Mariah Mundi and the Ship of Fools (14 page)

‘You’ll have to stay – I promise I won’t be long,’ Mariah said as he slowly opened the hatch and looked outside.

‘Mariah, don’t go!’ Biba insisted as he climbed from the small opening and onto the deck of the lifeboat.

‘Just stay in the hatch. Close your eyes and imagine a light inside your head – that’s what I do, it always works for me.’

Leaving Biba inside, Mariah closed the lid of the hatch and pulled back the tarpaulin and then dropped to the floor. It was as if a voice inside him was telling him what to do. Carefully he crossed the floor of the hold to where he had heard the creaking door.

Shadows appeared to grow on shadows and shapes leapt before his eyes. He walked like a blind man, hands outstretched, until he reached the wall. Mariah traced his fingers over the wooden beams, following them sideways until they came to the joist that made the shape of the doorway. He
fumbled for the handle, twisted it until it sprung open and then waited.

There was nothing but the thud, thud, thud of the steam piston that turned the ship’s paddles. He pulled the door open an inch and peered out into a long passageway. It was lit by two oil lamps where a flight of wooden steps turned towards the door. There was a rancid smell of fish and whale oil. It floated in the air as a fine mist and glistened in the muted light.

He pushed slowly against the door and then waited again. There was nothing, no one. Mariah could feel the flare gun against his ribs. He had rammed it into his black Spiderweb waistcoat. As he closed the hold door behind him, he wished he were not alone.

‘Did the
Triton
see the flare?’ a voice asked from the corner of the stairs.

‘It did. Markesan signalled,’ replied another. ‘They have not found the bomb and the ship will explode in twenty hours.’

‘And his escape?’ the man asked.

‘He will lower himself to the water and then we shall rescue him,’ came the reply as the voices came nearer to Mariah, who had nowhere to hide.

‘Good – then we shall watch the fastest ship in the world sink to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean.’ The man laughed.

T
HE stateroom of Deck 13 was thick with smoke from a chain of Havana cigars smoked by the Marquis DeFeaux as he paced up and down. With every step he puffed the smouldering noxious blue tobacco into the room and coughed as he spoke.

‘So where can she be?’ he asked Casper Vikash anxiously. ‘You said she had gone to the circus with Mariah Mundi.’

‘I thought they had,’ he replied, seeing the true worry on Biba’s father’s face.

‘Then you should find her – have you spoken to Charlemagne?’ he asked.

‘Ellerby said that Charlemagne hasn’t seen her – she never went backstage after the performance,’ said Vikash.

‘But she has to be somewhere – she cannot vanish, not Biba DeFeaux,’ he shouted angrily as his wife entered the room dressed in a sparkling gown of shimmering ruby. ‘Mergyn – Biba is missing.’ Mergyn dropped her gaze. She thought for a moment without speaking until the Marquis prodded her shoulder with the tips of his fingers. ‘She is missing – don’t you understand?’

‘I know already,’ she said as she held out her hand.

There, draped through her fingers, was an old gold necklace with a cluster of diamonds. It glistened in the light from the chandelier.

‘Where?’ asked the Marquis quite simply.

‘A crewman found it on the lifeboat deck. It was dangling from the cables below. He said it was glinting in the moonlight and that’s how he saw it,’ Madame DeFeaux replied as she held back her tears.

‘It can’t be. I will not have it,’ he protested. He threw the cigar to the floor, then stamped it into the carpet. ‘She will not be lost to the sea …’

The steam elevator opened on Deck 13 and Charity stepped out. He was still out of breath. His eyes flicked from the Marquis to Mergyn and then to Vikash. They were all silent and stood like the witnesses to death.

‘What do you know?’ he asked calmly as their sombre look spoke of a great bereavement.

‘Biba has fallen overboard – with Mariah. This has been found. Her necklace. She would never take it off, never,’ Mergyn said fretfully.

‘We were there and we never saw a thing,’ the Marquis said as he stepped away from his wife. Charity looked at them both and realised, in that instant, that all love had been lost between them.

‘That is why I know they did not fall into the sea.’ Charity spoke firmly and without emotion. ‘They would have screamed and we would have known. They are either still on this ship or they hid in the lifeboat.’ He kept his eyes fixed on Mergyn as if he looked for something within her heart. ‘We can only be sure when we have searched the ship. I suggest Casper and I go together – then we can be sure. If they cannot be found then I think that both of us have lost more than the gold.’

‘They will have my daughter as well. Money can be replaced but Biba never – she is all I have,’ the Marquis said bitterly as he looked at his wife.

‘Marquis, Charity is right – I will go with him,’ said Casper Vikash as he fastened the buttons on his jacket, took out his pistol and checked the chamber. ‘We
will
find her.’

‘Order the ship to slow down – make sure it is done gradually. I fear we are being stalked from afar. Have one of your men be a lookout from the stern of the
Triton
. If we cannot find Biba and Mariah on board – I think I know what to do.’ Charity looked at Mergyn. He could see that she was about to cry. He put out a hand to comfort her. The Marquis stared at him sullenly. ‘I will find Biba and Mariah. I promise you, Mergyn.’

