The Future Door (5 page)

The policeman, who had been writing feverishly in his notebook up until this point, suddenly gave Griffin a skeptical look.

“Wait a minute. How could you know all this?”

Griffin shrugged slightly. “The scar had a particular squared-off shape, one that would match the tip of a Scottish Claymore. I also observed her stance in the carriage. Her feet were approximately ninety degrees apart and her knees were bent, very similar to a fencing stance. The Gatling gun I've seen once before in a museum, and I noticed the particular style of brass etching around the barrel of her weapon and that the signature
R. Gatling
was etched into its side. As far as the other details go, my mother's friend, Mrs. Newsom, has a pair of gloves that match the—”

The policeman held up a hand and chuckled. “All right, that's enough. I believe you.” He grinned and shook his head in amazement. “If half of the officers I work with had your observational skills, we could rid the streets of crime for the next twenty years.”

Griffin continued to give his detailed description to the officer. The policeman wrote down everything he said. And then, after Griffin had told him every single detail that he could remember, the officer thanked him and left, promising to do all that he could to catch the mysterious woman.

Griffin sat up and surveyed the wreckage.

It looked as though the carriage had exploded. Pieces of wood and carriage wheel spokes littered the streets. Griffin recognized one of the lanterns that had been attached to the cab lying on the fire escape of a building across the street, apparently thrown there from the collision. There was no sign of his or Rupert's luggage anywhere.

The more Griffin studied his surroundings, the more he realized that it was a miracle he had survived!

Then he was struck by sudden, panicky thoughts: Where was his uncle? And what about Toby?

As if in answer to his questions, Griffin suddenly felt something cold and wet snuffle the back of his head.

“Toby!” With a feeling of immense relief, Griffin turned and wrapped his arms around the happy pooch. The boy quickly studied the hound for any sign of injury and realized that the dog had somehow survived the crash without a scratch.

After giving him several hugs and pats, Griffin rose on shaky legs to continue observing his surroundings. He spotted his walking stick sticking out of a nearby apple barrel, and Toby trotted alongside him as he limped over to grab it. As much as he hated the thing and what it represented, he was glad to have it back. It wasn't just the blade hidden inside. Somehow, being without that stick—blade or no blade—made him feel more vulnerable to his enemy.

He wiped some apple pulp from the glittering silver knob with the edge of his coat and glanced around for the whereabouts of his uncle. There was no sign of Rupert anywhere! Griffin hoped that somehow his uncle had survived the terrible crash.

He glanced down at Toby, whose tail was wagging as he stared up at Griffin as if waiting to be told what to do next. Griffin knelt down beside his uncle's faithful dog and looked deep into his large, brown eyes.

“Toby, where's Rupert? Find Rupert!” Griffin held the hound's face between his hands, willing him to understand. “Rupert!”

Sherlock Holmes had called Toby “the best nose in London,” and the claim was accurate. Toby was also a very intelligent animal, and he took off like a shot at the mention of his new master's name. Mr. Holmes had given the dog to Griffin's uncle Rupert as a gift. It had been offered as an apology for his once having been unable to help Rupert find his dog when he was a little boy.

Feeling hopeful, Griffin limped after the dog as fast as he could, following Toby across the street to a dilapidated-looking pub. Then, brushing aside his distaste for such places, Griffin pushed through the pair of swinging saloon doors and entered the darkened bar.

What he saw inside the dimly lit room made his heart catch in his throat.

A doctor was perched over the still form of his uncle Rupert. His uncle's face was crisscrossed with several cuts, and his arm was wrapped in a sling.

Toby whimpered and lay down beneath the table where his master had been placed. Griffin slowly approached the elderly doctor. He didn't want to believe what he was seeing.

“Is he . . .” Griffin choked, unable to voice the rest of the sentence.

But the doctor understood what he was about to say. He was a round-faced fellow with a bushy white beard, and was probably a jolly sort of person in another, happier setting. But because the situation he was currently in was so serious, he glanced up at Griffin and said quietly, “No. He's still with us. But he needs serious medical attention. I've sent for a carriage to take him to the hospital.”

Griffin stared down at his uncle's unconscious face. Everything had happened so quickly! Just moments before they had been talking as they'd disembarked from the ship. He couldn't believe that things could turn so terribly wrong in such a short amount of time.

“Is he going to be okay? He looks very pale,” Griffin said.

The doctor didn't meet his gaze. “I'm doing all that I can, son. He's lost a lot of blood, and his arm is sprained. I'm afraid if he doesn't wake up soon, he might remain in a coma. If we can get him to the hospital, they might be able to prevent it.”

Griffin's stomach twisted. They were so close to his parents' home that he could have walked! He felt torn between worry over his parents' disappearance and his uncle's terrible state. All seemed misery and despair.

Without a second thought, Griffin did what came most natural to him at times like this. He prayed for mercy.

Please send help for my uncle, Lord, and help the ambulance drivers find their way quickly! And also, please be with my parents and keep them safe . . . wherever they are
.

The second half of the prayer that he'd prayed so many times since leaving London almost came without thinking. But this time he was struck by how much he needed his parents. How Griffin wished they were with him now! What he wouldn't have given to have his father nearby, offering his strong support. Griffin knew that he would have had something encouraging to say, that he would have made everything feel under control.

But he had no idea where his parents were. Had Moriarty taken them someplace far away? Were they being tortured or, worse yet, had he done the unthinkable and taken their very lives?

His eyes filled with tears as he tried to imagine his father's gentle voice talking to him, calming him down.

