The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (24 page)

The invisible man indicated that Hyde, Nemo, and his crewmen should take the
main artery, Mina a side corridor, and Quatermain and Sawyer a third hall.
Quatermain nodded, and the three groups separated.

Before they could move away, though, the League members all paused and turned
back briefly to look at each other, as if fearing it might be the last time they
would ever be together. They suddenly seemed to be of one mind.

Breathing heavily, his nostrils flared, Hyde extended his massive hairy hand.
Quatermain, without hesitation, placed his hand on top. Mina, Sawyer, Nemo, and
finally Skinner, all did the same.

When they gazed at each other, determined smiles shone on their faces.
Although the Fantom's gigantic fortress loomed all around them, it no longer
seemed impregnable.

They had been a League before; now they were truly a team.

Reaching an echoing mezzanine on whisper-quiet footsteps, Quatermain and
Sawyer crept past roughly shaped pillars. Beyond them, an expansive laboratory
was filled with chemistry apparatus, crackling electrical devices, bubbling
flasks and beakers. There, the miserable kidnapped scientists worked under armed
guard.

The laboratory walls were covered with chalkboards which were, in turn,
covered with furiously scribbled, and often erased, sketches and equations.
Surly-looking guards holding the Fantom's sophisticated firearms kept watch over
their charges, though the guards did not seem to have any interest in the
science itself.

As they crept forward to get a better look, Sawyer pointed to the other side
of the mezzanine, from which the loudest sounds and thickest smoke emanated. The
factory floor below was filled with hundreds of Mongolian workers, either slaves
or sluggish laborers, who operated machines, presses, and pistons. Hissing steam
boiled out of jets, drenching the sulfur-smelling air with its moisture. Sparks
flew from grinders that shaped components to fit his diabolical machines.

A swarthy foreman, high up in a caged control room, barked orders in
Mongolian over a tinny-sounding electronic loudspeaker. "Team Ten, move those
parts to the assembly area, now!"

"Do you understand what he's saying?" Sawyer asked.

The old adventurer shook his head. "At least he's not raising the alarm. Come
on, this way." He moved out.

"You lead, I'll follow." Sawyer crept after him in a stealthy crouch. They
moved on together, unnoticed.

The prison passage was silent and empty. The guards were bored and sleepy;
they did not realize the emergency until it was much too late.

Before they could call for help, Hyde had punched them both and hurled the
men against a far wall. They could barely muster a whimpering groan while
slumping unconscious to the floor.

Hyde strode forward with a lurching, stalking gait, forced to duck his
massive head beneath a low ceiling. In the beast-man's wake, Captain Nemo and
several armed crewmen entered the passage and approached the heavy iron floor
grates.

Nemo motioned the fearsome Hyde back as he crouched on the grate and peered
into the dungeons below. He saw the hopeful faces of hostages turned up to look
at him. "These must be the scientists' wives and children."

In a flash of memory, he thought of his own wife and son, both tragically
killed. His fingers clenched, and he had to force the thoughts away. Nemo called
upon his philosophy and his prayers, just to make his heart go numb again, his
past go blank.

He put a finger to his lips, and the hostages inside fell quiet, stifling
their confusion and joy. "We will rescue you. Do not be frightened." He signaled
for Hyde to come forward, and as the brutish mans shadow fell over the grate,
Nemo held out a hand to calm the captives. "Do not be frightened of
him
."

He and his crewmen gave Hyde room to work. Jekyll's monstrous alter ego bent
over the grates and wrapped both of his hands around them. His back muscles
strained, his biceps bulged, the cords in his neck stood out as taut as piano
strings.

Then with a screeching groan, the metal grate tore free, ripping mortar and
stones loose. Snarling at his own strength, Hyde lifted the heavy set of bars
over his head and made as if to hurl them down the tunnel, but Nemo stepped in
front of him, fearless, and gestured for silence. Disappointed, Hyde set the
grate down with a thud on the tunnel floor.

Nemo extended a hand, and the first hostage reached out to take it. He helped
her out of the cell, and the rest of the terrified captives began to stream out.
"You are free now, but you are not yet safe."

