The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (25 page)

"Don't move, M," Quatermain said from behind him.

Tom Sawyer stepped around the corner, also leveling his Winchester at the
mastermind. He looked ready to use it. "You killed Huck Finn."

Caught in the line of fire, M froze, looking at both men as if they were
large sewer rats that had found their way into a garden party. "Huck? Who?"

"Agent Huck Finn of the American Secret Service."

M shrugged. "I've killed so many people. I can't be expected to remember them
all."

"Perhaps we can offer you a reminder, M." Quatermain stepped around, leaning
closer and holding the cadaverous man in his hunters gaze. "Or would you prefer
that we call you…
Professor
? Professor James Moriarty."

Sawyer caught a breath, recognizing the name. "You mean… the man who killed
Sherlock Holmes?"

M was shocked and inwardly furious that Quatermain had figured out his real
identity. "Holmes, yes—I suppose you would have wanted him as part of your
League, as well. As if even Holmes could have helped you!"

When he turned to look at them, the mastermind showed them a feral,
calculating personality. Wanton. Spiteful.
Professor James
Moriarty
.

Moriarty thought back to the rush of water like deadly white hammers,
pounding over the sheer rocky walls. Reichenbach Falls, in Switzerland. A narrow
path, slippery with spray, wound up the side of a cliff to the edge of the
thundering cascade.

His archenemy Holmes had gotten there first—had been
lured
there—and
stood just upslope wearing his dark green jacket, yellow vest, starched collar,
and trademark deerstalker cap. He carried an alpenstock walking stick but no
other weapon, though he must have known he would be in for the fight of his
life. He seemed not at all surprised to see Moriarty there.

"Well, here we are then," Moriarty had said, facing his nemesis. His
red-lined black cape flapped in the cold, wet breezes from the roaring
waterfall.

Holmes had agreed. "Indeed. As closing acts go, I'll allow the scenery is
more than adequate."

"Why, sir, it is Olympian! We tread the very borders of mythology!"

"I think you flatter both of us." Holmes had not been impressed. As usual, he
had cut to the chase. "I'm tired with talk, Professor. So, then. To the
death?"

"Oh, yes. Yes, absolutely."

They had struggled on the edge of the falls, Moriarty with a gold-hiked
dagger, Holmes with his bare hands. But Holmes, damnable Holmes, had caught his
wrist, knocked the dagger free, and thrown him over the ledge, where the
professor had tumbled into the torrent of smothering spray… taking a long,
wrenching plunge that had ended in sucking whirlpools, surging water, and hard
bone-breaking rocks—

But he had emerged alive after all… irrevocably changed.

"You name me James Moriarty? The so-called Napoleon of Crime?" M took a step
closer to Quatermain, who did not move. Sawyer loudly cocked his Winchester; M
ignored him. "No, Mr. Quatermam— that man died at the Reichenbach Falls. He
died, and I was reborn. M. The Fantom. More than mere Moriarty ever was… more
than you'll ever be." He gave a sneering sniff. "The League of Extraordinary
Gentlemen! Ha!"

"He does like the sound of his own voice," Quatermain said to Sawyer.

At that moment, Eva Draper rushed into the room, blond hair in disarray, and
charged at Moriarty. Her robe flapped around her, and she gripped a dagger in
her hand. "Monster!" she cried in German.

Sawyer swung his Winchester aside, startled. Quatermain lifted a hand to stop
the young woman's attack. "Its all right. We have him—"

But Eva threw herself on her captor. Grateful for the distraction, Moriarty
knocked Eva aside and snatched up his box of tricks. Quatermain lunged after
him, giving chase, but when Moriarty reached the door, he whirled and hurled a
stiletto. The blade flashed through the air.

Sawyer tackled Quatermain to the floor, saving his life as the slim knife
stuck into the wall. He grinned at the astonished expression on the hunter's
face. "Eyes open, old boy. I can't protect you all the time."

The Fantorns armed guards raced toward a corner of a low stone passage. Some
carried high-tech automatic firearms; others wielded heavy Mongolian swords.

Instead of attacking the infiltrators, though, these guards were running
away
at full speed.

