The Firebird Mystery (24 page)

The radio hissed. ‘Walk to the centre of the bridge.'

‘Over there,' Scarlet said.

Jack saw an old stone bridge further up the bank. He approached it with a feeling of dread. They had been promised they would be followed every step of the way. Mr Griffin had told him they would be safe. Nothing could be further from the truth. Whatever MI5 agents had been following them had been lost long ago.

They were on their own.

Jack checked his pockets. His picture and compass were still there. He thought of his parents. He might be seeing them shortly if this meeting went wrong. What sort of advice would his father offer in this situation?
Keep a cool head
.
Don't let fear control your actions
.

It was wonderful advice, but his body was determined to ignore it. He was literally shaking with terror as he walked along the riverbank. He hoped Scarlet didn't notice, flashing a glance at her. She looked just as worried. A small crease divided her forehead. Jack wished MI5 had allowed them to carry guns.

‘Do you see anyone?'

‘No,' Scarlet replied. ‘But I suggest we keep an eagle eye.'

They walked to the middle of the bridge. Looking in both directions, Jack saw no-one approaching the crossing. A forest lay on the other side. He became aware of the bag containing the diamond necklace pressed hard against his chest. The pouch had seemed so light before—now it weighed a ton.

A low humming reverberated across the water—the sound of a steam engine. His eyes searched the river, but couldn't see a boat. The humming grew louder.

A shadow crossed his face. Jack glanced up. A small airship was coming in to land. It had no registration number on the bow. The windows of the gondola were shrouded in curtains. The vessel slowed, hovering overhead.

‘Good heavens,' Scarlet cried.

A familiar figure appeared at the glass. The man with the porcelain face peered down at them, his hat pulled low. He leaned over the side and dropped a basket on a rope. It fell, almost hitting Jack in the head.

‘Put the diamonds in the basket,' M called.

The airship's engines almost drowned out his voice.

‘Where is Lucy Harker?' Jack asked. ‘And where is the bomb?'

‘I will send instructions later. Give me the diamonds.'

‘We must have Lucy and the bomb first,' Scarlet said. ‘Then we will give you the necklace.'

‘You impudent child!' M snapped. ‘I can destroy London with the flick of a switch.'

‘You've given no proof the bomb is even in England,' Jack said. ‘For all we know it's still in Europe.'

‘You'll have to trust me,' Professor M rasped. ‘Now give me the necklace.'

‘No.'

‘You dare to speak to me like this?'

‘We dare,' Scarlet said, her voice high with fear. ‘Now where are Lucy and the bomb?'

Whatever reply M was about to make was stifled by the distant chugging of another steam engine. An airship was arrowing towards them. M let out a cry of rage.

‘You fools!' he screamed. ‘You have just signed your own death warrants!'

M sprang back from the window and Jack stood back, expecting the airship to take off at full speed. Instead, it dropped like a stone. Scarlet and Jack leapt backwards as the gondola crashed into the bridge.

Scarlet fell over the railing into the water. The door of the airship flew open and the criminal leapt out. Jack made a grab for him, but M spun around with a flying kick to his stomach. He gasped as M moved in with two swift blows to his jaw.

Jack hit the ground. He saw M standing over him before he lost consciousness.

‘Tell your masters that Lucy Harker's life is over,' he rasped. ‘Today she will die, and at midnight so too will London.'

Jack's world turned to darkness.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

An hour later the quiet bridge across the river was the heart of a massive manhunt. Hundreds of police, MI5 agents and men with tracker dogs were spreading out in all directions in search of M.

‘They won't find him,' Mr Doyle predicted.

Jack, his jaw aching, looked up at the great detective. The criminal's airship had been combed for clues without success. The police had located an old sewerage tunnel that led away from the river to a nearby town. It seemed likely that M had used the tunnel as an escape route.

‘Are you sure?' he asked.

‘I am fairly sure,' Mr Doyle replied. ‘Professor M has planned this operation to the letter. The only factor in our favour is that he does not already have the bomb.'

‘He doesn't have the bomb?' Jack tried to make sense of the detective's words.

‘No. If the bomb were in England he would have already detonated it, but he's allowed himself time for it to arrive.'