He and Hyde kept watch as the
Nautilus
crewmen guided the escaping
prisoners down the echoing tunnels. One by one, the captives climbed out of the
cell chamber, blinking and frightened.

Karl Draper, disheveled and desperate, emerged from the pit and clutched the
sleeve of Nemo's uniform. "Please, sir—he has my daughter. That horrible Fantom…
he took Eva!" His voice cracked with despair, as if he had already imagined
endless nightmares of what M might be doing with her.

Beside him, Hyde growled.

"If she's here in the fortress, we shall bring her to you," Nemo said. He
could see the anguish on the structural engineer's face. "Now go with the
others. Get away from this place."

Though the group was large, they moved like phantoms down the narrow passage
back toward the sluice gate—and their escape. Glancing over his shoulder for
reassurance, bald and mousy Karl Draper scuttled after them. Hyde looked at the
German scientist and sniffed, as if Draper reminded him of Henry Jekyll.

Neither the brutish man nor Nemo noted one of the two stunned guards
recovering. Slumped against the passage wall where Hyde had hurled him, the
guard stifled a groan. His head hurt, his jaw felt as if it had been knocked
halfway around his head… not so different from a typical hangover.

But when he opened his eyes he was confused by all the people and the noise
outside the prison pit. Next to him, his partner still lay crumpled, out cold.
Then he saw Hyde, a misshapen anthropoid monster standing next to the torn metal
grate while the last of the prisoners fled down the corridor.

Even before his focus and balance returned, the guard let out a yelping
scream, stumbled to his feet, and turned to run.

Hyde grunted with surprise and turned his coal-black eyes to see the man
running away. Nemo, also startled, gave chase, but the frantic guard raced down
the halls in absolute panic. He bleated for help like a terrified sheep. His
wailing shouts echoed back through the passages, calling out a warning; Nemo
didn't need to translate the Mongolian words to understand the message.

The captain came back, panting from the effort, adjusting the turban on his
head. "We have trouble."

"Trouble?" Hyde said with a twisted grin. His eyes lit with anticipation.
"I'd call it… sport." He cracked his hairy knuckles.

Inside the foundry, workers and guards labored under the intense heat and
spraying sparks. Despite the flaring light of molten metal and furnace fires,
there were still enough shadows to offer hiding places, if necessary.

Not that an invisible man needed the shadows.

A hot spark flicked through the air and settled on his bare skin. Skinner
snuffed it out, restraining his reaction to no more than a hiss. It gave him all
the more incentive to blow this whole place to Hell.

His invisible hands held three bombs that glided through the smoky air. He
made his way behind the largest furnace and planted the first bomb at the base
of the hot brick structure. Skinner hid the explosive and set the timer, already
thinking of the best places to install the other two bombs.

One of the guards looked up, thinking he heard an amused chuckle and skipping
footsteps that moved out of the foundry at a rapid pace. But he saw nothing, so
he turned back to shout orders at his workers again.

Moving with all the stealth they could manage, Quatermain and Sawyer left the
dirty, industrial floors of the fortress and entered brighter, well-lit
corridors with fine furnishings and clean white walls. It was in this area that
the two men expected to find M.

They approached a set of opulent doors. The daring young American tested the
scrolled golden handles and found the doors unlocked. With barely a click, they
opened and quietly swung inward. Sawyer poked his head inside and stared in
astonishment.

His sumptuous boudoir contained a vast bed, paintings, vases, a red
crushed-velvet divan, and fresh flowers and fruit that must have been worth more
than gold here in this isolated winter landscape. In the boudoir's adjoining
templelike bathing area, a warm-flowing fountain bath spilled a steaming cascade
into a marble tub.

Quatermain waved his companion to utter silence as the two men entered, guns
leading, alert for anything. The young man wrinkled his nose at the perfumes in
the air. The hideous masked "Fantom" had not seemed like a man to enjoy a long
scented bath.
.
.
.

A human-shaped shadow flitted behind a painted silk screen in an adjacent
side chamber. Quatermain froze, but the figure did not come closer. The two men
hadn't been seen, and the sloshing of the waterfall bath muffled the sound of
their approach. Together, they advanced toward the chamber door.

