The Affinity Bridge (35 page)

“Not at all. Think about it, Charles. There’s a plague burning its way through the Whitechapel slums. Remember what I told you about the Indian doctor? The revenant virus incubates for up to eight days in the human brain. God knows how many of those harvested organs were already infected when they were wired up to the automatons.” He paused. “Judging by the manner in which Christopher Morgan’s device went awry, I’d say we are dealing with something far more alarming than a simple malfunction. I think a number of those automatons are carrying the revenant plague.”

“My God, they’re like ticking bombs.” Bainbridge shook his head. “But Newbury, they’re all over the city.”

“I know, Charles. I know. We’ll need to enlist the entire Metropolitan police force to aid us in decommissioning the whole lot. But first we’ve got to tackle Chapman and Villiers. I say we get over there this morning and try to catch them on the hop. They won’t yet be aware that their assassination attempt this morning was a failure.”

Bainbridge nodded. “Very well.” He eyed Newbury warily. “Are you sure you’re fit?”

Newbury smiled. “I’m far from fit. But I’ll live.”

Bainbridge downed the last of his brandy. “What does Miss Hobbes make of all this?”

Newbury nearly spat his drink across the room. “Oh God, Charles. I hadn’t even considered. What if they sent the automatons after her, too?” He jumped to his feet. “We need to get over there now, as fast as we can.”

“Right you are.” Bainbridge placed his empty glass on the table and made straight for his cane. He grabbed his coat from the stand, not even bothering to put it on as he charged out the door. “Come on. I’ll get us a police carriage. We’ll be there in no time.”

“I pray that’s time enough.” The two men hurried from the room.

_{Chapter Twenty-Four}

Kensington High Street was bustling with people by the time the police carriage came hurtling through the traffic, rocking furiously from side to side as its wheels bounced on the uneven cobbles, causing Newbury and Bainbridge to shift uncomfortably in their seats. They had barely spoken a word between them during the short journey from Scotland Yard, each of them choosing to mull over the situation in silence. Newbury, on his part, did not wish to give voice to his obvious concern for Veronica. It was as if talking about the possibility of her being under threat would somehow make the situation more tangible, more likely to become a reality. Instead, he sat clenching and unclenching his fists in nervous anticipation, hoping desperately that his lack of consideration would not result in her coming to any harm. He knew he would not be able to live with himself if it came to that. He cursed himself for being so caught up in his own concerns about the case.

A few moments later the carriage shuddered and came to a stop. The horses stamped their feet impatiently as the driver tugged on their reins, trying to hold them still. In the back, Newbury climbed to his feet. He was the first through the door, helping Bainbridge down to the street beside him. He glanced at the door to Veronica’s apartment, just a matter of feet away. “You’d better make sure you have that miraculous cane handy, Charles. If Miss Hobbes is in trouble, we may find ourselves in need of it.”

Bainbridge nodded, and then turned to the driver. “Wait here.”

The driver doffed his cap in acknowledgement.

Together, Newbury and Bainbridge approached the house. Newbury had only taken a few steps towards the door when he stopped suddenly and waved at Bainbridge to remain still. “Shhh. Can you hear that?”

Bainbridge listened intently.

Coming from the other side of the door was the faint sound of a woman shouting. The words themselves were indiscernible against the background noise of the busy road, but it was enough to send both men into a course of immediate action.

Newbury wasted no time. He charged at the door, using his good shoulder to slam against the wooden panels. The door flexed resolutely in its frame, but didn’t give. He tried again, and then, on the third attempt, the lock gave in and the door bounced open, revealing the scene inside.

Veronica was standing in the hallway, her feet planted firmly apart, pointing a glowing poker at the throat of a man in a policeman’s uniform. The man, who was tall and well-built, had backed up against the wall, trying to keep the angry woman at bay. It was immediately obvious that he was no real police constable, and what was more, he had painted his face and hands with an iridescent blue powder that shimmered as it caught the light.

Newbury gasped.
The glowing policeman.
It was a miracle that Veronica was so far unscathed. He called out to her. “Veronica! Be careful!”

Surprised, Veronica turned to look at the two intruders who had smashed their way into her home. The man in the policeman’s uniform saw this distraction as a chance to get away and took it without hesitation. He seized Veronica’s wrist and twisted it sharply, causing her to cry out and drop the weapon on the floor. Then, giving her a harsh shove that sent her sprawling to the ground, he turned and bolted, flinging himself along the hallway towards the kitchen and the back door.

“You oafs! I had him pinned!” Veronica shouted at them, frustrated, as she tried to pick herself up, rubbing at her sore wrist. Newbury, leaving Bainbridge to attend to the lady, took flight after the escaping murderer, leaping over the prone Veronica and careening down the hallway in quick pursuit, banging his injured shoulder painfully off the wall as he ran.

