The Diamond Conspiracy: A Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences Novel (29 page)

A second later, heat, fire, and stone erupted from above their heads. A heartbeat after the blasts came the water.

Eliza stumbled, but Sophia threw her arms around her and pulled her towards the airlock, stumbling past Wellington and Sound, who pulled both ladies further into the metal alcove.

“Secure the hatch!” Sound cried as from outside, parts of the long brick wall began to collapse.

Now, just audible over the sound of rock grinding against rock and the rushing of water, were cries of alarm. Torrents of water were now rushing into their alcove, spraying in every direction as Wellington pulled the heavy door shut. Sophia had once been on a ship when its hull had been breached. A most unpleasant experience, with screaming, and running combined with getting dreadfully wet. She was back on her feet and next to Books, pulling on the hatch’s solitary wheel.

The water continued to force its way in, and now Eliza and Sound joined in the struggle against the forces of nature. A sudden
clang
of metal against metal resounded in the chamber and Sophia felt the wheel jerk in her grip. She let go of the hatch and collapsed with relief along with the others, as it appeared they had held the waters back.

No, she would not die and join her ancestors today.

If Fortune smiled upon them all, then the Thames would be the final resting place of both the Duke of Sussex and the madman known as the Maestro.

Wherein Our Intrepid Agents and Alluring Assassin Drink Deep from a Fount of Knowledge

D
octor Sound slowly backed away from the heavy iron door, his eyes not leaving the frame surrounding it. His eyes were wide, his skin pale, as he turned his head at every sign of a groan or creak. Perhaps he was thinking what Wellington, Eliza, and Sophia were all thinking at that moment: The Thames was now on the other side of this hatch. Would the door hold?

Then came the rumble which could only be four storeys of architecture giving into the loss of its foundation and sliding into the river.

“The lock will hold,” Sound whispered. It remained uncertain if this was for their benefit or his own. As the metal groaned and dull thuds could be heard above their heads, the director nodded slowly. “I designed this structure with our present scenario in mind. The airlock and the roof will hold.”

Wellington tightened his grip on Eliza’s hand as the metal around them protested this assault, but then the thuds from outside grew less frequent. The hatch’s seal continued to resist
the forces bearing down on it, and eventually the stress rippling through the iron ceased.

“Everyone all right then?” Sound asked, turning to look at the three of them.

“We all seem to be in one piece,” Wellington replied. He glanced at Eliza, who was staring intently at Sophia del Morte as if she were a cat and the assassin a sewer rat. “For the time being.”

Eliza looked the assassin over from head to toe. Neither woman revealed anything in their cold stares. Sophia slowly held up Eliza’s pistols, flipped them handle out, and then offered them back to their owner.

“Exquisite,” Sophia commented.

Eliza took her weapons, glancing at the sidearms before returning them back to their holsters. “Thanks.” She ground out the word as if it hurt.

The small alcove seemed to be closing in on the four of them as the silence stretched on. Wellington remembered the odd, awkward atmosphere of the oubliette he had found himself trapped in with del Morte and Lena Munroe during the Culpepper case. This was far worse because, even in that near darkness, there was space and the slimmest possibility of escape.

For all Wellington knew, this alcove led to a private office or a laboratory. This was merely a junction between the Archives and the Restricted Area, and now the Archives was underwater, and undoubtedly buried by the demolished Miggins Antiquities.

“So, do you mind explaining to me what happened back there?” Eliza said pursing her lips.

“Since San Francisco, I have been looking for an opportunity.” The assassin motioned to the hatch. “One was presented to me.”

“Taking shelter in an airlock is hardly what I would call a good opportunity,” Eliza muttered.

Sophia gave a slight shrug. “You should have seen my other options.” She then inclined her head towards the other woman. “How did you know I wouldn’t kill you on the Maestro’s order?”

“You would have never allowed yourself to get that close to
me to make a kill. I could have disarmed you, used a concealed weapon, turned the gun against you. Too many variables.” Eliza gave the woman a crooked smile. “Like you said so pointedly, we are professionals.”

“That we are,” Sophia said with a nod.

“Doctor Sound,” Wellington began, stepping in closer to the director. Due to the limited space, it felt as if he were about to become quite familiar with his superior. “Exactly how water tight are these doors?”

