THE TABLE OF SHADOWS

2006 by Alan Parker. All rights reserved.

For Caragh.

Prologue The City Of Coventry, December 1849 The grass whipped at the boy's bare feet as he ran across the field, his stark silhouette betrayed by the moon. His breath raced and lungs burnt as he gulped at the air. His clothing hung in rags along thin teenage limbs and his hair fell in wet clumps over panicked eyes that focused on the trees several hundred yards away. Overhead something buzzed in the sky; a searchlight suspended among the stars, its beam flashing across the field dangerously close to him. He stumbled, almost loosing his balance as he chanced a glance over his shoulder. He could hear the barking of dogs closing in. He grimaced as he pushed himself on across the field, his legs tiring by the second. Voices called to each other nearby and the boy dropped to the ground, hugging a small bush for camouflage. For a moment his rapid breath and the buzzing of the drone spotlight made the only sounds. He rubbed the sweat from his eyes and studied his shaking hands. The dogs began barking again, this time mixing with the voices of the men. They were nearer than he had thought. He pressed into the bush, looking about for a route of escape. The drone overhead cast its blinding eye on him. A cloud of oil rich smoke streamed from behind it, blotting out the surrounding stars. The boy twisted, taking to his feet and looking towards the shadowed outlines of the men and their dogs as they approached, counting four of each. His breathing began to run away from his control. There! shouted one of the men as they moved towards him. The boy glanced at the woods no more than fifty yards away at the edge of the field. His eyes flittered back to the drone buzzing out of reach overhead and then back to the men and dogs. He let out a cry of desperation and thrust a hand towards the drone, which exploded in a shower of flames before spinning out of control and crashing into the ground. You see that? cried one of the men, hesitating in his advance. That aint right. That just aint right! The dogs broke into a frenzy, jumping and straining at their leashes, pleading with their masters to be let loose and rip into the boy. One of the other men moved closer, his arm locked at its length as he bid to keep his animal under control. You, boy, come back and no harm will come to you. If not, I have word to let the dogs loose, if need be. The boy backed away several steps, his eyes wide and terrified. Come here, said a growling voice from the darkness. Syn wont let you go. The boy stood, paralyzed, unsure of what to do next. His pulse pounded through his head, but he knew he would not be going back. There was no going back; he would rather face the dogs. He stole a final breath and shook his head. Hes going to run! cried one of the men. Get him!
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The boy turned and pushed on shaking legs towards the woods. One of the men laughed. He aint got no more in him. Panting with desperation, the boy struggled to move quickly enough and the men ran behind him, closing in with each stride, the hounds snapping with fury. The boy stopped, seemingly realising the inescapability of his fate, and turned in a tired arc to face his pursuers. No, he said, his voice rusty and broken. He looked up through determined eyes framed beneath a shaggy fringe of hair. Youre going back, like it or not, shouted one of the men as they continued to run towards him, closing the distance between each thudding heartbeat. NO! cried the boy, throwing his arms out at his sides. The ground at his feet began to tear itself apart, throwing grass and dirt into the air as it ripped open in several long furrows that ran towards the men and their animals. The barking of the dogs stopped abruptly alongside a sudden cry from the men as they were thrown to the ground. A dog whined and ran free of its master as it escaped his grasp, before disappearing into the night, its chain trailing behind it. The men looked up from where they lie, strewn across the field, separated by vast tears in the earth. The remaining dogs whined and cowered, looking at each other for reassurance. Where is he? said one man as he lifted himself on to his hands and knees. Wheres the boy? I dunno, said another. And I tell you, I aint goin after him. That boy has the devil in him, and I aint getting in its way.

Chapter One

An Unexpected Arrival
The City Of London, February 1850 Gem drew the blanket around herself in an attempt to fight off the biting cold of the night air. A clock deep within the building chimed two, the wavering notes echoing along the passageways. Two, thought Gem. She would have to wake up in just over four hours, if she could get to sleep. Why couldnt she sleep? She wanted to turn her body over, but feared exposing a gap in her covering by doing so and thereby letting out what little warmth she had managed to accumulate beneath it. She realised, however, that on a night like this, a bed in the dormitory of Dr Vandells Refuge for Homeless and Destitute Children was infinitely better than sleeping in a pile of rags in some forsaken cellar, or worse. Gem knew how much fortune had graced her in recent years, but the thought helped little with the cold that evening as she lay huddled under the blanket, bathed in moonlight that fell through the windows above the beds. The other girls were long asleep. The only sounds came from the faint drone of a distant airship high over the city and the occasional mouse scurrying across the floorboards. Gem fostered an indifference towards the mice largely fuelled by an intense dislike of the refuges resident feline custodian, Earl Grey. She imagined the Earl slinking around somewhere, carefully evaluating everything through cold, self-important eyes. It was Gems third year at the refuge. At fourteen she would be considered old enough to be able to support herself. Fourteen. Barely six months away. Where was she going to go? She closed her eyes and tried to push the looming issue away, as she had recently done so often. Right now, she was safe and dry, if not warm. Right now, she had a job at the Hillfields textiles factory and had routinely given Dr Vandell half her earnings for over two years; a quarter for him to aid her keep, and a quarter he put aside for her so that the day she left the refuge she would at least have something with which to meet the world. Why was she still not asleep? It was driving her to distraction. Turning restlessly on her bed, Gem realised her mistake as she exposed her feet to the cold night air and what little warmth she had trapped beneath the blanket dissipated into the dormitory.
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She cursed under her breath, pulling the blanket back around her toes and wrapping it tightly again about her body. Too late, she thought. A noise in the yard outside the window stole her attention. She lifted the blanket away from the side of her head and cocked her ear towards an unmistakeable clattering of horses hooves upon the courtyards cobblestones, followed by muffled voices. Curiosity seized her. Having already lost her battle to keep out the cold, Gem jumped to her feet, pulled the blanket about her shoulders and climbed up towards the frosted windowpanes. She stepped onto the iron railing at the head of the bed, thereby enabling her to peer through the glass and down upon the courtyard. The cold ironwork felt uncomfortable against her bare feet, but her insatiable inquisitiveness, her undoing on many occasions, overtook her once again. Broken grey clouds littered the night sky, unable to subdue the brilliance of the full moon. The sprawling London skyline framed the horizon with its revived gothic architecture. In the distance, mono-trams flittered high above the streets on their rails, weaving between the goliath buildings known as cloud-breakers, which rose up, challenging towards the moon, their lights mixing with those of the stars. In the courtyard below, a woman wearing a long dark dress, shawl and hat, perhaps mourning attire, stepped down from the carriage. Her gaunt features highlighted by cruel shadows were those of later years and her posture looked rigidly upright and proper. Dr Vandell held the carriage door open for her, his white hair brilliant in the moonlight. Close behind the woman, a boy began climbing cautiously down from the carriage. His unshod toes touched the stones as Dr Vandell put a hand gently behind him and ushered him towards to the buildings front entrance. His clothes had deteriorated into little more than hanging rags and a mop of dark hair tumbled into his eyes. As the boy slipped down from the carriage seat, a cloth cap caught beneath him dropped unnoticed to the cobblestones underfoot. Careful, doctor. Hes a biter, warned the woman. He doesnt like to be touched. This way, said the doctor. The woman nodded as the boy glanced around, studying his surroundings with a look of apprehension while shrinking away from the doctors arm. Come, please, come, said Dr Vandell, holding an arm in indication towards the entrance of the refuge. Gem wiped at the glass pane with her fingers as it misted under her breath. As she did so, the boy glanced up, his attention seemingly drawn by her movements at the window. Startled, Gem dropped back from the glass, holding her breath for several seconds before raising her head sideways an inch at a time to peer back over the window ledge and down upon the courtyard, afraid that she had revealed herself. The boy had already looked away however, cowering as Dr Vandell herded him towards the entrance to the refuge using an open arm. Gem released her breath in a long exhalation and lifted herself up more fully so that she could better view the courtyard. It was then that the most curious event in Gems thirteen and a half years of existence happened. As the boy moved away from the carriage, he turned and looked over his shoulder at the cobblestoned yard behind him. Noting his cap lying on the ground beside the wheel of the carriage, he started towards it, but found himself being ushered into the refuge sur8

rounded by the encompassing arm of Dr Vandell, who remained engaged in conversation with the woman, failing to notice the boys agitation. The boy stretched an arm towards the cap, falling short in its reach by more than a dozen feet. Suddenly, as if lifted by an invisible hand, the cap sprang from the ground and flew through the air to meet the boys open grasp, which immediately closed about it and pulled it tightly to his chest. The doctor and woman continued to talk, unaware of the extraordinary event beneath their noses. Steps approached along the corridor leading to the dormitory and Gem dropped down onto the bed. She quickly arranged the blanket along the length of her body before pretending to be asleep, feeling betrayed by the thumping of her heart. A glow of a candle flickered across the doorway as the footsteps passed and Gem breathed a sigh of relief. Standing once again, Gem peered out of the window, but saw only an empty courtyard below. She returned to her bed, and there she lay for another hour until she fell asleep, thinking of the strange event that she had witnessed from the window. Dr Vandell showed his guests into his study and offered them seating. He paused to move aside the fireguard and throw several scoops of coal upon the fire before taking to his own chair behind his desk. An impressively large analytical engine sat on a table behind him. Its gleaming brass components met with a clear look of approval from the woman as she studied the room. So, you are Tom? the doctor asked, his short white beard as precise as his manner of speaking. He smiled at the boy across the desk littered with numerous collections of paperwork. He hasnt said a word, answered the woman in black on behalf of the boy. One of my men noticed a mark on his wrist. A mark on his wrist? repeated the doctor with a look of curiosity growing in his eyes. A tattoo. It says the word Tom, so of course we assumed it to be the boys name. Why would anyone tattoo a child? asked Dr Vandell as he reached forward to the lamp upon his desk and turned the adjuster knob so that the flame rose higher in its glass chimney. The boy sat alongside the woman, enveloped in a large leather chair. He said nothing, but his keen eyes darted throughout the study. Do you have a surname, Tom? asked Dr Vandell, pushing his fingertips together and leaning back in his seat. For a moment, Toms eyes met with Dr Vandells, but he said nothing. Rest assured, you are with friends now, and nobody is going to hurt you or make you do anything you dont wish to. Its yourself that maybe hurt, said the woman. Hes a biter. Leonard has the marks to prove it! Id suggest not touching him. Oh, he has nothing to fear from me. Yes, well, Im not sure what more I can do here, said the woman. Im not at all sure hes right in the head. Wrinkles lined her face, leading down to a thin and puckered mouth born through many years of disapproving of countless things. She held her hands on her lap and studied the boy uncomfortably, narrowing her eyes to little more than thin slits. So, you say he was found living in your cellar, Lady Cavlert? Yes, well, the servants tell me that is where they found him. It appears he may have been there for some time, perhaps as much as a week. Naturally, when we caught him, the
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first thing we did was contact the constable, and he, in turn, suggested you. Being a woman of Christian virtues, Im in no need of seeing him punished for my satisfaction, but would far prefer to see the boy set upon the correct path in life. I believe that is what you do here, Dr Vandell? Quite, said Dr Vandell, his focus never leaving the boy. So, do you talk then, Tom? The boys eyes continued to flicker about the room. Do you have any family, Tom? The boy slowly looked up at Dr Vandell, his blue eyes peering out from beneath the brim of his heavy cloth cap, which he had pulled onto his head the moment he had sat down. The eye contact with the doctor proved too much and his gaze fell. Would you like to stay with us for the time being, Tom? We can offer you food, a bed, and some warm clothes. The boy looked at the woman seated beside him, drawing his feet back under his chair and burying himself deeper into its protection. Then, it is settled, concluded Dr Vandell from a non-existent reply. Tomorrow we will discuss your future, but for tonight, we will find you a bed. No, perhaps some food first. Are you hungry? asked the doctor, interrupting himself and putting out an apologetic hand. I should think not! remarked the woman, pursing her lips. That boy has eaten the best part of a cured ham this evening! Tom recoiled from her in his chair, a mounting fear rising within his eyes. Now, Lady Cavlert, said Dr Vandell, quickly assessing the boys face. You have done an eminently Christian thing today in helping this young destitute boy, but there is little more that I can ask of you this evening. So, perhaps I may escort you back to your carriage? Lady Cavlert looked flummoxed, but quickly gathered herself. Well, of course. Thank you. Dr Vandell stood. He pushed his chair backwards and moved around the table, offering his hand to the seated Lady Cavlert. Then it would be my honour, he said, taking her gloved hand and helping her from her seat. Now, Tom, if you would stay seated here for a moment while I escort Lady Cavlert to her carriage. I will be back shortly, he said as he left the room to meet further incessant whining from Lady Cavlert. after all, I survived Londons Second Great Fire! she squawked. Yes, of course, Lady Cavlert said Dr Vandell as their voices trailed off. It was a good five minutes before Dr Vandell returned to the study, by which time the fire was beginning to warm the room comfortably. He resumed his position in his chair on the opposite side of his desk and looked across at Tom, studying him for several seconds while stroking his beard. What of your family, Tom? Is there someone we can contact? The boy did not reply, his eyes lost in the fireplace. Hair protruded from beneath his cap on both sides and overhung his collar at the back. Dirt blackened his hands and feet which curled with tension, and a greased smear of some kind ran in a smudge across his left cheek. He looked thin, tired and very frightened. How old are you, Tom asked Dr Vandell, leaning back in his chair, which creaked as he moved. Fifteen? Sixteen? Tom shrugged in what the doctor took to be a response. Youre not sure?
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Tom said nothing. His eyes moved up from the fireplace and only fleetingly met the doctors own. Have you run away from somewhere? Is someone looking for you? Someone you dont want to see? Toms eyes dropped away and traced the contours of the rug underfoot. I see, said the doctor, stroking his beard. It was not the first time he had met a difficult to reach child. Well, he began, putting his hands on the table with a gesture of his intent to stand, I think we need to get you a bed. Im sure youre tired. In the morning, we can see to it that you get some fresh clothes and take a bath. Then, if you want, we can discuss things some more. The doctor stood and walked around his desk towards Tom, who shrank away as he approached. Oh, its all right! I wont hurt you, Tom, he said with a step backwards. Come, lets find a bed for you, he said with a further smile. Tom slowly stood from his seat and took a final look around the room as they left. Dr Vandell walked Tom along the corridor that housed his office, following it past several closed doors before turning a corner and directing Tom up a narrow staircase. The place used to be coachworks, said Dr Vandell in explanation of the unusual structure. We converted it into what you see now when it closed it down. Tom did not appear to pay much attention to the doctors words as he followed him, his eyes rapidly flowing over his surroundings. Well, let me introduce you to Mrs Johnson, said Dr Vandell, stopping at a closed door just off the staircase and gently tapping upon it. Come in! called a voice from within. Dr Vandell opened the door and peered around the frame before opening it fully. As the door swung inward, the scent of lavender washed through the air and a small oil lamp sitting on a high chest of drawers near the doorway flickered as it cast forth a soft glow. Mrs Johnson, this is Tom, introduced the doctor as he carefully put an arm around Toms back and guided him through the door, using the boys dislike of being approached to manoeuvre him. Ah, Tom, its a pleasure to meet you, said a rotund and happy looking lady perched on a chair beside her dressing table in the comfortable looking, but cramped bedroom. Her hair had been pinned up beneath a white nightcap laced with frills around the edges and she wore a heavy looking pink robe that did nothing to hide her stout frame. Did you ready a bed, Mrs Johnson? asked the doctor. Yes, indeed, she said, smiling towards Tom. Lets get you up there, Tom. Mrs Johnson put her hands to her nightcap to straighten it, with little effect. She then collected the lamp from the chest of drawers and followed Dr Vandell and Tom from the room. The lamp that Mrs Johnson carried cast long shadows along the walls like a puppet show as they walked through the passages, with Tom an uncomfortable looking volume between two enormous bookends. Here, whispered Mrs Johnson, leading him into a room as they drew up to a doorway. The lamp attempted to illuminate the length of the boys dormitory where plain brick walls ran back on either side, intermittently broken by small frosted windows above more
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than a dozen beds in mirroring rows. The lamp was unable to tame the darkness completely and shadows stretched about them as Mrs Johnson led Tom along three positions until she reached an empty bed on the left. Twenty-six, he said, looking up at her. Sorry? she whispered, putting a finger up to her mouth to indicate he should not wake the other boys. Twenty-six, he repeated loudly, putting a hand on the bed frame. Yes, well, I will come and fetch you in the morning, dont you worry, she said, looking confused and patting him on the shoulder. For now, just take off your clothes and slip into bed. Tom looked at her and shook his head, gripping the collar of his ragged shirt and tightening his fists about it. Oh, I see. Well, no matter. If youd rather keep them on, then just get into bed like that. Tom sat on the bed, looking up at the woman as she drew back the covers and waited patiently for him to lie down. Come now, lie down, she said, removing his cap from his head and handing it to him. Scraggly dark hair fell about his forehead and Tom peered out from beneath a heavy fringe. Slowly, he slipped his feet beneath the sheets and woollen blanket before leaning backwards against the pillow. Thats right, assured Mrs Johnson, putting out a hand and brushing some of the hair away from Toms eyes. Now you get some sleep, and stay here until I come and get you in the morning. Dr Vandell stood in the doorway, watching as Mrs Johnson pulled the blanket up to Toms chin. Oh, said Mrs Johnson, nearly forgetting to whisper, if you need to go during the night, theres a po under the bed, all right? Tom failed to reply, simply pulling the blanket over his jaw line. Good night, Tom, said Mrs Johnson with a broad smile before she left and followed Dr Vandell from the dormitory. The light of her lamp diminished with each footstep as they retreated until it gave way to a mixture of moonlight and thick puddles of shadow, leaving Tom lying alone in the darkness with the sheets pulled tightly over his nose. Long seconds became tortuous minutes as Tom lay peering out from the bed. Each movement of the boys turning in their beds caused Toms eyes to widen anew and his heart to flutter. As he lay watching the shadows that seemed to swim and shift around him, something in the darkness scuttered across the floorboards nearby. Tom sat upright with a sharp intake of breath. His fearful eyes scrutinized the room, finding the rows of beds, sleeping boys, and a multitude of shadows in which anything could lurk. Something scratched at the leg of his bed; a high-pitched scraping of metal upon metal beneath him. Tom rolled onto his front and crawled inch by inch to the edge of the bed until he was able to peer under its base. The shadows beneath the bed shifted and a glint of moonlight on a bulbous body of a beetle drew Toms startled eyes.
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The insects front claws pulled at the far bed leg as it tried to climb up to the mattress. It hesitated and backed away across the floorboards with a hiss as it saw Tom, fanning and rattling its wings in defence. As it retreated into a beam of moonlight, the insect showed itself in its hideous glory. Tiny metal parts intricately connected to form its complex mechnical body. Minute cogs turned under its golden wings while its hooked legs pulled it across the floorboards. Two sharp blades came together in cruel pincers, opening and closing in display. Tom reached out with a shaking hand towards the beetle. The insect clicked and hissed again, rearing back on its hind legs in a defensive posture, fluttering it wings and opening its mandibles. The wings fluttered and buzzed in a blur, and the beetle took to the air, looping in circles higher into the room before it made towards the doorway and disappeared from sight. Laying back on the bed, Tom pulled the bedclothes up to his face, staring at the ceiling, his eyes wide and alert. He remained frozen in that position until the morning.

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Chapter Two

Inquisitive Minds
The night-watchman surveyed the street, stealing a fleeting glance at his pocketwatch. His unusual chair afforded some protection against the drizzeling rain with its shellshaped back which formed a hood over the seat. Thin wisps of smoke issued from its base, within which coal kept its occupier warm as it had done for the many generations before him. High in the distance, a late mono-tram followed its track, disappearing behind a line of nearby rooftops, rattling and scraping its way through the night. A tall man, of a broad-shouldered triangular frame and a healthy middle-age, approached along the pavement, his steps heavy and slow. The guard, a good head shorter and more than twenty years older, rose to meet him. Within one blow of his whistle, ten armed men would be at his side. Good evening, captain, said the watchman, dropping a chain from his jacket pocket and fumbling through the keys attached to it. Weve been expecting you. Good evening, Hodder, said the man, waiting at the step before the great black enamelled door as the old man fumbled with the lock. Its a cold night. I dont envy your duty. Oh, I dont mind, sir. The chair keeps the worst away, said the watchman opening the door to the building he had protected each evening for the past seventeen years. Thank you, said the man as he stepped inside. He looked at the brass numbers fixed in the middle of the door as he passed. 10 Downing Street. The Prime Minister is waiting for you in his study, Captain Bolt, said a voice as the door closed behind him. A pair of oil lamps sat on tables lining the hallway, throwing fragile light about them and a warm air replaced the chill of the night. Bolt turned to see the Prime Ministers private servant approach. This way, said the man, escorting Bolt through another doorway. Bolt knew the way, but protocol dictated he allow himself to be shown. He pulled at the collar of his suit. His official uniform was more rigid and higher necked, and almost anything else felt wrong when he wore it, but he was not to draw attention to himself where possible. The servant wove through several rooms until he came to a dark oak door and tapped before opening it. Captain Bolt, Prime Minister, said the servant. Yes, yes. Show him in, said a voice.
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Bolt pushed past the servant and into the office. Behind a desk that had had numerous occupiers throughout the years, sat Lord Russell, the Prime Minister, dressed in a black suit, his advancing years demonstrated by a plump face, balding white hair and thick sidewhiskers that grew as if their owner could do nothing about their intrusion. His eyes shone over red cheeks with an ease of being often mistaken for vagueness. That will be all for now, Jenkins, said the Lord Russell, waving away the ghoulish servant who hovered in the doorway. Very well, sir, said the man, removing himself and closing the door as he withdrew. Bolt strode forward to meet Lord Russells hand as he stood from behind his desk. A blistering heat roared at his side from a well-stocked fireplace. Sit down, sit down, said Lord Russell, offering a chair. They reclined on opposite sides of the desk and the initial look of greeting in their eyes hardened to purpose. What happened? asked the Prime Minister. Its not good. Intelligence reported stirrings in the activities of the Table of Shadows. Most specifically Gabriel Syns movements. We tracked him to a meeting with Pavel Nakhimov, a commander within the Russian forces, but we were unable to ascertain exactly what transpired. Any attempts to get near to the Table of Shadows have been disastrous. That cant be good. It gets worse. We suspected that Syn promised Nakhimov the kind of information we would rather they did not possess. We then decided upon a change of strategy, and rather than directly attempting to infiltrate Syns circle, we used an agent working within the Russian administration to gain more information. He gave us concrete proof that Syn has offered designs of the next generation of war-machines to the Russians. Something Syn calls the Aegis. These designs are in advance of anything we have ourselves. Aegis? It means Shield of Zeus. A bipedal multi-terrain armoured vehicle Syn has been working on. Think of an armoured tank on legs, twenty-feet tall, carrying rotating-barrel guns and cannon. One man in an Aegis can take on an entire infantry unit single-handedly, without so much as raising a bead of sweat. Dear God. The man is totally out of control. Quite. Moreover, weve been funding him... Theres more. More? We believe that the Table of Shadows is looking for something. What? We dont know exactly, but some of the Table have been dispersed throughout the country, and Ive seen enough search patterns to know one when I see it. We intercepted a fragment of a communication; something regarding the term Gaia, Im having Wyncote look into it. Whatever it is, the Table are growing stronger. We may have underestimated by how much. The Prime Minister rubbed his forehead and pinched his nose as if he were suffering a headache. Find Gabriel Syn. Find who or what it is he is looking for and stop him. Whatever it takes. Bolt stood, pulled his waistcoat into position and nodded. Yes, sir. I had better inform Her Majesty. Now, thats a job I do not envy, said Bolt with a smile.
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Gem woke easily. For what little sleep the night had allowed, it had never permitted her to fall into a deep slumber. She felt irritable and groggy, rubbing at her eyes with her fists as the girls around her began their morning ablutions using the bowls beside their beds. She sobbed theatrically to herself, wishing she did not have to get up and go to the factory, but there was little choice. Tentatively, she emerged from underneath her blanket and put a foot down on the cold floorboards beneath her bed. Oh, she sighed, flinching at the touch of the wood. Mornin, grumpy, said an irritatingly happy voice from the next bed. Gem brushed some of her tumbled blonde hair from her eyes and glanced up to see Ellie already dressed and hunched on the bed next to her. Urgh, was all Gem could reply. Didnt sleep well? asked Ellie in a cheerful manner that made Gem want to set about her, and thereby bring the girl down to her own level of misery. Whatever made you think that? Come on, breakfast is ready, said Ellie, climbing off her bed and skipping away. Gem assumed the skip was a deliberate ploy to irritate her even more, and it succeeded. Gem brushed down her nightgown before reaching for the water jug and pouring some into the washbasin on the cabinet beside her bed. She sighed, looking up at the window above her where light was pouring down through a clear and crisp wintry morning sky. It triggered the memory of the previous night and the strange boy. With a newfound interest in the day, Gem made toilet and rushed her dressing. She folded and placed her nightdress in the box positioned at the end of her bed, where the children could store personal items under lock and key. She secured the padlock and tucked the key back on its piece of string inside the neckline of her drab grey cotton dress. Sitting on her bed, she pulled her boots on and buttoned them before running to catch up with the others who had all made their way to the dining room for breakfast long ago.. The smell of porridge was in the air, but then the smell of porridge was in the air every morning other than Christmas day and Easter. The room was long and narrow, stretching a good height above Gems head up to thick iron rafters. Whitewashed walls did nothing to disguise the brickwork and the long benches set side-by-side followed the entire length of the room, stopping only for a table covered with bowls and spoons beside a large pot of porridge that loomed ominously at the far end in a hearth. Children mixed and talked over their meals, none paying any attention to Gems entrance. She made her way along, scanning the room for the strange boy, but found him absent. Helping herself to the porridge ladle, Gem scooped herself a small bowlful, knowing she would regret it later if she did not manage to eat something, no matter how unappealing it felt at that moment. As she did so, she noted the cook, a brittle and worn looking woman sitting at a bench nearby looking forlornly at a cup of tea before her. Is there a new boy? asked Gem, as if it were something she were idly enquiring about, hoping to mask her need to feed an insatiable appetite of inquisitiveness. What? said the cook, looking up from her tea, interrupted from her meditation. A new boy. I thought I heard someone come in last night? Eh? I dunno. Id be the last to know, said the woman, returning to her tea vigil. Gem raised her eyebrows in a look of mock indignation that went unseen before walking away and taking a seat on the bench next to Ellie. A small huddle of boys opposite were discussing something between them and shifted away as Gem approached.
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So, you got up, then? said Ellie glancing up from the porridge she had almost finished. No, Im still in bed, and planning on staying there for the rest of my life, said Gem glumly. Have you seen a new boy? No. No new boys here today. Not that Ive seen, anyway, said Ellie, rolling her spoon around her bowl, scraping the remaining contents up in a most undignified fashion, turning Gems stomach as she watched. Must you do that? Must you watch? said Ellie with a shrug of her shoulders and twist of her lips, turning her head back to the remains of her bowl and missing Gems scrunched face and poking tongue return her thoughts. I saw a new boy arrive last night. Out the window, said Gem, matter-of-factly. Oh? I spose you love him already? Love at first sight! teased Ellie, rolling her head upon her shoulders and her eyes in her sockets, mimicking a delirious desire. No! I just saw a new boy is all, said Gem, focusing her attention on pushing the grey looking porridge around her bowl without managing to eat any. There was a distinct pause for a moment before Ellie broke the silence, So, what was he like, this boy? Tired, frightened, alone, said Gem, finally mustering up enough courage to eat a spoonful of porridge. Ellie nodded. The description would fit nearly all of the children that had come to the refuge. It was common that children were brought to Dr Vandell, and almost as common that they would run away at the first opportunity. Those that stayed realised what fortune they had stumbled across, but few ever waited long enough to find out, bolting the second they found an unlocked door. I just wondered about him, was all, added Gem. No matter, she said, pushing aside the bowl. I cant eat that today. Come on, lets get to the factory, said Ellie, picking up Gems bowl for her and climbing off the bench. Gem looked up. With a further sigh, she nodded and followed Ellie as she returned the bowls and spoons to the far end of the bench where the cook was still sitting and looking into her tea. The girls wove through the refuges corridors before making their way outside into the crisp air. Morning girls, remarked Dr Vandell as he stood just outside the doorway, puffing on an enormous cigar, apparently taking pleasure in a mixture of smoke and morning air. Dr Vandell, replied the girls in simultaneous greeting. The doctor billowed a cloud of white smoke and warm breath in front of himself before nodding and raising his cigar. Ellie, Gem. The girls smiled and walked on across the cobble-stoned forecourt, hugging each others arms to keep warm. Ellie looked up into the sky, drawing Gems attention after her own. Two giant airships crossed each others paths far overhead, their buzzing oil-engines leaving dark trails of slowly dissipating black smoke behind the great behemoths. After a dozen strides Gem stopped. Just a moment, she said and sprang off in the direction of Dr Vandell.