A red-headed figure appeared from the back of a police van wearing a change of clothing. She charged towards them.

‘Do you like my new outfit?' Scarlet asked.

It appeared to have been borrowed from a washerwoman. Scarlet wore a long grey dress. Around her shoulders was an old shawl and her sleeves were pushed back to her elbows. She wrung out her damp hair.

‘Very fetching, my dear,' the detective said. ‘I'm just pleased that you're safe.'

‘What happened to the Josephine Diamonds?' Scarlet asked.

‘Gone.' Jack felt miserable. ‘M stole them from me when I was unconscious.'

‘Don't be hard on yourself, Jack,' Mr Doyle said. ‘All is not lost.'

‘What will we do?'

‘We still have the clue of the paper—the page we found on Paul Harker's body.'

Jack nodded. He had forgotten about the paper. Mr Griffin and General Churchill appeared.

‘We haven't found M,' Mr Griffin said, pushing back his black-rimmed glasses. ‘He's given us the slip.'

‘The prime minister will be making an announcement this afternoon,' Churchill said, looking more like a bulldog that ever. ‘He's going to follow your advice, Ignatius. He's decided to order a general evacuation of London.'

‘And what will you gentlemen do?' Mr Doyle inquired.

‘Our best to find M,' Churchill said. ‘We will continue to track him until we find him, or until…'

‘Until we no longer can,' Mr Griffin finished.

‘Jack, Scarlet and I have a lead to follow,' Mr Doyle said. ‘We will be in contact with you as soon as we know something.'

General Churchill cleared his throat. ‘Ignatius,' he said. ‘How do you rate our chances?'

‘I believe in human intellect and our capacity for good,' the great detective replied. ‘Don't give up hope.'

Mr Doyle turned and led Jack and Scarlet to the
Lion's Mane
, parked on the riverbank. A few minutes later they were heading in the direction of the East End. The sky ahead was bright and clear with a single clot of clouds cresting the far horizon. London lay beneath them, the sprawling metropolis covering the landscape like an enormous quilt.

‘You were very brave on the bridge,' Scarlet said to Jack.

‘Brave?' His voice went up a notch. ‘I was terrified.'

‘You certainly didn't show it.' The girl nudged him with her elbow. ‘My father has a saying about courage. He says it's not the absence of fear but the conquering of it.'

‘Your father sounds like a wise man.'

She sighed. ‘Not wise enough to stay out of the Phoenix Society.'

‘He didn't know what he was getting into.'

‘I suppose not. I hope he's all right after this. I don't know what I'd do if he went to jail.'

‘I don't think that will happen.'

As quickly as they had risen into the sky came the time to descend. Mr Doyle navigated the ship into a back alley leading off Stepney Way. Disembarking, the trio steered through the crowded streets until they arrived outside a tiny shop wedged between a bakery and book store.

The sign above the door said:
DeGroot and Sons Paper Supplier.

A bell jangled as Mr Doyle led them into the shop. He wasted no time marching up to the counter. The man staffing the business was about seventy. He was five feet high, had thinning grey hair and an angular face that ended in a weak chin. He peered at them.

‘Good morning. How may I help you?'

‘You are Mr DeGroot, I presume,' Mr Doyle said.

‘I am.'

‘I am Ignatius Doyle. These are my assistants, Jack Mason and Scarlet Bell. We are looking for a customer who purchases paper from your shop.'

‘And who might that be? I have many customers.'

‘We don't know the name.' Mr Doyle cast his eye over the shelves and selected a sheet. ‘They buy this from you, but in the larger size.'

‘Ah, the Cambershire Royal,' Mr DeGroot said. ‘Very good quality.'

He stood, smiling and nodding. He seemed to have forgotten about Jack and the others.

‘So we would like to know who buys this paper.' Scarlet flashed a smile. ‘But in the larger size.'

‘All kinds of people purchase the Cambershire Royal,' the man said. ‘But not in a larger size, of course.'

‘Why
of course
?' Mr Doyle inquired.

‘It is delivered in this size only. Never larger.'

‘Are you sure?' Mr Doyle queried. ‘My friend who comes here buys it in sheets double this size.'

‘Not from us.'

