grandad!’ Sam begged. ‘I’m not going without you!’

‘But you must,’ Magnus pleaded, suddenly tired. Sam watched helplessly as Magnus walked slowly back to the stone ledge he used as a bed.

‘Go now and save your young lives,’ Magnus sighed as he slumped in the corner. ‘Mine – doesn’t matter any more. Go now or I shall call the guards myself.’

Sam grimaced, hesitated, then headed back down the corridor.

‘We won’t leave you here,’ he called. ‘I promise!’

‘Tomorrow, this city is going to be free,’ proclaimed Lord Gold. He was standing on a platform at the front of a crowd of Orpheus police officers, in one of the subterranean chambers of the old Down Street underground station. He was wearing full Orpheus uniform: black leather jacket, leggings and boots. He looked a true leader of men, with his bright eyes, fair curls and strong jaw.

‘We will be free,’ he continued, calling out in a stirring voice. ‘Free from a menace that lurks in the catacombs under our city. Free from a foe
that robs graves and abducts citizens. Free from a menace of unimaginable evil.’

That’s what a real hero is supposed to look like,
Theo said to himself. He and Chloe had just been summoned to the gathering from the medical centre. Compared to Lord Gold, Theo felt like a child, looking foolish in a baggy grey T-shirt Chloe had provided and enormous leather gloves, supplied by the police.