The Custodian of Marvels (31 page)

I rounded the final bend, fearing I might see the door already breached, but it stood. On first sight I thought it just as we’d left it. I stepped closer. There was a vertical line next to the lock. Another step and I saw it was not a line, but a cut of several inches in length. I pulled the lever on the wall, turning off the ceiling lights. The crack shone in the new darkness. Light was seeping through it from the other side of the door.

I was reaching out to touch it, when the light dimmed. A toothed blade poked through, like the circular saw of a wood mill.

Then the blade began to turn, screeching against the metal, accelerating, its cry becoming higher and louder. Some hand on the other side must have hefted it forwards. The blade bit into the door and the banshee scream began again. Sparks of hot metal showered out towards me.

I jumped back, then ran.

The door at the base of the stairs was ajar. Fabulo beckoned me through. They slammed it behind me.

“Locked,” said Jeremiah.

“It won’t hold long,” I said, still shouting though the scream was muffled now. “They’ve some devilish machine. It’s biting through the metal.”

So we gathered up our things and hauled them as fast as we could along the length of the passage, ignoring doors to left and right. Though the volume dropped as we increased our distance, it remained frightful and unearthly.

Each time it stopped, I found myself dreading it starting again. And dreading it not starting, also. For that would mean the lock had been cut from the door and they would be after us down the spiral stairs.

Lara flipped a wall lever, illuminating the next stretch of passageway, revealing another door in our way. Jeremiah set off towards it in a loping run. Fabulo followed, but he was already wheezing and panting and couldn’t keep up.

“Wait!” shouted Yan. “Stop!”

They did.

He beat a hand against his wide chest. Distress racked his face. “Is there even a plan?”

“We keep going,” said Fabulo.

“Is that it? You think the tunnels go on forever?”

“I know what I’m doing! We go deeper.”

“That’s no plan at all!”

“You have something better?” asked Lara.

“I do,” said Yan, nodding vigorously, his forked beard waving beneath his chin. “We break into one of these side rooms. We find something to fight with. Must be guns here somewhere. Then we face them.”

“You want to kill them?” shouted Fabulo.

“If we must!”

“How many? They’ll bring an army. You going to kill them all? No. There’s only one way out of here. We go on. We get to the Custodian and take him hostage. Then we can bargain our way free.”

Yan stared at him. “So you did have a plan? You should have told us.”

“I couldn’t,” said Fabulo. “I’ve only just thought it up.”

The cutting machine went quiet as Jeremiah inspected the lock of the next door. After half a minute, we were all listening for it to start up again. After a minute of silence, I knew they must have broken through. Then the metallic screaming began again, closer and louder.

This time Jeremiah did not try to argue for picking. It took me little time to set up the machine and punch a hole where he indicated. Through this he poked his tools. So loud was the cutting machine, I didn’t hear the click of the lock as it opened.

Once more we gathered up our things and hurried through, putting another door between us and our pursuers. I found the lever for the lights and flicked it on, revealing a short stretch of passage and another flight of spiral stairs leading deeper into the earth. It was identical to the previous set. Indeed, it could have been the same place, but for a smell of cooked meat.

Tinker raised his nose and sniffed the air. He moved his head from side to side. Then he scampered off, down the stairs. I followed around the spiral, lagging behind.

“Slow down,” I called.

But he was away from me, his feet quicker on the stones. I tried to go faster, but slipped and had to steady myself with a hand on the wall. As I took a breath to recover from my near disaster, I heard a sound from below, a scrape of fabric on stone as if the boy had fallen, but no cry followed.

I leapt down the stairs, rounding the final turn to see a man pinning Tinker to the wall, holding a knife to his neck.

He was more bull than man – broad shouldered and carrying so much muscle that his arms were as thick as thighs. He was dressed in black from hat to shoes, but not in the way of a hired thug. The tailoring was fine, the silk of his top hat shining in the light from the ceiling niches. As was the blade of his knife.

Lara was next around the stairs. She cried out, whereupon the others came charging down. They pulled up short next to me.

“Give up or I cut his throat,” said the bull man.

“Hurt him and we kill you,” growled Fabulo.