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Gem ran back to the doctor and looked up at him. He wore a long brown jacket buttoned at the front, looking as impressive and an imposing figure as ever as he towered above her. Err, Dr Vandell. Yes, Gem? he replied, cocking an inquisitive look down at her. I, err. Dont mumble, Gem. It wont do you well in later life. No, sir, she said, rocking uneasily in her stance. I, err. Sorry. I wondered if a new boy had arrived yesterday. Last night in fact. I thought I heard someone arrive during the night. Did you indeed? replied the doctor, pausing to puff twice on his cigar. And, how, in fact, did you hear it was a boy? Err, I Well I did look out of the window for a moment, perhaps. Hmmm perhaps? Well, Gem, yes, a young boy did join us last night and today he will determine if he wishes us to help him, or not, as the case may be. Oh. Dr Vandell puffed again on his cigar, appearing to contemplate a thought for a few seconds. Of course, if he does choose to stay, he will need someone to help him find his way. Perhaps that person could be you, Gem? Of course, Dr Vandell, said Gem with a growing smile, raising herself excitedly up on her toes. Well, off to work then, and we can discuss it more this evening. Yes, sir, she said, whirling around to run back towards to Ellie who stood shivering with a look of exasperation on her face. Tom stayed under his blanket, humming in an attempting to block out the noise and confusion. Boys of various ages boisterously chased around the dormitory fighting, paying Tom little notice where he lay huddled under the cover. A heavy weight settled on the bed beside him and he found the covering pulled away from his head. He attempted to snatch it back, but not before Mrs Johnsons face loomed over the top of it. She wore a dark blue dress overlaid by a white apron at the waist, and a matching white mobcap finished with a small red bow. Good morning, Tom, she said. Did you sleep well? Tom continued humming, staring back at her. Well, first nights in strange places can be like that, cant they? she said, pulling the cover from him. Tom released his grip upon the blanket and lifted himself up. Come on, come on, repeated Mrs Johnson, rotating a hand in a hurrying gesture. The other boys are going to breakfast, but we have a bath ready for you. Mrs Johnson took to her feet and rolled the blanket up in her arms before putting it down upon the bed sheets. Come along! she said, offering a hand for Tom to take. A scent of lavender drifted from her that he found comforting, but he did not accept her hand. He shook his head and pulled his feet from underneath the blanket. Gradually, he stood up, stopping his humming and looked around at the remaining boys who were still dressing themselves with noticeably less volume than had been experienced before an adult had entered the room. This way! said Mrs Johnson, nearly whipping him off his feet as she turned and led Tom by the arm in the direction of the doorway.
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An image snapped into Toms mind. He saw Mrs Johnson sitting on her bed late at night. She held a picture of a proud looking man. She felt sad and lonely. For a moment, that defining emotion became his own. He wrestled free of her grasp and pulled away. Mrs Johnson looked at the boy and tutted, before raising her eyebrows and leading the way. They passed through, baring left and following the hallway to the end of the passage, finding a half open door through which steam rolled. Here, she said, showing Tom through and into the room. We do expect levels of cleanliness here, Tom. You wash each morning and evening with the water placed beside your bed and you will have a bath twice a week, like it or not. The air was warm and the room large and open. The floor consisted of bare boards running to a wall at the far end with a large window heavily misted with condensation. In the centre of the room sat two high-backed copper bathtubs, one of which had been filled with warm water and from which the steam rose. A chair sat beside each tub, and on one rested some towels, a hand scrubber and a worn bar of soap. Two baths, two chairs. It was symmetrical and Tom liked that. Twenty-nine, he said. One, eight. Im sorry? asked Mrs Johnson, looking with bewilderment at Tom, but he did nothing to elaborate on his statement. She paused for a second before nodding at him. Go on then, cast your skin, and Ill leave you to it. Try not to get any water on the floor, she said, leaving the room and pulling the door closed on her way. Tom stood alone, looking around himself. After a time, he put a hand into the bathtub. The water felt inviting, so he undressed and laid his tattered clothes on the back of the chair. Picking up the bar of soap, he stepped up to the bath and carefully put a foot in the water to test the sensation. He climbed in and sat down, allowing his body to relax against the warmth of the water. He lay in the bath and closed his eyes, resting back against the upright of the bath, succumbing to the accumulated tiredness that clung to him. The soap slipped from his fingers and disappeared down into the tub as he drifted away from the world for a time. How long he remained like that, he did not know, but found himself brought back to the world with a sudden fluttering heart as the door burst open, causing him to sit bolt upright and splash a substantial amount of water over the edge of the bathtub. Oh, now! said Mrs Johnson, marching over to the bath and reaching towards the chair beside him. Be careful! she said, tutting at the water rolling across the floor. She picked up all of Toms threadbare items of clothing and whisked them away without a word of explanation, leaving through the door again. Make sure you use that scrubber! she barked behind her, before closing the door on her way out. Tom located the soap and employed the scrubber to good effect. Eventually, he was left in a bath full of very murky looking water, but feeling better for the experience. He climbed out of the tub, and taking the large towel, he dried himself, wrapping the towel about his shoulders. Before long, Mrs Johnson reappeared and seemed happy enough with the job Tom had made of his bathing. Ive put some clothes on your bed, which you should find will fit you. Boots are a bit more difficult, so I put a couple of pairs out for you to try. They arent new, but theyll do you better than nothing, she said, leading him from the bathroom back to his bed in the dormitory.
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Mrs Johnson left Tom to dress himself. He did not want to wear the new clothes, they were not his, but there was no choice, as he wanted to remain in a bath towel even less. He tried on the boots he liked most first, and found they fitted well. Mrs Johnson returned to find Tom wriggling in his new clothes, looking uncomfortable. Here is the one thing I could save from your clothes, she said, handing him his cap. Tom grabbed at it; it felt warm, as if it had been near a fireplace. He pulled it on his damp hair and looked up at Mrs Johnson, who stood with her hands on her hips studying him. Now, young, Tom, look at you. You can speak to me, Tom. I know you can speak. He said nothing. Very well, let us find Dr Vandell. He wants to see you. Come on, she said, issuing an open hand for him to take, but Tom shrank back from her gesture. Mrs Johnson sighed and led Tom through the large building, down the two flights of stairs and traced the corridor back to the office, where he had first been brought to the previous evening. Wait here for a moment, dear, said Mrs Johnson. Ill be but a moment with the doctor first, she said, knocking on the door before entering to an acknowledgement from beyond. Tom stood where he had been told, looking up and down the hallway through nervous, shifting eyes. He could hear a muffled conversation unfolding on the other side of the door, but paid it little attention. After several minutes, Mrs Johnson reappeared and indicated that Tom should enter the study. She left him seated opposite Dr Vandell before closing the door and retiring elsewhere. Well, Tom, said Dr Vandell, leaning forward on his desk. You look a lot better than you did last evening, he said with a gesture at the boys new attire. New clothes. Boots, said Tom, lifting his feet up, his eyes flitting over the many books and objects that lined the studys shelves. Boots, he repeated. You are most welcome, Tom, said Dr Vandell. What else did Mrs Johnson give you? Tom drew his eyes to Dr Vandell. Mine, he said, pointing to his cap. Yes, it is all yours now, Tom. Nobody will take them away from you. Mrs Johnson had to throw away your old clothes. They had served their purpose. Some things have to be thrown away because they are too old. The boys eyes broke away again, falling on a polished marble ink blotter resting on the near edge of the desk. The doctor followed his gaze, Do you know what that is for? he asked. Tom said nothing, his eyes moved on. Its an ink blotter. A rather old one, which I was given as a present. Your new clothes are a present, from me. A rocking motion took Tom. Dr Vandell reclined in his large leather chair. You are a most curious one, he said. He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a silver cigar case, from within which he removed a pre-cut cigar and a match. Forty-seven, said Tom, his eyes still tracing about the room. Forty-seven? Whats Forty-seven, Tom? There was no answer.
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Me? The cigar? The case? Something in this room? Are there forty-seven books, Tom? On the shelves? Tom shrugged. Im fifty-three years of age. Quite old? he said with a laugh. But, Im not fortyseven. The boy nodded several times, causing the doctor to laugh louder. Well, now, what would it be? he asked, tucking away his case and lighting his cigar. He blew upon the match with a meditative thoughtfulness, dropping it carefully into the ashtray on his desk. He stood, walked to the bookshelf, and began running his finger over the spines of the books, rapidly counting them aloud to himself. He reached thirty and decided there must be more than sixty books before him. He shook his head, attempting to cast away the confusion and retook his seat where he meditated for a moment. How many books are on the shelf, Tom? Tom stopped his rocking action and shuffled from the chair. He walked to the shelf and starting with the lowest book in the nearest corner, he began mimicking the doctors previous action and counting each individual book. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six, No, Tom. Its all right. I dont need to know how many books there are anymore. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten, No, Tom. Im sorry. I dont need to know. Its all right. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Dr Vandell rested his cigar on the lip of the ashtray and drew his hand across his forehead. He climbed from his chair and moved beside the boy, looking down at him. I know you dont like people to touch you, Tom. So, would you please stop counting the books? Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-one. Tom! Twenty-two. Twenty-three. Twenty-four. Dr Vandell clapped his hands together and the air snapped. Tom stopped his counting and looked up through alarmed eyes. Its all right, Tom. Im not going to hurt you. Please sit down again, he asked. He stepped backwards carefully, retaking his seat behind his desk. Look, see? Please, sit, he said, opening his hands towards the chair Tom had recently vacated. Toms face welled with tears. He stood and rocked in tiny back and forth motions, humming a quiet and tuneless note to himself, pausing only for further breath. Tom began Dr Vandell, picking his cigar back up, drawing upon it and then poking the air. I have something you may like! The doctor reached into one of his lower drawers and pulled out a wooden box. Look, he said, putting the box on his desk, unhooking a tiny brass latch and opening the lid. Have you played with these before? he asked, tipping the box up to show a collection of various coloured glass marbles. Tom paid no attention. He was staring intently at the bookshelf, continuing with his actions of rocking and humming. Dr Vandell took to his feet, and placing his cigar between his teeth, he lifted the box from the table and carried it to Tom, showing him the contents. Tom looked at the box and his humming dissipated. He reached out and picked up a marble, turning it in his fingers.
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Very well, perhaps that is enough for the time being, said the doctor, handing the box to the boy. Lets see if Mrs Johnson can take you somewhere you find more relaxing.

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Chapter Three

Responsibilities
Gem walked along Plymouth Road with slumped shoulders and small steps. The flagstones underfoot were uneven and slippery with ice, particularly perilous in the diminishing evening light. Come on! she whined at Ellie, who was several paces behind her. I aint in no hurry, and you seem to be forgetting that Ive been injured, said Ellie, dragging her feet more than Gem found necessary, while cradling one hand in the other. Your mistake, and it aint that bad. You know better than to go messing with the bobbins when the looms are going. I do now, was the simple reply as Ellie drew up to Gems shoulder and they continued the path together. I gotta go see Dr V when we get back, said Gem mysteriously, deliberately so. Why, has he asked you to look after the new boy? How did you know that? asked Gem, with a disappointed look. It dont take a detective to work it out, Gem. You were all curious about some new boy, and then you have a quick chat with Dr V on the way out this morning, now you cant wait to get back. Oh. What is it about him that interests you so much? Oh, I dunno. The beard, I think, said Gem, grinning. Not Dr V! The boy! Gem giggled. I told you; he just looked like he needed a friend, is all. And this you could tell from a glance through a window? Yes, I could, but Dr V did ask me to show him about and look after him. I expect hell want to speak to me the moment we get back, said Gem with a cocky waver of her head. As the pair closed in on the refuge, the sky darkening with each passing minute, Gem noticed a tall, thin man dressed in ragged clothes standing in the street opposite. He seemed to her to be some kind of homeless vagrant, who was watching the refuge from the thickening shadows of the street. For a moment, their eyes met as he looked directly at her and Gem shrank under his penetrating stare. She looked sideways to Ellie for reassurance, who she found too consumed by her hand to have noticed. When Gem looked back at where the vagrant had been, she found only shadows, and a chill ran down her spine.
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It was at the end of dinner, and an unexceptional meal of stew and dumplings, when Dr Vandell requested Gems attendance in his office. She stood before the door, her hand hesitating in its knocking action for a moment and her heart thumping in her chest as she stared at the dark wooden face of the door and hand painted letters that read Dr J. Vandell. Every time Gem had to speak with Dr Vandell and gave herself enough time to think about it, she always managed to work herself into a flustered state, never knowing exactly why. She knocked on the office door and waited. Come in, replied the doctors voice from within. Gem twisted the heavy handle and opened the door, stepping into the room before turning and closing it behind her. The warmth of the fireplace was almost overwhelming. Gems memory drifted back to almost three years before; to a day when she had sat alone on a chair in the single dingy room she had shared with her father, her arms lying across the uneven table surface before her. She stared out of the window at the street below and had to blink several times before she could decide that it was her eyes, not the glass, that were misty. A tap came at the door. May I come in? asked a deep yet temperate voice from the hallway. Gem wiped her face and put her hands neatly in her lap, but said nothing. The door began to creak open on weary hinges, followed by another knock as the voice called out again. Hello? Gem watched as the door opened wider and a tall man with well-groomed grey hair and beard appeared around its edge. Miss Lightfoot? Gemma? said the man. She neither nodded nor answered his question. If I may introduce myself, I am Dr Vandell. Im here because, perhaps, I might be able to help you. Gem had heard the name before. He was a wealthy gentleman who often visited the more insalubrious areas of the city, offering free medical services to those that would queue to see him, but to most, Gem included, he was yet another middle-class do-gooder that would inevitably fail to carry through with their self-designated pathway to Gods favour. The doctor stepped into the room. He held his hat between his hands and met Gem with pale grey eyes, which looked more tired than she thought he had any right to be. He seemed uncomfortable and ill at ease as he turned and closed the door behind him. Im here to help, if you will allow me, he said. Gem looked at him silently. You are Gemma Lightfoot, arent you? The lady downstairs said I would find you here. The doctor took a step forwards and then stopped. All she found within herself was a single nod. May I sit? asked Dr Vandell, reaching out and gesturing towards the chair opposite Gems own at the table. Gem shrugged her shoulders with indifference, to which Dr Vandell pulled the chair out and seated himself, laying his hat on the tabletop. I heard that your father died two days ago. I thought I might be able to offer some assistance. He met an empty silence and a cold stare. And that your mother died some time ago. Consumption, came a croaky reply.
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Im sorry? She died of consumption, when I was four. Im sorry to hear that. It must have been very difficult for both you and your father. What would you know? said Gem. She knew the words were harsh and her father would have chastised her had he heard, but she wanted to hurt someone, if only so they felt a fraction of the pain burning inside her that refused to lessen. I lost my wife several years ago. It was a long and terrible illness. She, the doctor paused, his eyes drifting down to the table and his hands. She was very special to me. Gem bit her bottom lip which was trembling and about to betray her. The edges of her mouth turned down and a lump began to swell in her throat. I never got to say goodbye to him, she said. Your father? He just laid down on the bed and never woke up, she said, her voice cracking with strain. She sniffed and rubbed at her nose with the back of her hand. Its never easy to lose someone you love, but to be alone in the world, at your age, with nobody to turn to well Gem had managed to fight back the tears, but the dam burst as he spoke. It was the word alone that proved too much. She dropped her head into her arms and fell upon the table sobbing and shaking with grief. I aint got no money to live here beyond the end of the week. I cant even pay to have him buried proper! she cried, her face concealed deep within her arms. Why did he have to die? Dr Vandell reached forward and put a hand on her arm, I dont know why, but I do know the pain will become less with time. The good memories will become stronger, and eventually you will smile when you think of him, and feel lucky for knowing him at all. Never, cried Gem. Itll never get better. This pain will never go away, and he will never come back. Ill help, said Dr Vandell, taking to his feet and moving to Gems side, stooping to put an arm across her shoulders and comfort her. You neednt be alone. I will help pay for your father to be buried properly, if you would like. Gem looked up, her eyes and cheeks puffy and red. Why would you? she asked, stifling her sobbing until it became a series of quick successive intakes of sharp breath. Because I know. I know what it is like to lose somebody. My wife and I always hoped for children, yet it was not to be, and when she passed on, I decided to do something worthy of her memory. She had always loved children so much, and it was painful for me never to see her blessed with our own. So, I have decided to open a refuge for destitute children. Somewhere that children who would be too old to be taken in by orphanages, but too young to properly look after themselves. You would be the first person to live under its roof, but there will be more. Friends for you. I can promise safety, food and warmth until you are fourteen. Youd have to find employment of some kind, something safe, and put some of your money away each week so that you have something with which to meet the world when you are ready. Gem sniffed again and dried her cheeks with her fingers. She looked up at the doctor and met his deep grey eyes. What do you say, Gemma? asked Dr Vandell, patting her on the shoulder and smiling. Gem, she said, sniffing. Everyone calls me Gem.
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*** Ah, Gem, said the doctor, turning his seat away from the analytical engine positioned behind his desk as he withdrew his fingers from its long instruction keys. He flipped a switch and the machines humming fell away to silence and its pinhead display reset itself. The model four analytical engine was a modern marvel, according to Dr Vandell, and he treated it reverentially. All of his visitors were offered a demonstration if they should ask about it, which was likely given the cost and rarity of even a model two. Gem found it interesting, but never really understood how anyone could be so excited about such a thing; it was only a machine after all. A great, humming, often clunking, machine that took up the better part of the doctors far desk. She liked it best whenever she saw the machines delicate matrix of thousands of output pins began to arrange themselves into patterns and pictures. Sometimes the children were even allowed to play noughts and crosses on it, but always supervised by Dr Vandell himself, for which Gem did not blame him. Unchaperoned children in the vicinity of the machine would have spelt disaster for its intricate cogs and inner-workings. Dr Vandell said you could even communicate using the model four with people that had their own analytical engines elsewhere. Gem entered further into the room where the distinct smell of cigars hung in the air and she found herself wanting to cough in order to clear her throat. Take a seat, Gem. Thank you, sir, said Gem as she lifted herself onto the first of the two chairs seated across from Dr Vandell. So, you are aware of the new boy. Well, his name is Tom. Gem nodded. Dr Vandell pushed his fingertips together and rested his elbows upon his desk, looking over his hands at her. I think he needs some help, he said after a moment of reflective thought. He may relate better to someone nearer his own age than to adults, and I know you understand what its like to be alone, so I thought you would be the best person to help. We think hes about nine years old, which would seem about right, although he is mentally underdeveloped for his age. Anything else you can find out about where he comes from, or any details of any family would help immensely. Anything I can do, sir, said Gem. Dr Vandell appeared not to even notice her, flexing his fingers against each other and almost staring through Gem. I want you to introduce yourself to him, but there are going to be some rules. Yes, sir. Firstly, and perhaps most importantly for yourself; you must not try to touch him. Tom seems to dislike physical contact, to the extent that it causes him distress. Secondly, he seems distant, as if your words cannot reach him; so do not get angry with him. No shouting, stamping or clapping around him. Nothing boisterous. Dr Vandell stopped, lowering his hands and ensuring he had strong eye contact with Gem, Nothing boisterous, he repeated in careful syllables. Gem nodded. If at any point his behaviour seems threatening to you or endangering himself or someone else, you are to immediately seek a member of my staff, or myself. Is that clear? Gem was beginning to become worried. Nobody had ever asked for such responsibility from her. Perhaps she did not want to know about this strange boy so much.
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Gem, if I can suggest one thing to you? Of course, Dr Vandell, said Gem thinking to herself that he had just supplied her with a long list of requests. Try to contact him on his level. Dont ask or expect him to relate to you on your level. Treat him the way you would a much younger child who simply cannot understand you. I think he may be a little slow, and very frightened. Yes, sir. And, if you can, see if you can work out what the numbers mean. The numbers? she asked with a confused look. Youll see, answered Dr Vandell smiling. Youll find him with Mrs Johnson. I shall have a walk about and talk to the other children about Tom, and ask that they leave him alone for the time being. Yes, sir. Nobody paid note of vagrant, nobody ever did. Those that saw him looked through him as if he were not there. Even if they bumped into him as they passed along the street, still they would not turn back and offer a common courtesy of apology, simply because they had struck nothing of consequence. This was the way in which he liked it. The vagrant walked along the street, bent humbly low, avoiding eye contact with anyone, making it his duty to step aside when faced with someone approaching towards him, thereby ensuring his invisibility. He sniffed and wiped at his crooked nose with the back of his tattered overcoat sleeve, following it with a most hideous inward snort that would unsettle the most iron of stomachs to hear. He turned in to an alleyway beside a butchers shop, studying the street from the shadows the high brick walls cast upon him. There he stood for a further five minutes, observing the street like an owl, his head moving from side-to-side in sharp movements, his dark and recessed eyes assessing each person that went by. There were easier ways, but this was the way in which he liked it. Then, in an instant, he grew as still as the bricks around him, his eyes keenly focusing on their target. A man on the far side of the street walked briskly, his cane striking the pavement half a second before his right foot. He was well dressed and walked so far in an upright position that it appeared as if he wore an iron bar along the length of his spine. The man seemed pleased with himself, and even went as far as to tip his hat to each woman he met upon the street. The vagrant saw what he wanted and made his move. He pulled out of the shadows and strode along the opposite side of the street, overtaking his quarry before pacing some distance ahead. Skilfully, he crossed the busy road, weaving between the horses and carriages that made their way along the London streets at a speed often fatal to those caught in their path. Once the vagrant reached the same side of the road as his prey, he turned back to face him, catching sight of the man through the other pedestrians between them. Remaining invisible to the world and staying close to the roadside, the vagrant maintained a keen eye on the approaching man until he was within ten feet. When the timing was right, he willed the cane to miss its placement, causing the man to unbalanced himself and topple towards the pavement. The vagrant reached out and grabbed the man by the arm, helping break his fall and returning him safely to his feet. For a moment, he was no longer invisible.
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Why! I I almost fell then! Thank you sir, said the man, hesitating on what to do next. He decided to lift his hat in acknowledgment of the vagrant and then took off on his way, quickly and less sure-footedly. The vagrant faded away from the world again, scurrying along the street in the opposite direction of the man, pleased at the success of his endeavour. His thrust his hand deep into his overcoat pocket, where his thumb traced the contours of the gold pocket watch he had stolen from his prey. Gem heard Mrs Johnson before she saw her, her voice boomed through a doorway and along the corridor. thankfully, we dont starch, there just arent enough hours in the day, or hands to do the work, for that kind of treatment. Rounding the corner of the door, Gem found Mrs Johnson running a box-iron across some sheets she had draped over a long ironing board, gaily talking away to a seemingly empty laundry room. And to be totally honest, if things are running behind, then we dont always iron the sheets Mrs Johnson? said Gem, by way of introducing herself. Looking up from her iron with a startled expression, Mrs Johnson seemed surprised to be interrupted from her monologue on daily activities. Ah, Gem! she said with a flustered smile as she rested the iron on the stand beside her. We were expecting you. Gem crinkled her forehead in confusion, as she could not see anyone else in the room, simply four large tubs, one of which was full with soapy water, accompanying washing peggys and several piles of folded, but crumpled, linen in baskets. This is Tom, said Mrs Johnson, holding a hand out in indication of someone behind the door. Gem leant around the door and found the boy sitting on a round stool looking up at her through wide blue eyes beneath a rough fringe of dark hair and a sagging cloth cap. Most of his clothes did not fit, and his whole demeanour seemed to say the clothes did not belong to him, anymore than he did to them. Between his hands, he held a small wooden box fastened with a brass catch. Hello, Tom, said Gem. Its nice to meet you. My name is Gem, she said, thrusting a hand out in offer. After a few seconds, she retracted the handshake and glanced sideways at Mrs Johnson. Im sorry, I forgot. I know you dont like to be touched. Tom, now you go along with Gem and play. Perhaps you can show her your marbles? suggested Mrs Johnson helpfully. Marbles? said Gem, I love marbles! Tom shook his head and held the box tightly against his body. Well, we dont have to. Perhaps we can just have a look around. Come along now, said Mrs Johnson, cocking her head at Gem and the door. Tom stood, still clutching the box in his hands. He looked at Gem fleetingly through brilliant blue eyes. Ive got a toy, attempted Gem as a point of conversation. Shes a doll, and her name is Lady Fairchild. Would you like to see her? Tom returned an empty gaze.
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Maybe not, sighed Gem, leaving the laundry room. I wouldnt expect a boy to be interested in the finer things in she stopped herself; realising Tom was not following her. Gem looped back into the laundry room, witnessing Mrs Johnson with her hands on her hips, looking down at Tom, who had retaken his position on the stool. Now, Tom! chastised Mrs Johnson followed with a firm look and pursed lips. Off you go with Gem, she said, pointing at the doorway. Tom looked at Mrs Johnson for an instant before sliding back off the stool and taking two short steps towards Gem. Thats right, said Gem, resisting the urge to put a hand out to guide the boy. Mrs Johnson positioned herself behind Tom and hurried him from the room. I will see you later, before bed, she said, closing the door after him. Tom looked back at the door. Its all right, said Gem. She led him away from the laundry room, checking every few feet or so that he was following. As they toured the building, several other children met them as they passed, but none took particular interest in Tom other than to look him up and down. The new arrival however, seemed to shudder away from each person as if pre-empting any form of possible confrontation. The first thing Gem decided to show him was the dining hall and its benches set along its long walls. They found it largely empty apart from a handful of girls sitting talking, who immediately stopped and looked at Gem and Tom as they stood in the doorway. That the new boy? asked one. Yes, this is Tom, said Gem with a flourish of the hands towards the boy beside her. And this is Edith, Merrill and Flo, introduced Gem in reverse. The girls turned away, indicating the two were not worth their interest, and resumed their conversation. Really! said Gem under her breath. Well, this is where we come for our meals, but theres not much more to say about it than that, she snapped, turning on one heal indignantly and marching from the room. Tom waited for a moment and then followed her, still clutching his box of marbles in his arms. The next stop was a large room at the back of the second floor where two younger boys, near Toms own age, sat at the far end playing with a castle, which was little more than four pieces of painted wooden boards slotted together, and a small collection of knight figurines. Do you like knights? Gem asked. Toms wondered about the room, surveying its contents, but he did not answer. Gem tried again, Do you like knights? she asked louder. Tom turned to her and shook his head. Letting out a deep breath, she showed him some of the items in the room. Skipping rope. Although, you must use that outside in the courtyard. Blocks. Hoops, trap and ball, tip cat Oh, you might like this, said Gem, pointing to a corner. A toy theatre, but I think most of it has been put together already. Doesnt mean you cant play with it though! she said hopefully. Do you wanna make a play? she asked. Tom looked on at her, displaying no signs of interest or desire. Nah, its kids stuff, aint it? Do you want to play with the marbles instead? Im quite good.
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He shook his head and pulled the small box even tighter to his body. I wont take them away from you, theyre yours, she tried in an attempt to relax him, but to no avail. Gems shoulders sagged. She was beginning to feel defeated. There aint much here, she said. I mean, not much more to show you. I cant go into the boys dormitory and I dont think youd like the club room. She waited for a while, pondering within her own thoughts. Would you like to go outside? she asked suddenly. Tom gave no reply. Well, lets go have a look, said Gem, leading him away from the room. They threaded their way through the buildings twisting corridors before they reached a heavy looking door on the ground floor. Gem pushed it open, and, as drafty as it had been in the building, a new level of coldness washed over the pair as the night air spilled across them. Gem stepped out into the dark courtyard as Earl Grey slunk in past her ankles, having been regally waiting for someone to open the door for him. Do you like cats? asked Gem to no reply. Me neither, she said. Turning, Gem watched as Tom walked forwards, a tentative step at a time. She took a deep breath of the frosty air and looked up at the stars. Mmmm, she murmured. Tom stepped beside her and followed her eyes upwards. It was the closest he had ventured towards her in the past half hour, and for that Gem was pleased. My real name is Gemma. Gemma Lightfoot, she said. But I hate Gemma, so everyone calls me Gem. She hesitated, unsure of what to say next. Dr Vandell told me what it means. Gemma is Latin. Do you know what it means? It means Tom spoke, Jewel. Her eyes widened, and she stared at the boy bathed in the gaslight from the street lamp across the courtyard. You can speak! Tom looked away over the frosted cobblestones, his eyes darting from one point of interest within the courtyard to the next. Gem contained herself, she wanted to grasp his arms and shake him into sentiency. Gemma, she said. It means There was no answer. My name is Gemma. Its Latin. It means. Nothing. I really dont know she said to herself, turning away from the boy, folding her arms across her chest and looking into the night. She shook her head several times before glancing back at the boy. For once, he studied the same thing as her. She looked back at the stars. That, she said, pointing at a bright constellation, is Orion. The boy shook his head. Yes, it is. That is the group of stars called Orion. I learned it. Again, the boy shook his head. Yes, it is, said Gem resolutely. Tom shook his head. Gem dropped her face from looking at the sky and turned to the boy. Very slowly, Tom placed his wooden box on the wet cobblestones underfoot and crouched to open it. From within he took eight of the marbles and held them flat upon his hand as he stood straight again.
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Jewel, he said, raising his hand forward. The marbles levitated from his palm and a few feet forwards into the night air. They rotated around each other before stopping in a pattern that Gem recognised as being Orion. They floated up until they were high in the night sky. Tom turned and the marbles turned with him, aligning themselves with a group of stars above Gems head, displaying the true Orion constellation. Tom smiled back at Gems own smile of wonder, but she failed to notice, mesmerised by the event before her. I knew it, she said, excitedly bouncing on her toes. I knew it! Youre not normal! As the words fell from her tongue, she knew that therein lay a problem.

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Chapter Four

The Incident with Mrs Davies

The pair stood in silence as Gem wrestled with the experience. She slowly walked around the marbles hanging in the night air before them. Standing on tiptoes, she reached up and took the bottommost one between her fingertips. It came away in her hand with the slightest of pulls, but all the time she held the little glass ball she could feel it wanting to return to the pattern. She opened her fingers and let it float back through the air, where it retook its former position. She spluttered, unable to vocalise her wonderment. Who left this door wide open? demanded a voice approaching them from within the building. The marbles fell from the air to the stones underfoot, clinking and scattering themselves across the yard. Immediately, Tom rushed forward and began picking them up, chasing the rolling spheres as they dispersed in different directions. Who left this door open? repeated the voice. Gem recognised it as belonging to Mrs Davies, an imposing Welsh woman who answered to Mrs Johnson, and liked nothing more than to terrify the children. So, it was you, was it, Lightfoot? came the booming voice as Mrs Davies reached the doorway and looked down on the pair of children through narrow eyes and a thin, disapproving, down turned mouth. Lines of middle age ran across her forehead and around the corners of her lips in deep furrows. I should have known, she said, piercing Gem with scorn while shaking her head. And whats this? she asked, pointing at Tom. Tom, maam, replied Gem. She disliked three things at the refuge immensely and they had never gotten any better over the years. Privacy was one that you simply had to learn to deal without, and was to Gems mind, unavoidable, so you just had to get on with it. Secondly, the overgrown mog, Earl Grey. However, he largely kept out of her way and she out of his, and they found a balance to their mutual dislike. Finally, and vastly outweighing all of her previous list, Mrs Davies. Dr Vandell did not believe in beating the children and therefore prohibited it as a method of punishment, but Mrs Davies found this simply increased her creativeness, and the children feared many forms of her wrath; from spoonfuls of sickening soda and rhubarb, to being locked in various cupboards or scrubbing floors for hours upon end.