Vikash and Mariah took the steam elevator to the promenade deck. The doors opened and they were engulfed in crowds of passengers taking the night air as they walked around the ship. A human tide of sharp tuxedos and crinoline gowns pushed them onwards as they made their way towards the stern of the ship. There, they knew, would be the best place to start the search. Soon they stood beneath the upper decks looking out across the still, cold Atlantic. Charity held on to the rail and looked out to the dark horizon.

‘I know you have a plan,’ Vikash said as he stood next to him.

‘I don’t think that Mariah and Biba are still on the ship. Something inside me makes me think they got on the lifeboat to go with the gold,’ he said.

‘Why should they do that?’ Vikash asked.

‘They are young and foolish and want to change the world,’ he replied.

‘Biba would never do such a thing,’ Vikash replied as he watched the crowds of passengers chattering and walking by.

‘From what I can see it would be exactly what she would do. I see a family on the verge of breaking and a woman who
spends more time with an eccentric inventor than her own husband.’

‘Never say that again,’ Vikash replied angrily. ‘That is my family – my father …’

‘But it is true. Mergyn thinks nothing of Lyon DeFeaux and he gives his life to money and more money. Surely it hasn’t always been that way?’ Charity asked.

‘You see things that are not there – they are happy together,’ Vikash said as he turned to walk with the crowds.

‘You said “father” – I heard you say “father” …’ Charity asked as he pursued him.

‘A mistake, a slip of the tongue,’ Vikash replied.

‘From you, one who always chooses his words so well?’

‘We need to find Biba,’ Casper said as he walked on.

‘I always thought you were more than just a servant, Vikash,’ Charity pursued further.

Vikash stopped and turned. His face was red with rage. He pushed Charity into a darkened doorway, slipped the pistol from his pocket and held it to his throat.

‘What do you think you know, Mr Bureau of Antiquities? Can you see what goes on in my mind? Do you see that I am thinking I should just shoot you now?’ Vikash growled.

‘I see a son who protected his father and then saved his half-sister – is that not so, Casper Vikash? You are the son of the Marquis DeFeaux?’

Vikash released his grip and put the gun back in his pocket.

‘How did you know?’ he asked.

‘I have watched the way you look at him and he at you. It is well known the Marquis worked in India thirty years ago and, I presume, that is about your age. Mergyn is much younger than him and Biba is only fifteen. I last saw Mergyn three days before she married the Marquis. A child was mentioned then and now I know it is you …’

‘Then my heart is laid bare,’ said Vikash. ‘It was impossible for the Marquis to marry my mother – even though they were in love. As you can see, my skin is different to yours.’

‘That may be so – but the heart of every man is the same,’ Charity replied.

‘Then your thoughts are not of this world. People are more frightened by my dark skin than the scars on my face,’ he said. He closed his simmering brown eyes and hoped the situation of his life would be magically transformed.

‘Then they are fools and will rot in their ignorance,’ Charity said. ‘I will keep your secret.’

‘And say nothing of Madame DeFeaux and Lorenzo Zane?’ Vikash asked suspiciously as they stepped from the doorway together.

‘That is none of my business. The Marquis invited the Bureau to protect the gold and not his marriage,’ Charity replied.

‘It would be simple for me just to kill Lorenzo Zane and then Mergyn would have to love the Marquis once more,’ Vikash said as they walked.

‘That cannot be done. Sometimes hearts are changed and desires cannot be overcome. It is the way of a fallen world,’ Charity replied.

‘Not in my world,’ said Casper Vikash. ‘There is no honour in such a way as this.’

‘I think Lorenzo may have his interest fuelled by more things other than the wife of the Marquis DeFeaux,’ Charity said as they reached the entrance to the Oceanic Theatre. ‘We should ask the Great Shanjing to see if he knows the future.’

The two men opened the theatre door. The third identical Mr Blake nodded as they stepped inside and took a seat. A herd of dancers stomped on the stage and wafted pelican wings back and forth as they tangoed. Soon, the curtain of blood-red
velvet was tipped across the stage. The lights above them began to glow brightly as the show ended. Vikash and Charity waited until everyone had departed from the theatre. Three portly Americans struggled to free themselves from their seats and had to be eased from their places with the help of a one-armed juggler.

‘Will you be going?’ asked yet another of the Blake quadruplets.

‘We are here to see Charlemagne,’ Vikash said.

‘He doesn’t want any visitors and is not to be disturbed,’ Blake said. He made it clear that he now wanted both men to leave.

‘I don’t think you understand,’ Vikash replied.

‘I have orders from Mr Ellerby – no one is to see Charlemagne,’ he said as he pointed to the door.

‘I have orders from the Marquis DeFeaux,’ Vikash said as he got up from his seat and twisted the man’s hand. ‘Now do you understand?’

Mr Blake nodded, unable to speak. His eyes bulged from his head with the pain and he squeaked and twitched his long moustache.