And then something extraordinary happened. Griffin suddenly heard that same voice, but it wasn't inside his mind. It was really there! It was as if the very thing he longed to have most at that moment was actually happening.

Griffin spun around and stared, slack-jawed, at the lean man wearing a minister's collar. Griffin's eyes traveled over the familiar salty hair, the high cheekbones, and the same sad, blue eyes that he himself possessed.

“Griffin?” his father asked as he stared at his son, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Dad!” And without even pausing to ask how such an amazing thing was possible, Griffin rushed into his father's arms and hugged him as tightly as he could.

5
THE LADY RETURNS

T
he woman strode into the captain's quarters without knocking. She still wore her wide-brimmed hat and goggles but had changed her coat for a studded leather jerkin and trousers. Her long auburn hair tossed around her shoulders as she walked, and her lips were set in a grim expression.

The veil she'd worn when in the captain's quarters earlier had been a simple but effective way to observe her targeted prey and calculate how difficult it would be to “dispatch” them.

She'd been impressed by how quickly Griffin Sharpe had solved the little ruse about the lost telescope that she and the captain had come up with. But she'd also seen that the boy was naive and that his arrogant uncle was so oblivious to anyone but himself that it had been quite easy to capitalize upon their weaknesses. Neither of them had expected her surprise attack.

When she burst through the door to his quarters, the captain knew that it was she who was in command and not he. She was nothing like the meek and shallow tea sippers he entertained aboard his ship. This woman worked for the most dangerous man in London, and he knew that she was as deadly as she was beautiful.

“Miss Atrax,” the captain said, smiling nervously and removing his cap. “It's an honor to see you again. I do hope that you'll make yourself comfort—”

“Sit!” the woman commanded, with a brisk Australian accent. The captain, who had been standing next to his desk, promptly sat down.

“I have completed my assignment. The boy and his uncle have been eliminated as planned. We must embark for London immediately.”

“That was quick! Are you absolutely certain they were taken care of ?” the captain asked.

“Nobody could have survived the wreckage,” she said coldly.

The captain's smile collapsed. “Well, I . . . I'm afraid that it's quite impossible to travel to London right now. We're not scheduled to depart until tomorrow. None of the passengers are aboard. I'm sure that Mr. Moriarty would understand . . .”

The look that Miss Atrax gave him made the captain pause. Then, with her icy blue eyes locked on his own, the woman strode over to his desk. The way she walked couldn't help reminding the captain of some kind of predatory animal or insect. Her gait was slow, purposeful, and caused something inside of him, something deep and primitive, to feel a surge of panic as she drew closer.

She placed her gloved hands on the edge of his desk. Then she leaned over with her beautiful, pale face hovering just inches above his own.

“There is a certain spider in Australia commonly known as the funnel-web spider. Are you familiar with it?”

“I'm sorry?”

“The funnel-web spider,” she repeated. “Are you familiar with it?”

The captain gulped and shook his head. “No.”

“Pity,” Miss Atrax said. Then she smiled, enjoying the man's obvious discomfort. “Allow me to enlighten you.”

The captain watched as the woman tugged at the fingers of her left glove.

“You see, for many years, the male of the species was often referred to as the most dangerous spider on earth. But recently, scientists have discovered that the female of the species is just as deadly . . . if not more so.”

Miss Atrax finished removing her brown kid glove. Then she lifted her left hand, turning it toward the captain so that he could get a better look at the ring that glittered on her third finger.

His eyes widened, noting the familiar shape. A diamond-encrusted spider crouched upon the band, its silver legs stretching almost to the lady's knuckle.

“Do you like it?” she purred.

The captain's mouth was suddenly very dry, and he felt unable to speak.

Miss Atrax continued while caressing the sculpture with the tip of her finger.

“The venom of this particular spider is extremely painful, and is nothing to be trifled with. You see, it is a hunter by nature and lays intricate traps for its intended prey.”

She turned her attention from the ring back to the sweating captain. The captain saw her beautiful blue eyes crinkle at the edges, but he could tell that her smile never really touched their icy depths.

“People who live in Australia have to be very careful where they step, my dear captain. For if they should agitate the web of this very aggressive spider . . .” She paused to bare her teeth in a wolfish smile. “They tend to find themselves in a right bit of trouble. And oftentimes, it's much more than they can handle . . . if you get my meaning.”

The captain licked his lips and nodded.

“My pretty ring here contains enough venom from that particular spider to kill a small elephant. So, if you please, I'd like to avoid using it on you and would humbly suggest that we embark for London immediately.”

It was all the captain could do to keep from running as he strode from the room, heading directly to the quarters of his sleeping helmsman.

6
THE JOURNAL

G
riffin pulled his thin legs up to his chin, trying to get comfortable in the chair by his uncle's hospital bed. The blanket that the nurse had provided him didn't bring much comfort, for he was much too anxious about his uncle's grave condition to sleep.

Griffin stared at his uncle's scruffy face, noting his receding hairline and his familiar bushy eyebrows. The moonlight illuminated his features, making them look even paler than they already were. Worry gnawed at Griffin's insides, and no matter how hard he tried, he found that he was having difficulty trusting that everything would turn out okay.

Please, God, let him wake up soon
. It had been two days since the accident, and the doctors were growing more and more concerned.

He and his father were taking shifts by his uncle's bedside. Griffin was very thankful that he'd met his father at the tavern and had found out that both of his parents were okay and had not been kidnapped after all! His dad had been surprised to see the man he'd heard so much about from Griffin's mother, and had made sure that Rupert was given the best care that the hospital could supply.