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Mrs Davies folded her arms under her breast, signalling her disapproval. Her spidery black hair was pinned up in a tightly twisted pile, and it made her look even taller as she looked down on the children. Gem bent and collected two of the marbles that had landed at her feet. And what, exactly, is it that you two are doing out here at this time of night? And why, exactly, have you left the front entrance wide open? I began Gem, unsure of where to take her reply, but straightening herself upright and trying to present some form of composure to Mrs Davies. Do you think for one moment that Dr Vandell pays good money for you to heat the whole of London by leaving the doors wide open in the middle of winter? No, maam, came Gems weak reply. And you, whats wrong with you? demanded Mrs Davies of Tom. Dr Vandell asked me to look after him, said Gem. I dont recall asking you. I was speaking to the boy, she spat acidly back at Gem. Again, she looked towards Tom, who was opening his wooden box and putting the marbles in, paying no attention to the daunting figure of Mrs Davies at all. Gem realised this was aggravating the situation significantly. Mrs Davies, Tom isnt but Gem found herself cut-off before she could finish her sentence. Enough. Inside, the pair of you! snapped the woman, pointing an arm and extended finger at the doorway. Gem began to make her way back into the refuge before looking across at Tom. Come on, Tom, she said, waving her hand, indicating that he should join them by her side. Tom looked at her and shook his head, turning back to hunching over and searching across the cobblestones for the missing marbles in the dark. I have them, said Gem, taking a step towards Tom, holding her hand out to show him the marbles. Get in the building at once! barked Mrs Davies. Gem shuddered and bent backwards, as if pressured to do so by the force of the order. But, Mrs Davies But, nothing! screeched the woman, thrusting a finger at the open door. Gem obeyed, taking a few steps towards the door, shaken by the nature of the command and the strength of the womans anger. Mrs Davies marched across the courtyard to Tom, grabbing him by the arm and lifting him towards her, before wrenching the wooden box from his grip and pulling him towards the door. Tom felt the sudden loss of himself and the courtyard disappeared. He saw the woman as a young girl. He stood beside her unknown, watching her as she whimpered in fear. A big man with dirty hands bellowed at her, his face awash with rage. He told her that she was ruining his life, as he pushed her into the pitch black of the cellar and locked the door on her. The cellar terrified her and he knew the fear as his own. Tom screamed. Dont touch him! cried Gem in warning. I beg your pardon! snapped Mrs Davies, pulling the frightened looking boy behind her. It was then that he growled and bit her hand. Gem gasped in surprise.
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Mrs Davies stopped dead and turned on Tom, OW! You bit me, you little devil! How dare you? She drew one of her arms across her body as if she were about to backhand him. Tom looked terrified and retreated away from the woman the second her hand released its grip about his arm. Mrs Davies appeared stunned for moment, before shaking off the surprise and lunging again at Toms wrist. Tom withdrew, pulling away before crying out at her. No! As his word echoed about the courtyard, Mrs Davies was cast back, physically knocked from her feet by a tremendous force that ballooned out around Tom in a heat-like wave that momentarily distorted the air around him. Mrs Davies fell like a rag doll, dropping the box, which shattered on the cobblestones, allowing the marbles to escape again. Gem rushed to her side and knelt over her. Are you all right? asked Gem, picking up Mrs Davies hand. The woman looked shocked. For a moment, she stared silently across the courtyard at Tom. Why the evil little she began. Dr Vandell and Mrs Johnson came rushing into the yard, as did a group of three of the other children, following them out into the courtyard to investigate the commotion. Whatever is going on? cried Dr Vandell. He looked about the scene and moved quickly to Mrs Davies side, helping Gem to assist the fallen woman. He knocked me clean off my feet! said Mrs Davies, raising a finger towards Tom, who had retreated several more paces and had covered his eyes with his hands and began to hum loudly to himself, rocking back and forth in his stance. Mrs Johnson looked between the two sides of the yard and quickly made her way to Tom, where she stopped and got down on her knees, preventing herself from touching him by placing her hands on her lap. What happened? asked Dr Vandell, looking at Gem. Mrs Davies wanted us to come inside, but Tom was collecting the marbles which he had dropped, and when she pulled him Gem was unsure of what to say next, but Mrs Davies was not troubled with such difficulties. The little rat bit me, and then pushed me off my feet. Gem let a breath of relief out, unsure though if Mrs Davies was trying to convince herself that Tom had physically pushed her, or that she believed that is what happened. Either way, Gem left it unchallenged. I tried to explain, she said. Yes, yes, of course, said the doctor, looking with concern at Mrs Davies. Are you hurt? he asked. No. Nothing broken. Although, I was lucky the terror didnt break the skin where he bit me! Are you sure you arent hurt? As if in answer, Mrs Davies shook both the doctor and Gem away from her as she straightened her hair and clothing. Aside from the others, Mrs Johnson was still attempting to calm Tom without touching him, to little avail, as he continued rocking and humming to himself, his hands pressed on his eyes, covering his face. Perhaps you ought to retire for the evening, Mrs Davies? suggested Dr Vandell. No, no I just arrived. You cannot allow these children to get the better of you like that! Show no weakness, Dr Vandell. Yes, of course, he said. This whole situation is unfortunately of my making, as I failed to inform you of our new boy, Tom. I was going to tell you a little later.
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Im sure you were, said Mrs Davies, looking sideways at a growing group of children gathering by the door, peering out with unchecked curiosity at the dramatics. I expect them both to be punished, you understand? I must insist upon it. Well, we can discuss that, but Tom is a unique boy, who needs great understanding and Yes, well, Doctor, she said interrupting him, I should get back to work. Mrs Davies turned on a heel with a newly cultivated look of sternness upon her face and began striding back into the building, pointing at the group of children in the doorway and flicking her fingers at them. What do you all think you are doing? she said, and the onlookers scattered back into the building as she moved towards them. Soon, Gem and Dr Vandell were the only ones left watching Mrs Johnson attempting to calm Tom. She was singing gently to him, with some measure of success. We very much fear, That we have lost our mittens. Lost your mittens! You naughty kittens! Then you shall have no pie. Mee-ow, mee-ow, mee-ow. She sang the words soothingly. Eventually the humming stopped and Tom reappeared from behind his hands, his face reddened and wet. Gem began to collect the marbles from the ground, scooping them up into a makeshift pocket she made from a fold in her dress. Mrs Johnson continued to whisper to Tom as Dr Vandell assisted Gem with the collection of the marbles. I fear Ive made a terrible mistake, Gem, he said, bending beside her and shaking his head. Why, sir? Mrs Davies didnt understand that Tom doesnt like to be touched. No, Gem. The issue is that this is a refuge for children. Somewhere for those who are without homes to stay. It is not an orphanage, and we dont have the resources to look after someone like Tom in the way that they, or perhaps a hospital, would be able to, he said, straightening up and passing Gem a handful of the glass marbles. No, please, sir! Not somewhere like that, pleaded Gem. Its just a matter of time. Hell fit in. Im sure of it. Its not that easy, Gem. Youve spent some time with him and seen how he is. He cannot relate to people properly. Youve seen what can come of that. He could have bitten Mrs Davies finger off, or considerably hurt her when she fell. She brought that on herself. It may well have been, but the result is the same. Mrs Johnson doesnt need to be trained in how to handle someone like Tom. Tom needs to be trained to meet people like Mrs Johnson. He needs far more supervision than we can offer here. The refuge is about helping young people become adults, and begin to look after and provide for themselves. Its clear already that Tom wont ever be able to do that. You dont know that! said Gem.

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Not for certain, but Im sure that in order to find the answer, he needs to look for it elsewhere. No, my mind is made up. In the morning, I will contact some people and find somewhere far more suitable for Tom. Somewhere that he will be happy. But, hes special! Of that I have no doubt, Gem, but that only emphasises the need he has for special care. Anyway, lets sleep on it, and if you want, we can discuss it tomorrow. With that, the doctor signalled the end of the conversation by turning towards Mrs Johnson and Tom, deep in a conversation of their own, although it appeared heavily one-sided in Mrs Johnsons favour. Perhaps a nice cup of hot coco too, she said to Tom, smiling. I think a boy would like that before bedtime. Gem ambled towards the pair of them and showed the contents of the pocket she had made with her dress to Tom. The box is broken, but theyre all here, she said, with a nod towards the marbles. Tom shook his head and looked up at Mrs Johnson, who smiled in return and stood. Gem watched them leave and a feeling of failure engulfed her. Dr Vandell reached inside his pocket and took out his cigar case, removing a cigar and striking a match to light it. Fifteen, Tom said to Mrs Johnson, as he followed her back through the doorway. The vagrant slunk along under a high wall, following its path and falling into its shadow. He stopped, looked about until he had assured himself that nobody observed him, and dropped down into a crouch. From within his right overcoat pocket he pulled out a dirtied white handkerchief tied into a neat pouch at each of the four corners. The bundle clinked as he laid it upon the ground before himself. Carefully, he untied the knotted corners and unfolded the handkerchief, exposing the contents; a mixed collection of small screws, tiny bolts, short pins, cogs, gears and numerous other delicate looking items. He reached into his opposite pocket, withdrawing the gold pocket watch he had stolen, and began turning it in his hands, studying its craftsmanship, his grimy fingernails tracing its contours. As if the watch suddenly grew distasteful to him, the vagrant struck the it against the ground with a sharp slap of his hand, shattering its glass. He began pulling at the broken face and feverously striking it against the ground several more times. Eventually the casing fell apart and he sifted through the inner workings of the watch, shaking them out onto his handkerchief and adding the mechanisms components to his strange collection of tiny items. He casually discarded the gold casing before turning his interest to a coiled spring before him. He squeezed it between his thumb and forefinger, nodding to himself in approval and added it to the pile of parts. He began sorting through the pieces with his dirty fingernails, pulling parts towards himself and pushing others away until he formed a small separate pile of tiny mechanical components. The vagrant drew his hand across his mouth, his eyes darting quickly across the handkerchief before him. He reached out with his arm and placed his palm above the selection of parts. The pieces shook for an instant and the tiny cogs and pins began to draw towards each other across the cloth of the handkerchief, slotting together to form a delicate framework. Other pieces joined, seemingly of their own will, until a clockwork dragonfly crawled forth from the handkerchief and onto the ground. It fluttered its mechanical wings with a buzz,
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before taking to the air and hovering in front of the vagrant, who smiled as he observed the strange creature before him.

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Chapter Five

The Dark Men

The following day was Sunday, which meant no work and a short reprieve from the relentless motions of the rest of the week. Other than Reverend Grants visit and testament readings after dinner, the day was the childrens own. The refuge was largely empty by mid-morning, as many of the children had gone outside, leaving only a few behind in the clubroom. The weather was bitter and everyone expected the darkening grey of the sky to bring snow with it before long, and it seemed one adult could not pass another without mentioning the fact. Gem had tried to follow Tom and Mrs Johnson about the building, but had grown bored quickly and so she chose to lie on her bed with her shoes on the blanket, knowing she would be in trouble if someone discovered her doing so. She felt grumpy and lazy, willing to argue with anyone that came near her. She stared at the high ceiling with her arms behind her head, sighing to herself. Outside she could hear a mixture of childrens voices in a cacophony of shrill screaming and chants as they played games in the courtyard. Urgh, grunted Gem, rolling onto her side, placing her hands under her face as a makeshift pillow. She continued to lie in that position for a further fifteen minutes, closing her eyes, but never falling asleep, further fuelling her dislike that afternoon of the rest of the world. Eventually she noticed a difference. At first she was unable to put her finger on it, but quickly realised that the children outside had become quiet. Mentally she thanked them and assumed they had moved on elsewhere, but a click-clack of horses hooves across the courtyard and a rumbling of a carriage soon followed. Gem lifted herself from the bed and climbed upon the ironwork bedstead to peer down through one of the windows where she found the arrival of a strange coach in the yard had forced the children to move back in order to make way. The driver reigned in the horses, bringing the carriage to a halt. After only a moment, the door opened and a man with dark eyes and tightly drawn lips stepped out of the coach, followed by a taller, broader companion with thick feral-looking side-whiskers. The striking men were dressed identically. Each wore a black suit, with frock jackets reaching to slightly above the knee, at which point perfectly matching trousers ran down to meet highly polished shoes. Both wore crisp white wing-collared shirts, showing just an inch
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or so at the wrist. Around the neck, each man wore a well-secured black bow tie, and both carried matching derby hats. Together the men struck an imposing image and the children in the yard watched silently as they approached the door to the refuge. In her time at the refuge, Gem had witnessed many visitors. None had ever been so formal looking, not even the occasional visits some of the refuges children had warranted the police to make over the years. A feeling rose in her stomach and she instinctively knew something was happening concerning Tom. Leaping from the bed, Gem ran from the room and raced to the ground floor. Breathing heavily, she made her way to the hallway outside Dr Vandells office, just in time to catch sight of the strange men, led in by the doctor, who closed the door to the office as they disappeared inside. Gem crept to the door and put her head towards its surface, holding her ear only an inch from the wood as she attempted to listen to the conversation on the far side. Welcome, gentlemen. Thank you, Dr Vandell, said one of the men in little more than a whisper that was difficult for Gem to discern. Please allow us to introduce ourselves properly. This is Mr Voyce, and I am Mr Payne. Its a pleasure to meet you both, said the doctor. Perhaps, I may offer you a cigar? No. replied Mr Payne abruptly, before suffixing his response with, Thank you, we do not smoke. Now, if we may begin said Payne, wasting no time, I shall move on to the issue at hand. We understand that you currently have a boy in your possession. A boy by the name of Tom. An unusual boy. The words lingered long after they were spoken. Each passing S hissing snakelike through the air. Gem disliked him immensely, without a reasonable hesitation in doing so. Well, sir, I dont know if I would go so far as to describe him as being in my possession, but yes, there is a young boy who has recently joined us, of that name. Perhaps, I may ask how you came to hear of this. Gem made out the sound of a match being struck and bursting into flame. Yes, of course, said Mr Payne. The boy we seek ran away from St. Andrews Home for Boys, in Coventry, some three months ago, he replied, employing syllables held onto for too long and letters sharply over-pronounced. Really? Yes, and we have been sent to collect him. We heard that he was in the area, and were referred to your refuge. Mmm... And would you be able to give me a better description of the boy you seek? Of course, doctor came the elongated reply. He is a young boy, of approximatly fifteen years of age, thin in frame. He has dark hair and blue eyes, but perhaps the most significant comment to be made about him is that he speaks very infrequently and has acute difficulties in communicating with others. Yes, that would be Tom all right. Gem leant painfully close to the door. But, please humour me gentlemen, continued Dr Vandell, when I enquire as to why an orphanage would send two men, such as yourselves, in search of just one boy, acknowledging the harsher facts of the unfortunate world in which we live. We were hired by patrons of the orphanage, to find Tom and return him. Ours is not to reason why. So, youre not directly involved with the orphanage?
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No, doctor. However, we do have paperwork in our possession, outlining the situation. Perhaps you would like to view it? Please. Mr Voyce, if you would be so kind as to hand the doctor the papers, please, requested Mr Payne. There was some rustling and a creaking of chairs. After a pause, Dr Vandell spoke. Yes, well, thank you, he said, content with what the men had shown him. So, how is it that Tom managed to get as far as us on his own? It would appear that the boy has made something of an odyssey, travelling between circumstances and carried between places, much more by luck then by any particular design, said Mr Payne, elaborating none to clearly. Tell me, do you know what the numbers are that Tom keeps using? Numbers? Yes, often he will suddenly come out with numbers. Low ones. Say, between one and a hundred. I have been unable to determine a pattern myself, and had hoped you would be able to enlighten me? I am afraid not. Gems flesh crawled. When would you like to take him? asked Dr Vandell. We are prepared to take him now. Im not sure that would be the most appropriate thing, gentlemen. The evening is growing in and I doubt that if you left this very moment, you would make it back this side of midnight. That given, it would be better to keep Tom with us for the evening, where he appears to be comfortable, and thereby minimise any disruption. Perhaps early tomorrow? Very well, doctor, as you suggest. Perhaps you would like to see Tom though? No. As you say, it would be better to minimise any disruption. Quite. Where are you staying? Im sure we could find somewhere for you to spend the night. No. Thank you, but we have accommodation. Oh? We have rooms at the Red Lion Inn, in Brook Way. Well, that is a good establishment, and unless you have any further questions, or anything I can help with, I should let you gentlemen get on with things. Yes, answered Mr Payne. Gem could hear the men within the room standing from their seats, so she quickly pulled away from the door, looking along the hallway for an avenue of retreat. Deciding upon the direction from which she had originally come, she scampered back around the nearest corner and waited. The door to the office clicked open and Gem heard the clatter of shoe heels upon the wooden floor. This way, gentlemen, said the doctor. The echo of footsteps and voices dissipated as they followed Dr Vandell towards the courtyard, allowing Gems heart to calm itself. She leant against the wall thinking the situation through. Surely, Dr Vandell could not be contemplating such an action?

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*** Gem had wrapped a scarf around her neck with a tight knot and pulled her worn navy blue overcoat about her body. The sky had fallen into a clouded darkness and the early evening streets lay largely empty. The stone pavements were damp and shining beneath her as if hand polished. Still the expectation of snow hung heavily in the bitter air. Brook Way, she thought to herself. She knew where that was; a good half hour of walking across the populated part of the city, on the fringe of a neglected area. A shrill wind forced Gem to tuck her head down as much as she could into her scarf as well as thrusting her hands into the pockets of her overcoat in search of some protection from the chill. Despite her efforts, her ears began to ache before long and her fingers barely flexed with numbness. She turned along a narrow pathway between two opposing high buildings, forced to jump across several large silvery puddles that lined the crooked pathway, and soon found herself looking at a park and a cluster of oak trees that interspersed a wide expanse of grass. She knew the area well, but was uncomfortable crossing it at night while alone. She wanted to waste no time though, so began trotting across the grass into the shadows beneath the trees, constantly looking about her surroundings. Gem reached the far side of the park surprising herself at her own courage. She continued her brisk pace along several winding streets. A mixture of shops, inns and residences lining her way. Only once did anyone attempt to interrupt her progress. She had passed a darkened doorway in front of which two broken looking men stood on either side, smoking long pipes while watching the street. Oiye, girl! shouted one. Gem kept her head directed at the unpaved street beneath her feet. Come ere and talks to us! called the man in the shadows as Gem passed. Oiye, girl! Im talkin to you! She did not acknowledge, simply kept on her way, holding her breath, only to release it once she had turned from the street and ensured herself they had not followed her. Gems pulse raced with both the speed of her walking and the tension that began to mount within her. She did not feel at all comfortable alone on the streets in this area after dark and her stomach was beginning to feel strained and sick with the worry. It was another ten minutes before she reached Brook Way. The Red Lion was larger than any of the other buildings in the area, and stood impressively detached from the other properties. Several of its windows cast shifting shadows across the street from each of its three levels, indicating a great deal of movement within. Gem crept to one of the lower windows and peered inside. The inn was crowded, and there was a busy atmosphere of ale drinking and food ordering within. A number of crude and mismatching wooden tables and benches littered the main floor, arranged sporadically around a large central open fireplace and flume. A bearish man in a green coat seemed to be agitatedly calling to the bar about something from the table where he sat at alone. All Gem was interested in was finding Payne and Voyce, but she could not see them anywhere, and had not come so far at night to give up easily. She moved away from the window, stood straight, stamped her feet and rubbed her hands together briskly, attempting to inject some feeling and courage back into herself. After a period of focus, she marched towards to main door and pushed it open.
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You! No children in here! growled a gruff voice as she stepped into the room and had taken no more than two paces across the timber floorboards. Gem looked around and saw a great bulk of a man standing behind the bar, his arm outstretched and pointing back towards the door in indication of which way Gem should be heading. He was surly looking and wore a tired shirt with the cuffs rolled back along thickly haired and tattooed forearms. Out! he shouted again. Er, sir, replied Gem, Im looking for Misters Payne and Voyce. Im running an important errand for them. Oh, said the man, taken aback at the mention of the names. Up the stairs, turn right and along the passageway. Rooms five and six. But, be quick about it! he said, pointing a thumb in the direction of the far side of the room and a narrow staircase. A barmaid stole his attention away by placing a tray before him and requesting several ales. Gem walked through the tables and took the thin and creaking staircase. She followed it up and around a sharp corner, finding herself facing a passageway, where a paraffin lamp hung halfway along the hall, casting shadows off the intermittent doorways and herself. She walked along the corridor, painfully aware of the creaking floorboards underfoot. Rooms five and six faced each other at the far end of the hall and both doors were closed. As quietly as possible, her feet and hands still numbed from the cold, Gem bent down and looked through the keyhole of door five. The room beyond was small, but neat. It held an old writing table, two chairs, a cabinet, a bed and small nightstand. A single candle in a glass-domed holder upon the nightstand illuminated the room. There was no one inside. Gem swung herself around to room six and slid up to the door, again peering through the keyhole, her breathing tight and her heart pounding. Inside, Mr Payne stood, his jacket off, pacing the room. A harshness rode his eyes and pale lips, which pulled back to reveal sharp teeth. The room was identically set out with the same items of furniture as the previous room, only of slightly differing styles. The well-built Mr Voyce sat silently on a chair to one side, his hand pulling at his side-whiskers. Payne paced back and forth, talking to Mr Voyce. Gems attention was immediately drawn to Paynes forearm, the sleeve of which had been rolled back and he appeared to be wearing some form of golden looking amulet, perhaps as much as four inches in length. Causing us a delay of one day, he said, his voice more forceful than it had been earlier when addressing Dr Vandell. For which I suggest we despatch the airship to receive us at approximately seventeen-thirty, at the rendezvous. Beyond this, the boy will be in your possession shortly thereafter. It is far better to undertake his retrieval in this manner, than by alerting Dr Vandell or anyone else through direct confrontation. You will, of course, sedate the boy, came a reply. Gem looked about and assumed it must have come from Mr Voyce. Of course, Gabriel. We appreciate how gifted the boy is, but we are not without abilities. We do not foresee him as being a difficulty. Gem crinkled her forehead in confusion. Payne was not addressing his companion. She was certain the reply had not come from Mr Voyce. In fact, as she studied the ever-silent companion of Mr Payne, she realised that there was a thick scar across the front of his throat, and she wondered if he could speak at all.

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Perhaps, if you foresaw him as being a difficulty, and planned for such, he would not have escaped in the first place, came a chastisement from someone. The boy is important to me. Youve lost him once, do not do it again. Yes, sir, said Mr Payne, sneering as he paced back towards the door. I will speak with you in the morning. Very well, sir, said Payne. Until the morning. He lifted his wrist and pressed upon a piece of the bracelet he wore. Gem sucked in a sharp breath of surprise, the voice had been coming from the bracelet, not a third person in the room. She took a stumbling step backwards across the creaking floorboards, her eye coming away from the keyhole as she automatically covered her mouth with her hand to stop any further involuntary escapes from her lips. Instantly, she knew she had revealed her position and should retreat. She turned and took a number of rapid strides along the hallway, in the direction of the staircase. There was a thud behind her as she heard the door open, followed by heavy footsteps. You there! came the hoarse voice of Mr Payne from behind her. Stop! Gem felt a tingling sensation about her. For a moment, she almost answered his demand, but a surging feeling of panic flushed through her body, allowing her to continue her flight, not daring to look back. She hurried away, her legs failing yet to break into a run as she made her way onto the staircase and began dropping down the steps, a pair a time. Stop! she heard behind her again, this time followed by a number of footsteps in quick succession. Gem entered the bar and hastily crossed it, her back straight and upright, and a cold sweat breaking along her spine. Nobody appeared to pay her attention as she passed through and reached for the thumb latch that would release the bolt on the front door. The noise of the bar became abstracted from her situation as all she listened for were the rapid footsteps behind her and the voice of Mr Payne. All she had to do, she thought, was get to the street and then she would be away in the darkness. Stop! cried Payne from somewhere behind her. Gem knew she had only a few seconds before he would be upon her. Pushing down hard on the latch, Gem pulled at the door handle, finding it stuck fast. She pulled again, this time panicking, expecting to be manhandled at any moment. The latch on the door refused to open. Gem turned her head across one shoulder as she continued in her desperate attempt to open the door. Behind her, Payne was almost halfway across the room. He held his arm outstretched, his palm facing towards her with his fingers wide apart, as if he were able to reach across the several yards that separated them and grab her within one step. She pulled and pushed at the door, crying out in frustration. The customers watching with curious looks growing upon their faces. Gem gave up on the door and released the handle. She turned towards Payne and shifted to her left, putting several tables between them to stop any immediate lunge at her that he might be considering. Stop! Thief! he cried, changing his grasping hand to an accusatory finger. No, Im not, shouted Gem, shaking her head and circling to her left. Stop her! demanded Payne of the people at the tables, but nobody responded to his call, preferring to watch the proceedings than to get involved. Payne turned his attention to the large barrel chested man in the green coat, who sat on his own at a table near Gem and she had first noticed as she had peered through the window of the inn. Stop her, Payne said in a cold and vicious voice.
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The man stood instantly, his immense bulk pushing back the table as he rose, its feet crying out as they scraped across the flooring. His pint of beer spilled across the tables surface and his plate of food slid forwards several inches as he turned clumsily and grabbed at Gem with both arms. Gem screamed and recoiled in terror, barely eluding the mans fat fingered grip. As she looked up at him, she saw his eyes, vacant looking and bloodshot, rolling in their sockets. His mouth hung open and he appeared terrifyingly crazed. He grabbed at her again, but was less accurate the second time and Gem was able to back away from him and put a table between them. Mr Voyce appeared at the bottom of the stairs, where he regarded the situation and assessed how best to cut off Gems lines of retreat. Gem looked around and saw the only other exit at the same moment as Voyce. Behind the bar, a doorway led to the back of the inn. It was not clear what lay beyond, but anywhere else was of preference to Gem, who began to run towards it. Mr Voyce raised an arm at the barman, as he did so he released a long and horrible rasping breath of fury that sickened and terrified Gem to the very pit of her stomach. The barman, who had until that moment been leaning against the bar watching the proceedings with interest and a quizzical expression, turned to face Gem, who was now crawling under the bar-hatch and running for the doorway beside him. Gem knew she was not going to make it if the man grabbed for her, but she saw little choice in the heat of the moment other than to attempt for the exit. She heard a table being knocked over somewhere behind her and items being scattered across the floor, but she did not give her attention to anything other than the looming barman and his big tattooed arms that were reaching towards her. She attempted to duck under him and wriggle her way past, but the barman caught her easily, holding her by her left wrist while attempting to grab her right one. The mans face was devoid of emotion. His eyes reflected a nothingness of his soul in the same way as the man in the green coat who had tried to stop her. He appeared to be nothing more than an empty husk of a body without any thought or will. It made the experience even more terrifying to Gem, who struggled furiously, unable to break free from his grasp. She kicked at his legs and twisted her arm, but it was hopeless as he was several times stronger. No! she screamed in frustration and fear as she continued her fight to free herself. Behind her, she heard the bar hatch slamming down and she glanced away from her struggle, to see Mr Payne approaching her, a look of fury in his eyes. Gem screamed, Please! Youre hurting me! but it went unheeded by the empty eyes of the barman. Desperately, she grabbed a handled pint glass from the shelving beneath the bar with her free hand and swung her arm wildly, striking the barman on the side of the head. The man staggered back. The glass did not break, but it struck with force enough to knock him off balance. His grip slacken enough to allow Gem to wrestle her wrist away by turning it against the natural movement of his thumb, and make her escape through the door. Once on the far side of the door, Gem glanced at her surroundings, noting a closed door to her left and hallway to her right. With no time to waste on checking beyond the door, she raced along the length of hall, which opened into a kitchen. A woman sat at a large table in the middle of the room and regarded Gem with surprise. She froze, the knife in her hand hovering above a chopping board littered with carrots and potatoes.
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Gem panted as her eyes fell upon an exit from the kitchen; a sturdy rear door beside a latticed window that looked out across a dark street. Gem ran to the door and pulled on the latch, tugging it free. The wood was old and warped and caught on the ground as she pulled it, but the door opened and she spilled onto the street, welcoming the cold air as it flooded her lungs. She looked up and down the street for only and instant before choosing a direction and disappearing into the night, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might give her away before her footsteps did.

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Chapter Six

The Six Twenty-Five to Liverpool

Gem ran through the night as fast as she was able for a solid five minutes before she had to slow down. She murmured a curse at the stones underfoot as she bent double and gasped for breath. Her hair was clinging to her face and she perspired heavily under her overcoat despite the temperature of the night air. She felt sick and shaky. Her mouth was dry and her tongue felt swollen. You all right? called a woman passing on the opposite side of the wide street. Gem turned her head and looked at the woman, who appeared to displaying genuine concern. Yes, Im fine, she said. Thank you. The woman smiled and continued on her way, shaking her head to herself. Taking several more deep breaths, Gem raised herself and began to walk, feeling that if she stopped any longer it would be a struggle to get going again. She walked along a narrow alleyway, threading her way through to a street that she knew would take her nearly the entire way to the refuge. Her feet dragged along the pavement and she desperately wanted a drink of water. Some of the road she followed led her downhill, and for that, she was thankful. She crossed a thin stretch of canal and continued to make her way as quickly as she was able. A further twenty minutes later, Gem found herself pulling her burning calf muscles across the courtyard of the refuge. She fell against the door and pushed it open, meeting Mrs Davies on the other side carrying a candleholder in front of her, apparently about to open the door before Gem had. And where have you been? demanded Mrs Davies, a harsh glare riding her face in the candlelight. Out, said Gem, pushing past. Mind your manners! You will remember whom you are speaking to and how to address them. Bedtime was fifteen minutes ago. Im sorry, said Gem, walking away from her, not meaning a word of it. You will stop this instant, turn around and come back here, young lady! cried Mrs Davies after Gem, to a now empty corridor.
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Gem ran up the stairs. She had more pressing issues at hand than fuelling further conflict with Mrs Davies, no matter how much it appealed to her current temperament. Dr Vandell will hear about this! You must learn respect for your elders! threatened the woman as Gem left her behind. The girls dormitory was silent, but as Gem marched in, she could hear some of the girls rising in their beds to see who was entering the room. What you doing? asked Ellie as Gem hunched and used the key on the string about her neck to open the padlock securing the box at the end of her bed. Leaving, said Gem. What? Ive got to go. Where? Dunno, Ill send you a letter when I do, Gem answered, concentrating on pulling the contents of the box onto the bed. There were several items of clothes, a toy doll and a book entitled The Rambles of a Rat. She looked about and her eyes fell upon a half full laundry bag at the far end of the room. She ran, picked it up, pulled the drawstring neck apart and dumped the contents on the floor. Rushing back to her bed, she began filling it with her own clothes, pushing the other possessions aside, some of them seeming suddenly embarrassingly childish. Why? Whats happened? Nothing. Go to sleep, Ellie! whispered Gem, putting a finger to her lips to indicate silence, but knowing it was futile as more of the girls lifted themselves up in their beds to see what the commotion was. She secured the bag and picked up the doll she had placed on her bed. She tugged its dress away from its back and pushed her fingers into a small hole in the material. Gem pulled free several florins and half-crowns; it was not much, but it would buy food for some time. The rest of her savings were with Dr Vandell and she would have to forego them. She thrust the money into her overcoat pocket and picked up the white laundry bag, putting her head through the loop in the string so that it hung over one shoulder. Please, she begged of the enquiring faces around her, be quiet and go back to sleep. Im leaving and I need you to be quiet! There were a few murmuring voices and several questioning replies, but Gem had no time for them. She looked firmly at Ellie and nodded. Ill write you. Soon. I promise. Ellie looked frightened. Dont go, she pleaded. Please, dont draw attention to this, said Gem. She looked around the familiar room for a moment before leaving, knowing deep within herself that it was unlikely that she would ever see it again. Something wrenched inside her, but she pushed it away and left them behind. Tom sat upright in his bed, the blanket stretched over his head, emersing himself in the comfort of the darkness. The room was silent apart from one of the boys nearby snoring, which was rhythmic and calming; he liked it. Something broke the peace and nearby he sensed a growing agitation that he penetrated his body as it grew closer. His heartbeat began to thump and his blood pumped. He tried to shut it out with humming, but soon he had to combine it with rocking as the feeling increased to the point where it became an almost overwhelming sensation.