“Tight enough, it would seem,” he said, his eyes still studying the seal between hatch and frame. “They have been designed in case of catastrophic failure—”

“Let’s not tempt fate,” sang Eliza.

“—the other door is of a unique design,” he said, motioning with his head to the hatch behind them. “It too is watertight.”

“Well, at least we won’t die from drowning,” Wellington noted gloomily.

“That’s it, lad,” Sound said with a light nod, tapping Wellington on his shoulder. “A positive outlook is essential.” He then switched places with him to face the women. “And as I am locked in an airlock with two delightful looking ladies, I cannot think of anywhere else in the Empire I would rather be.”

What an incurable flirt he is,
Wellington thought.

“So lovely to enjoy close quarters with the formidable Sophia del Morte,” he chortled, leaning closer to her to examine her as if she were some exotic butterfly.

One of the assassin’s dark eyebrows arched sharply. “Believe me, the pleasure is all mine.”

“I have heard so much about you from my colleagues.” He then produced from one of the small cubbyholes behind him in their chamber a long box. “In particular, your jewellery has a rather lethal quality about it.”

Her brow’s angle steepened, but she gave a slow nod and then removed her leather wristbands, along with the three rings she wore across her slender, pale hands.

“It is ridiculous to think I would turn on those taking me in,” she stated sharply, placing the accessories in the long box.

“Yes, well, that is my reputation—mad as a hatter, I am,” Sound retorted.

Sound snapped shut the box and returned it to its cubbyhole. Free of the stealth weaponry, she offered Sound an inviting smile before extending her hand in a polite, mannerly greeting.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Signorina del Morte,” Doctor Sound said, taking her hand and kissing her fingertips.

Her smile widened, but then she let out a little gasp when Doctor Sound’s other hand clapped lightly around her wrist.

“The pulse point,” he said as Sophia collapsed into his arms. “Better introduction of a tranquiliser. Straight into the bloodstream.” His brow suddenly shot up as his face twisted in concern. “I say, Books, if you please?”

“Yes, sir,” he said, shuffling over to his side. Even with the two of them easing her to the metal grating of the airlock, Sophia was of a considerable weight. “She must be wearing body armour.”

“Stands to reason as she was planning a defection to the Ministry.” Sound gave a light huff as Sophia came to rest. “A rather charming notion coming from her, if you consider our past. Crossing this Maestro character as she was, she must have prepared for more of a rough-and-tumble than the others in her party.” He pressed two fingers against her smooth neck and nodded. “Slow and steady. And more importantly, genuine.” He then went for his left hand and carefully removed the large ring there. “I won’t be needing this, now shall I?”

“Where did that come from?” Eliza asked, motioning to the deadly jewellery he was placing on a small shelf about eye level with him.

“Agent Braun, as a director of a clandestine organisation it would hardly be prudent for me to wander out into the world without some form of protection for myself.” He motioned to the ring and added, “An assassin ring is quite subtle, and can be quite handy, if employed properly.”

Wellington stared at Sophia. Even with her subdued as she was, he still did not feel entirely safe. “How long before she comes around?”

“Oh, I will wager she will sleep peacefully for a solid four hours. If she was particularly exhausted from undue stress or tension, that may grant us an additional four hours.” Sound
returned to his feet and pulled out from the wall in front of him a keyboard similar to Wellington’s analytical engine. He typed as he spoke. “However, I think the lovely signorina will have to accompany us regardless.”

Wellington nodded and went to pick Sophia up again.

“No need, Books.” Wellington looked up at Sound, who was still typing, his fingers dancing over the keyboard more deftly than his own. “I’m calling for assistance.”

Wellington was about to ask who he was calling and how they were going to reach them now that the Thames was on the other side of the massive hatch when he then took closer note of the screen holding Sound’s attention. While the keyboard itself was very familiar, the monitor was nothing like the one on his own analytical engine. For one thing, this one was nearly three times the size, and it was completely flat—the smoothest glass he had ever seen.

There was also the colour of the light coming from the screen. It was a brilliant sapphire blue.