The metal cutter had been quiet for the last few seconds. Now it started up again.

The bull man nodded. “We’ll see who can wait longest,” he said.

Yan unbuttoned his jacket and opened it wide, displaying a line of knives, each snug in its own pocket. He drew out three, and held them up, gripping the blades together between finger and thumb.

“Just a warning,” said Fabulo.

Yan nodded. In one movement, he tossed all three knives in an arc, as if he would juggle them. But instead he snatched them from the air, one after the other. The bull man braced himself for attack, switching his grip.

That was his mistake. Or perhaps it saved him. Yan’s arm shot out. The knife that had been at Tinker’s throat jumped as if it were alive. It clattered to the floor. Then everyone rushed forwards and all was reversed. Yah held a blade to the bull man’s throat. Tinker broke free and ran to my side. He wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my breast. His every limb was shaking. I pulled him closer, feeling a pang of emotion so strong that my heart put in a double beat.

The bull man’s knife lay on the floor, the tip of one of Yan’s blades embedded in its hilt.

I felt the boy’s muscles begin to loosen.

“Told you we’d be fine,” I whispered.

“Search him,” Fabulo barked.

Lara jumped to it. While Yan’s knife held him motionless, she patted around his huge shoulders and down his jacket, inside and out. She handed his pocket watch and handkerchief to Fabulo, then a bunch of keys, which Jeremiah took and began to examine in minute detail. Lara moved down to the bull man’s trousers. She frisked none too gently up the inside of his leg, the impact of her hand making him suck air through his teeth. Finally she yanked up his right trouser leg to reveal a sheath strapped to the calf, in which rested a second knife. This Yan took, testing its balance by tossing it from hand to hand.

Lara stood back and nodded.

“What’s your name?” said Fabulo.

The man’s eyes flicked from person to person, as if considering his options. “Chronis,” he said.

“Mr Chronis?”

“Agent Chronis.”

“What were you doing here?”

“Eating lunch.”

“It’s midnight,” said Fabulo.

“That’s when I have lunch.”

“He’s a night worker,” I said.

Chronis nodded. “Do you know you’re going to die?”

Jeremiah held up the bunch of keys. “What doors do they open?”

“I’ve given you my name,” said Chronis. “But I’ll not give more.”

“I could kill you right here,” growled Yan.

“If you must. But I won’t betray my vows.”

Fabulo made a shake of the head. “One more thing,” he said. “Are you the Custodian of Marvels?”

Chronis blinked rapidly, as if the question had caught him off guard. He closed his eyes and swallowed. I thought he was about to confess that he was, but instead he smiled.

Fabulo’s anger burst out in a shout. “Answer me!”

“My name is Agent Chronis,” he said.

Through this exchange, Jeremiah had been kneeling at the next door that barred our way. Now he stood and turned the handle. It opened onto another stretch of passageway. I was about to ask if he’d picked the lock, but saw him withdrawing one of the keys.

Once more we gathered our things and filed through, but slower this time because Yan had to manoeuvre Chronis through. Though unarmed, I didn’t doubt his capacity for destruction should he break free.

Jeremiah set to work unscrewing the end plate of the lock and disabling it as before. The machine noise had stopped. However fast we went, they’d been able to match us. I braced myself for it to start again, nearer and louder.

Instead, I heard a brittle hiss issuing from somewhere close by. Everyone but the locksmith stopped. I turned my head, trying to locate the sound. It was issuing from a small grille in the wall. My eye had passed over similar grilles in the corridors above. I’d taken them to be the covers of ventilation ducts.

I edged closer. The noise had been akin to dry sand being stirred. Now it changed to a sharp crackling, like gravel being ground under a boot. Then a man’s voice barked: “Attention Jeremiah Cavendish. Attention the performer known as Fabulo. Attention Elizabeth Barnabus. This is Agent John Farthing. You are instructed to lay down your weapons and surrender.”

CHAPTER 28

11.55pm

Alone among craftsmen, the bullet catcher must hide his skill. For, once glimpsed, the illusion would be gone forever.

The Bullet-Catcher’s Handbook

No magic could have amazed me so completely as Farthing’s voice issuing from the wall. In volume and immediacy he sounded close. Yet this impression jarred with the thin, metallic quality of the sound.