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The blanket was torn from his head and he found Jewel looking at him. Although he had difficulty in reading faces, he could feel her emotions clearly; she was frightened and angry, in overwhelming waves. He thought she was going to reach for him and pulled away. Jewel bared her teeth at him in what may have been a smile, but she still felt overwhelmingly frightened and that in turn frightened Tom. His breathing was becoming rapid and difficult. Come on, Jewel whispered, waving her hand at him in some manner. Tom did not understand the movement, or the statement, but he sensed she desperately wanted him to do something. Jewel moved away to the end of the bed where she opened the unlocked box, which was empty because Tom did not trust it. Perhaps she wanted the marbles he had hidden under the pillow, he thought. He did not want to give them away, but she was so upset. He reached under the pillow, withdrew the bag of marbles, which replaced the broken box, and offered them to her. The girl stopped and looked at the bag. She did not want it, but started to cry tears. He felt she was upset and frustrated but could not understand why. Please, she said. There are men coming for you. Jewel pushed a bundle of his clothes onto his lap. Tom swung his feet down onto the floor. Jewel wiped some of the tears from her face and a flood of her relief touched Tom. This is what she wanted, he thought to himself. She wanted him to come somewhere. It was confusing; the words people said, the gestures they made and the feelings they had all seemed to contradict, overwhelming him. Pulling off his pyjamas Tom began to put his clothes on. The other boys were looking at them. Some were upset and shouting at them, but Jewel was arguing back. Tucking the marble bag into a pocket, Tom looked up at Jewel. She offered her hand to him, but he refused. He liked her, but the touch of another person was too much. Jewel gave him an overcoat. It did not belong to him, so he pushed it away, but she thrust it against him again, he did not want it, but it calmed her, so he pushed his arms into it and allowed her to button the coat along its front. Then she dropped his cap on his head, which he pulled on tighter himself. Jewel led the way from the dormitory, stopping to look at him every few feet, and encouraged him to follow her. It did not take him long to realise that she wanted him to follow and that he was to start when she started and stop when she stopped. Twenty-six. Eighty-two. What? said Jewel, leading the way down the staircase. Never mind, shhhh she said, holding her finger to her lips. Be quiet. This way, she whispered, opening the door to the refuge and leading Tom into the courtyard. Come on! Tom followed Jewel, but found himself looking around the courtyard. The cobblestones formed an intricate pattern, but they did not fit together in the same manner as the brickwork of the walls and were of uneven sizes and shapes. Looking at the stones at his feet made his head dizzy and his thoughts unordered. The brickwork of the walls, however, was consistent and regimented. Each line of the wall was made of whole bricks of the same size next to each other, and every other line was made from half bricks Tom! cried Jewel in little more than a frenzied whisper. He could feel her agitation as he looked at her. She wanted him to focus on her, and he would try.
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*** Please, Tom! begged Gem, Just follow me, she said, clicking her fingers as to gain his attention. It was difficult focusing him on what she wanted and had managed to lead him no more than a hundred yards in five minutes. Come on! she pleaded, but Toms eyes would rest upon her for only an instant before flitting off to look elsewhere. Kneeling on the wet ground of the yard, Gem held out a hand towards Tom. She did not reach for him or say anything, other than to do so with every imploring piece of her heart. Please take my hand and follow me, she begged. Please, Tom. Tom looked at Jewel. She was very upset and a feeling of frustration was foremost in her thoughts. He knew she wanted him to follow and to concentrate, but the influx of emotions and sensory information were overwhelming. He studied her hand as she held it outstretched towards him. I will lead you. Gem thought. Safety. Tom looked at her eyes. He felt her concern and urgency. Nobody had ever shared that emotion with him since his mother, a long time ago. Please, just take my hand and come with me! Im trying to help! cried Gem, her throat tense and her eyes welling with frustration. Jewel was upset. She desperately wanted him to take her hand, but touching her meant he would know everything she knew and felt in an overwhelming wave of knowledge and emotion he avoided at almost any cost. If the person were bad, it would try to make him bad. He would see and experience the essence of their soul, something he tried to avoid. Slowly, he reached out and put his fingers in her palm. Her skin was warm and damp, and she gently closed her hand around his. It did not hurt; her touch was calming and for a time, the world dissolved about him until the only thoughts were their own. Touching anyone before had always been traumatic, but Jewel was different. A strong image penetrated Toms mind. He found himself standing in an old dank room, where Jewel sat at a table gazing out of a window. She looked younger, more frail. She turned from the window and looked at him. Nobody had ever noticed him before when he had entered their minds. A single tear rolled down her cheek as she stood from her chair and walked towards him. She opened her arms and encompassed him in a hug. Tom flinched, but she was warm and he knew that as much as he had found her pain, she had found his. The two children grasped each other and felt complete. As they stood there, Tom noticed the surrounding room darkening about them until they could barely see the walls before them. Something ominous was coming. The children broke apart, clasping hands and cowered together against the darkness. The door to the room flew open and a pair of terrifying men burst in, their eyes aflame and their arms outstretched. It was the dark men, a burning memory of Jewels, and they terrified him. He had spent so long fleeing from them. Nothing frightened him more than their touch.

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Gem gasped as she touched Toms hand, but soon the shock passed and she found herself feeling calmer, as if all her frustration and fears were washing away. Anxiety continued to pull at her, created by the need to escape, but it was no longer as acute, her emotions suddenly halved. The tension in her chest relaxed and she took a deep breath of night air. She shook her head and gently pulled Tom towards her. He responded by moving a few steps closer across the courtyard, his attention focused on her for the time being. Good, well done. Now, follow me, she said, standing from her kneeling position, adjusting the angle of the laundry bag hanging over her shoulder, and leading Tom behind her, holding his hand. Tom responded and began to trot after her, compensating for her quicker and longer gait by adding an extra skip every few paces to his own walk. He looked up at her through his big blue eyes beneath the shaggy fringe that rolled out from under his tired looking cloth cap and Gem tried to smile reassuringly at him, knowing it lacked conviction. Half an hour later, the pair had left the refuge well behind them and were making quick ground. For the first time since the inn, Gem began to notice the bitterness of the night as she walked, using her free hand to pull her coat and scarf tightly about her neck. She glanced at Tom but he did not seem to mind the chill. His eyes had begun to drift about the streets at the things they passed, but he was obediently following, holding her hand. Occasionally he would say numbers aloud, but they meant nothing to her. They followed the route Gem took to the textiles factory each morning, crossing under the network of mono-tram rails that towered over the roads and properties on great struts. She had unconsciously chosen a path of familiarity, her mind racing over recent events rather than thinking any further than the immediate flight, barely looking at her workplace as they passed, there was very little about it that she would miss should she never see it again. She continued to pull Tom along behind her as she followed the line of buildings through the industrial area and allowed the rising architecture and its shadows to swallow them. The streets narrowed and the pathways began to twist as factories gave way to tall houses, inns and shops. Eventually Gem stopped, forced to make a decision of direction by tall iron railings that ran along the pavement, broken only by a large gate before her. Beyond the railings, the eerie figures of several skeletal trees hung over dark bushes bordering an uneven stone path that disappeared into the shadows. Oh, she said. Were here. Gem returned to the moment, shaking away the realisation that she could not remember deciding upon a course nor walking most of it. She looked at Tom who had pushed his body against the fence and was gazing beyond the iron railings through wide eyes. Come on, theres nothing to be afraid of, said Gem with a half-hearted smile. She squeezed Toms hand and used her other to open the gate, grimacing at the metal hinges that screeched out traitorously into the night. Tom looked to Gem for reassurance as they entered the shrouded pathway bordered by dense bushes of holly on either side. Tombstones glowing with dampness under the grey night sky began to rise in the darkness as they followed the path. Its a graveyard, whispered Gem to Tom, not feeling as confident as she was trying to convey. She had visited the place many times before, but always in the daylight. Always in the daylight. Tom became immobile, pointing agitatedly at something in the dark before shrinking away from the bushes.
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Gem stooped beside him and peered into the shadows, attempting to see what he was indicating towards. The bushes exploded with a fury and the shadows came to life, lunging towards them. Gem stumbled back, dragging Tom with her and would have lost her footing had she not clung to him for balance. A crow screeched into the air in a tumult of flapping wings and holly leaves from its hiding place. Dear me! cried Gem, putting a hand to her chest as if to hold her heart in. Tom clung to Gems arm with both hands. Then he grinned and relaxed his grip, and Gem knew he had been caught off guard and had found the same twisted feeling of nervous relief that she was experiencing. Its all right. Nothing will hurt us here. She continued to lead them up the pathway between the numerous tired looking headstones that more often than not slanted, pushed aside by bullying weeds and grass that years of neglect had allowed to grow as they chose. They came to a stop in the centre of the graveyard, their entire world encapsulated between the high railings in the distance and the winter stripped trees that loomed overhead. Before them, alone in their grace, two headstones stood firmly upright in neatly tended ground. White stone traced the rectangular outline of the graves and Gem dropped Toms hand to enable her to bend down to clear the area of windblown leaves. The first of the stones read Emma Lightfoot. Beloved Wife and Mother. May 1817 June 1841. The second read James Lightfoot. Dec 1813 Feb 1847. Gems father had tended to his wifes grave once a week without fail until he himself had passed on and Gem had assumed the responsibility. She had not known what to put other than those simple facts about her father. Dr Vandell had helped pay for the cost of laying her father to rest, who would otherwise have only been afforded a paupers funeral. Hello, she said to the graves. She would often talk to them, but now more than ever she felt the need for guidance. This is Tom, she said with a gesture to the boy at her side. I hope Ive done the right thing. Tom stood silently beside Gem, his hands held together, looking at her through steady eyes. I dont know what to do. There are some terrible men after Tom and he has nobody to turn to. Nobody to look after him. No one would believe me if I told them what Id seen. Gem sank onto her knees and dropped her hands down in front of her, grasping the stone surrounding the foot of her fathers grave. Help us, she said before lowering her head and allowing her hair to tumble forwards and hide her face. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, awaiting a reply she knew would never come. A gentle weight on her shoulder brought her back to the world. Gem looked up through wet eyes to see Tom standing over her. She smiled weakly and took to her feet, gathering his cold hand in her own. Well work it out, she said, her eyes drifting back to the gravestones. Well work it out. Something small flittered past their heads in a buzzing blur, landing nearby upon a monument of a praying angel. Gem inched her head forward, focusing her eyes through the tree-fractured moonlight at the tiny form of a dragonfly that crawled over the face of the statue, its shinning metallic body and clockwork wings standing out against the white marble. The insect hissed, spreading its wings and Tom took a step back at the same time as Gem, pointing at the strange observer.
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The dragonfly shook its wings and took off, disappeared into the night in with a buzz. For a moment, Gem stopped frozen, staring beyond the headstones into the darkness, swearing she had seen a movement of a man in a long tattered coat standing watching them, entwined in the shadows. Was it the same vagrant that she had seen standing outside the refuge? But there was nothing. Just shadows of trees. Just her mind playing tricks. The sky broke, delivering on its promise for the past several days, and snow began to fall. At first, only several rogue flakes floated down towards them, slipping between the tree branches, but soon the air grew quiet and thick with white. Tom reached up with his free hand, grabbing at the snowflakes as they fell. They gathered comfortably on his cap and he turned his face up at the sky, closing his eyes and allowing the flakes to settle and melt on the skin of his cheeks. Gem watched, a smile edging across her own face as she witnessed his pleasure, but more than that, she shared his excitement. She released his hand, and he thrust both into the night air, grabbing at the snowflakes, whirling around on his feet in a manner that made Gem feel dizzy simply watching. One! Eight! he said. One! Eight! he repeated, looping around in circles, his arms outstretched, eyes towards the clouds, dancing in the snow. Gem laughed and wiped her eyes, it was the first time she had seen Tom excited. He seemed momentarily happy and unafraid of the world. Standing at his side, she began to copy his movements, throwing her head back to the sky, watching the swarming snowflakes descend towards her eyes, as she twisted around in circles and lost herself with a laugh. Wooooo, said Tom as he spun. Wooooo, mimicked Gem One! Eight! he cried, pointing to the snow. Gem began spinning on her heels, laughing and beginning to feel giddy. One! Eight! One! Eight! Dr Vandell sat staring at the fireplace in his office. He had already smoked one cigar and had immediately lit another as he continued to wrestle with what had unfolded. He blew a long stream of smoke at the fire as he mulled through this thoughts. The facts were undeniable. During the night, Gem had taken Tom and absconded from the refuge. Mrs Davies had seen Gem enter the building, and after a brief altercation, had witnessed Gem retiring to the girls dormitory. Mrs Johnson herself had placed Tom in bed an hour earlier. The other children were remaining tight-lipped, and even though he had interviewed several of them independently, none had said anything of use. The doctor was concerned and chewed at his cigar as he circled his thumbs around each other. It had been shortly after one oclock when Mrs Davies had sent word to the Doctors private residence that there had been a commotion at the refuge. Mr Payne and Mr Voyce had turned up unexpectedly and demanded access to Tom. The formidable Mrs Davies had refused them both and had it not been for a police officer walking in the area, and several others drawn to the commotion, it may have turned out differently, and that concerned Dr Vandell deeply. On arrival at the refuge, the doctor had been informed that both Tom and Gemma were missing, presumably with each other, an assumption with which he agreed.
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Dr Vandell pulled the cigar from his mouth, rotating it in his fingers and blowing on the lit end until it glowed a bright orange. The children were in serious trouble and the police officers seemed quite content with the interest shown by the two men enquiring about Tom. However, the doctor quite simply did not trust them, or anything they had said in relation to their interest in the boy Tom. There was a knock upon the door to his office, which jarred him back to the moment. Enter, he called out, strangely detached from himself. Mrs Johnson tucked her head around the door before moving into the room. She was carrying tea in a fine white china teacup upon a saucer. I thought you might care for this, she said, placing the cup on the desk beside Dr Vandell. Oh, yes, thank you, said the doctor, barely looking at her for any length of time. Youre worrying about the children. Yes, he said, still distractedly staring at the fireplace. I have to say; Im more than disappointed in Gem. I thought she would come to me first, rather than do something as extreme as this. As for Tom, I doubt he is at all equipped to cope with such a situation. Well, sir, he must have spent quite some time on his own before he ever came to us. Hell be all right, Im sure of it. I wish I were. This entire situation is wrong, he said, shaking his head. Was Ellie of any help? No. I can only ask and impress upon her the importance of the situation, but she tells me she knows nothing. I doubt she really does anyhow. Gem is, largely, a sensible girl, said Mrs Johnson. She knows what shes doing. Eventually, shell realise that she needs help and will be in contact. I honestly cant see her turning to anyone else. I hope so. I really do. I know Gem is special to you. I know how much you try not to favour her in the eyes of the other children, but its obvious how important she is to you. I would have been proud to call Gem my daughter. She the doctor stopped, studying his cigar. Am I a fool to say that I see much of my wife in her? No, sir, not all. Mrs Johnson nodded. Both, very spirited. She paused and smiled. Well, if you need me she said and began leaving the office. Yes, thank you, Mrs Johnson, said Dr Vandell, looking up at her and mustering a brief smile. Mrs Johnson began to pull the door closed after her, but seemingly thought better of it and turned back to the room. She glanced at the doctor and stopped for a moment. Doctor, she began, you cant save everyone, no matter how much you want to. Some journeys people have to take alone, she said, before leaving. The sun began to rise as the children sat huddled together looking out across the train yard as the station began to wake. The snow had fallen for no more than an hour, settling for a brief time before receding as the sun rose, clinging only to some of the slated rooftops and shadowed patches of ground. Tom shivered uncontrollably and Gem worried that he needed warmth before he caught a chill, or worse. They had spent the better part of the evening taking cover upon a wooden bench in a shelter beside the railway tracks, hugging each other for warmth.

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Signs of activity began as the first engine was prepared with coal and water. The passenger carriages had yet to be connected and could be seen several hundred yards back down the track in an open storage shed. Gem asked one of the men preparing the train what time she could expect the ticket office to open, and was told that it already was. She asked where the first train was going to, not that it mattered, and learnt its destination was Liverpool. She collected Tom and they went inside the office, a welcome respite from the relentless and penetrating wind. As Gem approached the ticket desk, she glanced up to see a heavy looking man seated behind it. A clock overhead showed that it was six oclock, which surprised her. Hello! Please select your destination! said a piercingly high-pitched jolly voice from behind the counter, causing Gem to jump back a step from the service window. Excuse me, said Gem to the man, taken aback by the sudden and veracious nature of his greeting. What time is the first train to Liverpool? There was no reply and Gem looked properly at the man behind the counter for the first time, noting she was not facing a human, but an approximation of one. An insane smile underlined a pair of wide eyes that stared into a space inches over Gems head. The face had been hand painted originally but was now chipped and fading, however, the overtly pink skin and sinister red lips continued to stand out as chillingly bad approximations of real skin tones. The head was completed with painted hair ending in a swirl in the centre of the automatons forehead. Gem moved towards the counter again, wincing as she stepped on the underfoot plate, knowing it would trigger the clockwork man into action again. Hello! Please select your destination! Gem sighed and shook her head. The second time the man came to life, she realised his eyes blinked as he spoke and she could detect the faint static sound that underlay the recording of his voice. She hated these things. Tom however seemed utterly delighted and smiled in amazement while pointing at the tin man. Gem looked down from the unnerving face to the chunky round engine style keys mounted below. She pressed the button marked Help me. Why, it is simple! Just press the first letter of the name of your destination! Gem shook her head, embarrassed at how loud the automaton was shouting out in the quiet ticket office. You pressed L! Well done! Your choices of direct destination from this station are; Leeds, Leicester and Liverpool. Please press the second let Gem was not going to give the machine more time than she had to. She pressed I and it thankfully cut it off mid-sentence. Something clunked somewhere and the man seemed to shudder. You have selected Liverpool! How many tickets would you like to purchase? Gem pressed the 2 button. And would you care to travel first-class? Gem firmly struck NO. And would you care to travel second-class? Gem hit NO. Third-class it is! Will this be a return journey? asked the machine. Gem punched NO quite viciously.
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Congratulations! You have chosen four first-class return tickets to Glasgow! Your train will depart at four forty-five pm. Please insert your money into the slot provided. No! cried Gem. You stupid machine! Gem thumped the keys with her hand and kicked the counter. I suggest you press only a single key at any time, that way Ill be better able to understand you! said the irrepressibly chirpy recorded voice. Whats all the commotion? asked a more natural voice from somewhere behind the automated ticket machine. Are you causing trouble again, Johnson? Gem leaned around the automaton and saw a man with glasses and a ring of white hair step out of an office doorway behind the machine. He picked up a thick volume entitled Rail Destinations of Britain and struck the clockwork man on the back of the head. There, he said, that should fix im. The man pulled open the blind in the neighbouring window and stepped up to the counter. Now, he said, dusting his hands together. Perhaps I may be of help to you, young miss? Please, said Gem, still unable to release the frustration that had risen within her. Id like two third-class tickets to Liverpool. Liverpool? Thatll be the first train of the day. Five shillings and six pence, each. Gem gulped at the cost, but handed over the money. She took the tickets in her numbed fingers with some difficulty, and looked up at the man behind his counter. Can we wait in here? she asked. Its so cold outside. Yes, my dear. Take a seat over there, he said pointing at several open wooden benches lined in front of a window that overlooked the platform. I got the fire on back here. Itll warm up a bit, soon. Gem took Toms hand and led him to a bench, where they sat down and began to wait. At least, thought Gem, there was a clock to watch, as the past several hours had been painfully slow without any aid to measure the passing time. Over the next quarter of an hour, people began to come into the station and order their tickets. Some chose to take seats on the benches, others preferred to wait outside. A paperboy took up a position on the platform and began to yell at people as they passed. Papers, papers, papers! I got all the papers! he bawled relentlessly, occasionally interspersing it with all under one! At no point did he appear to stop, save for breath, including when he served a customer. As the boy shouted, so the station seemed to come to life about him. There was a heavy bang out of sight and within a few minutes, the engine pulled up to the platform, this time towing behind it the passenger carriages. Come on, said Gem, taking Toms hand and leading him out, onto the platform to join the other passengers. More than once, Gems heart fluttered as she saw men dressed in dark suits, only to assure herself they were not Payne or Voyce, but the sensation of panicked alertness never left her. They walked the length of the train, passing the first class section and eventually found seats in a third class compartment that was empty. The compartment was sparse, little more than two plain looking wooden benches facing each other. Gem slumped into a position on the bench facing the opposite direction to which the train would be travelling, allowing Tom to sit beside the window and feast his eyes on the activity.
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Outside, people milled about on the platform. A porter helped an elderly couple with two large cases on a sack trolley that he pushed in front of them as he led them further along the train. To the far end of the platform, near the ticket office, the paperboy continued to bellow at passers-by with enthusiasm. Gem fidgeted in her seat and looked up and down the platform as much as her position allowed; she would not be able to settle until they were underway, and had begun to recognise that anyone searching for them would probably begin with the station. She thought she had been clever in choosing a random destination, but cursed herself for the carelessness of taking the first train. A thin man entered the compartment and sat opposite the children. He wore spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose, which in turn appeared to be resting on an oversized moustache. He paid them the briefest of looks, but gave them no further attention. Instead, he unfolded a newspaper, shook it out and began to read. A plume of steam flushed along the side of the train and floated past the window as the engine hissed. Gem reached beside her and took up Toms hand. The curious sensation flooded her again and she felt his excitement. She squeezed his fingers, more in her agitation than any reflection of his exhilaration, as she continued to glance around to ensure that nobody was following them. She turned her head back along the length of the track and saw through a break in the steam; Voyce and Payne standing beside each other on the platform, studying the train. Tom grasped her arm, his panic overwhelming her temporarily as it mixed with her own rising fear, before the wave receded and she was able to think clearly. Tom tugged at her. Dark Men, he said with agitation. Dark Men. In that moment, Gem realised why Tom referred to them as Dark Men. It was not simply their solemn clothing, but how he viewed them as people. Men devoid of light within. Evil men. Yes. I see them, she said, pulling Tom away from the window and leaning back. Come on! she said, standing and tugging him from his seat. Tom followed, but Gem had to pull on his arm to get him to move as quickly as she wanted. She strode along the length of the carriage towards the rear of the train, stealing glances sideways at the platform. They reached the door that concluded the carriage and Gem pulled on the handle, towing Tom through and into the frosty air. She moved across the metal plating that covered the coupling mechanism between carriages, before stopping and leaning forward a fraction to peer carefully out along the platform. There were passengers still boarding the train and a platform guard who spoke to an elderly woman, but no signs of Payne or Voyce. I cant see them, she whispered. Where are they? They must be on the train, she reasoned. Gem began to grasp a handrail and climb down, readying herself to jump to the platform below. She tried to release Toms hand in order to do so, but he refused to let go and pulled on her arm. Come on! she implored. The dark men are on the train and we have to get off. We can make it over to that shed, she said pointing across the track. Wisps of steam flew along the footplate, drifting the length of the platform as the engine hissed in the distance. Tom pulled on her arm again, catching Gem briefly off-guard and she toppled back towards him. Tom! We havent the time! The boys eyes were wide and imploring. Gem could sense a certainty within him that overtook her own doubts. She would not be able to verbalise the feeling to anyone in a way that would have given it justice, but for the first time, she followed Tom, trusting his belief.
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Tom reached forward and opened the door to the next carriage. Gem trailed behind him as they passed along its narrow corridor. As she followed him, Gem realised what had caused Tom to act so resolutely. Passing a near window, she saw Voyce standing on the platform, looking along the length of the train towards its engine, his eyes frighteningly menacing. Gem would not have seen him at first, but he would have seen her the second her foot had alighted. Only Toms intervention had saved her. Tom dragged Gem for a dozen paces before entering an empty first class compartment. The seating was upholstered with red leather and the windows had tiny green drapes on them. Gem pulled the door to and rushed to the window. Gem pressed against the glass, looking up and down the platform for Payne and Voyce, but could not see them. They were not there! They must have gotten on the train! Gems heart beat furiously and her pulse thumped in her throat. She drew the drapes across the window. I dont know what to do! she said. She was trembling and barely able to stop herself from shaking violently. Were trapped! Perspiration broke across her skin although she felt horribly cold. Tom was humming to himself and beginning to nod is head back and forth. We need to get off the train. If they look for us onboard, we wont be able to get away, said Gem, reasoning through the situation. Come on! she said, offering her hand to Tom, who was holding himself and rocking incessantly. Gem found herself having to reach out and grasp Toms hand in order to get him to follow her. She pulled him from his seat, overwhelmed by the flooding panic passed from him. Gem opened the compartment door and flicked her head in both directions along the trains corridor until she was confident that the way was clear. Dragging Tom behind her, she twisted out of the compartment and along the carriage. She struck out for a door leading not to the station platform but the tracks on the far side. As the door opened, a voice cried out at her from across the train yard, Oiye! Miss! Thats dangerous. Close that door, right this instant! Looking up, Gem saw a pair of rail workers across several sets of rail tracks separating them, signalling at her to reboard the train and close the door. Ignoring them, Gem leapt to the ground, landing between neighbouring tracks with a bone shuddering jolt that snapped her jaw closed. She turned and held out her arms for Tom who leapt out after her. Come on, she said, scooping up his hand. The pair scurried away from the train and towards the far embankment as quickly as the uneven ground and numerous rail tracks would allow. The men continued to shout and wave their arms furiously. Gem did her best to pretend she had not seen them and wished the ground would swallow them so they would stop drawing attention to their flight. Her heart pounding and her lungs stretching for breath, Gem pulled Tom behind her and continued for the trackside embankment on the far side of the stations yard. A crash echoed from the train causing Gem to wince and glance over her shoulder, seeing one of the train doors had swung open behind them where Payne stood in the doorway, his dark eyes tightening as he looked upon the children. Gem stumbled over one of the tracks as she ran. Her eyes never leaving the dark man as he wrapped both of his gloved hands on the edge of the carriage doorway and leapt from the train in an unfeasibly large arc towards them. Gem watched dumbfounded as the man
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flew through the air to land with a crunching impact on the sleepers some two dozen or so feet behind herself and Tom. Payne straightened from his landing, slowly raising his head to stare steadily at Gem. A strange sensation of compliance came over her, causing her to quite forget herself for an instant and slow her running pace to little more than a zombified trot. Jewel! said Tom, frantically pulling at her arm. Yes, she said, shaking off the strange paralysis that wanted to her to succumb to total petrification. She began to move on, tearing herself away from the numbing pull of terror. Shaking her head, she began running again for the embankment, pulled onward by Tom, a frantic panic restabilising itself. Payne dusted the front of his frock coat and began to stride quickly across the rail yard, his eyes never leaving the children. Gem put a hand to her mouth to stifle a cry as Tom tugged her onwards. Behind them Voyce appeared from the doorway in the train and dropped to the ground, following his companion. Oyie! began both workmen who watched the scene, and had been closing in on the children. You cant go walking about on the tracks! shouted one of the men, addressing Payne and gesticulating wildly. Payne raised his hand and the mans eyes rolled back white, as the empty haunted faces at the inn had only the previous day. Jim? said the other, pausing to look at his companion. Jim? Whats come over you? He put out a hand to the other mans shoulder and tried to turn him, to find himself shrugged away as the lumbering empty-faced man took several long strides, cutting off the childrens route of escape. The white-eyed man reached forward and caught Tom by the collar of his coat, pulling him from his feet. Tom! cried Gem, grabbing for him and narrowly missing his hand. Tom struggled but could not evade the man who took firm hold of him. No! cried Tom as he pulled futilely with both hands on the mans thick wrist, struggling to free himself. Suddenly, the tracks about them wrenched upwards with a deafening boom. Stones flew into the air and showered across the yard. Everyone stopped in startelment, held by a common moment of realisation. Gem looked around the train yard, her mouth dropping open. Six pairs of steel rails around Tom had arced themselves upwards as if the hand from the heavens had reached down and stretched them out of shape. The nearest rail had risen between Tom and the rail worker, striking the man in the chest and throwing him backwards. Both Payne and Voyce had also been forced to the ground as the steel tracks before them twisted up and knocked them from their feet. Tom was at her side again, his eyes wide, urging her onward. Gem looked around them and nodded, grasping his outstretched hand. The children scrambled across the remaining yard, and headed for the slope of the embankment.