Gunfire cracked, and the men screamed and fled faster, fearing Nemo's crewmen
behind them. They raced away—never realizing that they were running straight
toward Mr. Hyde.

Fists clenched, the broad-shouldered, brutish monster stood blocking the
passage. He grinned, showing crooked teeth, and roared with a powerful
exhalation of hot breath. All around him on the floor lay the twisted and broken
bodies of his earlier victims.

The guards scrambled to a halt. Some turned, running into the guards behind
them. But they could not go back, either, meeting a blur of deadly blows from
Captain Nemo's hands and feet. They were astonished by his power and speed.

Hyde came after them from the rear, swinging his fists like big mallets.
Heads knocked together, bones cracked, blood spurted… and Hyde chuckled.

"Where are the rest of the scientists?" Nemo demanded of his victims, kicking
and pummeling the guards, then discarding them after he had beaten them
senseless. Sooner or later, one of them was sure to talk before he collapsed
into unconsciousness.

"You can tell him… or tell
me
!" Hyde's voice thundered in an
avalanche of heavy words. He lumbered forward, shouting at the few remaining
doomed guards. "
Where are they
?"

His guards didn't resist much longer, and Nemo soon learned where to lead his
men.

When they reached the mezzanine, Hyde punched open an iron door with repeated
blows that resounded like heavy strikes on a gong. The metal barrier bent and
twisted away as Hyde tore it from its hinges. As soon as the opening was wide
enough, Nemo and his crewmen burst through, heading for the laboratory and the
imprisoned weapons scientists.

Opposite them, Dante rushed down a steep stone staircase leading a cadre of
hand-picked henchmen, who ran in lockstep. The Fantoms' lieutenant saw the
infiltrators and instantly barked a command. "There they are! Shoot! Full
automatic fire!"

With the new-model repeating rifles, his henchmen locked their weapons and
opened fire, strafing the area around the
Nautilus
crewmen. Bullets
ricocheted off the floor and walls and sang through the air, flashing sparks.
Ducking for whatever shelter they could find, the crewmen drew their own weapons
and returned the compliment.

Two of Nemo's men fell with mortal wounds, either from ricochets or
intentional fire. A bullet cracked into the wall less than an inch from Nemo's
turban. "We are too vulnerable here! There's no cover!"

Hyde growled as if a swarm of gnats was annoying him. He snatched up the
fallen iron door and raised it to protect the crew. Muscles straining, he held
the metal sheet up as a shield and listened to the hailstorm of bullets that
vibrated against it.

Nemo touched the bodies of his two fallen comrades, searching for a pulse.
When he found none, his expression darkened even further.

First Mate Patel and another of the
Nautilus
men moved closer to
Hyde's hairy body so that they could fire around the edge of the door-shield.
Across the open expanse, Lieutenant Dante dove for cover, and three of his men
died in the crossfire. Their bodies tumbled from the staircase down to the
factory floor far below…

As the shooting continued, several bullets hit crucial gauges and spinning
components in the industrial equipment. Shrapnel buzzed and bounced. Another of
the Fantom's henchmen fell with a startled cry, headfirst, into a fabrication
machine, shattering its front panels.

Steam built up from machine regulators that had been shot away in the
gunfire. Whistling pressure grew unbearable, screaming through relief valves
that were too hopelessly small—until finally two of the large tanks exploded in
unison. Clouds of steam gushed out like fountaining blood from a severed
artery.

As the chaos increased, several fuel barrels ignited. Flames followed waves
of spilling flammable liquid. On the factory floor, teams of workers and armed
guards alike lost their nerve and ran in every direction.

Defined briefly by a shower of sparks, Skinner shrieked, caught in the
stampede as he planted another bomb under a fuel stack. "God, this hero lark is
touch and go. Heh!"

The invisible man had to admit, though, that this was quite the little
party.

In his sumptuous private room supplied by M, Dorian Gray packed his case with
the barest of necessities for the long trip. He could always buy the
essentials—both legal and illegal—en route. It was a long way back to London,
and civilization, but he could make do.

Still, he abhorred being uncomfortable.