He skidded into the kitchen, throwing his arm out to catch hold of the doorframe and slow himself down momentarily. The back door had been flung open and the man was scrambling over a wall. Newbury followed suit, darting out into the back yard and leaping up to grab hold of the brickwork. He hauled himself bodily over the wall and dropped into the alleyway behind the house, catching sight of the man doubling back on himself and heading off in the direction of Kensington High Street. Puffing, Newbury picked up his pace, pushing himself to run after the fleeing criminal as fast as his tired, injured body would propel him along. He wasn’t about to let his physical condition prevent him from resolving this case, and the glowing policeman was a fundamental part of the puzzle. The man’s testimony would be crucial in helping to bring the main players to justice, before he swung from the gallows himself for his crimes.

Newbury skidded around the corner into a side street, just managing to keep the uniformed man in view. He charged on, narrowly avoiding a pile of wooden crates that someone had abandoned in the middle of the road and nearly losing his footing on the slick cobbles in the process.

The other man disappeared between two buildings up ahead. Newbury raced after him, his chest and abdomen screaming in pain. He could feel some of his stitches pulling free as he pushed his body beyond the limit of its endurance. He could hardly believe that only yesterday he had been laid out dying in the Fixer’s workshop, and today he was running through the streets of Kensington in pursuit of a multiple murderer. It was a testament to either the Fixer’s miraculous abilities, or Newbury’s own stupidity. He tried his best to bury the pain as his feet pounded the ground, his entire body shaking with the thudding of his shoes against the hard road.

Newbury burst out onto the busy thoroughfare, glancing in both directions to try to ascertain which way the other man had run. Almost too late, he caught sight of him leaping up onto a passing ground train, snatching hold of the side railing attached to one of the carriages and pulling himself up onto the roof. The long train of interconnected carriages snaked along behind him as it trundled noisily down the road.

Not stopping to consider the risk, Newbury ran after it, launching himself from the pavement and just managing to catch hold of the iron railing that ran around the rear end of the vehicle. He tried to haul himself up, his feet trailing in the road as the vehicle steamed ahead, the driver unaware of his newest passengers.

Gasping, Newbury hoisted himself higher, wedging his foot on the buffer and pulling himself into a standing position, balancing tentatively on the railing. He heard banging and shouting, and looked round to see the people inside the carriage had opened their side window and were leaning out, jeering at him to let go. There was a similar commotion coming from further up the train, and Newbury reasoned that the passengers had seen the strange, blue-skinned policeman leap up onto the roof and were now calling for the driver to stop the vehicle.

Being careful not to lose his hold, Newbury used one hand to explore the roof of the carriage. It seemed firm, and had a thin lip running around the edge of it that he could use as a handhold to pull himself up. It was the only way he was going to be able to catch up with the man he was chasing, and he didn’t want to risk losing him if the devious blighter decided to jump off the train further up the road to make good on his escape.

Newbury swung his other arm up, finding his grip on the roof of the carriage. He manoeuvred his feet until he could gain some purchase on the railing and then began to pull himself up and over, using his leg muscles as much as possible to avoid pulling on his weak shoulder. After a minute or two he managed to swing first his chest and then his legs up onto the roof of the carriage. He lay still for a moment, catching his breath and casting around for a sight of his quarry. The roof was mostly flat, with a slight camber to each side to allow rainwater to run off into the street below. Newbury looked over the side. The cobbles rushed by at speed. It wouldn’t do to fall.

The glowing policeman was clinging to another roof, about three carriages further up the train. He was on his knees and had his back to Newbury, clutching the lip that ran around the edge of the carriage roof. He shifted from side to side with the movement of the train.

Newbury knew that it would be difficult to get closer to the man without attracting his attention, but he also knew that moving quickly would provide him with his best shot at success. If he could get near enough to knock the policeman over the head—he had lost his helmet somewhere during the run—he could potentially disable the man before he even realised that Newbury was there.

Tentatively, he clambered to his knees, trying to work out whether it would be safe enough for him to walk along the roof of the carriage without falling. The train was still trundling along at a reasonable speed, but the road was straight, and as long as they didn’t bounce over any potholes it was worth the risk. Not that he had any other options in mind.

Slowly, he got to his feet, keeping his eyes on the man up ahead. He took a quick step forward, almost stumbled, but managed to keep his balance by waving his arms out beside him. He edged towards the rim of the carriage, looking down at the gap between the roof he was standing on and the next one along in the train. It was at least four or five feet. The ground swept past below. He was going to need a running jump to clear it. If he missed he’d end up caught amongst the hard buffers or tumbling to one side and cracking his head on the cobbled road, or worse, dashed beneath the train’s wheels. None of them seemed like a good way to go.

Sighing, he edged away from the gap, taking a few steps backwards. He looked around to establish that there were no trailing wires that could inadvertently snare him as he made his dash, and then, with a deep breath, he careened forward and leapt into the air, throwing himself as far as he could towards the next roof in the long line of carriages. He came down with a loud
smack
,
landing on his right side and skittering across the bitumen-covered roof, sliding towards the edge of the carriage. Thrashing around, he managed to get a grip on the lip of the roof, planting his feet as best he could to gain leverage. The landing had knocked the air out of his lungs, so he sucked fruitlessly at the sky, lying on his back, trying desperately to pull himself round. He could hear shouting from the passengers beneath him, panicked by the sudden bang on the roof of their carriage. He wondered how long it would take the driver to start weaving from side to side again, or else bring the vehicle to a halt.