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Chapter Seven

The End of the Line

Gem climbed the edge of the embankment slope, slipping and clawing her way up by her fingertips. Thistles and stones bit at her hands as she reached out to grasp at any hold afforded to her. Casting a glance behind her, she saw Payne recovering, a look of grim purpose building in his eyes as he took to his feet. Tom scrabbled up the incline beside her, his fingers tearing at the earth, his breath short and panicking while his eyes reflected the startled terror she knew as her own. Gem crested the embankment and looked to Tom who was reaching the top of the slope. She reached out and grabbed him under the arm, dragging him the last few feet towards the scant protection of the bushes ahead. What are we going to do? she said breathlessly as she looked along the length of the fencing that separated the train yard from the rest of the world. Tom scurried along the bushes a few yards following the top of the embankment. Gem watched as he stopped at a hole under the fence that looked as though foxes had been using it as a means in and out of the train yard. Dropping to his knees, Tom used his hands to widen the damp earth surrounding the hole as Gem followed and began pulling at the thorny brush to widen the gap enough for them to climb through. After a few seconds of frantic effort Tom crawled forwards and began to thread himself through the narrow opening they had afforded themselves. Gem watched as he twisted and pushed himself under the fence, all the time stealing hurried glances over her shoulder, expecting the dark men to set upon them at any instant. Toms boots disappeared beneath the fence and Gem followed into the hole, hoping it would prove wide enough to allow her through. She pushed her head under and felt the fencing rake her back as she began to struggle through the narrow gap on her chest. She rolled onto her back and crawled on her elbows as her legs scrambled in the dirt to thrust the rest of her body through. A vice-like grip closed about her ankle and she realised that one of the men had taken hold of her leg as she attempted to struggle free from the hole. She felt herself lose ground as a series of sharp tugs dragged her back under the fence, which she found herself powerless to resist. Tom lunged for Gem, catching her by the wrists as she slid under the panelling.
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Jewel! he cried, his own body drawn with her towards the fence as he held onto Gem and his efforts failed to stop her slide. Help! cried Gem as her ribs struck the fencing, spilling the breath from her lungs, compelling her to gasp and cough. She kicked wildly with her legs, fighting to rid herself of the hand about her ankle. Her foot struck against something solid and suddenly she found herself freed. Scrambling backwards, Gem broke away from the hole and pulled her legs clear. Tom helped her to her feet as she fleetingly looked across her surroundings, her face awash with panic and perspiration. The children stood on a thin strip of muddied ground that separated the station from a main road lined on its far side with tall dark-faced buildings. Several side streets broke away into a tired looking residential area and carriages clattered by on the road as pedestrians bustled along the early morning street. Come on! she cried, her heart racing towards her throat as she took Toms hand and barely waited for the nearest carriage to pass before venturing into the road. A mans voice cried out as Gem rushed forward and a cart narrowly avoided running them down. Bloody fools! shouted the driver, reining his horse in with ability that would otherwise have been disastrous. Gem held an arm up in a weak apology as she skirted around the cart with Tom in hand and stole a look back at the fence to see if she could see the dark men. Youll get yourselves killed like that! shouted the man from his cart as the children fled across the road, leaving a wake of further commotion and panic in the traffic. A surge of elation swept through Gem as she reached the far side of the road in one piece. She put her arm about Toms shoulders in order to shield him from several of the pedestrians that approached with their own words of chastisement. Behind them, an explosion of snapping wood cracked out across the street causing Gem to flinch with shock. For a moment, the world seemed frozen as the voices grew quiet and the air stilled. Gem looked up from Tom at the people surrounding them, the nearest of which was a thickly-built man whose orange beard that had only moments before bordered a mouthful of rebuke, now framed a vacant slack-jawed amazement. Similar looks etched themselves into the faces the other passers-by, as they all stared wide-eyed back across the road. May the Mother take my eyes! said the man with the beard, his brow raised and jaw gapping. Gem and Tom turned together with building terror of expectation as they looked back across the road. The street had come to a standstill other than some of the horses moving haphazardly with a restless panic. Pedestrians froze in disbelief, staring out across the road to where Payne and Voyce walked beside each other towards the children. Pieces of the fencing lay scattered across the street at their feet. The remnants of the fence hung apart where a wide hole gaped through it. Splintering wood rained down about them like some strange sudden snowfall. Gem gasped and pulled Tom into the nearest side street, looking for an avenue of escape. She could not understand how the men had caused such damage, but knew she had no time to stop moving.
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The alleyway followed a puddled and uneven path between the rear walls of several buildings towering over it. Dark doorways and descending basement entrances intermittently lined the alley as drainpipes dribbled across the ground. High overhead a mono-tram rail loomed throwing deep shadows upon the children. Gem struggled on with Tom at her side. She splashed through the puddles, drenching the hem of her dress and peppering them both with mud. She ran between doorways, twisting and pulling at handles in a desperate attempt to find somewhere to hide. Every other footstep accompanied an increment in fear as she cast glances behind them at the entrance to the alleyway where she knew that at any instant the dark men would appear. The alley echoed the frenzied nature of the childrens steps as they rushed from door to door in their search. Gem looked up. In the thickening shadows ahead, a right turn in the alleys path proved to be the only way forward. She glanced back to see Payne and Voyce stride into the entrance of the alley. Leaving the remaining doorways, Gem focused on the turn in the alley and whatever protection it afforded. Tom ran beside her, squeezing her hand with increasing tension, their emotions an ebbing flow of upset balances between them. Despair confronted them as they rounded the corner of the building only to find themselves facing a final looming brick wall that dead-ended the alleyway no more than fifty yards ahead. With no retreat possible, Gem let out a cry of frustration, covering her mouth with her arm to stifle herself. Several yards along the alley stood a final tired looking doorway poorly fitting its own frame. The pair ran forward, hand in hand, as Gem reached for the door handle. The old door rattled back and forth but was deceptively resistant to her efforts. She released Tom and thumped at it with both hands, Please! she cried. Somewhere nearby she heard the splashing of steady footsteps as the dark men approached. Gem looked around in desperation, shrinking back against the door, bracing herself against her fear, reaching out and grasping at the air as she tried to find Tom. Long shadows of the dark men fell around the corner in an eerie foretelling of their arrival. Gem turned back to the door, kicking at it with a desperation of failed hope. Jewel! cried Tom, suddenly at her side and pulling at her coat. Gem looked around, finding Tom dropping to his hands and knees in the dank filth. He scurried forward to a semicircular basement window, barred and recessed into the darkness of the buildings foundations. He swivelled around and kicked between the bars of the window at its frame, breaking the window. The smash of glass filled the air as Tom kicked out several times in quick succession to clear away the rest of the pane. He pushed forward and slipped through the bars, threading his shoulders and head through until he disappeared into the building. Gem fell to the ground and peered into the darkness beyond the bars of the window as she wondered if this was how the strange boy had survived and evaded people for so long; by squeezing through progressively smaller gaps, ever further into the unknown as he fled ever-mounting fear. Sliding feet first, Gem began to wriggle the rest of her body through the narrow bars. She pushed her chest through with difficulty, empting her lungs of air, but the major problem proved to be her head. As she forced herself between the bars, Payne and Voyce appeared in the alley, their eyes meeting her own.
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No, she breathed as she twisted herself through the window, squeezing her head between the bars, raking her ears and cheeks against the rough metal. Payne rushed towards her, covering the distance between them in a few strides. The palm of his looming glove replacing the frail light of the alleyway as Gem collapsed through the window and her struggle dropped her into the cellar. Paynes arm swept through the bars behind Gem, narrowly missing a hold on the collar of her overcoat. She shrank back with a gasp as the hand snaked back through the bars. She narrowed her eyes against the gloom of the cellar finding Tom standing in the middle of the room. Other than a pile of wooden creates haphazardly piled along one wall, and the vague silhouette of four broken chair frames heaped in a triangular stack in the very centre of the room, the cellar was largely empty. Tom stood a few feet forward staring up at the window. The silence of the new darkness was broken as Gem heard the men forcing the buildings rear door open on the floor above. Gem looked back up at the barred window. She knew they had to move quickly or face being cornered in the cellar with no means of escape. She swooped upon Tom from behind, putting both her hands on his shoulders and steering him before her towards a narrow flight of brickwork steps that led up to the first floor door. Tom reached out, cautiously grasping the door handle, which looked oversized in his thin hand. He twisted it and pushed the door, which began to swing open on hinges that screamed out through the now terrifying stillness. Gem ushered Tom into the hallway beyond, staying close beside him, all the time holding her breath and listening for the dark men. The poorly lit hallway was thin and tatty. Wallpaper yellowed with neglect and peeled back on itself, no longer willing to hold to the wall. A shaft of light broke through one of the nearby doorways illuminating a staircase lined with banisters that ran thick with cobwebs. A layer of undisturbed dust upon the floor told Gem that the house was no longer inhabited, at least not by anything larger than a rat. Tom crept along beside her as quietly as possible, their boots punctuated by their own short breaths and squeaking floorboards. The beam of light that fell across the hallway before them suddenly splintered and the pair edged back from the sign of movement. A flurry of footsteps followed and a thud of a door opening in a nearby room. I know you are close, said Payne. I can smell you. His voice weaved like a snake through the corridors and rooms. Gem grasped the handle of the nearest door, biting her lip as she pushed at it and prayed that it would not give them away with a creak. She slipped through the moment the door opened wide enough and Tom followed after her. She turned on the room, finding it devoid of any features other than a large fireplace surrounded by an intricate stone fascia. Narrow beams of light pierced opportunely through two boarded-over floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a strange pattern of angular shapes across the room. The carcase of something Gem took to be a dead cat lay in the far corner, covered with a thick layer of dust. It felt like an ominous omen. Footsteps echoed in the hallway. Gem pushed the door closed and dropped back, terrified that it would burst open before her next breath.
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The footfalls led along the hall to the cellar door and transformed into the slapping sound of leather shoe soles upon stone as one of the men ran down the steps. Paynes voice came through the floor, muffled and incomprehensible, but close. Gem released Toms hand and snuck back to the door to peer through the crack into the hallway. Voyce stood at the top of the cellar steps looking down their decent. He turned, his eyes moving quickly, and for a moment, Gems skin went cold as she thought he had seen her. Instead, he thrust his hand out for the nearest door and pushed it open, continuing his search of the house. Gem backed away from the door as if it would harm her if touched it, a sense of failure welling inside her. She knew it would not take long before the men turned their attention to their location and had them trapped. Tom stood outlined by the beams of light from the boarded windows, looking back at her from beneath his cap and fringe of dark hair that fell into his eyes. Gem sucked in a breath of determination and swung an arm around Toms shoulders, sheparding him towards the fireplace. She stooped into its mouth and looked up the length of the chimney, seeing daylight at its apex more than eighty feet above. She reached into the black sides of the chimney and felt around her. Her hands sunk into the thick soot caking the walls as she searched for some form of handhold. Her fingers spread out and she found the outline of a protruding brick. Peering up, Gem realised that intermittent half bricks lined the chimney on two sides, standing out from the rest of the flush inner surface; footholds that allowed the sweep children to climb its length during cleaning. She turned back to Tom and tucked his head under the mantle, thrusting him into the mouth of the fireplace. Climb up, she whispered. There are bricks to hold on to. She looked him in the eye and nodded that he should trust her. Quickly. Tom glanced up the chimney and stood up inside it without further encouragement. He reached up, and after a faltering start, he lifted himself into the chimney and disappeared from the fireplace, a light shower of soot descending behind him. As soon as she was able, Gem crouched and made after him, the rising fear of capture subsiding only when she lifted her trailing foot out of the fireplace. She looked up, the light above largely blocked by Toms body, but she could easily find the next foot and hand holds despite the thick layering of soot on the walls due to their symmetrical spacing. Flakes fell in her eyes and she gave up trying to see where she was going, instead keeping her head focused on the wall of darkness as she climbed. After a minute, there came the inevitable footsteps in the room below as the dark men searched for them. Gem glanced down, seeing the bottom of the fireplace outlined by the filtered light and realising that what had been her starting point had now become a fearsome drop. She put her hand up and shook Toms leg. Quiet, she whispered so faintly she wondered if Tom could hear her, but he froze and looked down, a halo of white light surrounding his head from above. Gem pressed a finger to her lips and then pointed down to the fireplace. Feet clattered across the bare floorboards of the room below supported by a mumbled voice. Gem reached out to brace herself against the hand holds, flinching as her action broke off a thick lump of soot that plummeted down the chimney and landed in the fireplace with a gentle explosion. Terror bit at Gem as she watched the small black ball of soot balloon out into the room below. Instantly, a flurry of footsteps echoed towards the chimney. The fireplace grew
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darker as Voyce leant in and looked up its length, his face illuminated by a slither of falling light that slipped down past the children. His eyes narrowed and lips thinned. For a moment he appeared to try to climb inside the fireplace, but he soon realised it was too tight a fit for him. He looked up at the children and let forth a terrifyingly absent scream of rage from his torn throat. Climb! cried Gem, foregoing any further attempts at stealth and grabbing for the next handhold. Climb! Toms feet began to move quickly up the chimney as Gem followed. Thick falls of soot rushed down from above. She found herself coughing and spitting out the black dust as it collected on her face. A hurried footing misplaced caused her to slip several feet and scream with unbridled panic as she flailed around to stop herself plummeting down the height of the chimney completely. Fortune graced her as her foot bit onto a brick and halted her fall. Voyce reached up with one arm, but she was out of his range. Gem knew however that she could not afford to slip again. Jewel! cried Tom, stopping and looking down. Im all right. Im coming, she said, resuming her climbing. Go on. Voyce disappeared from the fireplace and Gem felt an anxious pull that she would rather he stayed where she could see him. Daylight suddenly lit the chimney and Gem saw that Tom had reached its top and lifted himself free. His head reappeared moments later as he peered over its edge looking for her. Jewel. Im coming, said Gem, puffing as she hauled herself on raw fingertips up the sooty ascent. Tom helped her out into the cold, brisk wind that crossed the slates as she clambered onto the roof of the house and dragged her legs free of the chimney. She wiped at her face with her hands, clearing her eyes of flakes of soot, smearing thick black marks across her skin. She looked at Tom whose face was largely clear of dirt, but his hands and clothes were filthy. Lying before them, London unfurled in a sea of dark rooftops, slated tiles and looming gothic architecture. Nearby, adjoining the top of the neighbouring property, towered the thick iron structure of a support leg that elevated the mono-tram rail more than a twenty feet overhead. Its wide struts held in place by giant rivets bigger than a mans fist while its welded joints wept a dark rusty ochre in the morning sun. Gem took a hesitant crawl forwards across the slippery wet slating towards the edge of the building, straining her neck to look down the sloping rooftop to the ground. A paralysing fear of heights ate at her as she forced herself to glance over the edge. She could see no way down, but no other way up either. She crawled back to Tom and released a long breath. I cant stand heights, she said, wincing as she stared back at the edge. I cant stand them. She looked along the line of rooftops. There was no retreating along the properties towards the main street. A gap between the roof they stood on and the next in the direction of the street was more than a dozen feet across and a notable drop down, ruling out the possibility. In the opposite direction, the roof reached a pair of sharp triangular peaks followed by a more level area that led to the neighbouring roof, ending the line of buildings beside the tramline support leg.
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A growl came from behind the children as a hand wrapped itself around a piece of brickwork edging. Gem watched with frozen dread as Paynes face appeared and he pushed himself up the side of the building. He shifted along a ledge and onto the rooftop without notable difficulty, emerging from an attic window that faced onto the street just below the level of the roof. The children turned away and ran with faltering short steps across the roofing, changing to a crawling and clawing motion to clamber over the first of the two triangular roofing peaks. Their boots offered little grip as they climbed, causing their footing to slip more than once. Tom reached the top of the first peak and turned to lend a hand to Gem, hauling her up as she looked back, seeing Payne continue his unrelenting stride towards them. Behind him, Voyce emerged onto the roof. Neither man looking daunted in the slightest by the treacherous nature of the roofing. The children slid down the far side of the roof into the V shape formed by the meeting of the two peaked sections. Together they clambered up the second of the near vertical wedges of slating and then slid down the far side. The roof ended in a flatter area of a dozen yards and then a gap of four or five feet that Gem had not originally seen, which separated it from the next house. She glanced back at the men who were walking up the first of the slopes as casually as if they had a hillock underfoot. Gem knew there was no alternative. They would have to jump across to the next building. It did not look to be beyond their ability, but failure would result in a fatal plummet. The horrible pull of her fear of heights worsened with each step closer to the edge, and Gem questioned if it would paralyse her mid-effort as she tried to leap across. We need to jump, she said. Tom looked at her and nodded. Jump, he repeated. On three, she said, looking back at the dark men and then the looming gap before her that she swore was growing wider with each heartbeat. One, she counted. Tom ran and leapt across the gap, dropping onto the next rooftop and into a crouching position to steady himself. You were supposed to go on three! Gem shook her head and muttered under her breath before running and launching herself across the distance between the two buildings. She crossed the gap and hit the slates of the opposite roof. As she landed, tiles shifted loose under her right foot and threw her off balance. Gem slammed onto her side, the air exploding forcefully from her lungs as she dislodged more of the slates and began to slide helplessly towards the edge of the building. Tom reached out, missing her arm by a fraction as she fell away from him. Jewel! Gem screamed as she continued her relentless slide towards the edge of the roof in an avalanche of tiles, gathering speed with each passing moment. She groped with her hands, trying desperately to find something to hold onto, but all she found were slates that came along with her in her inexorable plummet. Open space replaced the rough roof surface as Gem slid over the edge of building and into thin air. She felt as if she floated there for an elongated moment of time. Her stomach lurched in her body as she experienced a hesitant moment of weightlessness before she began to fall off the roof. Her right hand caught hold of something as she dropped and her arm snapped out behind her, catching her weight and slamming her back against the wall of the building.
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Gem gasped for a breath and looked up, her fingers white with effort as she hung on with one hand to the guttering that lined the rooftop. She looked down, seeing her feet dangling at least a hundred feet over the alleyway they had run through only minutes before. She tried desperately to swing her left arm up and grab onto the gutter with both hands but found the effort too much. Her blood turned to pure coursing terror as she whimpered and struggled to hold on. Jewel! cried Tom, appearing at the edge of the building. He reached down with both arms and tried to help her by grasping her at the wrist, but Gem knew he would not have the strength to pull her up. Her fingers began to numb and she knew that when she could no longer feel them, she would fall to her death. Help! she pleaded, knowing Tom could not save her. She held her breath, knowing that within seconds she would slip, and looked Tom in the eye. A strange calmness of assured fate took her. Run, she gasped. Run! Toms eyes welled with tears and his face reddened with effort as he fought to hold Gems arm. Jewel, he cried. Stay. Run, Tom, she said, the last vestiges of strength failing in her fingers. A glint reflected off of a metallic object pushed into Toms neck and an explosive snap of the air followed. Toms eyes slid closed and his head slumped forward as his hands fell away from Gem as his grip failed. Tom! A hand grabbed the collar of his coat and pulled him away from the edge of the building. Tom! cried Gem as he disappeared from sight, her fingers numb and her strength failed. In an instant it would be over, for her. An arm reached over the edge and grabbed Gem by the wrist. She found herself lifted with a strength she could not imagine possessing as Voyce hauled her up from her doom. She struggled to release herself despite her only reward being a fall to her death if she succeeded. Voyce dropped her onto the roof, maintaining his iron-like grip around her wrist. She looked across at Tom, who Payne now held, his face a pale white and his body drooping between the mans arms. A thin needle hung from a single drop of blood on Toms neck. Payne lay Tom down on the roof. He unfastened his cufflink and pulled the shirt and jacket sleeves on his right arm back, uncovering the peculiar golden device he had attached just above the wrist. We have them, both, he said into the piece of equipment. In his free hand, Voyce held a complicated brass looking mechanism, much like a revolver with a smooth grey cylinder where the chamber for the shells would be. Indeed, he slotted his finger into the device in the way one would hold a trigger. He pointed it at Gem and she found herself wincing in anticipation as she wrestled ineffectually to remove herself from Voyces grip. The man observed her through cold eyes as he began to raise the brass mechanism and point it at her. He halted, seemingly to think otherwise and tucked the device into his inner jacket pocket. He curled his now empty fist in its glove, drew back his arm, and punched Gem in the face with a vicious blow, shocking her skull with a burst of violence. A warm darkness enveloped her senses and she passed out.
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Chapter Eight

The Onward Journey

Im afraid, doctor, that there really isnt any more that I can do. Dr Vandell sighed and rolled his eyes up at the ceiling. He sat in the most uncomfortable chair he believed the police had to offer, in a busy and cold office, talking with Inspector Scott of the Inner London Police, a man who taxed even the most composed of souls. The desk rocked unsteadily on three of its legs every time the inspector leant any weight on it and Dr Vandell found himself wondering why the man did nothing to rectify it, not even slip a piece of folded paper under the short leg. Im simply asking for you to spend a little effort on trying to find these children. Yes, doctor, but as I have explained, or at least tried to, nobody has ever heard of a Mr Payne or Voyce at St Andrews Orphanage, and you seem unable to tell me where these children might be headed. None of the names you have supplied us have shown up after being run through our engines. Well, all I know is there are disagreeable thugs out there hunting down two children, for reasons which are not at all apparent. We have the details of the children. If we hear anything, we will contact you immediately. Dr Vandell issued a long sigh, picked up his hat, uncrossed his legs and took to his feet, glad to leave behind both the chair and the inspector. He felt he had finally exhausted any avenue of investigation the police might offer in the circumstances. It had been the better part of a day since Gem and Tom had gone missing. Frequent telephone calls to the refuge had provided no new information in the past twenty-four hours, except that the men enquiring about Tom had not been seen since, and that fact more than any other worried Dr Vandell. Mrs Johnson had reported back, having searched much of the city by foot, with no success. Dr Vandell eventually had to insist that she took some time for herself, and while she had agreed under his persistence, he suspected that she was at that very moment treading the streets in an attempt to locate the children. Ill see myself out, said Dr Vandell, turning without offering to shake the inspectors hand as he left the office. Good day, doctor, was all he heard after him as he left the room and took the stairwell down to the street level. Fat lot of use they were, mumbled Dr Vandell. Really!

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The doctor pulled open one of two swinging doors and stepped onto the London street, immediately having to dodge a passer-by who seemed intent on running him underfoot. Taking a step back, the doctor looked up, his eyes following the cloud-breaker opposite as it loomed up into the sky with countless tiers, blocking out the daylight. A particularly lurid advertisement on a gigantic mechanical boarding attempted to sell him Gullivers most durable gents shoe to date!. The subject of the advertisement, an unremarkable looking shoe, trod down and lifted up in a never-ending cycle of stepping motion. Consumerism acquired yet another black mark in Dr Vandells mind as he grimly pursed his lips and pulled on his gloves and hat before joining the streets ebbing flow of people. Marching along the pavement, the doctor attempted to release some of his anger with each deliberate stamp of his feet as he returned to his house. A piece of screwed up paper dropped at his feet and he looked upwards to see that it was in fact litter wantonly thrown from a window of a mono-tram passing over the street on its track high above. Shaking his head in bewilderment, Dr Vandell paused for a moment and lit the remaining half of the cigar he had extinguished before visiting Inspector Scott. For a time, the world seemed almost bearable as he breathed in the tobacco and he took a moment to calm himself, but it was over all too quickly as someone struck him squarely in the shoulder, passing carelessly by, failing to issue so much as an apology. A pounding headache first woke Gem, rather than the light or the strange noise surrounding her. A rhythmic humming penetrated everything, including her body. She raised herself onto her elbows and looked about, but her eyes were blurry and she found it difficult to focus. Gradually, her sight sharpened and she discovered herself in a small bedroom without windowss, lying upon a well-made and soft bed. Her mouth was dryer than she could ever recall it being. She tried to salivate with little effect. Gingerly, she took to her feet, finding the room swaying about her for a few seconds and the action amplifying her headache. Under a low ceiling and across the small floor space, she found a cabinet with a sink fitted into its surface accompanied by taps. Gem had not seen personal taps in a bathroom before. She turned them and clean water came out, cleaner than she had witnessed in a long time. She lowered her face under the flow of water and gulped hungrily at it before tipping her head back and gargling for several seconds and then spitting the water into the sink. Feeling better, she cupped her hands and splashed some water onto her forehead, which helped her clear her thoughts slightly, if not cure her headache. A pair of reddened eyes stared back at Gem as she gazed into the small mirror attached to the wall above the sink. Her hand went to an area between her right temple and cheek that was swollen, tender and bruised. None of it made sense. The last thing she remembered was being roughly handled back onto the roof she had fallen off, when When, what? How long had she been asleep? Where was Tom? An image solidified itself from somewhere. She remembered Toms whitened face as he lay unconscious in Paynes arms. She glanced at her neck in the mirror. There was a small red welt surrounded by a purple bruise. She recalled the needle that had caused him to fall unconscious as her fingers traced her own mark. There was a flash of memory and an overwhelming shock of recollection as the memory of Voyces strike to her head replayed itself. He had hit her. But the mark on her throat? Streaks of sooty water ran down her cheeks like black tears. She rinsed her face again, clearing away the dirt, picking up a towel from the rack nearby and drying herself.
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Gem looked about the room, seeing only a small nightstand beside the bed, a delicate lamp fitted to the wall that glowed with a constant light, and an ornate chair. She staggered towards the door, unsteady on her feet, and reached for the handle, expecting it to be locked. To her surprise, the door opened and a gust of fast moving icy air rushed across her face. Gem realised why the door to the room had not been locked; it had never been designed to be secured from the outside. There was no need to restrain her; she was not able to go anywhere. Her jaw dropped as she stared out into a clear blue sky. Thin strips of cloud drifted far away in the distance, high above the ground, which stretched endlessly beneath in a quilt of green shades. She lurched back into the cabin as a wave of cold dread surged through her blood. She was on an airship, thousands of feet in the air. Gem hated heights, but this was unimaginable. She put her hands against the doorframe to hold herself back from the relentless pull of the edge of ship and realised she had stopped breathing. Before her was a small metal walkway that followed the outside length of the airship. It was perhaps three feet in width and edged by two horizontal guardrails, the topmost running just at the height of her chest. The wind howled and whistled as it passed across the face of the ship. The great twin gas balloons overhead cast a heavy shadow across the decking, where disturbing creaking sounds came from all directions. Gem felt nauseous and faint as she looked out, compelled to stare at the horror unfolding before her. The ships engines roared in the distance and her legs trembled with a mixture of fear and structural vibrations. She forced herself through the door and pushed herself flat against the outside wall of her cabin, keeping her back pressed against it and her arms stretched across its length. She wanted to look away from the edge, but the sight of the vast sky and rolling landscape below mesmerised her with its terror. One shuffling step at a time, she slid along the wall before coming to a corner and finding a metal staircase leading down a level. She swung herself around tentatively to face the staircase and gripped the handrail that ran down it until her knuckles whitened. Her head pounded and she felt that at any moment she might explode as she reached the limits of her endurance. Each faltering footstep on the shaking staircase clanged above the sounds of the wind and roar of the engines. She made her way down, a step at a time, before reaching the bottom and finding herself faced with a white door which looked far more appealing than further inching around the outside of the body of the airship. Gem twisted the long handle, tugged the door open and stepped inside. She found herself in a long lounge. A rich red carpet covered the floor that she could feel through her boots. The room ran back thirty feet before ending in a bar, lined by four freestanding leather upholstered barstools, beyond which a dozen or more decanters of various drinks sat upon glass shelves. Mirrors behind the bar propagated an illusionary length. Clusters of low chairs surrounded glass-topped tables every few feet. A baby grand piano stood in the near corner, its covers down and a stool tucked under the keyboard. She had never witnessed luxuriance like it in her life. At the far end, behind the bar, stood Payne, helping himself to a drink.
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Gem took a step backwards, ready to retreat through the doorway. You must have realised that there is nowhere to go, he said, pouring from the decanter he held into a glass before him. Except down, of course. I, began Gem, not knowing what to say or do next. Would you like a drink? The sedative we gave you has an unfortunate side effect of leaving one with a very dry pallet and often a headache. Gem backed another step away, putting her hand out to feel for the doorway behind her, her other moved unconsciously to the welt on her neck. Come in and close the door, said Payne, more forcefully. We are at a cruising altitude of approximately four-thousand feet. I can assure you that there is no getting off. Wheres Tom? demanded Gem. Start acting like a grown up if you wish to be treated like one. Close that door, or I will, he said, picking up the dark liquor before him and finishing the contents in one simultaneous tilt of his head and glass. Gem thought for a moment, the man was right; there was nowhere to go and the more information she was able to get, the better. She pulled the door closed and the room instantly grew darker and quieter as the sound of the airship dimmed. Good decision, said Payne. Wheres Tom? Safe. Where? Onboard, he said. Would you like a drink? You can have anything you want; ginger beer, milk, lemonade whiskey. Gem took a step further into the lounge. She did not want to collaborate easily. She wanted to summon a strength she did not possess and wipe the arrogance from his eyes. A ginger beer? he said, pulling a glass out from beneath the bar and placing it on its surface. He joined the glass with a small white stone bottle with a flip-capped lid on a metal clasp about its neck, the label of which read Morrisons Ginger Beer. Who are you? A colleague of Professor Gabriel Syn. Gem recognised the name Gabriel from hearing it at the inn when she had listened in on Paynes conversation. Wheres Tom? I have told you. Onboard. If I hear that question again, I will throw you, or him, over the edge so that I can guarantee not listening to it again. I want to see him. No. Not at the moment. We have had to keep him sedated because he can be troublesome and an airship several thousand feet in the air, filled with highly flammable gasses, is not the place for a temperamental young boy with remote influencing powers. Lord knows what would happen to us if he threw another tantrum. Remember the train tracks? What powers? Remote influencing. The ability to control objects with the powers of ones mind. The magic? The man laughed mechanically, pushing the ginger beer across the bar toward Gem. She walked to it and looked at it, feeling more than slightly tempted. Sit, said Payne.

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Gem looked at him through eyes of hatred. She wanted to spit in his face, but was still lacking in strength and her balance was not quite right, so she climbed onto one of the stools. Tom is in some ways more advanced than any other human being that has ever lived. Like you? To an extent, replied Payne, lifting the glass of brown liquid to his nose and sniffing it. What do you want with us? Payne made a thin and vicious smile but said nothing. Who is Gabriel Syn? Professor Syn is my superior. I report to him, and him alone. Where are you taking us? We are heading for the Isle of Rhum, a small island off the western coast of Scotland. Why? That is where Professor Syn has his laboratories at his research station. A horn sounding somewhere nearby made Gem jump on her stool. The descent warning. We shall be landing soon. Stay here, or return to your cabin, but cause no mischief or I will call Voyce, he said, striding to the doorway. He will be pleased to see you, I can assure you. In an instant, he was gone and had closed the door behind himself. Gem sat alone, looking at the bottle of ginger beer before her. She wanted to be with Tom desperately. She also knew that there was no way in which she was going to go back through the door and edge her way along the perilous walkways while they were still in the air. She emptied the remaining contents of the bottle into the glass and sat alone in the lounge, sipping at her drink, despising Payne and Voyce, wondering who Gabriel Syn was, what it was that he wanted, and how much trouble she faced. Dr Vandell sat in his office, his fingers resting inactively upon the wide keys of his analytical engine, his thoughts drifting to Gem as he stared absently at the matrix of output pins which returned empty search results on the names Payne and Voyce. Nothing he did not expect. The machine hummed on idle, The doctor rested for no more than half a minute before there was a knock at the door to his office. He rubbed his eyes and turned in his chair to face the door. Yes? he said. The door opened and Mrs Johnson slipped her head around it. Doctor, a gentleman just called. He said his name was Mr Wyncote and that he may have information about the children. I offered for him to come in, but he insisted on my passing you this note, she said holding up an envelope in evidence. Wyncote? Yes, said Mrs Johnson, entering the room and handing over the envelope. He left the second he had handed it to me. Dr Vandell accepted the delivery and used the letter opener on his desk to tear open the envelope and remove its single page content. The handwriting was sloped and scrappy, something the doctor immediately associated with civil servants. It read;