‘Very well,’ he said eventually as Vikash eased his grip. ‘Through that door.’

Vikash let the man go and nodded for Charity to follow.

‘He didn’t want any visitors,’ Blake shouted defiantly as Vikash and Charity disappeared through the door that led backstage.

Vikash led Charity along the labyrinth of corridors that led to Charlemagne’s dressing room. They stank of sweat, grease paint and sticky-sweet tobacco. Dancers and acrobats shouted and squalled at each other in a hundred different languages. They pushed their way through the entertainers in the dim glow of the oyster-shell lamps. Even though Charity had been
there before he still could not remember the way. All looked the same, all smelt the same. They turned the final corner and there was the door. It was just how Charity remembered.

Vikash knocked loudly but there was no reply. He turned the handle and opened the door. The room was in darkness. A man sat in front of a long mirror. He didn’t move. His head was in his hands and tears trickled through his fingers. Vikash turned the switch and the lamps around the mirror began to glow. There, sobbing was Charlemagne. He looked up pitifully at Vikash and Charity.

‘We’re looking for Biba DeFeaux and Mariah Mundi – have you seen them?’ Vikash asked in a voice that said he was a moment away from using force.

‘Gone, everything’s gone,’ Charlemagne mumbled drunkenly.

‘What did you say to Ellerby?’ Vikash asked.

‘Ellerby? Ellerby? I haven’t seen the man in days – he’s far too good to come down here,’ he replied as he wiped the tears from his face.

‘Did you say that you hadn’t seen Biba and Mariah?’ Charity asked.

‘I saw them … yes, I saw them. Biba came to talk with Shanjing. He gave the boy a prophecy, a word of knowledge about his life – or his death … Has it come true?’ he asked as he managed to lift his head from his stick-like fingers and look at Charity through red eyes. ‘I saw them after an earlier performance – all Shanjing would say was tiger’s blood and a head full of screaming. Is that what you came for – is the boy dead?’

‘For your sake I hope not,’ Charity said. ‘Did they mention to you anything of what they were doing?’

‘Not a thing. I was tired. But I did hear them arguing in the passageway when they had gone. That lad didn’t believe in Shanjing – I can tell.’

‘And where is the mannequin now?’ asked Vikash.

‘Asleep in his box, as always. Too much wine and brandy for the old leather-skin,’ Charlemagne said as he slipped from his chair. He grovelled on the floor as he tried to stand.

Vikash pushed him mercilessly to one side. He pulled open the lid of the box. It was empty.

‘Leather-skin is not here,’ he said as he looked about the room for the puppet.

Charlemagne looked up at him.

‘You know – don’t you? – you’re eyes aren’t clouded like all the others. You believe in such things – don’t you?’ he asked as he staggered to his feet and attempted to pour himself yet another drink.

‘I believe you are drunk. Where is the doll?’ Vikash asked as he took Charlemagne by the shirt and lifted him in the air until he dangled a foot from the ground.

‘He’s gone … Ran away, wouldn’t perform any more – why do you think I’m drunk?’ Charlemagne said.

‘Mannequins don’t run away – why do you lie to us?’ Charity asked.

‘He’s not a doll, you fool. Shanjing is a man. Perfect in every way – but miniature, smaller than a child. He is a prophet – a seer, a visionary. Shanjing can see the future,’ Charlemagne said as if he were the Prince of Denmark.

‘Then prophesy for us – tell us where you have hidden Biba and Mariah and we will let you go,’ Charity said as Charlemagne slumped to the floor.

‘Only Shanjing can do that and he’s gone. I am useless. All I do is hold him on my lap and see to his needs. I can’t utter a divine word to save my life.’ He fumbled for the glass as Vikash reached out to grab him.

‘Leave him, Vikash,’ Charity said. ‘I believe he tells the truth. I have heard of such a man before – but he was not called Shanjing.’

‘Do you know everything?’ Charlemagne asked as he wondered why they wanted to know so much about Shanjing. ‘What name was he given, this small man you had heard of?’

‘That I can’t recall,’ Charity said. ‘But I do know that he was similar to your Shanjing.’

‘I wish I had never met him,’ Charlemagne went on. ‘It has been a curse – who’d have thought a Chinese dwarf would ever find their way to Wigan?’

‘Does he believe Shanjing is really human?’ Casper Vikash asked.

‘But he is,’ Charlemagne protested. ‘Fully human in every way. Go, find him – see for yourself.’

‘We search for Biba DeFeaux,’ Vikash said angrily as he grabbed Charlemagne by the long strands of hair that were combed over his bald head and twisted them tightly.

‘Shanjing talked about the girl when we were alone. He said she was part of the plan – but wouldn’t tell me why,’ Charlemagne uttered in feverish pain.

‘Part of your plan?’ Vikash asked as he tightened his grip.

‘I tell you, it is not my doing. Shanjing is my master, I do what he says,’ Charlemagne muttered in pain. ‘He wants to get the girl. He was going to do it tonight but she never came. He has gone looking for her. That is the truth.’