As the old adventurer reached for the door of the side chamber, the handle
turned before he could touch it. He and Sawyer ducked into an alcove and
flattened themselves against the wall.

The door opened, and a lovely young woman stepped out, her gaze fixed
forward. She had long straw-blond hair that hung straight and limp, as if she no
longer cared for it. Her loose gown was pale blue and should have been
beautiful, but she wore it like a burial shroud. Like a wraith or a sleepwalker,
she drifted wide-eyed and dazed past the two men in the alcove.

Quatermain recognized her from a sepia-toned photograph in the files M
himself had provided, ostensibly to help them track down the heinous Fantom. How
arrogant of the man! But Quatermain did not doubt the truth of the information.
He knew who this young woman was: Eva Draper, the daughter of kidnapped
architectural engineer, who had been abducted from the Valkyrie Zeppelin Works
near Hamburg.

When she had gone, the two men slipped out of their hiding place and ducked
into his parlor to look around, ready for anything. Sawyer held his Winchester
in a tight grip, eager to start shooting.

The Fantom's silver mask lay on a table, reflecting the candlelight.

Quatermain heard a noise, low conversation, movement from across the room in
an antechamber. He hesitated, then crept forward so that he could see the angled
reflection of an ornate dressing mirror. He got Sawyer's attention, and both of
them watched.

The mirror's image showed the antechamber, where a fastidiously dressed valet
was calmly shaving the cadaverous M, who lounged back in a chair. M seemed
completely relaxed as the fastidious man stroked his cheek and neck with the
gleaming silver razor, removing white cream. The man scraped away another swath,
knowing it would mean his death if he so much as nicked the leader's skin. The
valet had already helped M into his clothing, leaving only the black jacket and
gloves on the vanity. It looked as if the evil mastermind were preparing to go
to the opera.

The Fantom's lieutenant Dante strode into the parlor, carrying a bulky
leather case similar to a doctor's satchel. Quatermain and Sawyer pressed
themselves further into thfe shadows as the man walked past, but Dante was
intent on M.

As the valet continued his work, Dante set the leather satchel on a table.
"James here's your box of tricks, as you asked. I think you'll find everything
you need inside." He opened the case, tilting it to show M the contents.

M sat up, his close-set eyes vulturelike in the flickering candlelight. The
lieutenant displayed each item, like a snake-oil salesman demonstrating his
wares. "The brutes potion, the vampires blood, the Indian's science, and mounted
samples of invisible skin." He lifted liquid-filled vials, a scrap of
bloodstained fabric, bits of ceramic, daguerreotypes, microscope slides, and
rolled-up technical plans on thin paper. "No matter what else happens, you will
have the most important components, sir."

With quick, confident strokes, the valet finished shaving M's upper lip.
Though it was none of his business, the valet mused, "So much, and yet it seems
like nothing. You're expecting trouble, sir?"

"Always." M regarded the kit with satisfaction. It amazed him that the future
of the world could fit inside such a small bag. The valet wiped the last specks
of cream from M's face and removed the moist towels. M ran a hand over his
smooth chin and upper lip with pleasure, then sent the valet away with his
shaving paraphernalia.

Before Dante could depart as well, a ragged-looking guard burst in.
"Intruders! An Indian and a monster!" He reeled, holding his head as if he had
just awakened from a bad dream, or groggy unconsciousness. "The prisoners are
escaping!"

M groaned. "How many times must I kill these cretins?" He knew that if Nemo
and Hyde were here causing trouble, the rest of the League would, in all
likelihood, be inside the fortress, too. He turned to Dante, who could already
see annoyance building to rage on the leaders face. The threat in his cold voice
seemed directed as much at Dante as at the intended victims. "Make this the last
time. Be certain of it."

Leaving the leather satchel behind, Dante rushed out as the first shouts and
sounds of battle echoed from the factory levels far below.

Alone now, the freshly shaved M moved to the table, pulled on his jacket, and
reached for his silver Fantoms' mask, ready for the show. He picked up the metal
covering and glimpsed a distorted, moving reflection. He froze as a long gun
barrel pressed against the back of his head.