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I believe I know where the children you seek are. I also believe them to be in terrible danger. Please meet me at the new flowerbeds, Saint Jamess Park, in one hours time. Take care not to be followed. T. Wyncote. Well, said Dr Vandell looking up at Mrs Johnson. Perhaps you would be so kind as to pass me my overcoat and hat. Gem had managed to summon enough courage to slide up to one of the round windows in the lounge and peer through, finding the glass between herself and the outside world feeling like scant protection against the overwhelming drop. Below, she could make out the shore of an island coming into view as the airship passed over an expanse of emerald-green sea. The water was calm, but the clouds above clustered as the sun began to lower itself in the late afternoon sky. The rate of their descent did not appear to be correct for the island before them, and soon Gem realised they were heading for a second, larger island that lay beyond the first. As they approached, the second island began to reveal itself in a mixture of browns and greens breaking through a thick covering of snow. The island rose in two distinct banks of what looked to be mountains. The ship banked, arcing right to follow a break in the beach which formed a cove. Crossing the main body of the island, the airship banked around the western slopes, heading inland. As they flew, Gem was soon able to see the far side of the island and the ceaseless ocean that stretched beyond the white body of land. The airship reduced speed until Gem thought she would be able to get off and run faster, the ground little more than a hundred feet below and details becoming easier to discern. The great engines overhead roared, pushing the airship around as a large open concreted area wider than the whole of the grounds the textiles factory revealed itself ahead. Two large hangers stood dominating its far end. Gem rushed across the lounge and peered out of the opposite window, seeing a complex of white buildings located in a huddle two or three hundred feet away from the airfield. The airship slowed to a stop and began lowering itself directly downwards. The warning horn blasted, again catching Gem unexpectedly and causing her to jump a second time. On the ground, a dozen or so men looked up as the airship descended. They began grabbing cables being lowered and securing them to moorings points on the landing area. Spotlights on the ground threw their illumination up into the early evening air, casting unusual and stark shifting patterns across the airships body. Black smoke from the engines drifted past the window as they angled to control the final decent and Gems anxiety at the height at which the ship had travelled now dissipated with each foot as it descended. She found herself moving to the door and pulling it open, an inch at a time, smelling the fumes from the engines as they drifted in with the cold darkening air. She choked at their taste, coughing as the smoke found its way into her lungs. Her eyes watered and she rubbed at them with her fingers, screwing her face up in revulsion. The airship concluded its docking with a bump that shook Gem on her feet. Below, some of the men running to and forth on the ground shouted instructions at each other and Gem saw several men pulling a great chain down from the airship to anchor it. The engines whined as they shut down, and the smoke began to clear, assisted by a stiff wind that tore across the airfield. Walking to the edge of the airship, Gem reached out and gripped the higher of the two safety railings, peering over the side. There was still another level to the ship beneath her
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and the ground was a good thirty feet below that. A metallic clang crashed out as someone dropped the gangway that led from the airships lower level down to the airfield. One of the crew ran down to the ground, the pathway bending and bouncing with each footfall as he did. More shouting soon followed along with some frantic gesturing. After the better part of a minute, the ground crew appeared to relax and began to assist with the unloading of the ship, sliding baggage and containers down along the gangway. Gem raced around the walkway of the ship, not wishing to miss the opportunity of finding Tom. She skirted along the outer wall of the lounge and past several doorways. Bounding down a stairwell, Gem stepped onto the lower walkway. Payne and Voyce appeared from a doorway to her left and Gem found herself herded forward with the dark men directly at her back. They had their large dark jackets pulled around them with the collars turned up to keep away the bite of the air, and began making their way down to the ground without further interaction. Gems heart rushed as she saw Tom ahead of them, pushed in a wooden wheelchair along the ramp to the ground. His eyes were closed and ringed with black circles. His face and lips pale, and his head slumped raggedly to one side. A hideous patchwork blanket covered his body and his head jostled as a man behind him, dressed informally in a waistcoat and white shirt, directed the wheelchair down the gangway to the landing area below. Gem felt a heavy hand on her shoulder, pulling her back, and looked up to find Payne restraining her. The boy is still sedated. I want to see Tom, she demanded. That will not be possible at the moment. Gem huffed. Walk, said Payne, thrusting her along the airship and directing her down the gangway to the ground. They walked across the airfield away from the airship and towards the nearest of the white buildings, passing the two large hangers as they did. Gem initially only gave a fleeting look towards the hangers, but turned her head and her jaw dropped as she found herself making a double take. Within the nearest hanger Gem saw what she could only described as two monstrous looking contraptions, illuminated from above by hanging lights and surrounded by a half dozen men. The machines stood at least twenty feet tall on mechanical bird-like legs. Each one like a posturing deity towering amongst its people, alive in defiance. What are they? she asked. War-machines, said Payne. The dark men led Gem away without further explanation, across the airfield to what appeared to be one of the main buildings. They approached a door at the bottom of a short flight of steps to its sunken entrance. Voyce silently led the way down before opening the door and holding it for Gem as she entered the facility. The dark men directed her through two further innocuous looking small rooms which appeared to do little more than act as breakers between the interior of the building and the outside world. After these, a flight of steps led downwards and then hooked sharply back. She expected to find herself entering a basement, but was surprised to find the steps led to a lower level opening out into a long passage that stretched in front of her. She realised that
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most of the facility appeared to be underground and the buildings above acted as little more than camouflage. Payne and Voyce continued to guide Gem roughly along the corridor, passing several doorways. A strange and distant humming began to mount as they walked the corridors length. They followed the turn in the passage and Gem found her eyes widening disbelief at the chamber before her. She had never witnessed anything as immense on a purely mechanical scale. They stood on a suspended walkway, which ran around the upper level of a vast cavern. Gem stopped, gazing around herself in astonishment. Below her, reaching up at least fifty feet, was a great and intricate machine. It whirred to itself with a mechanical hum that reverberated about the chamber. Pipes twisted through themselves like a mass of various sized snakes, climbing around, through and over the machine before stretching off and running in smaller groups away and into the rock walls. At the base of the machine sat a man in a chair beside a panel of switches and levers. Gem could not work out his function, but assumed he was monitoring the great machine. Payne pushed Gem forward with a hand between her shoulder blades, causing her to stumble onto the walkway, with little opportunity to voice her dislike of the height of the platform. What is it? she found herself asking. A power generator, said Payne. The corner of Gems mouth twitched, she wanted to ask more, but decided better of it and bit her tongue. The party moved across the catwalk, Gem holding tightly to the railing as she navigated the precarious high pathway. Voyce moved ahead to open an opposite doorway. They left the chamber and followed a series of interconnecting passageways as the floor sloped downwards and Gem found herself having to counterbalance actively against the steep gradient. Doors to laboratories opened to her left and right periodically as she trotted behind Voyce, who walked so fast that she found it difficult to keep up without running. When can I see Tom? she asked to no answer. They continued through the maze of passageways, ever twisting and downwards, causing Gem to lose orientation. She knew they had headed further into the complex and deeper underground, but found it impossible to say with any degree of certainty how much on either scale. They took a flight of stairs down a further level, with Voyce continuing his brisk pace until they reached a door marked C1. Here, said Payne, opening the door inwards. Gem was then guided inside by her arm. The room was no more than twelve feet in width and perhaps double in length. In the far left corner stood a utilitarian bunk bed, both halves of which were covered with crisp looking sheets and blankets. There was a small wooden table with a chair positioned under it in the opposite corner, next to a wicker wastepaper basket. There were no windows, but that came as little surprise. Gem thought it looked very much as she would imagine a prison cell to look, only with painted white walls instead of what she envisaged would be dark grey, and a doorway where there would be bars. She realised that her comparison was not far from the mark as the door closed behind her and she heard the lock turnover, leaving her alone and confined in her new surroundings.
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*** The doctor stood beside Saint Jamess Parks new flowerbeds and looked around apprehensively. Dr Vandell? asked a cautious looking man in a poorly tailored suit approaching along the path. Yes? said the doctor. Thomas Wyncote. I believe that you are looking for two missing children? Yes, said the doctor, instantly giving the shabby looking man more of his attention. A thick black moustache hung beneath his large nose and brown, tired looking eyes. The man smiled, but it soon dropped from his face as the effort proved too much, his confidence belying itself in numerous pieces of posture. Perhaps we could walk on? he asked, looking over his shoulder. The doctor acquiesced and they walked through the park, crossing a wide expanse of grass and passing under a cluster of large oak trees, with Wyncote choosing a peculiarly convoluted route while discussing little other than the weather. Im sorry for the cloak and dagger theatrics, explained Mr Wyncote eventually, looking at his feet as he strode slowly across the grass. Not to worry, replied the doctor, thoroughly baffled and concerned. Youve come a long way on very little trust, said the man, looking at Dr Vandell and issuing a faltering smile. Well, I see very little option. The police have been of practically no help. Good. You must keep them out of it, doctor. This is why I have felt compelled to warn you. You mustnt make waves, sir, or you will be endangering yourself and many others. You have waded into the middle of a secret conflict not realising the severity of the situation. Perhaps you can shed some light on the allusions you keep making, sir? Yes, yes. Im sorry, but I have to be more than careful. There is so much at stake. I dont in all honesty know where to begin, what to tell you, or if I should say anything at all. Perhaps you can start with where the children are, suggested Dr Vandell, stopping and thereby forcing Mr Wyncote to come to a halt and face him directly. Of course. We believe they may have been taken to a research facility on the Isle of Rhum, which is off the coast of Scotland, approximately a hundred miles north-west of Edinburgh. I dont need a lesson in geography, sir. I need to know why you believe the children are there. The vagrant settled on a park bench and reached inside his long and tatty overcoat. The previously sole occupier of the bench, a rotund man with a monocle thrust into one socket and a huge framing moustache, glanced sideways, not looking directly at the vagrant, but decided that it was time to fold up his newspaper and move on. The vagrant sniffed and watched the man as his big form waddled away in a hurry. Removing the handkerchief from his pocket, the vagrant laid it out on the bench and began to rummage through the collection of tiny clockwork parts upon the cloth. He pushed components aside from the pile with a long, dirty fingernail and studied his selection for a moment before raising his hand over them. The parts vibrated and began to gather themselves together. Each cog and spring rolled across the material of the handkerchief before locking themselves together with the pins and tiny screws they accompanied. Soon, a frame
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had formed itself, and a mechanical scorpion, no more than two inches in length, wondered about the handkerchief, probing its surroundings with its claws. The vagrant smiled and once again reached into his long shabby overcoat, withdrawing a small tin box, from within which he removed a glass vial. The vial was no bigger than the tip of his thumb, holding an amber liquid, fixed at one end with a small corked cap. The man carefully removed the cork and held the vial up to the clockwork scorpion. The creature raised its tail, and slowly dipped its stinger inside the liquid. Its claws snapped open and closed in front of its eyeless body as its six metallic legs scuttled back and forth, displaying an apparent eagerness to act. Picking up the scorpion by its tail, the vagrant placed it on the ground at his feet. Nobody paid any attention as they passed him sitting on the bench, because he was invisible to the world, and that was the way in which he liked it. The scorpion darted away under the bench and into the long grass beyond. Perhaps, if you will permit me to begin again. Have you heard of a Professor Syn? asked Mr Wyncote. No, should I have? Yes, indeed you should, but that is quite my point; nobody ever has. I dont follow. Gabriel Syn is a scientist of an extraordinary calibre who has made many of the most outstanding technological breakthroughs of the past twenty years. Primarily, his work has pioneered both the fields of the combustion engine and electricity, along with other new experimental forms of power. Without him, England, and therefore the world, would still be stuck in the dark ages. He revolutionised mass transport with his design of the oil engines used on most airships. He also worked hand in hand with Babbage on his analytical engine design, assisting Babbage both fund his research and advance his theories exponentially. For this reason alone, you should know his name. Well, I dont, and I fail to understand why my ignorance is of interest. Thats exactly my point. A man who has given so much to the world lives in relative secrecy. No more than a handful of people in Westminster know his name, or his involvement in any of these things. In fact, he gives away all recognition to others. He filtered his achievements through other fine, yet by comparison, ultimately second-rate scientists. It is they that take public credit, not he. Silently, this man has shaped the technological age we live in, with a great deal of funding from the British government. Very well, if it is as you explain, but where do the children fit into this, and what of this island? Our investigations into Syn led us to believe he was searching for something, or someone. These investigations led us to your refuge and we learnt about the boy. Tom is of great interest to Syn. A report we have learned of at a railway station recently suggests that the boy may have some of the same qualities displayed by members of what we refer to as The Table of Shadows. Table of Shadows? Im afraid that Im not following you at all. Who are you, and how do you know of Tom? Who are the we you keep referring to? Mr Wyncote took in a deep breath in preparation for his next sentence and looked Dr Vandell in the eye.

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Im a representative of Her Majestys Government, he said, following it with a small pause to measure the doctors response, but there was nothing perceptible. More specifically, I work for the Secret Service Division, SSD. Dr Vandell looked up at the fast moving clouds overhead. He closed his eyes and readied himself to walk away, and under normal circumstances, he would have done so without hesitation, but Wyncote had been the only person to offer him any real information on the children to date, so he found himself pausing longer than his good sense would have had him do so. I am an agent of the government and am investigating Professor Syn on behalf of Her Majesty, Queen Victoria. Syn is a powerful man and one who has received immense funding in return for his scientific assistance to the country, little of which has been accounted for. It is our task to fully understand what Syn is doing, what he is capable of doing and what his plans are. As for Tom, we knew Syns men were searching for something valuable and followed the trail to your refuge. Too late, it appears. Dr Vandell had several conflicting thoughts running through in his head, but the overwhelming one was telling him he was talking to a lunatic. You must think me insane, said Mr Wyncote, but I assure you, I am far from it. My story may sound extreme, but it is quite true. I can prove it. How? asked the doctor, grasping onto the only thread of logic offered to him. Wel Wyncote went suddenly rigged, his eyes widened and his hands raised before his body in spasm induced claws. Agghh! What is it? cried Dr Vandell, reaching out and grasping Wyncote by the arms as the man began to topple to the ground. Wyncote gripped the doctors forearm as his legs failed and looked him in the eye. Gaia! he gasped. The doctor lay the man down on the grass and looked into his eyes, noting dilated pupils. He put his ear to the mans airways. He was no longer breathing. Removing his gloves, he felt for a pulse. Finding none, he began resuscitation exercises, but quickly realised they were fruitless. The man was far beyond help. He was dead. Dr Vandell looked up and around himself, seeing nothing but an empty park bench twenty or so yards away and several passers-by on the nearby path. He looked back at the body of Wyncote and noticed something shining in the grass. He reached out and took up a small brass cog, before curiously noting a number more tiny separate mechanical items buried in the long grass. Indeed, they appeared to be pocket watch parts.

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Chapter Nine

Awakenings
Gem had twisted and pulled at the door handle for the best part of half an hour, peppering the fruitless efforts with screams and erratic curses, knowing it was pointless, but it felt better than doing nothing. Eventually, she threw herself onto the bottom bunk bed, her throat as sore as her fists. She felt like crying, but her frustration and desire to be near Tom were the stronger emotions for the time being. Gem gave the room more attention, attempting to see if anything might help her. The floor was rough bare grey and above a single galvanic light hung from the ceiling by two feet or so of cabling. The bunk beds were of a plain build, with thick looking bolts in each joint and a wooden slated framework under the mattresses. The table and chair were simple furniture too, built for purpose rather than with any kind of aesthetic skill. The wastepaper basket was wicker and not very strong, something Gem was able to testify to as it was the first thing she had stamped on in frustration, and so it sat in pieces in the corner of the room, where she had kicked it. A turning of a key in the lock drew Gems attention back to the door as it began to open. She sat up on her bed with a start, narrowly missing hitting her head on the upper bunk as she did so. Readying herself, she swung her legs round and put them on the floor. Come here at once, said Mr Payne appearing in the doorway. Why? asked Gem, shrinking back on the bed. Get up! he demanded, indicating he was not going to discuss the issue at any length. Gem slowly did as ordered, a growing fear of uncertainty taking her. Come here, he said, grabbing her dress at the shoulder and pulling her across the room and into the corridor before pushing her squarely in the back. Move. Gems heart rushed and she tried turning her head to look behind herself, only to be shoved forward. What? Where are you taking me? To the boy. Quickly! barked Payne. Left. In here. He snapped from behind her, indicating she should take a nearby open doorway. Gem did as instructed and turned in to the doorway, finding herself moving into a laboratory more than three times the size of the room she had been locked in.

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His heart rate is out of control at two-hundred and twenty, shouted a voice from somewhere in the room. And his blood pressure is dangerously high. He is going to arrest if this continues. A few feet in front of Gem, Tom convulsed on a bed, screaming and writhing in agony. Thick leather straps across his ankles, body, wrists and forehead strained under effort as he arched and contorted his body. Three people stood at his bed; two men in suits, and one woman in a long white coat who was attempting to hold Tom down. Get off him! cried Gem, running forward and pushing the woman away from Tom. The woman turned on Gem with a startled look on her face. Wait! said one of the men. Let the girl try. Put him back under, demanded the other man. No. He will die if this is not handled correctly. He already has sedative and the suppressant in his system. Anymore might kill him. Its too volatile. If you dont, hes going to kill himself! Let the girl try, said Payne. His voice was icy and stopped the bickering immediately. Gem ignored the arguing and sprang to Toms side. His eyes were open, rolling back in their sockets, and his body arching uncontrollably. She reached out and took his hand. Tom convulsed again, causing Gem to cry out as he crushed her hand, but there was something else within the pain. For an instant, his overwhelming confusion and fear became her own and she went rigid along the length of her body as her muscles contracted. She would have collapsed upon the floor had she not grasped the bed frame to steady herself. Tom dropped flat against the sheets and began to shudder. Gem knew his terror along with his inability to feel the world in the way he should as if it were her own. She gasped, but continued to hold tightly onto his hand. After a few seconds of rushing panic and pain, they achieved a balance and Gem once again sensed the halving of whatever she was and felt with Tom. A tear trailed down her cheek and dropped from her chin onto the bed. Jewel, said Tom weakly. His eyes closed, his head dropped to one side, his body fell motionless and Gem felt his heart begin to slow with each passing beat. Remarkable, said a voice somewhere in the receding distance. A cloak of exhaustion fell upon her, and Gem collapsed upon the floor, plummeting into unconsciousness. Gem woke gradually, testing her limbs first before opening her eyes. It felt as if she had slept for too long and was disorientated and groggy. The first thing she saw were thin wooden planks and a grey striped material. Then she remembered, and it all fell into place; she was staring again at the underside of the upper bunk in the holding room. The last thing she could recall was holding Toms hand, and then exhaustion and darkness had overcome her. She rolled onto her side before gradually taking to her feet. Her head swam and she reached out to steady herself against the bed. On the chair before her was the laundry bag she had taken from the refuge. She picked it up and looked inside, finding Toms boots and coat. Her forehead crinkled with confusion as she looked at the items. A moan rose behind her, causing her to turn, finding Tom laying on the upper bunk and had to refrain herself from shouting out with relief. Tom? she said, in the gentlest voice she could muster, reaching out to put a hand to his shoulder. Its Gem, Tom. Jewel.
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Jewel, he said, opening his eyes for an instant before they rolled back and closed. Yes, she said, gathering up his hand and stroking his forehead. Everythings all right. Theres no need to be frightened. Toms eyes opened again, this time more fully and lucidly. Jewel, said Tom in what seemed to be a more natural, yet still dazed, tone. His left knee lifted, gathering the blanket to his waist. Yes, Tom. Tom moaned before turning his head from side-to-side. He blinked a few times before attempting to sit up, and Gem felt a sudden dropping as he panicked and passed the sensation to her. Gem pulled the pillows under his shoulders to prop him up, and he seemed to calm the instant he realised his limbs were not bound by further restraints. She smiled and Tom looked back at her for a moment before his eyes began to make the familiar darting movements over his surroundings as he scanned the room. Gem reached out and brushed his hair from his forehead and away from his brow, but it fell back into its usual position again once she removed her hand. Tom looked up at her. Their eyes met and Gem felt his confusion and she realised something was missing. No, he said, his eyes widening in question at Gem. Feel. Its all right, she replied, considering the possibility that the drug one of the people had referred to as the suppressant, may be dulling Toms perceptions and causing him to panic. Tom swung his legs around and off the side of the bunk, pushing Gem aside. He let go of her hand and pulled his arm away, his eyes shifting about the room. He slid out from under the blanket and climbed down onto the floor where he skittered across the room before trying to open the door. You cant go out there at the moment, she said. Its locked. Tom looked at Gem, but continued to wrestle with the door handle. Gem watched him struggle futilely with the door, relieved to be with him again, and feeling stronger, despite the situation. Oh, Tom, she sighed, shaking her head. I think we are in a lot of trouble. Dr Vandell was already travelling by train to Edinburgh, the only choice of destination that took him anywhere near the Isle of Rhum. A ticket clerk had advised him that he would have to take a connecting service onwards from that point. The doctor had awaited the police the previous day at the park, staying with the body of Mr Wyncote after he had raised the alarm and an officer arrived. He had been questioned at length as to why he had met Mr Wyncote, and he had chosen to tell the truth as he knew it, explaining about the meeting at Hyde Park, in reference to the missing children, of whom he had already lodged a request for investigation. The only details he had omitted were the references made by Wyncote to Professor Syn and Rhum Island, feeling it would weaken his credibility in the eyes of the police and cause delays. The information seemed an incredible stretch of the imagination, but his only afforded opportunity, and the police had shown little interest in finding the children, so he had decided to keep it to himself. When asked about the curious circumstances surrounding the cause of death, the doctor had lied, suggesting that he thought the man had died of a sudden and massive heart attack. He knew any investigating coroner would reach the same conclusion as himself; that
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some extremely fast acting toxin had poisoned Mr Wyncote. Blackened veins, dilated pupils and the tremendous spasm with which Wyncote had suffered all indicated foul play. However, that would all take time for the police to conclude, and he did not want it to interfere with his own plans. Dr Vandell considered all these points before making his decision to go to the Isle of Rhum. Which brought him to here, staring from the window of a train as it meandered through the rolling countryside, where exactly he knew not, hoping to reach the Isle of Rhum before lunchtime the following day. Gem had no method of telling the time, but having Tom with her helped her with estimating its passing better than being alone. Tom seemed even more despondent than usual. Gem could sense he felt removed from the world and was still terribly frightened. He lay huddled in the corner of the bottom bunk, wrapped in a blanket near her feet. His eyes were closed and his breathing steady, but she could not tell if he were asleep. No more than ten minutes later, the door was once again unlocked and opened. What do you want? she asked, taking to her feet as the silent Mr Voyce entered. Payne followed his companion into the room. The Professor wishes to see you. Gem glanced at Tom, who stared out from beneath his covers, pulling himself into a tight ball. Let me get him, she suggested as Voyce approached, his eyes burning with menace. That is what you are here for, said Payne. Gem put her hand forward, offering it to Tom. His eyes widened and he cried out, shrinking away from her and into the corner of the bed. He drew the blanket over himself and began to hum loudly. Gem started towards Tom, lowering herself under the upper bunk until she sat perched on the side of the mattress and could reach across to him. She pulled the blanket down from his face, but found he had pressed both of his hands to his eyes and was continuing to hum with vigour. Come on Tom, she said, looking back at the men. Payne took a single step forward and shook his head. You are here to help keep him calm. If you cannot do that, I am sure he is strong and sedated enough now for us to take him ourselves. Gem nodded and turned back to Tom. She did not need to hold him to know how distressed he was. She leant forward and wrapped one arm around his back. Please, Tom, she said, as she began to pull him from the bed, surprised at his ability to resist her without using his arms. His eyes remained tightly closed and his face contorted in what looked like pain. Abandoning her attempts of force, which seemed only to be aggravating the situation, Gem reached forth and held him by the wrist. For an instant, she faced the sheer terror awash within him before once again the balance was attained and she was able to think clearly. Tom, she said, while trying to muster some courage and conviction within herself. Its all right. We need to go with these men and meet a doctor. Like Dr Vandell. The men watched on as Gem attempted to calm Tom with some measure of success. After a minute, she was able to get him to release his hands from his face and open his eyes.
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Please come, she said to him, pulling gently at his wrists. Please. Slowly, Tom slid from the bed, his eyes focusing fearfully on the men as they moved aside to allow Gem and Tom to leave the room ahead of them. Right, said Mr Payne in indication of direction. Gem walked along the passageway and pulled Tom alongside her. She listened to every footstep behind them and found herself turning around more than once to see the frightening Mr Voyce looming over them. Gem sensed they were heading deeper into the facility and further underground, but was completely lost to the complexity of turns they had taken. Stop, commanded Payne after several minutes as they reached double doors that lay closed before them. Gem held Tom back by the arm, bringing him to a halt beside her. He fidgeted, cowering away from the dark men. Voyce strode around the children and pulled open the doors to allow the party through into the room beyond. Tom entered the room first, eager to move away from Voyce. Gem made a quick double step to catch up to him and looped her own arm through his, holding him close for her own comfort, finding her grip tightening with every step further into the unknown. Payne and Voyces footsteps broke rhythmically across the ornate polished wooden flooring as they followed the children. The room opened up dramatically before them. The ceiling some thirty to forty feet overhead continued the unfinished rock surface that Gem had noted throughout the facility. Lights periodically illuminated the walls, giving the entire room the eerie and foreboding feeling of a cave and a claustrophobic reminder of where they were beneath the surface of the island. The flooring ran back thirty or forty paces to where an imposing looking family of machines at the far end hummed in a singular voice that resonated about the room. Dials, handles and meters seemed to be everywhere. Tom led Gem further into the vast area, mesmerised by the machines. What is this? asked Gem to no answer. Great pools of shadow fell around them where the lights failed to reach into the depths of the collecting darkness. The children, as your requested, Gabriel, said Payne before turning and leaving with Voyce. Gem watched the men depart, wanting them to stay, fearing the unknown more. The doors closed as they removed themselves, filling the room with echoes that bounced off the cavernous walls and ceiling. Shadows slid over one another where something moved in the dark. Gem and Tom stood holding each other, staring into the darkness, waiting for it to reveal itself. The child. The voice was deep, strong, clearly pronounced and penetrating, with a quality of gravel underlying it. Metronomic footsteps reverberated about the walls, creeping beneath the childrens skin. Tom stared into the darkness. The shadows began to move and shift before bearing a tall and gaunt figure towards them. A man walked into the light, his skin a pale white across a smooth and hairless skull. A reflective glint of the light flashed across the most peculiar pair of dark spectacles Gem had ever seen as he emerged from the shadows. He was dressed unusually, but immaculately, in a
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tightly fighting waistcoat, black cravat about his neck, and a jacket tailored from a shining dark fabric that reached almost to his ankles and swayed with his movements. As the figure approached, Gem realised that what she had first assumed to be eyeglasses were in fact lenses surgically buried deep into his eye sockets. Thin vine-like pipes ran from the implanted devices back along the temple on either side in a manner similar to spectacles, but rather than hooking around the ear, they ran directly into the bone of his skull. A jagged white scar ran from the top of his forehead to just below the cheekbone, intersected by a smaller mark above the left eye-lens, making it appear like an elongated crucifix. He stepped closer, a look of removed analysis on his face as he looked towards Tom. Each footstep pierced the silence until he towered over the children, glaring down upon them. The implanted lenses issued a clicking sound as he studied them. His cold, emotionless face burned through Gem as he looked upon her. The Gaia child? said Syn, his voice dry and rough though carefully spoken. Release his hand. Gem did as she was told, dropping Toms hand away from her own, terrified. How old are you? Thirteen, answered Gem, her throat catching upon the word and unable to do little more than croak in response. She withered under his glare. Syn turned to study Tom in more detail, his hands behind his back as he leant forward until he was almost nose-to-nose with the boy. Tom looked up from beneath his unruly hair. His eyes wide, his head backing away as the strange black lenses approached him. What is your name, boy? Tom continued to gaze back, but there was no response from him. After a few moments of further silent examination, Syn straightened and moved from the children for several strides before stopping, facing back towards them and directly addressing Gem. Does he talk to you? She cleared her throat before replying, Sometimes. Regarding? He says numbers, words, never sentences. Example. He will point to things and say a number. Specifically. Gem was flustered. The snow falling on them at the graveyard came to mind. When it snowed he said the numbers one and eight. The dark lenses hid much, but Gem recognised a fleeting look of surprise rise on Syns face before he turned and strode away to a table partially masked by the shadows. He picked up an object and brought it back with him. What is this? he asked, holding forth a glass and pouring the contents into a cupped palm. What appeared to be water trickled into the mans hand and overflowed onto the floor. Tom said nothing, his body shrinking away from the dark figure before him. What is this? demanded the Syn, his voice edged with a cold sharpness. Tom said nothing. One and Eight? Water. The man peered into Toms face before he dropped his hand down to his side.
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He allows only you to touch him? Yes. Do you feel what he feels? Yes. Have you seen him move things with his mind? He made some marbles lift into the air. Marbles? Yes. Syn nodded to himself before continuing his questioning. Has he influenced a persons behaviour? Made them do something against their will? No. No, that kind of focus is probably beyond him, said the man. You are from a refuge in London? Your meeting with him was entirely coincidental? Yes. Mmmm, said Syn, looking directly at Gem. You may leave. As he spoke the words, the doors behind them opened and Mr Voyce stepped into the room. What are you going to do? demanded Gem. Syn simply waved her away with his free hand, indicating that Voyce should remove her. Gem took a step forward and demanded again to know what was happening. What are you going to do with Tom? Voyce wrapped an arm about Gems waist and hauled her from her feet. She tried to kick and scream, but the big man was unmoved. She bit him as hard as she could on the wrist as his free arm came about to take a better hold on her, but it did not appear to cause him any noticeable discomfort. After several seconds of applying as much force through her jaw as possible, Gem released him and returned her efforts to screaming. Her voice echoed distortedly off the walls of the chamber as Voyce carried her away, leaving Tom alone with Syn, looking frightened and apprehensive. Tom looked towards the door as Jewel was dragged away from him screaming. He reached for her but found the bald man grabbing him by the wrist and pulled him away. He grimaced against the contact and closed his eyes. Tom found himself standing beside the man, only, in this time and place the man had wavy dark hair combed neatly back across his head. He knelt before a great black surface that seemed to ripple like water, yet was still at the same time. The surface seemed to absorb not only light, but hope and thought. The man reached out with a hand and Tom found himself doing the same. They had to touch it. They had to touch the black absorbing surface and connect with it. The mans hand touched the surface and he screamed. A wailing high-pitched scream that burned through to Toms soul. Tom withdrew his hand and gasped. Suddenly, he was back in the present again, being dragged across the floor. He struggled to free himself, disorientated by the shift in realities. He could feel the man burned with anger, thought, obsession and desire. A wealth of emotions raged with a single purpose beneath a fragile surface of composure. The man swung Tom around and lifted him into the air by his arm. Tom dropped back, bracing as he found himself cast into a great metal chair.
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The man fastened clasps across his wrists, ankles and forehead, forcing Tom down into the chair, unable to struggle free of their restraint. Something glinted in the light. The man raised the object up, displaying a long syringe with a vicious looking needle at its head. Something clicked nearby and the machines began to hum louder in their singular voice. Tom felt a building power in the chair he was strapped into and winced away from the needle as it closed towards his forehead. I suspect you wont forget this in a hurry, said Syn. The train came to a screeching halt at Arisiag station, a tiny village on the western coast of Scotland between Fort William and Mallaig, and, Dr Vandell had been assured, would be the best place to travel to the Isle of Rhum. As the doctor stepped down onto the platform, he found that he was the only person to disembark from the train. Placing his travelling case at his feet, he removed a cigar from its silver holder. Not far away on the opposite end of the sleepy stations platform stood a small and rickety looking ticket office. To the other end of the platform stood a signal-house overlooking the station. Inside, a man was sitting back in his chair drinking a cup of tea, and the idea of a warm drink suddenly seemed like a fine one to the doctor. Beyond the signal-house, woodland rolled up the hills and met a late, bitingly cold afternoon sky. The station itself looked down over the village and the doctor gazed upon twisting paths and tracks leading to a scattered collection of white buildings and a harbour beyond. A pair of seagulls swooped high overhead and squawked as they dropped with the declivity, following the rocky bay out to sea and away from the mainland. The train whistled and hissed its way along the tracks as its wheels turned and it began to pull away. The doctor inhaled the scent of sea air as he lit his cigar. Well, he said to an empty platform. There seemed little option, so he picked up his case and began the long walk down the hill towards the centre of the village. The exercise did some good in allowing the doctor to stretch limbs that had been cooped up for far too long in the uncomfortable trains. The afternoon sun fell quickly in the sky until it was possible to call it early evening by the time the doctor reached the village, finding himself wandering aimlessly along thin dirt tracks and pathways, looking for anywhere that might suggest lodgings were available. The village was not big and before long the doctor found himself standing in front of a public house with a sign fixed to its low white-stoned surrounding garden wall that indicated it had rooms for rent. Dr Vandell pushed his way through the entrance to the inn, causing more than a slight commotion while negotiating his baggage through the narrow opening, to which the door did not fully open. Ahm sorry about that, sir, said a thick Scottish accent that caused the doctor to have to repeat it through his head a second time before he completely understood what had been said. Been meaning to fix it, but I keep putting it off! A deep chortle followed and the doctor found himself face to face with a large man with a broad chest and thick neck supporting a grizzled yet friendly looking face. The man reached forward and took the luggage from the doctor, who entrusted it to him with a thankful nod. The room was pleasantly warm with a heat that emanated from a central fireplace accessible from all sides and heaped with a mixture of coal and logs that snapped and crackled, bathing the rest of the room comfortably in its glow.
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The inn was not large by any means, and there were no more than a half dozen tables tightly slotted together set out around a short bar overcrowded by hanging mugs and measures. A dartboard was fixed to the far wall and appeared to have been missed more times than struck, as tiny holes peppered the surrounding brickwork. Come in, said the man, jarring Dr Vandell out of his moment of observation. Thank you, said the doctor as he stepped in and began to remove his gloves. Youre most kind. The man placed the doctors case on the floorboards and then pushed the door closed in several shuddering attempts. Ha, an Englishman! I was wondering if you had any rooms available? asked Dr Vandell. Aye, sir, we do indeed, said the man in his thick Scottish tongue accompanied with an enthusiastic smile. That is the best news Ive heard all day, said the doctor, feeling his extremities beginning to warm. Is it possible to reach the Isle of Rhum from here? Well, hesitated the man as he brushed down the front of his thick jumper with both palms. Its not far, thats for sure, but you cannae go there. Nobody goes there since the government took over the island for their research or suchlike. Government? Aye, thats what they say. You see the airships flying in, and occasionally boats are chartered out of the bay here, but rarely. Would somebody be able to take me to view the island? Could I charter a boat? Well now, I should think so, but theres not a great deal to see. If you tell me what it is youre after, I might be able to suggest other islands hereabouts which would do you better, said the man, his voice softening and his eyes narrowing. Tell me, began Dr Vandell. Have you heard of a Professor Syn? Professor Syn? I dont believe I have. Does he live hereabouts? No matter, said the doctor, pausing for a time. What is it the government do on Rhum, exactly? Well, I dont know, but it seems a busy place, like I said. The men that work there never come aground here. The doctor nodded in contemplation before agreeing to take a room for night. Shortly after, he was shown to a room reached by a staircase at the near end of the bar. A single bed crowded the room, leaving no more than an arms length of space for the doctor to manoeuvre. There was a writing desk and chair at the far end slotted beneath a window that overlooked the bay where moonlight danced across the surface of the bay. The doctor changed from his crumpled travel clothes into appropriate evening attire before returning downstairs to a gladly accepted hot meal of stew and dumplings alongside a welcome cup of tea. After issuing his thanks for the meal, the doctor decided that despite the cold and dark evening outside, he would follow the footpaths that led to the bay. He ventured out into the night, comfortably full and glad to walk off the meal. It took some time to reach the bay, but eventually he found himself standing on a high crag overlooking the water that hooked around on itself like a giant horseshoe. Beyond the moonlit entrance to the bay, the doctor could make out two islands, dark and foreboding against the grey horizon. The nearer, and the smaller of the two, he understood to be Eigg. The second, he assumed to be Rhum.
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He stood for some time surveying the scene, puffing idly on a cigar, making a silent prayer for the children. Eventually the chill of the wind dictated that he sought warmth and with a final look across the bay, he turned and headed back to the inn with a sigh. Gem had screamed and beaten at the door of the holding room for as long as she had enough energy. She lay on her bunk, immersed in tears and the endless horror of not knowing as to Toms situation. She had cried, but Dr Vandell had not answered, nor had anyone else she had begged for help. It was the better part of an hour later when the door opened and Tom stumbled in. Gem ran to him and caught him in her arms as the door closed behind him. Are you all right? she asked, looking him over, while helping him to the bunk. Toms skin was pasty white and slick with sweat, and he gazed back through unfocused bloodshot eyes. What did they do to you? she asked. Tom tried to say something, but it came out as little more than a garbled murmur. Gem helped Tom to the bunk and pulled off his shoes before lifting his legs onto the bed and laying him down. If I ever she began, a fury building within herself. She pulled a blanket over Toms body and brushed at his forehead with the back of her hand. I dont understand why someone would do this, she said. What could be worth hurting a boy for? It was a question that went unanswered as Tom rolled onto his side and closed his eyes. Gem held his hand and sensed that all he wanted to do was sleep.