His bulky framed picture leaned against one wall, wrapped and bound up in
burlap. It would be a devil to carry. Gray couldn't see the image on the
portrait, though he could imagine his corrupted features, the weeping sores, the
leprous face and age-withered skin. His immortality spell would be broken if he
gazed on the painting, but he had no particular interest in seeing it. He would
rather look in a mirror.

He smiled and did just that, fixing his hair, adjusting his collar. All ready
to go. Gray snapped his travel case shut and moved to pick up his wrapped
picture.

Far below in the fortress Gray heard the sound of gunfire, explosions, shouts
of alarm, running feet. He shook his head. More of M's antics, convoluted plans,
devious schemes… The leader made world domination into such a complicated and
undesirable prospect. M was perfectly welcome to all the woes associated with
his unhealthy ambition.

A dark wraith passed silently behind him, and he sensed it with a shiver. He
glanced up in time to see his mirror glass ice up. Then, hearing the whisper of
a noise, he whirled, catlike.

Mina Harker stood there, spectral and vampiric in the gloom. Her green eyes
blazed, and she held a knife in her hand. "Hello, lover." Her voice was like the
purr of a hungry lioness. She stroked the razor edge of the blade with her
fingertip.

"You're alive," said Gray. He dropped his travel case and let the framed
painting lean against the stone wall. Then he smoothly drew his cane-sword.

"I'm a vampire… part of me, at least. No matter what some traitor does to me,
it's possible I can't die." She smiled, revealing her sharp fangs. "The same
could be said of you, Dorian Gray." Mina stepped forward, never letting her gaze
waver. "Let's put it to the test."

Snarling, she leaped at him, knife in one hand, claws extended on the other.
Gray lifted his cane-sword just in time and parried, whipping the slim blade
through the air. Her dagger clanged against it. Again and again, knife dashed
against sword. They both panted from the effort. The flush on their faces came
as much from their emotions as from the battle itself.

"It seems the League does not consider me much of a threat," Gray said,
sounding disappointed. "They sent a woman to fight me?"

"I'm nothing if not emancipated."

Mina drove him backward, and he tripped on his travel case. But Gray sprang
back to his feet and jumped to the top of a table, kicking away the dirty plate
and silverware from his afternoon snack. She ducked the flying utensils even as
he continued their bitter conversation.

"Join me in London, Mina. Give in to your demons." Gray leaped backward to
the floor, landing with perfect grace. "We will be a league of two. Just you and
me."

"Dream on." Mina sprang over the table at him.

He slashed with his thin sword. "I don't dream. My body doesn't require
sleep."

"You can sleep when you're dead," Mina said. "I'd be happy to help."

"You wicked tease. You talk as if you could do me harm," Gray said. Her
dagger scored a red line along his left cheek. He flinched and countered her
next strike with his cane-sword, but by then his cut had already healed.

"I'm a woman. I can do all sorts of things." She sprang into the air, skirts
flowing, skittered upside down on the ceiling, and landed on her feet behind
Gray. She drew back her arm before he could spin to face her, and plunged the
long dagger into his back.

He gasped. "Minx!" He twisted around to drag the knife out of his back.

"Do you realize what you've done? What you've let out of me?" Mina snatched
the knife blade out of his hand so fast that she broke several of his finger
bones.

"A woman's wrath?" He straightened his fingers with a crackle and stood,
letting the deep stab wound in his back heal. "Oh, I'm petrified."

Mina leaped at Gray again and slashed his exposed throat, splitting skin,
throbbing blood vessels, muscles and sinews. Like a zipper closing, the wound
healed.

Then, with a mighty thrust through the stomach, he impaled her on his long
cane-sword. He shoved the blade all the way through, and she staggered away. But
her wound healed as well.

"We'll be at this all day," Gray said with a sigh, then threw himself at her
again.

Through mazelike passages, Quatermain and Sawyer raced after Moriarty. The
man moved like a ferret, streaking up the stairs, turning corners, dashing down
hallways, always a few turns ahead of them. All the while, he never let go of
his leather satchel that contained the items he needed to reproduce the exotic
powers of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.

Though he was older, Quatermain pulled ahead of his young companion,
concentrating only on catching the evil mastermind before he could find a way to
escape, as he'd done so many times before. Quatermain shouldered his guns,
saving his breath rather than shouting threats at the Fantom.