The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (13 page)

One of Nemo's turbaned crewmen ratcheted back the firing mechanism and
launched another target.

When he reached the top of the conning tower, Sawyer blinked in the
Mediterranean sunlight and kept watching Quatermain instead of the flying
target. The object soared through the air and then splashed down.

The young American didn't venture closer, not wanting to disturb the old
adventurers aim. They stood apart, separated by the wide deck. As he aimed
carefully, his eyes never leaving the floating target, Quatermain sensed the
young man's presence. "Do you want something?"

"No, not really."

Quatermain fired again, another perfect shot, another target destroyed. He
didn't bother to show any satisfaction at his prowess.

Sawyer was extremely impressed, though, and ventured closer. "Well, I guess I
was just wondering why you signed up for all of this."

Quatermain didn't look at him. The turbaned crewman positioned another target
in the launcher.

The young American pressed. "Cap'n Nemo told me that you hate the British
Empire. So it doesn't really make a whole lot of sense, you joining in."

"They called. I answered." Quatermain cracked the gun and reloaded.

Sawyer thrust his hands in his pockets. "Well, that isn't all of it, though.
Is it?"

"Pull!" Quatermain said, and another target soared. Clearly there was to be
no more conversation. He sighted it, following the target as if he was tracking
a flight of geese. This time, he wanted to shoot the object out of the sky
instead of waiting for it to strike the waves.

"I'm sorry for asking," Sawyer said, turning away.

Quatermain lowered his gun without firing and looked at the young American.
He wrestled with words, dredging up memories he no longer wanted to think about.
"Years ago… the British approached me with a mission for Queen and Country. They
appealed to my patriotism. They promised thrills, adventure…" He let out a long,
lonely sigh.

"That's like the morning ride to work for you, I'd imagine." Sawyer looked at
the old hunter with hopeful eyes.

Quatermains' gaze was distant, though—seeing farther than the hazy coastline
of Italy. "I signed up without hesitation. I even took my son along, promised to
watch him. I led, and my son followed."

He sighed. The
Nautilus
continued, surging past the floating target
out on the waves. Quatermain leaned on his elephant gun, making no attempt to
take the shot.

He didn't look at Sawyer as he continued. "The boy died in my arms. After
that, I washed my hands of England, the Empire… and the legend of Allan bloody
Quatermain."

The young American chose to see the other mans strength instead of his
misery. "So if you succeed this time, then your son's memory will be
honored."

"No. It doesn't work that way." Quatermain eyed the American agent who was so
full of optimism and guileless honesty. He changed the subject abruptly, as if
out of self-defense. "Now, would you like to learn how to shoot, lad?"

"I can already," said Sawyer, propping one hand on his hip.

"Yes, I saw you in Grays library. Very American. Just fire enough bullets and
hope that some of them will hit the target. No finesse. No skill."

The young agent frowned as if suspecting that he'd just been insulted. "I
reckon a good many of the Fantom's marksmen would beg to differ."

The old adventurer wrinkled his brow. "Sawyer, I'm talking about pipping the
ace at nine hundred yards." He offered the gun to the American. "Try."

Sawyer was surprised, but took the big weapon with eager hands. Holding it by
the stock and barrel, hefting its weight, he let out a low, appreciative
whistle. He squinted one eye and looked down the long barrel of the elephant
gun.

"Steady on," Quatermain said. To the turbaned crewman, he called out,
"Pull!"

The launcher flapped, and a fresh target soared high. The old hunter leaned
in so they sighted the gun together, man and boy, as the colorful object tumbled
and then splashed down.

"Now… aim," Quatermain said, focusing on the shot with all his
concentration.

"Aww, that's easy."

"Allow for wind and target movement."

"That's easy, too," Sawyer said.

"Its the next part that's not. You've got to feel the shot."

Sawyer concentrated, aimed, tried to do exactly as Quatermain said. But the
submarine vessel picked up speed, and a rooster tail of spray kicked up from the
bow. The bobbing target was racing past.

"Take your time with it."

Sawyer swallowed. "It's moving pretty fast."