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Chapter Ten

A Bolt from the Blue

Dr Vandell awoke with a sudden start. He found himself sitting upright in his bed before realising where he was. A thundering in the distance caused him to pull aside the curtains of the window overhanging his bed and look out into the early morning sky and across the bay. There, surrounding the Isle of Rhum, Dr Vandell could make out the silhouettes of two battleships just off its shore. Great white wakes trailed each ship as they pierced through the surface of the waters. Overhead, a sleek looking airship was hanging directly over the island, where below, a dark cloud indicated the scene of a recent explosion. Smoke rose high into the sky and began drifting with the northerly wind. What on earth? said the doctor. He turned out of bed and hurriedly pulled on his suit over his pyjamas before tucking his bare feet into his shoes and grabbing his overcoat. He left his room and clambered unceremoniously down the stairs, flattening his hair down and wiping at his eyes with his hands as he went. Spilling onto the street, Dr Vandell met several other onlookers who all seemed as shocked as he at the scenes across the bay. The innkeeper stood in his dressing gown beside a woman, who the doctor supposed was his wife, staring down the rapidly filling street and out across the bay. The airship appeared to be lowering itself nearer to the island, but the events before them were so far away that it was difficult to tell anything with certainty. Whats happening? shouted the doctor to anyone in the street who would answer. Douglas the innkeeper responded with what seemed to be the common opinion. Cannae say! The doctor attempted to straighten his clothing, embarrassed beyond measure that his pyjama top replaced his shirt, but it seemed that he was one of the more overdressed people on the street at that moment, as everyone else appeared to be attired in nightclothes and dressing gowns. Do you have a telescope, or something similar? asked the doctor. Aye! Thats a thought, said Douglas, trotting back to the inn while the doctor and the developing crowd stared out to sea at the dramatics. Douglas returned only a short time later with a spyglass in hand, which he held up to his eye, his mouth puckering tightly as he more closely observed the situation.
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Well, what do you see? asked the doctor. I can see the island. It looks as if the airship is dropping ropes down to the ground and Ill buy the spyglass from you, said the doctor, wanting desperately to see the situation for himself. Aye, said the innkeeper, lowering the telescope and looking at the doctor with a raising eyebrow. And what be the offer? Whatever you think reasonable. Three pounds, suggested Douglas, his eyes hopeful and the corner of his mouth curling upward. Yes, yes! Three pounds, agreed the doctor. Add it to my bill. Well, here you go, then, said Douglas, handing the spyglass towards the doctor. Thank you! said Dr Vandell, almost snatching the spyglass before quickly holding it up to his eye. The lenses were of excellent quality and the doctor could make out the situation as it unfolded with much more clarity. The airship, which hovered above the island, had indeed dropped ropes to its surface, and men in red tunics were beginning to slide down them, a pair at a time, onto the surface of Rhum. The airship itself was noticeably smaller than the standard passenger ships commonly seen in the skies and unlike any design the doctor had ever seen; ironclad on its lower, ground-facing, belly and great shields of armour skirted the undersides of the two oval balloons above the main decks. A union flag whipped violently in the wind from a short mast on the ships aft. The doctor did not need to witness any more to conclude that this was in fact a military airship and the men sliding down the ropes beneath were soldiers. The doctor focused on the ocean and began to examine more closely the two battleships in the waters. The farther of the two ships was moving across the far side of the island and quickly disappearing out of sight. The nearer of the two stood closer and its oil engines, while still billowing great clouds of dark smoke across the water, appeared to be idle. Two great cannons mounted on the ships bow and stern aimed directly at the island, but for the time being, remained silent. Its the Army, said Dr Vandell, commentating on the events wide mouthed as he peered through the viewfinder. And, it would appear, the Navy. What? asked the woman beside Douglas. The Army, repeated the doctor, not paying a great amount of attention to the woman, his interest focused predominantly on the situation playing itself out before him. He collapsed the spyglass with a slap of the hand and ran down the path that led towards the water, threading his way between several groups of people that had congregated on the paths to witness the incident on Rhum. Excuse me! cried the doctor as he slipped between people and hastily made his way to the bay. It felt like the room shook. Gem woke with a startle, grabbing at the bed beneath her, finding the room plunged into a pitch black. Her eyes widened to the darkness she found consuming her. She was lying beside Tom, who was facing the wall, curled beneath a blanket. After a moment of disorientation, she began to hear raised voices passing on the other side of the door. Whats happening? said Gem as she shook free from her confusion.
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Tom curled up into a tight ball beside her and moaned as though his sleep were being disturbed. Gem jumped to her feet and stumbled her way to the door, holding her hands in front of her as she felt through the darkness. On reaching it, she put her head against the door in an attempt to hear what was happening outside. A bell in the corridor rang in four long, shrill tones. Jewel? said Tom. Somewhere in the complex there was a second explosion. This time Gem both heard and felt it clearly. The light flickered into life with a buzz, spitting a dim glow across the room, barely reaching the walls in its frailty. Gem pushed her ear to the door. Beyond the room, she began to make out rushed footsteps and panicked voices. Somewhere high above them followed a further explosion, the shuddering vibrations reaching them as a flurry of dust drifted down from the ceiling. Gem pulled at the handle and began to kick at the door. Behind her, a chunk of ceiling fell and fractured across the floor at her heels. She glanced up, seeing an exposed support beam sagging under stress. We need to get out of here, she said, slamming her fists against the door. She turned and looked about the room for desperate inspiration. Tom huddled in a tight ball on the bed, his eyes wide and a moan welling in his chest. Gem took up the chair with both hands and drew it back before striking it against the door. The door held strong, repelling the chair and resisting any damage. She tried again to no effect and cast the chair across the room at the wall, following it with a scream of fury. Toms closed his eyes and hugged himself, wincing away from Gems outburst. Im sorry, she said, dropping onto the bed next to him and putting a hand to his shoulder. Dont worry. Well be fine. She shook her head, belying the belief in her own words, and dropped her eyes at the ground. Her mouth slackened as she looked towards the door and the point at which it met the floor. Water leaked through the gap, pooling towards her feet. Gem rushed back to the door and put her hand to the gap where the flooding began to spray out over her fingers with increasing ferocity. What? she said. Water? Where from? The deluge swept across the room until the entire floor was under water. Pulling at the handle again, Gem banged against the doorframe with her hand. Help! Somebody help us! Were trapped! Let us out! She turned on the room, biting her bottom lip as she looked for a method of escape. Her eyes fell to the far wall where she had thrown the chair. The chair leg had chipped the plastering, leaving a small dent in the wall no larger than a coin, but it gave her hope. Splashing through the water, Gem dragged the chair away from the wall and pulled at the flaking plaster surrounding the small indentation with her fingers. Here, she said. We maybe able to break through this. Gem dragged the chair into the centre of the floor and stamped on its frame several times until she broke off a length of one of its legs in a giant splinter the size of her forearm. Water began to seep over the edge of the lower bunk, and Tom climbed from the bed to stand at Gems side.
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Gem used both arms to push him back. Stand clear, she said, raising the chair leg and swinging it into the plasterboard wall. White dust puffed into the air as she struck repeatedly at the wall until she punctured through, making a gap as big as her fist. Gem dropped to her knees in the water and peered through the hole. The light was poor, but she could see the outline of the room beyond. It too was deepening in water, but the door hung open onto the outer passageway. Encouraged, she took back to her feet and thrust the chair leg through the hole, forcing its mouth to widen until she felt able to squeeze through. By the time she had finished, her arms were weak with effort and the freezing water was approaching her waist. Gem turned back to the table, picked up her laundry bag of belongings and looped it over her head and shoulder. Come on, she said, facing Tom and holding his hand. Gem climbed through the hole and turned to encourage Tom to follow her into the darkness. The failing light from the passage spilled through the doorway and cut sharp edges on the room beyond, outlining high glass cabinets and drawers along the far wall. Gem felt cold fingers in her hand and Tom slowly crawled through the hole. She wadded across the room to the open doorway with Tom in hand, furtively glancing through it and along the passageway. Water ran up from the lower levels in a torrent that flowed quickly under the dim lighting above. The lights began to spark and go out with a popping noise, dropping the corridor into sections of darkness. The shaking glow of a handheld lamp hit the corner of the passageway and Gem heard splashing coming towards them. Payne and Voyce waded through the water side by side, making their way towards the holding room. Both men held lanterns before them as they moved with purpose along the corridor, pushing quickly through the water. Gem slunk back unseen into the room and dragged Tom with her. She wrapped her arm around his body and pulled him back into the room, where she hid behind a cabinet. She sunk down into the water with Tom until only their noses broke the surface and they merged with the shadows. The light from the lamps began to illuminate more than the corridor outside the room, and Gem watched, shivering in the cold water as flotsam drifted by at eye level. A key turned in the door of the room that they had just vacated and Tom twisted in Gems grasp. Shhhh, she whispered in his ear. The water level had risen well above the hole Gem had made in the wall, but she knew if the men found it, they would immediately follow it to them. Where are they? she heard Payne say. There was further splashing on the far side of the wall as waves of activity broke across the room. Ahhhhh! cried Payne, striking something with rage. Im sensing too much. Too much fear and panic. It is shrouding my reach. They cant have gone far. A further light popped as it died and pushed the corridor deeper into shadow. There was a moment of painful silence as Payne and Voyce held still. They must be working their way to the surface, said Payne eventually. Come! Sounds of splashing broke out as the men withdrew leaving the children behind in the rising water and diminishing light.
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Gems hands searched through the contents of the cabinet drawers, her fingers drifting over dozens of useless objects until she found a box of matches. She shook the box and released a breath of relief as she heard the contents rattle. In little more time, the water would have reached the height of the drawers and the matches would have been damp and worthless. Here. Hold this she said, passing the splintered chair leg to Tom and opening the box, removing a match and striking it. The phosphorus tip fizzled into life and the darkness receded a pace, leaving the two children facing each other with wide eyes in the flickering light. Gem tilted the matchstick sideways to prolong its short lifespan for a few more seconds as the flame silently licked towards her fingertips. Holding the tiny flame up to the cabinets lining the wall, Gem used the light to reveal numerous unusual instruments alongside rows of bottles in a variety of colours. Amongst the handwritten labels, a word leapt out at her. Here, she said, opening the cabinet and grasping the bottle labelled Xylene, but more importantly, also marked Flammable. Ouch, she cried, as the flame reached her fingers. Gem dropped the match to the water and licked her forefinger and thumb before striking another. We need a rag, or something. As the words fell from her lips, so she found Tom presenting her with a cloth he had secured from somewhere. Well done, said Gem with a smile that bore her last sliver of confidence. She took the cloth and placed the bottle of Xylene under her arm. She laid the match on the counter beside her, but its light died after no more than a second and the room plunged into total darkness again. Its all right, Tom, I just need to use both hands for a moment, said Gem as she struggled to tear the cloth into two and began wrapping it around the length of chair leg. She quickly tied it off and fumbled to open the bottle in the darkness. After carefully emptying some of the contents over the head of her makeshift torch and discarded the bottle, Gem struck another match. She tentatively held the match to the torch head, and flinched as it burst into flames with a roar, gulping at the air before settling back to a steady blue and yellow flame. Gem nodded, pleased with her work. At least we can see now, she said, looking at Tom, his face shinning in the torchlight, his teeth chattering against the cold. Now, lets find away out of here, she said, standing resolutely and offering her free hand to Tom as she raised the torch above their heads. Out, said Tom. Yes. Out. Gem led Tom into the corridor and around a trolley of various equipment abandoned by someone in their haste to escape. He shook uncontrollably at her side, the water reaching above his waist. The flooding continued rising up the walls of the corridors. Miscellaneous items floated by on the surface as they struggled along the passageway. Gem sucked in her stomach involuntarily as the water lapped at her ribs.

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An explosion boomed, shaking Gem from her feet. She found herself dragging Tom down with her as she fell, and barely managed to keep the flame of the torch above the water. The ceiling above crumbled, showering the pair with dust and plaster. Are you all right? she asked as she quickly regained her feet and attempted to pull Tom to his. Come on, cried Gem, tugging Tom behind her and holding the torch high, its flickering light bouncing off the water and walls. Tom seemed shaken, but unharmed. His face in the feeble light mirrored the disorientation she felt from him, his eyes wide and darting about, a hum emanating from within his chest. The pair wadded through the passageways with Gem leading, holding the torch out in front of them. On occasion, they stopped and looked along alternate passages before continuing through the confusing array of tunnels using nothing but guesses at direction. The water continued to rise despite the fact that Gem felt she was leading them to higher ground. Desperation mounted with each inch of water, while progress remained slow as they fought their way through the darkness. The children pushed along a rising passageway lit only by the flame of their torch. The experience felt to Gem like a terrible nightmare, one in which her limbs were leaden, and, try as she might, she could not escape a relentless fear that pursued her. The icy water began to wrap around her chest, causing her breathing to stutter and shorten. Toms staggered forward, his cheeks puffing out with each short breath he stole. Gem wrapped her spare arm under his, lifting him up, and continued to push onwards. As they moved on, the torchlight began to reveal a collapse in the roof of the tunnel ahead. The childrens terror rose as they found their way blocked by an impenetrable wall of debris where a section of the passageway had fallen in upon itself. No! cried Gem. She began to shudder uncontrollably, unsure if it were a result of the chill of the water or fear. There was no choice but to turn around and retreat along the way they had originally come until they reached an alternative route. For several minutes of mounting panic, the children retraced their passage until they were able to take a different tunnel. Every passing moment brought the water higher. Gem was barely able to touch the passage floor with her feet and keep her head above water. The taste of salt invaded her mouth. Her body became numb with cold until she knew she were moving her limbs, but could feel less and less of them. Tiredness consumed her, but she continued to fight through the water, desperately holding the light aloft. Each struggling movement along the dark tunnel brought with it a diminishing sense of hope. Gem began to use her left arm to swim, but realised it was a battle she was loosing. She could not hope to keep both herself and the torch above water for much longer. She gasped for breath, and became strangely aware of the sound of Toms own strained breathing beside her own. Please, she cried, not knowing whom she was begging for mercy. The children struggled on; the torch head dangerously close to the surface of the water. The floor was long lost beneath them and the roof of the passageway crept down. Eventually, it was all Gem could do, to keep the flame alive in the narrowing gap between water and ceiling.

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At a point of pure desperation, a slither of hope broke through the dark ahead as the torch dwindled to little more than a finger of light. A white steady beam of light fell down upon a metal structure some thirty or so yards before them. Daylight! Ahead. Look, Tom, she gasped, spitting the water from her mouth as she struggled forward. I need to let go of the torch. We cant make it all the way there like this. I need both hands. Gem looked over her shoulder, but could only hear Tom spluttering with effort as he fought for breath, his arms thrashing in the water. Im putting the torch out, she said, lowering it into the water. The delicate flame disappeared with a faint sizzle as the darkness wrapped in around them. Gem let the torch drift from her fingers and began swimming towards the thin shaft of light. With every other flailing stroke, she disappeared under the water completely, submerged by her failing strength. She continued struggling forwards, fighting towards the light, gasping air where she found opportunity. Finally, Gem began to feel a sense of pure relief they reached a wrought iron stairwell bathed in light from above where it climbed out of the water, upwards in a twisting cylindrical fashion. As Gem looked up the length of the stairwell, she saw a hatch high above them through which the sunlight spilled like an entranceway to heaven. An explosion caused the tunnel around them to shake and collapse in sections. Gem lifted Tom onto the staircase and looked at him as reassuringly as she could. Climb, she said, pulling herself from the water and collapsing onto the staircase. Climb. The stairs seemed unrelenting and Gems legs burnt with effort as she climbed. Dust fell about them, making it difficult to hold her head up to see where she was going, or take deep breaths, but she could see the bright light growing ahead. Gem glanced at Tom, his eyes wide and terrified. She could feel him flagging. Come on. Not much further, she said, trying to convince herself of the fact as she continued the ascent of the stairwell. Eventually, the smell of fresh air greeted them as she spilled out from the hatch and onto the wet grass, coughing as she cleared her throat and swallowed great lungfuls of clear air. Tom crawled alongside her, and looked about through a ghostlike face covered with dust, his eyes red and muddy. Small groups of people gathered on the grass and appeared to be in a numbed state of shock, but most were facing into the sky. Gem looked up, following their eyes. They had emerged on the western side of the island, not far in a straight-line distance from the airfield where they had originally landed upon arrival, but were now in an elevated position upon a hilltop with a commanding view of the area. High in the brilliant blue sky, little more than a mile off, an unusual looking airship was moving south to north, trailing a great plume of black oil-rich smoke behind it as it went. The entire ship was armoured along the full length of its underside and a number of cannons mounted along its sides. The pair retreated up the hill and found themselves crawling between bushes until Gem decided they had concealed themselves well enough. Removing the laundry bag from her shoulder, Gem pulled open the drawstring and removed their coats. They were sodden, but she wringed them out as best she could before wrapping Toms about his shoulders and
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pulling her own about her. Despite their condition, they at least kept off the stinging bite of the cold wind that tore across the island. The airship fired one of its cannons, striking at the outer shell of the complex. An explosion mushroomed into the air and Gem found herself wincing at the violence. Below, facility guards rushed to defensive positions in an attempt to secure the airfield from the attack. Several rifle shots rang out and a soldier collapsed to the ground, clutching at his chest before falling still. Something small and dark flew through the air in the opposite direction, followed by a deafening explosion, billowing white smoke, and a scream. Gem wrapped Tom in her arms and shielded his eyes from the scenes, but she found herself unable to look away. She watched the mayhem act out below them as troops in scarlet tunics began to converge about the airfield where the great airship that had brought them to the island was attempting to take to the sky. Beyond the shore, more than half a mile away, a battleship cut a thick wake across the sea as it ran horizontally to the island, its two threatening gun barrels trained toward the research facility. The airships attempt to take off was brought to an abrupt end as its airborne counterpart swooped low over it and a repeated volley of cannon fire struck its roaring engines, exploding them in a torrent of smoke and flames. Immediately, the gangway lowered and people began running back down to the ground, despite the fact it remained unsecured and swung dangerously free. Two of the three war-machines Gem had seen on her arrival growled out from their housing at the end of the airstrip. Each one lurched forwards, moving like heavy-footed mechanical birds. Rotating barrel guns mounted on their backs began to fire as many a half dozen shells a second at the advancing soldiers. Perhaps fifty troops approached the airfield from numerous directions, and approximately half the number of guards attempted to hold them off, supported by the walking warmachines. Shots began to crack out with increasing regularity, and from her higher purchase, Gem observed patterns in tactics beginning to develop from both sides, but the machines offered a great advantage to the defending forces. Small groups of soldiers crawled through the high grass, attempting to outflank some of the positions where the guards had held up behind equipment and buildings. One of the war-machines readied its cannon and took an opportune shot at the airship, which returned fire, each narrowly missing the other. The ground beside Gem vibrated with a succession of thuds, causing her to jump. She turned to see a line of six soldiers in what appeared to be exoskeleton armour appear no more than a dozen yards away, cresting the hill on which she hid with Tom. She pulled away from them, withdrawing back into the bushes with Tom. Each machine appeared to be an extension of the soldiers own body. The huge metal framework encompassing each man, following this design of his body, articulated in the same manner. They thudded forward, the machines emulating the movements of the soldier within. As the men moved their legs, so did the contraption, propelling them along at surprisingly rapid speeds. They advanced quickly past the children and down the hill, where they engaged the war-machines, supported by the airship. Gem watched with cold horror as her eyes were drawn across the airfield to where she saw Payne and Voyce exit from one of the main buildings, calmly walking side-by-side through the mayhem without any apparent consideration as to their own wellbeing. Bullets and explosions went off around them, yet neither did as much as flinch, despite the close
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proximity of the dangers. After a further half dozen paces, the men split apart and faced in separate directions. Both of the dark men stretched out their arms, and the following moments seemed almost surreal as they began directing their hands in what appeared to be orchestrated manoeuvres. Items scattered throughout the compound suddenly became weapons as the dark men focused on them and willed them into the air, where they became crude yet effective missiles aimed at the approaching soldiers, cast with invisible force. A nearby discarded toolbox presented an almost ceaseless supply of ammunition for Payne as he hurled its contents at the soldiers and began to halt their advance. Any returned fire that came particularly close to the men were met by something surrounding them that Gem could only liken to the waves of heat shimmering she had previously witnessed surrounding Tom. The shimmering flashed on and off as opportune shots were taken, all to no avail. Several of the soldiers in the mechanical exoskeletons attempted to engage the dark men, but found themselves thrown onto their backs, and their armour crumpled viciously about them. Gem tracked one industrious soldier as he crawled around the men in a wide circle until he found a position from which to target Voyce. She held her breath in anticipation, wanting to stop the soldier from endangering himself, but all she could do was watch, held in mortified silence as he fired a shot. The round failed to do anything other than draw Voyce attention to his would-be attacker. An instant later, the young soldier found himself flailing in the air, his limbs writhing ineffectually as he struggled against the force that had lifted him from the ground. No! cried Gem, holding onto Tom tighter than ever. Voyce flung the solider into the distance with so much force that Gem could not see where he landed. She clasped her hand to her mouth and sobbed into it. After that, the soldiers realised the futility of attacking Payne and Voyce, and began desperately to seek cover as they advanced. The military airship had since turned its starboard side to face the dark men, and was aiming its cannons towards them. Three of the cannons fired simultaneously and each shell departed from the airship in an explosion of smoke. Gem looked back at Payne, who stood with both arms outstretched before his body and appeared to have caught the first of the three shells in mid flight, where it hovered several feet away from him. Voyce stood at his side and had done the same with the remaining two. Payne pulled his arm back and then thrust it quickly forward. Even across the distance that separated him from Gem, she could make out a look of cold cruelty that accompanied the shell as it returned through the air and struck the airship on the armoured skirting beneath its twin balloons, shuddering the structure. Voyce returned the remaining two shells, this time aiming at the underside of the airships decks. One deflected harmlessly away, but the second tore through two plates of armour and devoured a large hole that ran deep into the heart of the lower platform of the airships body. The ship rocked violently and its engines roared as its pilots attempted to turn it away from the men. Voyce and Payne directed their attentions towards the retreating airship, which began to drop towards the ground. The great engines screamed with effort at the escape, but the men were succeeding in pulling it from the sky. A disaster loomed and Gem watched help96

lessly while people on the decking struggled to hold onto the railings as the ships rear section tilted sharply towards the ground. Gem saw it before she heard it; the battleship in the nearby waters unleashed a barrage of fire from its two main guns, aimed directly at the outer complex. The guns rocked on the surface of the ship and white clouds spat from their barrels. In the following short moments, Gem heard a piercing whistling coming towards them, before the hangers at the edge of the airfield exploded in a fierce fireball that engulfed the better part of the complex. The airship had afforded the ground troops enough opportunity to retreat and the battleship had seized upon the opportunity. Payne and Voyce fell from their feet and were scattered across the ground. Immediately, the screaming of the airships engines became a triumphant roar as it accelerated away from the ground and each second bought by the explosion put distance between it and the island. A second set of shells released by the battleship struck a nearby building, almost entirely obliterating it, leaving only a burning framework behind. A dazed Payne and Voyce took to their feet. Payne shouted something and both men looked around the scene before retreating to the doorway from which they had originally emerged. Tom pushed his face hard against Gems body and held his hands tightly to his ears. She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and attempted to calm him. Clouds of smoke and flames drifted across the airfield unveiling those who had fallen during the shelling of the compound. Gem watched thankfully as several remaining guards lowered their weapons to the ground and surrendered. This had an immediate knock-on effect as other groups of guards decided they were better off appealing for mercy and followed suit, emerging from their positions and laying their weapons down. The airship continued to gain both height and distance from the island despite the significant damage inflicted upon it by Paynes attack. It banked across the water and came to a position near that of the battleship below her. For the time being, the fighting was over.

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Chapter Eleven

The Gallant
Dr Vandell had peered through his spyglass until his eye was sore, learning little more than he had realised to begin with. Two gigantic plumes of smoke had belched into the air from the far side of Rhum, but what the cause had been, he could not tell. His fears for the childrens safety grew through the following minutes as he watched helplessly from a distance. A single battleship had remained in a stationary position off the nearside of the island, but it indicated nothing of the dramatics underway on the western slopes. Several people had asked him what was happening, and he in turn asked several people if they had any better understanding of the events, until it became clear that no one was any more enlightened than anyone else. Growing numbers of the villages residents joined the crowds around the bay. Several of the villages asked Dr Vandell if he would share his spyglass, but he politely declined each request. It was not long before a cluster of soldiers came running down the path leading out of the village. They held their weapons across their chests and silently took positions along the bay front, refusing to engage in any discussions. An officer accompanying the soldiers proved more helpful, as he followed them down to the bay and began to answer questions thrown at him, in a polite, although brief, if uninformative, manner. Whats happening over on Rhum? shouted one voice from the tightly packed crowd swelling around the officer. Now, now, he replied in a very well to do English accent, raising his hands to plead for calm. I am simply here to ask that nobody goes out of the bay for the time being, and to also ensure nobody comes in through it. I wish I could supply more information at this time, but I can only ask you to stand back and not to interfere with Her Majestys undertakings. The request was ineffectual in its objective, as people began to push forwards and harass the officer, demanding fuller explanations of what was happening to their community. The doctor elbowed through several villagers with apologies as he went. What of two children on the island? A Tom and Gem, do you know anything about them? he shouted across at the now vastly overwhelmed officer who was retreating in a backwards manner to some of his troops. No, sir, Im afraid I know nothing of any children. I will attempt to find out for you, he replied with a confused expression, before a dozen other questions stole his attention away.
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Dr Vandell allowed the crowd to follow the harassed officer and he gave up on trying to find out any useful information, instead turning his spyglass once again to the island. After remaining hidden for a good length of time, Gem finally decided it would be safe for them to move out. She had not rushed the decision as it had afforded an opportunity for her to calm Tom down considerably. They were both suffering terribly from the cold and their wet clothes, and neither was able to stop shivering, but at least they were out in the open and able to breath fresh air. The children climbed down the slope towards the airfield, but were intercepted before they reached it by a group of three soldiers holding their rifles extended, unready to trust anyone. Gem had to say little, indeed, it appeared the soldiers had been expecting to find some children and ordered to take them in. The troops led the children around the far end of the airstrip, beyond the now silent airship and its crippled engines that had failed to take off from the island during the battle. The airstrip lay in a confusion of debris. The air mixed with the burning scent of oil, but a sympathetic wind was largely carrying it out to sea. Soon, they were walking towards the shoreline, leaving the facility well behind them and Gem was thankful for the fact. A soldier told them to remain where they were and the children stood against the chill of the wind, shivering while they waited, watching the great battleship patrolling the expanse of ocean before them. The ironclad airship banked about and came back towards the island. It began loosing altitude slowly until its engines roared and it made a swooping manoeuvre that took it directly over their heads at a height of no more fifty feet and then continued inland some hundred yards or so. The soldiers and children watched as the airship came to a full stop and hovered above the ground. Its engines humming to keep it from drifting in the stiff wind. Gem could clearly see the damage the airship had sustained during the battle in better detail now she was closer. A long part of the walkway encircling the ship had been destroyed and hung over the lip of the armoured skirting like a damaged limb. Large pieces of a cabin had collapsed in on itself, and, at points, she could see clear gaps straight through the body of the ship to the daylight beyond. She heard a booming male voice breaking through the air in what sounded like the shouting of an order, and found herself jumping involuntarily as four small cannons from each corner of the airship fired shots at the nearby ground. Gem realised that the cannons were firing hooks to the ground, attached to thick metal cables, which were being reeled in, thereby anchoring the ship and allowing it to put down without the assistance of ground troops. Dust from the earth fed into the air as the engines whined with a final cry before falling idle. Shortly after, the crew lowered a gangway to the ground and a number of further soldiers ran along its length to the island below. The soldiers that had been accompanying the children led the way forward until they were at the bottom of the gangway once it had cleared. Gem looked up at the ship, daunted at the prospect of another flight, before glancing towards Tom for confirmation, who seemed unafraid and confidently strode up the gangway onto the lower deck. This time, it was Gem who needed calming from Tom as he pulled her by the hand and along the thin walkway. The children were shown up a number of steps to the second deck and wove their way along the busy walkways, moving aside to let serious faced soldiers pass, who gave the
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children no more than a passing glance. The leading soldier opened a door in the last section before the front nose of the airship, and waited while the children filed into the room. The first person Gem noted was a broad-shoulderd soldier, his uniform a far grander affair than any of the others standing about him. Thick golden braiding lined the shoulders and cuffs of his red, tightly buttoned jacket. A sash cut across his chest from his right shoulder and under the other arm, crossing a large white belt running in the opposite direction, which carried the emblem of his regiment. He carried a magnificent sword slung low on his hip in a black and silver scabbard. Two pistols were tucked casually in the back on his belt. Everything about him said military, and his serious face, neatly side-parted hair and narrow eyes amplified a gravity about him. Captain Bolt, sir. The children you requested to see, sir, announced the soldier with a rigid salute. Bolt leant forward with both hands on a table that supported a large map and was in the process of talking to one of his officers. He tapped the map several times and finished his sentence before looking around at the children. Gem discovered they were on the bridge of the airship. Endless banks of dials and handles littered the forward section of the room, surrounding a large brass steering wheel. Three other officers accompanied Bolt on his far side and had already cast their eyes across the children as they came into the room. Get these children some blankets, they look soaked to the bone, said the captain to the accompanying soldiers, who quickly turned and left. Bolt studied the children and nodded seriously before striding forward to meet them. His chest and shoulders were enormous and he towered over the children like a colossus. Welcome onboard Gallant, said Bolt, reaching out directly towards Gem, who apprehensively responded to the gesture and shook his hand. Thank you, said Gem. Im Gem. This is Tom, but he doesnt like to be touched. You are quite a remarkable young lady, said Bolt. What about Syn and the others? asked Gem. Well, theyve gone back into the facility, but given that we have control of the surrounding waters, I cannot see them going anywhere quickly. However, that is not to say that we are finished just yet. It would be a fool who lowers his guard now. Frankly, Voyce and Payne came as a shock, despite all we knew of them. They damn near took this ship down. A young officer, flustered and bearing an expression of anxiety, burst into the room. Sir! he said. Theyre escaping! Escaping? How? Through the sea, sir. Theyve got some kind of submarine. Its bigger than anything weve ever seen! Well, get us in the air and ready the charges! ordered Bolt, walking away from the children. Yes, sir! responded the soldier, saluting before removing himself in the anxious manner in which he had entered. Bolt shook his head, Damn! He pushed past the children, and through the door they had entered by. Gem and Tom looked at each other before timidly following. Bolt leant with both hands upon the railing, staring out to sea, the children at his back. A horn blasted the air in two quick successive cries and troops on the ground cut away the ropes that held the great airship down. Numerous voices shouted orders and soldiers
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quickly took positions throughout the ship as the engines powered into life. Within no time, they were airborne again. Gem gripped the railing beside her. She felt she would be all right, so long as they did not go too high, but a panic was mounting notably within her stomach. She managed to reach out and grasp Toms hand, who was curiously studying everything around him. A detached calmness washed through her, emanating from him, for which she was grateful. The Gallant banked and headed out to sea at a steady pace, low over the water. Soldiers leant over the edge of the railings, looking into the waves for any signs of the submarine. Several men took up viewing positions and surveyed the surface of the sea with telescopes. The soldier that Bolt had ordered to find blankets returned and handed coarse grey blankets to the children, who immediately wrapped themselves in them. On the ocean ahead, the battleship was turning in as tight an arc as it seemed it were able, heading out to deeper waters, and Gem noticed something flashing on its decks, looking like a mirror catching and reflecting the sun. Captain Bolt watched the flashing intently before shouting back to the bridge. Take us due west, directly over the Defiant. She sees them! In little more time than it took the order to be understood, the airship was following the battleship out to sea. There! shouted a soldier with a telescope trained upon the water. I see it! A submarine! Its huge! Mark! cried Bolt. Five degrees, port side, sir. Just out in front of the Defiant. Five degrees, port side! shouted Bolt once again at the pilot. Are the charges ready? he asked as the fresh-faced officer reappeared once again. Yes, sir. Good. Have the men wait for my order. Yes, sir, said the man, stepping back slightly and raising an arm in anticipated command. There was a further series of flashing from the ship in front. Theyre loosing them. Flank speed, Mr Campbell. Aye, sir, replied the pilot, pushing forward a brass looking leaver beside him one more notch until it locked in position and could move no further forward. The engines screamed and began thrusting the airship across the sea at a remarkable speed. The ocean waves beneath began to blur, and within half a minute they had overtaken the battleship Defiant and Gem began to see what it was they were pursuing. Noticeably faster than its top-side counterpart, a vast dark shape sliced through beneath the oceans surface, attempting to make an escape to deeper waters, but the Gallant was able to make steady ground on the submarine. Ready charges! shouted Bolt, leaning over the railing in an apparent attempt to reach the quarry before the airship. Ready! shouted the young officer in response. Ready said Bolt as they began to creep slowly over the dark shape beneath them. The submarine was at least the length of the airship, but narrower, in a sleek and fishlike design. Gem could feel the dark men below, somewhere beneath the waves. She squeezed Toms hand. He looked agitated and frightened, and Gem knew that the suppres101