Fabulo’s eyes were wide. Lara held both hands in front of her mouth. Tinker pulled himself tighter against me. All were waiting for new words to break through the dry crackling.

“Best do what he says,” said Agent Chronis, his voice a dry whisper. Yan’s knife was still tight against his windpipe.

Jeremiah bent to bring his face close to the metal grille. His finger found the screws that seemed to hold it in place. But there was another detail I hadn’t noticed before – a button no bigger than a threepenny bit, flush with the rim and made of the same dull metal.

He was tracing the edge of it when the crackling changed and Farthing’s voice again barked from the wall.

“Attention, intruders. This is Agent Farthing. You
must
lay down your weapons. Failure to comply will result in lethal force being authorised.”

“It’s a speaking tube,” said Jeremiah. “Like on a ship. But with something else at work. Perhaps a fan to carry the words more perfectly.”

“And what of the lamps?” said Fabulo. “Do they work through tubes also? No. There are marvels here we’ve been denied. The Patent Office have been hoarding for their own good comfort!”

Farthing’s voice crackled through the grille: “Attention. Be aware that failure to respond will be taken as refusal. You have one minute.”

Fabulo spat at the wall. “Lethal force?” he shouted. “I’ll give you lethal force!”

“He can’t hear you,” said Chronis.

“Then how, by all the powers, does he expect us to respond!”

“You have to use the button.”

I prised myself free from Tinker’s arms. Fabulo nodded and I pressed it. The dry noise ceased.

“This is Elizabeth Barnabus,” I said.

I pulled my finger back and the crackling returned. Seconds passed, agonisingly slow.

“We’ll move on to the next door,” said Fabulo. “The bastard’s just trying to hold us up.”

“I’ll stay a while longer,” I said. “Lara, you’ve watched me. Could you work the machine if it’s needed?”

She nodded, grim-faced.

“You be careful, girl,” said Fabulo.

“I will.”

As they started away, I put my finger on the button again. “Attention Agent Farthing. This is Elizabeth Barnabus. Please respond.”

In my mind’s eye, I saw him standing next to a wall just as I was, his head bowed. He had said that we would meet as enemies, and here we were, the criminal and the agent of law. Yet there was something else. Behind and below the awful inevitability of the roles we were playing out, he was in pain. I’d heard it in his voice through the machine just as I’d felt it before in the darkened carriage. But, until now, I’d not understood his love for me with such blinding clarity.

There was a bitter irony in our situation. I found myself laughing.

Then his voice came through the grille. “This is John Farthing.” It sounded more intimate than before, as if he was whispering from very close. “Elizabeth? Are you still there?”

I pressed the button. “I’m here. And I’m alone.”

“Oh, what have you done!” he said. From the desperation in his voice, I knew he was alone also.

“I’ve done what I had to.”

“You must give up.”

“To be hanged?”

“At least that way there’s a chance.”

“It’s no chance at all.”

“Death penalties can be commuted, if you show good will. Persuade the others, or… or come back and unlock the door.”

“So they can be hanged and I can spend the rest of my life in a prison?”

“It would be something!”

“Are you so desperate to save me that you’d have me betray my friends?”

He didn’t answer. In the distance I heard a door opening. There’d been no time for Lara to use the light machine, so one of the keys must have worked. If I didn’t follow soon, I’d be left behind.

I pressed the button again. “We have a prisoner,” I said. “Agent Chronis. I could persuade the others not to kill him, but you’ll have to let us run free.”

Seconds passed before he answered. “You have less to bargain with than you think.” His voice had returned to cold formality. “We have a prisoner also. I can authorise an exchange. But no more than that.”

“Who?” I asked, dreading the answer, for I already knew what it must be.

“She hasn’t told us her name, but she was driving the carriage that brought you.”

On hearing the news, Lara’s face whitened to ash. Fabulo was first to her side, doing his best to hold her upright, despite his stature. Then I took her other arm. Together we lowered her to the floor. She sat, face in hands, shoulders rigid, breathing too fast. I looked to Fabulo and knew that her reaction had been no surprise to him.