"Take your time. You have all the time you need. Anybody can hit it with ten
shots. But take only one. Hit it the first time."

The target was getting closer. Sawyer was itching to fire. The elephant gun
twitched in his hands.

"All… the time… in the world," said Quatermain.

The target passed, almost out of range. "Take… your…"

Sawyer fired—and missed the target by a fraction of an inch. The
large-caliber bullet made a splash like a leaping fish.

"—time."

"Darn it!" Sawyer shaded his eyes and looked forlornly at the floating target
as it drifted away.

But Quatermain was impressed. "Too soon, but that was bloody close, and at
five hundred yards, too. Try again."

Sawyer shouldered the gun once more, grinning. "Pull!"

Though Sawyer didn't speak Hindi, the
Nautilus
crewman understood.
The target soared.

With his confidence brimming, Sawyer said, "Did you teach your son to shoot
like this?"

At that, Quatermain gently pushed the muzzle down and took the gun back. The
moment between them was suddenly gone. "Lesson's over."

The old adventurer walked away, leaving Sawyer standing there alone on the
deck, uncomfortably aware that he had said too much.

Mina Harker worked at her intricate chemistry setup, tinkering with vials and
retorts. She removed a test tube from an atomizer and examined it with sharp
green eyes.

Her cabin door was ajar, and Dorian Gray pushed it farther open. "Brewing
tea, Mina? Or something stronger?"

She looked up at him, but showed no pleasure at his arrival. "I'm identifying
a powder that Nemo found in the control room. Residue of magnesium phosphorus."
From his bored expression, she saw that the chemical meant nothing to him. She
explained. "Photographers use it to create a flash."

"A camera?" Gray said. "Why would someone carry a clunky old camera aboard a
submarine, much less use it?"

"It appears that someone wishes to capture this vessels secrets." Mina went
back to her work.

Gray hovered close to her—
too
close. He drew a deep breath to inhale
her scent. "I thought you should know. I told those who've asked that I'm an old
friend of your family."

"To spare me embarrassment? I'm above what others think. We were lovers once
upon a time. Our love died. Many things die."

"Many things don't."

Mina finally looked up from her chemistry work to meet his gaze. "I was
surprised that you ultimately agreed to join the League, Dorian. You are a
selfish man. This task requires heroes… not vain hedonists."

"Perhaps I mean to undo the flaws in my character through selfless action.
Maybe I want to face my demons."

Mina scoffed, turning away. Foul odors bubbled from a flask over a Bunsen
burner. "What do you know of demons?"

"Maybe more than you know." He remained maddeningly close to her, even as she
tried to work. "Do you recall the space on the wall of my home, Mina? Where a
picture was missing?"

"Yes. It was glaringly obvious. What of it?"

Gray drew a long breath. "Its time—long past time, actually—that I tell you a
story."

Outside in the corridor, Henry Jekyll paced back and forth, looking and
listening to the sounds of the ship and the secret tales told between
passengers. Mina's door was open, and chemical smells and soft voices wafted out
into the passageway. He came close enough that his shadow barely fell on the
edge of the door, then he cringed and backed away.

Yes, Henry
—
look, but don't touch. Dont risk anything. Don't get
your fingers dirty. That's your way
.

He hated the mocking voice. Jekyll hurried away shame-faced, but in the
mirror-bright shine of the
Nautilus
corridor fittings the brutish
taunting reflection of Edward Hyde followed him.

"Shut your mouth," Jekyll said, just loud enough to answer the voice in his
head.

Did I just hear a mouse squeak? Or was it just a worm stirring? Certainly
nothing of any consequence.

"I won't be tricked again."

Tricked? You've known what I was about each time you drank the formula. I
know about it, Henry. I know you
. Hyde's deep voice ended in a gruff
chuckle.
You like it
.

"Liar! I'm a good man." Jekyll whimpered. "I am a good man."

Who's lying now? Repeat it to yourself, keep saying the same thing… but
it still won't be true.

"I make my own decisions."

So make your decision. You know which one I mean. You want it, Henry.
Even more than you want… her.