‘Aren't you the only paper shop that carries this brand?'

‘We are. It is made by a small company in Somerset and we are their sole outlet.'

‘Then how could someone acquire a piece bigger than this?'

‘Only from the manufacturer,' Mr DeGroot said genially.

‘Are you sure?'

Mr DeGroot frowned. ‘I have been in this business for fifty-three years. I may be old, but I know paper. If your friend has sheets of Cambershire Royal larger than this, then they purchased it directly from the maker.'

‘Would you be able to give me the name of the maker?'

The old gentleman smiled. ‘I'm afraid that would not be good for my business, would it?'

Mr Doyle slid a ten-pound note onto the counter. ‘Would this improve your business?'

The man shrugged. ‘It's been a slow day.' He wrote down an address. ‘They're located in a town called Moll's Pond. They're not hard to find.'

‘Thank you,' Jack said.

‘A pleasure doing business with you, good people.'

Mr Doyle led the others from the shop. ‘This is a stroke of luck. The maker may lead us to M.'

‘Mr Doyle,' Scarlet said. ‘I do believe you bribed that man.'

‘Did I?'

‘I have become the consort of a scoundrel!' she said, smiling.

The
Lion's Mane
was sailing over the city in minutes. Jack watched London as the houses became fewer and the fields more numerous. The roads out of the city were choked with traffic.

‘Busy down there,' Jack said.

Mr Doyle peered at the landscape. ‘The prime minister must have ordered his evacuation.'

‘Will everyone leave?' Scarlet asked.

‘Most people will. But not everyone will believe a threat exists.'

‘Even if the warning comes from the prime minister?'

Mr Doyle shrugged. ‘Who would think a single bomb could destroy an entire city?'

Jack was overwhelmed with sadness. ‘I'm sure Mr da Vinci did not intend this to happen.'

‘It is a shame the Phoenix Society developed their inventions in secret,' Mr Doyle said. ‘Knowledge should be shared. Their efforts have perverted the course of human history. Everything has got jumbled up.'

Scarlet peered back at the mighty steam-powered city. ‘I wonder where we would be if the Phoenix Society had never existed.'

Ignatius Doyle nodded. ‘A single drop of water in a pond can cause ripples in an entire waterway. Who can calculate the effects of the Phoenix Society? I would never have imagined a power source greater than steam.'

‘Like that electrical energy?' Jack said. ‘That'll never catch on.'

‘It looked very dangerous,' Mr Doyle agreed.

They continued across the landscape as Mr Doyle consulted charts. He made calculations using a compass and sextant, and aimed the airship towards a small town to the south-west.

Mr Doyle brought the vessel into land outside the town. He tied the ropes of the airship to a fence around a field filled with cows. Jack was alarmed to see the cows were the oversized variety developed by the Darwinists. They looked more like rhinos than milk-producing bovines.

‘I'm sure they don't bite,' Scarlet said to Jack, seeing the worried look on his face.

‘They don't need to,' he said. ‘They can swallow you whole.'

A passing boy stopped to stare. He appeared to be about ten years old with red hair and freckles. He wore farming clothes.

‘What's your name?' Mr Doyle asked him.

‘Toby.'

‘Have you ever seen an airship close up before?'

‘No.' He stared in wonder at the balloon. ‘It's big!'

‘Would you care to make some money, young man?'

Toby nodded, turning his foot in the dirt.

‘Could you keep an eye on our flying machine?' Mr Doyle asked.

‘Yes.'

‘A farthing now,' Mr Doyle offered, handing Toby the coin. ‘And a farthing when we return.'

They walked the short distance into town. The village of Moll's Pond was a tiny affair; Jack found it difficult to believe it even rated a mention on the map. Three or four streets cut across the main road. There were a few shops—a general store, a baker, a butcher and a pub on the corner. Terrace houses squeezed together until they came to an abrupt halt where the roads met farms bordering the town.

Altogether
, Jack thought,
a tiny village in the middle of nowhere.

‘Do you think M is here? It seems too quiet for someone like him.'

‘You don't think master criminals live in small towns?' Mr Doyle smiled. ‘I imagine Moll's Pond represents only one strand of M's empire.'