And the words appearing on the screen looked even stranger. It was English he saw appear across the glass, but it was the type itself that was nothing short of odd:

Need stretcher for unexpected excursion member. Subject is approximately 1.7 metres in height, weight 60 kilograms (without corset and armament). Name: Sophia del Morte. Override Apprehension Protocols. Director Authorisation 18950507.

“Right then, just beyond the secondary hatch, assistance should be waiting.”

“You mean,” Wellington began, his heart pounding in his chest. “There’s a way out?”

“Of course there’s a way out. Do you really think this”—he motioned to the tight iron alcove all around them—“is the Restricted Area, or that this door leads to nowhere?”

Wellington tried to find a good answer for that. He gave a rather good try. “Well put, sir.”

“So if this isn’t the Restricted Area,” Eliza began, “what exactly is it?”

“I do love your inquisitive mind, Agent Braun,” Doctor Sound said cheerily. “One reason of many why I find you one of our top agents here, make no mistake.” He squeezed his way around Eliza and progressed to the second door. He went to spin the large wheel at its centre but then turned to face them both. “Before we proceed, I must prepare you for what awaits you beyond this point.”

Now Wellington could hear his heart hammering in his ears. The one question in his Archives was finally about to have an answer.

“Only a handful of people know exactly what the Restricted Area holds . . .”

“Yes, sir,” Wellington said quickly.

“. . . and that secrecy is paramount for us to maintain . . .”

“Understood, sir.”

“I would hate to think what would happen if someone of the Maestro’s ilk were to have gained access to the Restricted Area.” He turned back to Eliza and patted her on the shoulder. “You have no idea the good you have—”

“Sir,” she interrupted, “with all due respect—open the bloody hatch.”

Wellington felt the flicker of a smile. It was nice to know they both shared the same burning curiosity.

“Oh, yes, very well then,” and with a nod to both of them, Sound turned the wheel a quarter of an inch to the left.

The metal rang sharply, its echo lingering in the alcove, even as a small device appearing as a stereoscope lowered in front of the director. He placed his head into the wraparound eyepiece and waited. Wellington could see a blue light rise within the viewer’s housing then dim back into nothing. The stereoscope then swung away and retracted back into its hidden compartment above them.

“Agent Books, Agent Braun,” Sound began, giving his waistcoat a slight tug, “welcome to the Restricted Area.”

Jets of steam shot from each corner of the hatch, but instead of swinging open as other entries of its make would do, this one split in its centre into six sections like a mechanical iris, revealing a massive chamber easily three times the size of the Archives. A metal walkway was suspended above them, and rows upon rows of polished, onyx cubes that Wellington
estimated were each the size of a parlour lined the floor. The cubes emitted a soft blue light from the top, and standing alongside each was one of the strange, featureless automatons, the cube’s glow reflecting softly across their brushed, metallic skins. Flying only a few feet above the cubes and automatons were the spheres he recognised as having watched over the operations in his Archives. They seemed to be doing something similar here. When he leaned over the gangway, Wellington recognised what he had always known as the signature thrumming of the generators. All this time it had actually been coming from here . . .

The thrumming was louder, though. Much louder.

He half expected to hear himself stammer, but somehow the words came out remarkably clearly. “Doctor Sound, if you don’t mind my asking, where are we?”

“Have you not figured that out yet?” Doctor Sound chuckled softly as he motioned around them. “This is the Archives.”

Before either one of them could say anything to this remarkable assertion, two automatons quietly approached. Wellington could just make out between them a stretcher, as requested in the airlock by Sound. A breath caught in his throat as he noticed the stretcher was suspended between the automatons by nothing other than air.

Completely accepting this astounding display of the sciences as an everyday occurrence, Doctor Sound approached the lead automaton and spoke to it as if it were another agent of the Ministry. “The signorina is in the airlock. Please escort her to Event Control. While she is wearing body armour, do treat her with utmost care, thank you. Monitor her condition and if she appears to be slipping out of deep REM, return her there. She must not see anything here. Nothing at all. Are we clear on that?”

“Yes, sir,”
the automaton replied. The Staff began to float forwards but the second one paused on reaching Wellington.
“Our apologies, Mr. Books, for not completing full extraction of the Alpha Archives. We did however manage to store approximately fifty-seven percent of Alpha’s artefacts, all of which have been secured in climate-controlled environments.”