Candleman (12 page)

‘Your associates will not be coming to help you,’ the Dodo said. Then he barked out a single, guttural command and looked towards the door. From his position, still lying on the floor, Dr Saint followed the gaze and saw a human skull come rolling through the study door, bright white bone glistening.

It was being rolled along playfully by an outlandish beast the size of a Rottweiler yet more like a beaver in appearance. The skull still had patches of flesh and hair on it here and there. The beaver looked up quizzically at Dr Saint, grooming its bloodied fur contentedly.

‘M-Mr Nicely?’ stammered Dr Saint, staring in horror at the skull which seemed to grin back up at him.

‘Sorry, sir,’ said Mr Nicely, walking into the room with his hands on his head. He was followed by Lord Dove, Lady Blessing, the skinny new maid Veracity, and two huge – but scared-looking – men in blue overalls. They were being shepherded by two more Ante-Diluvian beavers and a pair of big black rats.

‘That – that should have been me,’ Mr Nicely said, nodding towards the skull on the floor, which was being given a fresh lick by a beaver. ‘It was Masters – Lord Dove’s man. I’m afraid he got to the front door first. The – err, rest of him’s still in the hall.’

‘Perhaps the next time I come to call I will receive a kinder welcome,’ growled the Dodo. He motioned for Dr Saint to get up and peered closely at his face.

‘You’re obviously not the
real
Philanthropist,’ he remarked, as if disappointed. ‘He had a much more cosmopolitan air.’ Dr Saint said nothing. ‘You’re just the current incumbent of the position, I expect,’ the Dodo mused.

‘I am Doctor Emmanuel Saint, head of the Society of Good Works,’ the Master of Empire Hall said. ‘But
you
can’t be the Dodo!’

‘He does have all the err … animals,’ said Lady Blessing, white as a sheet.

‘Animals!’ snorted the Dodo. ‘A word invented by humans to make themselves feel superior to their fellow … beings. Well, you vile specimens of
homo sapiens
are certainly no better than my charming Trogontheriums.’ He bent to pat one of the beaver-like creatures.

‘But you – I mean he – must have been dead for years!’ protested Dr Saint. ‘The Dodo was last seen in 1901!’

‘Would that I
had
died in 1901, as the world believed. But it was not … allowed.’

‘Not
allowed?’
echoed Dr Saint, with a sudden eager interest. ‘Not allowed by whom?’

‘By someone you know and I know,’ replied the Dodo. ‘Oh yes, he shut down my operations – most of them – and allowed me to hide in shameful obscurity. There, away from the eyes of the world – and the underworld – I even managed to cure myself of my grotesque affliction for a while.’

There was a sudden crunch as one of the Trogontheriums began to chew some of the gristle around the skull’s jaw.

‘But then yesterday afternoon, he returned – or at least his latest descendant did. He walked into my home and he did
this
to me!’ The Dodo gestured at his extraordinary face with his talonlike hand.

‘Speak!’ roared the Dodo suddenly, spinning round to face the assembled representatives of the Society of Good Works. ‘My servants know he has been here. Where is he?’

‘He’s escaped!’ blurted out Lady Blessing. ‘We had him here – for a while,’ she said evasively. ‘But he was taken. By the Society of Unrelenting Vigilance!’

The Dodo looked thoughtful. He sat in Dr Saint’s best leather chair and surveyed the room. A dark cloud seemed to settle on his brow.

‘The Candle Man was destroyed,’ the Dodo said. ‘But his arch-enemies took his bloodline. The Society of Good Works took steps to provide for Wickland’s only heir. Oh yes, I’ve kept my eye on you, in my own way, for years. Years in which I had no power to confront you. For decades, for three generations, you manipulated events, watched over the Wickland descendants, waiting to see if the genetic line would produce another Candle Man. You finally, and very
charitably,
became the guardians of the house of Wickland. But why?’

‘We simply don’t want him to use his powers against us,’ said Dr Saint smoothly.

The Dodo scowled. The giant rats squealed and started to circle Dr Saint slowly.

‘You don’t like this one, do you?’ said the Dodo to his creatures.

Dr Saint blenched.

‘No,’ sighed the Dodo, turning away from his captives. ‘There’s more to it than that.’ He strode towards the door, and his creatures fell in line behind him. He stopped in the doorway, crushed the barrel of Dr Saint’s gun with his claw and let it fall to the ground.

‘The Dodo is the greatest enemy of the Candle Man,’ he said. ‘Wickland is mine. If you recapture him, hand him over to me – alive. Or you will all be thrown into my pits to die screaming!’