Jekyll quailed, stumbled into the curved metal wall. Hyde chuckled again with
a note that sounded like triumph.
You cant shut me out forever. Drink the
elixir
.

"No."

She barely even looks at you
, Hyde taunted.
She wants a big,
strong, decisive man. Not a little weakling
.

"Be quiet!" Jekyll said.

She'd look at me!

Hyde appeared large in front of the doctor's eyes, rising up like a
nightmarish simian demon. He loomed into reality, and with a powerful,
blunt-fingered hand he grabbed Jekyll's throat, ready to wring it like a
chicken. Drool trickled between crooked, broken teeth; his yellow eyes were
bloodshot with thin scarlet lava flows.

In voice as hard and firm as an iron anvil, Captain Nemo said from behind
him, "Contain your evil, Doctor."

Jekyll spun with a yelp, his knees weak. The feverish apparition of Hyde
vanished like smoke in a cold wind.

Nemo stepped forward, and Jekyll seemed to fear the
Nautilus
captain
as much as he trembled from his inner demons. "I'll not have that brute free
upon my ship. Must I take drastic steps and keep you confined?"

"I'm… in control." Jekyll's teeth chattered together. He wiped a clammy hand
through the perspiration on his forehead and smeared back his lank hair.

"In control, sir? I doubt that very much," Nemo said. "Even the strongest of
men know evils allure."

Flustered and reddening, Jekyll gathered his courage. "Your talk is all well
and good, sir—but your own past is far from laudable!" He immediately regretted
his outburst. "I—I'm sorry, Captain." He started to slink away, shamed and
tortured.

"Has Hyde ever killed?" Nemo asked, crossing his arms over his blue-uniformed
chest. "Has he actually broken a neck or torn out a throat with his bare
hands?"

Jekyll looked back wearily and nodded. "He's done all the evils a man could
do. And it is my terrible curse that I… recall every one of his actions, even
though I could not stop them." He let out a low moan of misery.

"I sympathize. It is my curse that I recall my own."

Jekyll scampered away without looking back. Nemo watched him go. A shadow
larger than normal followed him as he retreated down the
Nautilus
corridor…

Before Nemo could return to the control bridge, he heard low voices through
the partially open door of Mina's cabin. He hesitated, normally a man who
respected privacy and a persons right to keep their dark secrets… but Mina
Harker had also spied on him while he'd made his prayers to Kali in his own
cabin.

Intent on the woman in front of him, Dorian Gray continued his explanation.
"So although the picture is my portrait, I doubt you'd recognize the face upon
it."

"How so? I'm quite familiar with your features—and they haven't changed a bit
in all the time I've known you."

His thin smile seemed self-satisfied. "For each year that passes,
my
portrait ages
instead of me. I'm sure that my every dark, selfish, shameful
act is there, too, in the way that men wear their pasts about them. And I have
committed plenty of such acts…"

"When did you last see the portrait?" Mina asked.

"I dare not look upon it myself, or the magic of the painting will be
undone," Gray said. "I have taken it from my wall, leaving an empty space. I
have hidden it, kept it safe…"

Nemo turned silendy on his heel, not wishing to hear any more. He understood
science and invention, and he had studied Eastern philosophies, trained his body
to become a machine that he controlled. He had cruised the seas in his armored
submarine boat—but those things were comprehensible, explained by a strict set
of laws and rules.

The sorcery and superstition of which Dorian Gray spoke—that was not part of
Nemo's universe.

He marched back to the bridge to see if Ishmael had learned anything more
about whoever had tampered with the controls.

In Jekyll's cabin, the thin and fidgety doctor sat on the edge of his bunk,
wringing his hands.

Let me play, Henry. Come on, let me play
. Hyde's noxious, whining
voice whispered in his head.
I'll
win. I always win
.

Jekyll rubbed his eyes, tempted.

Why fight it? Enjoy me, Henry. Enjoy me…

He glanced over at the small medical case on his desk. Just one dose, a gulp
of the elixir that would change him, free him, give him the strength to follow
Hyde's—and his—every desire.

Let me out
, Hyde urged.

But Jekyll stared at the case, shocked. The clasp had been undone while he
was away.