‘Yes, sir!’ squeaked Lord Dove.

But the Dodo was already disappearing down the bloody hallway.

The dead servant, Masters, had been put, bit by bit, into a body bag.

‘Now get those idiots out of here,’ snapped Dr Saint to Mr Nicely, nodding towards Lord Dove and Lady Blessing. ‘And get this place cleaned up!’

‘I’ll call those Good-As-New Carpets people again,’ offered Mr Nicely.

‘No, you won’t, you moron – this is human blood!’ screamed Dr Saint. Mr Nicely stepped back. He noticed that his employer’s hands were trembling slightly.

‘I’ll do it,’ piped up Veracity, the new maid. She smiled, revealing braces on her teeth. ‘I’m good with blood.’ She darted off towards the kitchens.

‘And fumigate my study!’ Dr Saint yelled after her.

Still shaking with emotion, he strode straight into Theo’s old room. Mr Nicely was astonished to see that there were now wires and machinery everywhere. The bottom section of the Mercy Tube had been opened right up, revealing all its innards – a tangle of leads, sockets and circuits.

‘Nice cup of camomile, sir?’ suggested the butler.

Dr Saint smiled a ghostly smile.

‘I’m afraid we’ve reached a point in our affairs where a cup of camomile tea can no longer solve our problems,’ he said. He sat on a swivel chair in front of the Mercy Tube and buried his face in his hands. Then he looked up, and there was a wild look in his eyes.

‘It is not appropriate,’ Dr Saint said quietly, through gritted teeth, ‘for the Master of Empire Hall to be hurled around like a rag doll!’ Mr Nicely had never seen his employer so consumed with rage.

‘And it is not appropriate for a man who holds so much power, to be so … utterly powerless!’ he shouted. Mr Nicely searched his brain to recall where the special medicines were.

‘The Liberation is nearly upon us!’ Dr Saint raved, striding back and forth. ‘The Candle Man is out there eluding every attempt to catch him! Now the Dodo, the most terrible fiend of the Victorian age, has been reborn! And guess what? He doesn’t like us!’

Dr Saint stood still, gave Mr Nicely a strange, sad look and pointed at the door. ‘Get out, please!’ he said. ‘Get out and don’t let anyone in!’

Mr Nicely fled.

Dr Saint read and re-read the years of data from the archive. By the time he was finished, the floor was a sea of paper and wires. He reversed connections, unplugged and plugged leads, reset dials and activated the second generator.

When at last he was ready he programmed the controls and pressed the switch to full power with a five-second delay.

Then he stepped into the Mercy Tube.

‘D
on’t!’ Chloe screamed, as Theo appeared to be stepping off the pavement into the path of a truck.

‘I wasn’t going to,’ Theo protested.

‘With
you,
Theo, it’s quite hard to tell
what
you’re going to do!’ Chloe remarked. ‘Or what you
have been doing
…’ she added darkly.

They watched the traffic rush by in the evening drizzle. It was nearly six o’clock. They were south of the River Thames, by Southwark Bridge and almost at their destination.

‘You’re still cross I didn’t tell you I’d used my powers.’ Theo sighed.

‘Yes. Not bothering to mention that you can melt people was a pretty big omission.’

‘Well, I only melted Brady by accident. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do it again,’ Theo said. ‘I didn’t want you and Sam thinking of me as some kind of hero. Or even worse – as some kind of horrible killer.’

Chloe suddenly grinned. ‘If you’re going to be a great hero,’ she said, ‘I’m going to have to teach you how to cross the road – otherwise your career probably won’t last very long.’

‘I’ve never really had to do it before,’ apologised Theo, as she accompanied him to the other pavement.

Southwark Cathedral lay before them, almost lost among the more modern buildings that had sprung up around it across the centuries.

‘Why do we have to come here?’ Theo asked.

Chloe smiled and held up Foley’s secret map.

‘I really shouldn’t let you in so close to closing time,’ a flustered lady church warden said as they stepped into the arched doorway.

‘So kind of you!’ gushed Chloe with a great big smile, dragging Theo behind her. She dropped some coins loudly in the donation box.

‘Now let’s get lost!’ Chloe hissed. She hurried Theo down the far aisle, out of sight of the main entrance. After a moment’s thought, she pushed open a wooden door that led into a secluded den usually reserved for the cathedral organist. She indicated to Theo to sit down – and not to touch the keyboard. They sat in the gloom, not stirring, as gradually the footsteps and muted conversations of other visitors faded away. Not long afterwards the lights began to go off, one by one.

‘We’re closing!’ called a distant voice, but halfheartedly, as if not really expecting any response. A door was bolted. A lock clicked, echoing throughout the vaulted chamber.

‘She’s shutting us in!’ Theo whispered.

‘That’s the idea,’ Chloe replied. ‘She probably thinks we went out through the gift shop. Now come on.’

Theo crept out of hiding and surveyed the enormous shadowy cathedral. Wooden cherubs peered at him from carved stalls. Effigies of dead knights slumbered on great slabs of stone.

‘Spoo-oo-ky!’ said Chloe in a deep voice.

Theo looked around sharply. ‘Why are you saying that?’ he asked. ‘And why are you doing that silly voice?’

‘I’m trying to scare you, you big twit,’ Chloe said. ‘It’s what friends do.’

Theo felt a secret glow at being considered a friend by this remarkable and dangerous person.

‘Well, I’m sufficiently scared about things already, if you hadn’t noticed,’ he replied. ‘I saw three smoglodytes and two giant rats on the way here. Lucky we were in a bus.’

‘Those were Yorkshire terriers. You’re just imagining things.’

Chloe opened her backpack. The cameras and laptop from Empire Hall were still inside. So was a giant salami roll they had picked up on the journey over. Chloe tore it in two and gave Theo the bigger bit. Then she took a silver candlestick from a nearby lectern and lit it. She and Theo sat in the deserted choir stalls. With great care, she unrolled the hundred-year-old chart Foley had given them.

‘This is the good bit,’ said Chloe. ‘Now pay attention.’ She held the bright flame up close to the paper. Theo saw the coloured jumble of lines.

‘What do you think it is?’ Chloe asked.

Theo frowned. ‘Some sort of machine,’ he ventured.

Chloe laughed. ‘Look again,’ she said. ‘See these blue lines here – do they remind you of anything?’

‘Pipes. Plumbing. I don’t know. There’s a big space in the middle. And something like an island. It’s a treasure map!’ He beamed, remembering one of his favourite stories.

Chloe laughed again. ‘You’re just guessing wildly, but you’re getting warmer. Now look here –’ She stopped talking, and Theo was amazed to see she was almost overcome with excitement. She gulped and carried on. ‘This is Clapham Junction.’

‘A London train station,’ Theo smiled.

‘Yes, except this isn’t the real Clapham Junction. It’s just a name we give to a busy part of the network. I took you through here when we were escaping from the Dodo. And here’s the gulag – the prison bit. We call it that because that’s the scary bit where the Eighty-eight are shut up. Or not – depending on what you believe.’

It was a slight drawback in the outside world, Theo reflected, that the more excited people got, the harder they were to understand. But he had learnt to be patient.

‘Err – wow!’ he said, politely showing an interest in other people’s enthusiasms. ‘A map of the network! Didn’t you have one already?’

‘Of course we did – the
known
network, but look at these lines in red and purple and green …’

‘What are they?’

Chloe looked up, her face glowing. ‘They clearly show
other
tunnels – lower down! A sort of under-network, if you like. Whole hidden pathways that we had no idea existed.’ She held the bright flame closer to the chart.

‘It’s kind of hard to make out,’ she admitted, ‘because of all the different colours. But what it reveals is that the network has a weird – well, a symmetry!’

‘Which means …?’

‘That our history is wrong! The network isn’t just a few drainage schemes from the Victorian times cobbled together to make secret passages. This map proves that the whole system was
planned.
It’s older than we ever guessed. And it probably has a purpose we’ve never guessed either.’

‘And we’re here,’ said Theo, pointing at a stencilled cathedral shape on the blue part of the map. ‘But how do we find the secret entrance?’

‘We bring someone clever along – me!’ said Chloe. And she led him into the crypt.

A faint halo of light dispelled decades of darkness as the circular hatchway appeared in the crypt wall.

‘How did you know where it was?’ asked Theo as they stepped inside.

‘There are formulas, protocols. In the old times buildings were constructed to contain messages. I can
read
this crypt the same way you can read a book,’ Chloe said with a hint of pride.

‘And why are we going in here?’ Theo asked. ‘I’m not completely clear on that.’

‘Because of this map,’ Chloe replied. ‘Fate has put it in our hands. Now we know how the Society of Good Works always got away from us in the past – they had extra secret tunnels. Well, now we can turn the tables. We can use this map to spy on them. You heard what Sergeant Crane said: if I don’t find evidence of what the enemy are up to soon, the police are going to drop the whole case.’