sant drug was loosing effect, allowing him to begin to sense things as he should again, and was thankful. Fire! ordered Bolt. Fire! repeated the officer, pulling a handle, signalling three sharp shrills from bells about the ship. Gem looked back along the Gallants body as objects she could only describe as iron barrels dropped over the edges of the ship and to the ocean beneath, each one as large as the washtubs used at the refuge. The barrels sunk quickly away and series of tremendous explosions followed, casting giant fountains of water into the air. Again! ordered Bolt. Once more, the officer rang the bell and a new set of barrels dropped into the waves, followed by a further round of detonations. Gem felt several drops of water spray across her body, and had to wipe one from her forehead. Cease fire! said Bolt, holding one hand up in signal, staring intently at the oceans surface. He waited until the disturbances had subsided and they all looked across the waves for the dark shape of the submarine. Nothing. Bolt struck the rail with a clenched fist. Damn! he swore. Slow to one third and take us up to two-hundred feet. Aye, sir, replied the pilot, quickly taking measure to ensure the order was carried out. They rose into the sky and the soldiers studied the water apprehensively. Maybe we sunk them, sir, suggested the young officer. I doubt it, replied Captain Bolt, his eyes remaining trained on the sea. I doubt it Damn! Damn! said Tom. Tom! said Gem. Bolt look intently out at the sea, his eyes still scanning the distance. Yes, young man. Profanity is not something one should take to so early in life. The Gallant and Defiant scouted the waters in increasing circles for a further hour before Bolt agreed that they were not going to locate the submarine. In the meantime, the children had been brought to the bridge and given food and warm milk. Captain Bolt returned from the walkway, closing the door behind him. The bridge was not warm by any stretch of the imagination, but it was at least sheltered from the wind and kept away the worst of the bitingly cold sea breeze. Turn us about and take us back to Rhum at three quarters, he said to the pilot. Bells rang as the pilot pulled a handle and turned the huge steering wheel in great arcs until the airship was facing inland and they began their return journey. Well, said Bolt, crossing his arms and looking down at Gem and Tom. Perhaps now is a good time for you to explain what you are doing here? We were brought onboard, sir, replied Gem in a flustered confusion, daunted by the imposing form of the captain. No, my dear. I mean to ask; what brought you to Rhum? Youre important to Syn, and that makes you important to me. I need to know why.
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Oh, erm, she looked about, not quite knowing how much to say. We were kidnapped, sir. Bolt said nothing, merely raising his eyebrow a fraction. Its Tom, sir. Theyre after Tom. Why? Every word seemed to reach deep into Gem and crumble any defences she tried to put up. I dont know, sir. He seems to have the same abilities as Payne and Voyce; to move things with his mind. Dear God! said Bolt. Dear God! copied Tom. Bolts eyebrow arched even more to indicate his surprise, Try not to blaspheme, boy, he said. You must excuse me, Im not often around children and I find my manners lacking. Tom finds it difficult to communicate with people, said Gem, outlining the situation as simply as she could. He wont allow anyone else to touch him. Dr Vandell says he needs special care. Really? And who is Dr Vandell? He runs the refuge in London, where we ran away from. Ran away? Hes an undesirable character then, is he, this Dr Vandell? No, sir, he is the best man I know. Bolt shook his head, obviously confused and with a great deal on his mind. Let me ask you this, Gem; if I were to sit down and discuss everything in detail with you later, is there anything I need to know, right now, that may have a bearing on all this? I dont think so, replied Gem. No, she said with more certainty. Very well. he said, turning to a young-faced soldier. I want you to take them to my personal quarters and get them anything they need. Help them get dry. In the meantime, we will return to Rhum and assist with the operation there. This evening, we will find somewhere to digest all this. Yes, sir, said the solider, nodding resolutely. The soldier escorted Gem and Tom to Captain Bolts cabin. Gem refused to let go of Toms hand while they skirted around the ship, knowing that the instant she did, she would be plunged alone into her fear of heights despite the fact they rode low over the waves. Once inside the body of the airship, she felt a little safer, and notably better after she sat down when they had finally reached the captains quarters. The room was not large, but was at least more personalised and comfortable than the rest of the of the Gallant appeared. The children immediately rushed to an oil heater in the far corner and began to warm themselves, turning it up to its highest setting. Once she had laid her clothes out to dry and had wrapped herself in her blanket, Gem seated herself at a table pushed against the far partitioning wall and took up a pack of cards with which to pass the time. Tom lay on the captains bunk, and despite Gems efforts to remove him, steadfastly refused to comply, curling up into a tight ball before falling asleep. She found it difficult to blame him. Another soldier appeared after a time offering the children milk and shortbread, but little else happened until the wall-mounted clock showed it was approaching seven oclock in the evening when Captain Bolt finally reappeared.

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You made yourselves comfortable? he said, surveying the scene before him, his eyes falling over scattered objects, ruffled bed sheets, half eaten biscuits and a pack of playing cards that looked as if they had been wantonly thrown about the room, as indeed they had. Er, yes, sir, said Gem, standing and rushing to collect up the playing cards. This Dr Vandell, you mentioned earlier, said Bolt, shaking his head at the mess presented to him. Yes, answered Gem. You have complete faith in him? Yes, sir. And how is it you know him? He owns the refuge for homeless and destitute children, where I lived. Live. Lived, said Gem, floundering to answer the question accurately. Hes on the mainland, nearby. Do you want to see him? asked Bolt, looking towards Tom, who was stretched out on his bed, his eyes still closed, his shoes making muddy marks on the bedding. Oh, please! cried Gem. Apparently, he spoke to one of my officers. Well, in this case, well put down at Arisiag and meet with him. Then, perhaps you can all tell me your full stories from your perspectives and we can begin to form something out of this mess, was the word he chose to use, looking around the room. Half an hour later, the Gallant had landed in a field occupied by a group of unimpressed sheep, and Gem was bouncing down the gangway to the ground, her eyes as wide open as her arms, running towards Dr Vandell, who she recognised immediately at a distance by his shadowed frame and posture in the moonlight. Dr Vandell! she cried, hugging him. Gem, said Dr Vandell, holding her head to his chest. I he stammered. Well, was all he could manage. Gem wept, burying her face against his jacket. She did not want anyone to see how pleased she was to see the doctor, but the emotion was overwhelming her. The previous days had taken more of a toll on her than she had realised and the relief at seeing Dr Vandell was too much. The pair stood hugging each other for what seemed like an eternity as Tom caught up to them. Tom, said Dr Vandell, in acknowledgement of the young boy, but the sheep occupied Toms attention. Gem finally released the doctor and took a step back, rubbing at her eyes and trying desperately to hide the fact she had been crying. This is Captain Bolt, who brought us off the island, she said. And, this is Dr Vandell, she added, introducing the pair to each other. Bolt strode down the gangway and across the field, his gloved hand on the hilt of his sword. Then, I am in your debt Captain Bolt, sir. At your service, he said, shaking hands while introducing himself to the doctor. Dr Vandell. Hello, doctor.

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Hello, captain. Dr Vandell rubbed his hands together. How long he had stood there, Gem did not know, but he looked chilled to the bone, as if his grey hair and beard were actually whitened with frost. Shall we go inside? he suggested. You have somewhere in mind? asked Bolt. Im staying at a local inn, and your soldiers seem already to have set themselves up somewhat in there. Very well. Please, lead the way, doctor, said Bolt in agreement. Im sure the innkeeper can whip you up some hot food, if you would like, proposed Dr Vandell. Gem walked alongside the doctor, more than elated at being reunited with him despite the events of the day and the awful things she had witnessed. The field soon became a dirt track, which in turn became a cobblestoned pathway and led them, more or less, directly to the inn. Warm air greeted them as the doctor opened the door and led them inside. A group of a dozen or so red-coated soldiers were sitting about the bar drinking pints of ale while others played darts. Their eyes passed over the doctor and the children as they entered, but notably widened when they saw Captain Bolt. Sir! said one, standing to attention, knocking his pint mug, causing some of its contents to slop across the tables surface. At ease, soldier. I trust you are all off duty, said the captain, surveying the apprehensive looking men. Yes, sir, replied one of the men with a lack of confidence as he addressed the captain. Well, as you were then, but I dont need drunken soldiers in the morning. Slowly, the men began to talk again, while observing the captain warily. Dr Vandell stepped up to the bar and leant across to speak to Douglas. Is there perhaps another room, we could use? he asked of the man behind the bar. Aye, doctor, theres the dining room. Dining room? remarked the Dr Vandell, taken aback. You have a dining room? Aye, although we dont use it often, only when we have guests and seeing as it was just yourself staying with us, I thought youd not mind taking your food in here. Douglas shifted his big frame around the bar and led the party through a low doorway, which both the doctor and Captain Bolt had to stoop to pass through. Here you are, said Douglas, showing them into a small, but functional dining room. There were four tables, each large enough to seat up to six people. A gas lamp hung low in the middle of the ceiling and Douglas pulled on a chain to turn it up. A fireplace at the far end of the room, burnt low with orange embers breaking through grey ash. Bolt unfastened his sword and scabbard, and laid them on the table nearest to the door. He then removed his gloves and dropped them beside the sword while his eyes took in the room. Twenty-nine. Forty-seven. Seventy-nine, said Tom, pointing at the captain. I beg your pardon? said Bolt. He does that. He says numbers. I think he means your medals, said Gem, pointing back to where Tom had indicated to a cluster of medals hanging from the captains tunic. Oh? Dr Vandells mind seemed elsewhere as he sat himself at the rooms central table and reached for his cigar case before lighting a remaining length of a half burnt cigar. The hint of
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a smile rode across his mouth. Gem felt comforted by the familiar smell of the tobacco and took a seat next to him. Captain? began Dr Vandell. What would you say your medals are made from? Gold, silver, and some other materials, as far as I know. Hmmm, said Dr Vandell, rubbing at his beard pensively. Is there any food this evening? Bolt asked of the innkeeper. Oh, aye, we have a good rabbit stew which we put on for the soldiers. Theres plenty. Good, would you be able to bring us some? Everyone nodded in agreement and took their seats around the table. Well, began Captain Bolt, pushing his hands together and out upon the table, it would seem we have a great deal to discuss. I need to hear everything that brought you here, from each of you. And, I need to know why this boy is so important to Syn. The doctor nodded, continuing to puff upon his cigar, but said nothing. Who was the first to meet him? asked Bolt, looking between Gem and Dr Vandell. Well, I suppose that would have been me, replied the doctor. During the next hour and a half, Gem and Dr Vandell began to tell of how they had met Tom and what they had discovered about him. They recounted the stories of Voyce and Payne, and Gem began to explain about how she had witnessed Toms strange abilities, all of which seemed almost too much for the doctor to take in as he learnt about it. It became necessary for Gem to ask Tom to display his ability, and holding his hand, while calmly talking to him, he did as asked; levitating Dr Vandells cigar case before an incredulous audience. The story then turned to the island and of how Gem and Tom had met Professor Syn and their subsequent escape. Theres something I forgot to mention, said Gem, as she finished her story. Go on, said Bolt. Syn. He called Tom the guy-er child or something. Guyher? Guy Gaia? said Dr Vandell, his eyes widening. Yes, I think, said Gem. Doctor? prompted Bolt. Its from Greek mythology. Something Wyncote mentioned before he was poisoned. I need to check on something as soon as I can. Eventually, they had explained everything they considered pertinent and looked back at Bolt, waiting for him to elaborate upon his side of events. Professor Gabriel Syn became an unacceptable threat to the security of the British Empire. After receiving almost unlimited resources and becoming less accountable for the fact, my recent orders were to disable his facility on Rhum and take him into holding, if possible. You knew what Voyce and Payne could do? asked Gem. Not entirely. We knew they had certain abilities, but had little idea that they were so well developed. Gem thought for a moment that he had backed away from the use of the word powerful. There is more, he continued. I think you are entitled to know, but equally, I dont believe that you will comprehend what I am going to tell you, unless you see it for yourselves. For that, I think we have to return to London.

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Chapter Twelve

The Thunder and the Fear

It was the following morning, beneath an overcast sky heavy with grey clouds, when Dr Vandell led the children across the field and they boarded the Gallant for the journey to London. Something was clearly bothering him, but he did not wish to discuss it. Its nothing, he had deflected, when pressured by Gem. Nothing to concern yourself about. Captain Bolt had returned to the Gallant the previous evening, and was waiting on the airships bridge, huddled over the map table in discussion with four of his officers. Good morning, said Gem. Bolt turned away from his meeting and nodded at the party. Good morning. Im afraid the weather today is going to be a little on the grim side. We can expect some heavy rain and high winds, or so Im informed. It shouldnt hamper us too much in our journey to London. All being well, we will arrive early evening. Well keep our speed sensible. Thank you, captain, said Dr Vandell with a bow. I had the cargo hold on the lower deck fitted with a table and some chairs. It should be reasonably comfortable for the duration of the flight. Im sorry that I cannot offer more. Gem wondered how much Bolt had resented them using his personal quarters the previous day, finding herself smiling at the thought. Youre all most welcome to move freely about the ship, and, of course, to stay here for the ascent, if you would like. Gem found herself answering on behalf of the group. No, thank you. The doctor smiled at Captain Bolt, an eye half on Gem, recognising her reluctance to observe their departure. Apparently not, but thank you. Well go below for the time being. Captain Bolt nodded in agreement and led the way as the doctor herded Gem and Tom out of the door. Gem looked up to follow Bolt along the walkway. The sky seemed even darker in the short moments they had spent in the bridge, and rain began to dust her face. The best thing she could do, she surmised, was to go below and pretend it all was not happening. The vagrant saw an opportunity. The servant boy darted out of the door without pausing to close it fully, disappearing down the street into the dark morning rain.

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It would be dangerous, but the vagrant had certain advantages, and with the boy gone, so had the most unpredictable element. He lurched from his shelter under a shadowed alcove across the alleyway, and began to approach the rear of the house through the iron gate. The terraced property was tall and narrow. Its white painted brickwork face reached up a good four levels. Undoubtedly, he would have to make his way to the topmost level for what he sought. The yard was tidy, paved, and devoid of anything beyond a padlocked coal shed. The man shifted cautiously sideways through the yard, his tattered overcoat flowing about him as he moved. He paused for a moment, studying the windows in an attempt to see if anyone overlooking the yard had observed his entrance. The rain pattered upon his face as he glanced up, and a thin streak of water ran down his forehead, accumulating brown dirt on its journey. It had been the previous evening when he had watched the silver-haired woman, and her equally gaunt husband, leave the theatre. She carried a vast array of jewellery upon her in an extravagant posture of display. Her head had been held slanted to one side and tossed back to ensure passers-by were engaged by both earrings and necklace. Her hands hooked under her chest, emulating the posture of a rodent on its hind legs, enabling her to flaunt the overwhelming number of rings and bracelets she had forced on. The entire display had ultimately been a more than effective exercise in attention seeking, leading to the vagrant following the pair home, mesmerised by the trinkets. He could, of course, have taken the jewellery at anytime he wished, but that was not his way. He pushed the rear door to the house, which swung easily open at his touch. He could sense people in near proximity to him, but it meant little. They could be through the wall, in the neighbouring house, or on the floor above. He took a cautious step into the house, droplets of rain falling from his overcoat to the wooden flooring as he moved inside. Two voices came from nearby, sounding dull, as if from another room. He poked his long face around the door, finding himself in a hallway from which two further doors led into the house. He listened for a moment before determining the voices were emanating from within the kitchen, through the door to his right, where a man and woman were discussing the sharp rise in price of something. It sounded as if one or both of them were washing dishes by the repeated chinking of porcelain. He strode by, taking the remaining doorway before him. Pushing the door open a fraction, he peered through the gap as it widened onto a longer hallway that ran alongside the main staircase and up to the front door. The hallway was empty, so he slipped quietly through, closing the door behind himself. The rest of the house was silent other than a grandfather clock positioned at the foot of the stairs, ticking rhythmically to itself. The vagrant scurried along the hallway, hooking around the bottom banisters of the staircase, before mounting the stairs and creeping up their length. As he reached the second floor, he found that he needed to walk a short way along the hallway that it fed onto before he would be able to climb up the next set of stairs. Glancing back on himself, he scowled, seeing a trail of muddied footprints tracing his path. His dirt-embedded hands held before him, the vagrant skulked along the passage and up the second stairway, the floorboards creaking with each footstep.
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As he reached the top of the second staircase and examined his surroundings, he saw that he needed to turn about on himself before taking the final flight of steps to the uppermost floor. He was about to do so when he heard a deep rumbling from a nearby room. The man came to a dead halt, listening intently to his surroundings. It happened again; a muffled rumbling from a room at the end of the hallway. He smiled. Sliding along the hallway, the vagrant reached the closed door from behind which the noise issued. He wrapped his fingers around the polished door handle and turned it. The lock clicked and he waited. The rumbling came again. He carefully pushed the door open and looked upon the room beyond. The thin woman from the previous evening lay in her bed, upon her back, mouth agape, snoring. A white sleeping mask beneath a frilled nightcap covered her eyes. Her husband lay beside her, curled under the blankets, as meek looking in his sleep as he had appeared the night before. Pushing the door open wider, the vagrant entered the room with growing confidence. He saw the dressing table at the end of the room, a horrendous example of excessively decorative craftsmanship, looking expensive as it was tasteless. Upon its surface was a large jewellery box, segregated into numerous little drawers. He opened the first compartment and immediately liked what he saw; a broach encrusted with scores of tiny black stones. He pushed the item into his pocket and pulled open the next drawer. This time he found a collection of delicate silver hairpins with small animals at the end of each one, which interested him only for their pins. The following drawers revealed dozens of pieces that he enthusiastically thrust into his overcoat. He was almost finished when he heard a deep voice cry out and rapid steps behind him. Instantly, the vagrant knew someone had discovered his trail of footprints. He was more than capable of dealing with the approaching man, but he chose instead to complete his venture with a conclusion that would later leave the owners and the police at a loss to explain in the aftermath. Moving to the bedroom window, he pulled down on the curled iron handle and pushed the frame open. Cold air rushed in and the rain hit the outside window ledge with an audible force. Behind him, the vagrant heard the woman stirring, her snoring abruptly halting. He climbed upon a nearby chair and out onto the window ledge overlooking the paved yard forty feet below. A man shouted behind him, and he jumped. In the following weeks, Mr and Mrs Banner became minor celebrities within their social circle as they told, and retold, of how the most undesirable man had stolen their precious jewellery and then leapt an impossible height from their bedroom window to a certain death, only then to have subsequently vanished. Of course, Mrs Banner would then display her newly purchased replacement jewellery upon conclusion of the story, for all to see. The airships journey was becoming more turbulent by the minute. Thunder boomed in the near distance and Gem could hear the heavy rattling of rain striking the outer skin of the cargo hold, despite the sound of the engines. The floor shook beneath her and she gripped the edge of her chair with both hands. A game of gin rummy was in full flow, with Gem and Tom paired against Dr Vandell. Gem allowed Tom to hold the cards, which he happily did, but her mind was elsewhere as the thunder boomed again.
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What happens if we get hit by lightning? she asked, looking from side to side, as if able to see through the walls of the hold. Oh, Im sure this is a common occurrence with airships. I doubt its anything to worry about, said Dr Vandell. Common occurrence? Meaning that they get hit by lightning, or, that they commonly fly recklessly through storms? Now, now, said Dr Vandell, reaching across the table and exchanging a card from his hand for one from the pile. Im sure we are safe while we his words cut short by a boom of thunder so close that Gem jumped from her seat, bumping the table and pushing her chair backwards. I cant stand this! she cried, pacing away, putting a trembling hand to her mouth. Tom looked up at her from beneath his shaggy fringe and showed her the cards he held in a tight fan. Jewel, he said, prompting her to return to the game. I cant, Tom. Not now, she said, nervously wringing her hands together. This is too much to bear. How high are we? she asked of Dr Vandell. Well, I dont know. When I went up earlier, I could see the tops of trees, perhaps as much as the height of a cloud-breaker beneath us. Captain Bolt doesnt like to take the Gallant too high. Thats reassuring, said Gem sarcastically, unsure of whether the shaking sensation she felt was in her legs, or the floor of the airship. Gin! said Dr Vandell, placing his cards down in a flourish upon the surface of the small table. Gin! repeated Tom, copying Dr Vandells actions and looking pleased with himself. Gem found herself smile for an instant, but it disappeared at a further thunderous rumbling nearby. I dont think we should be flying through a thunderstorm, said Gem, shaking her head. Why couldnt we take the train back? Dr Vandell sighed and lifted himself out of his seat. He walked to Gems side and wrapped his large arm around her shoulders. Gem turned in to him and laid her head on his arm. Its all right, Gem, he said in a confident and reassuring tone. Jewel? said Tom from somewhere beside her. Gem looked around and found Tom slipping his hand around her own and immediately she began to feel stronger. Gems nerves were thoroughly shattered by the time the airships horn sounded in recognition of its landing and she felt the shudder of the engines shutting down. She breathed a sigh of relief and elatedly kissed Tom on the forehead, who returned her affection with a bemused look. The thunder had long since stopped, but it had not completely vanquished her fears. Thank you, she said, letting him go and taking to her feet from the curled position she had adopted against the far corner of the cargo bay. The doctor returned down the steep iron staircase that gave access to the outer decks. His face glistened with droplets of water, but he smiled broadly. The view over London is magnificent, remarked Dr Vandell, wiping raindrops from his jacket. But, its still raining out there, and now its pretty dark too. Weve landed? asked Gem.
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Yes, we have. Were here. You could see the Thames and Parliament as we crossed the city, described the doctor excitedly. From the air, you can see for miles, and as its dark, the lights give it all a certain quality thats hard to describe. Im just pleased we got through the flight, said Gem, unable to join him in his enthusiastically buoyant mood. Yes, that wasnt pleasant, agreed the doctor. Wasnt pleasant? repeated Gem with a rising pitch of incredulity in her voice. Still, its over now. Gem released a tut and shook her head, amazed at how lightly everyone else seemed to treat the voyage. Were to meet Captain Bolt once we are off the ship, said the doctor, waiting for Gem and Tom to join him in returning outside. Tom was busily fastening the buttons along his jacket. Come on, take my hand, said Gem, reaching out towards him. Tom slowly completed buttoning his jacket and then took Gems hand, who tugged him behind her as she stomped up the stairs and pulled open the heavy door which lead to the airships outer walkway. Gem! cried the doctor. Theres something you need to know! It was too late. Gem had already come face to face with the continuance of her nightmare. Rain and wind pitched from the menacing night sky whipped about her face, throwing her hair in every direction as she stood open mouthed, staring ahead, gripping Toms hand tighter by the second. The airship had indeed docked, but she had not expected it to do so at the top of one of the tallest cloud-breakers London appeared to have to offer. Im sorry! Im sorry! called the doctor, running up the staircase behind her. I didnt think. I was thoughtless. London stretched in a vast blanket of lights and silhouettes of buildings before her. Neighbouring cloud-breakers rose alongside them and far beneath she could see the high network of mono-tram rails stretching over the roads. In the distance, she could see the face of the Parliament clock tower framed by a full moon partially overcast by dark clouds. Oh, my, she said, the colour fading from her cheeks. Jewel, said Tom from beside her. Steeling her wide eyes away from the terror, she looked down at him. Jewel, repeated Tom. Im sorry, she said, realising she was crushing his hand. She released some pressure, but could not let him go. Im never flying again, she said. Ever. Come on, said Dr Vandell, putting his hands on her shoulders and actively turning her away from the scene. Lets get down. The group descended the gangway to the rooftop of the building to which they had moored. The roof itself was approximately twice as great in width and length as the airship, interrupted by several levels of structure. A safety rail ran around the edge of the building, but to Gems horror, it was little more than knee height, and looked totally ineffective. She felt a sickening pull of the edge and a familiar cold perspiration began to creep over her. Hello! called a voice through the high howling wind. They all turned to find Captain Bolt walking towards them, the sword swinging wildly at his side and Gem wondered how he tolerated it.
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Hello, said Dr Vandell. Rather rough trip, which I feel I must apologise for, said Bolt, reaching them. Oh, not at all, remarked the doctor. Come, come, said Bolt turning back on himself, and indicating they should follow with a sweep of his arm. Lets get out of this damn rain! Quite, agreed the doctor. Damn, said Tom. Rain. I thought wed discussed verbal vulgarities, Tom, shouted Bolt over the gale, glancing over his shoulder at the boy. Gem followed Bolt, finding it difficult to move her legs as quickly as the rest of the party. She decided to keep her eyes fixed on the twin pistols tucked in the back of Captain Bolts white belt as he led the way. It was a trick that worked effectively enough to allow her to get across the rooftop without succumbing to the paralysis which she felt edging in upon her. She trailed everyone through a doorway and down a twisting staircase into the buildings interior. The stairs curved down and through an entrance that opened into a corridor. Offices fed off the corridor at intervals, and each door had a small sign on it indicating the room number. The nearest read, Room 102-B13, the next Room 102-B14. Occasionally the doors had more explanatory signs alongside such as D.S. File Archive. Were on floor one-hundred and two, arent we? Gem asked of Bolt. Bolt smiled, but it was the smile of someone that was not about to confirm a detail that was likely to upset someone further. What is this place? asked the doctor. Her Majestys governments eyes and ears, said Captain Bolt, leading the way, pushing through the double doors before him. MID. Military Intelligence Department, he added in explanation. Oh? said Gem, her growing intrigue enough to dampen her anxiety. Yes, continued Bolt. The Secret Service Division, SSD. Every piece of information our spies gather worldwide is fed back here and examined thoroughly for anything it might offer us. If something warrants further investigation, or action, then we, at SSD, are brought in. Do you run this place? asked Gem. Bolt laughed, bringing the group to a halt beside a recessed break in the corridors wall and pushing a big black button mounted on its surface. No, my dear. I wouldnt like to be stuck in one of these stuffy offices too much. To be honest, Im simply using it for the moment as somewhere to anchor the Gallant while we are in London. Shes going to need repairs soon, he said thoughtfully. Shes quite a magnificent ship, captain, said Dr Vandell. Thank you. She is rather, isnt she? Shes unique. Unfortunately, the engines are based on a design by Syn, which leads me to believe he has kept faster for himself. Take that damn submarine; weve nothing approaching it. The Defiant couldnt keep up with it, and shes one of the fastest ships we have. Where is the damn thing? cursed Bolt, pressing again at the wall-mounted button, only for a bell to ping a fraction of a second later. Ah! he said, pulling at a handle on the door before them, sliding it back to reveal a tiny enclosed space. Bolt stepped inside the compartment and turned to face the party. This will take us down.
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Gem was apprehensive, but the doctor showed no such concerns as he joined the captain and stood at his shoulder in the box. She had heard of ascending rooms, but had never been in one before and imagined that if she stood in the centre of it, she would be able to reach all the surrounding walls without moving. The ceiling, however, was high, and illuminated the most part of the ascending room with a single frail light source. The box began to bounce disconcertingly with each footstep as the party moved inside. Bolt did not appear to be concerned, which inspired some fortitude in Gem, and once they were all in, he pulled the door closed and pressed one of the lower collections of buttons on a large panel. Immediately, the ascending room shuddered into life and Gem felt a strange sensation of falling in her stomach. She realised the room was going down, but was ill prepared for how quickly. She felt Tom squeeze her hand for a moment and was secretly pleased she had not been the only one caught off-guard. Well, Im afraid this ascender doesnt run all the way to the ground floor, so we have to change and take another one. Which is what they did, and Gem was happy that the second time she was more prepared for the dropping sensation, and actually found herself enjoying the experience. A few minutes later, the ascending room door slid open and presented a vast twolevelled marble-floored lobby. The lower level housed several long chairs in a waiting area near a reception desk with a guard, who sat up straight in his seat as he saw Bolt approaching. At ease, boomed Bolts voice across the open area as he trotted down the half dozen steps separating the upper and lower sections of the lobby. The carriage is ready, sir, said the guard, looking no more at ease following the captains command. Good. Thank you. The party exited onto the drizzling London pavement. Gem looked back up at the building they had vacated, but it was a fruitless task to try to see how tall it was from that angle, it simply stretched up into the dark night and clouds above, making her feel dizzy and temporarily reinstated her acrophobia. Bolt held the door of the carriage open as Dr Vandell climbed inside. The horses seemed resigned to the rain that pattered off their backs and dripped from their manes. The driver sat high up on the carriage, a driving whip in hand, dressed in a long rain cloak and wide brimmed hat from which rivers of rain flowed. Gem could not tell if he was a soldier or not. To the site, ordered Bolt, as Gem and Tom climbed in and sat upon the leather seating next to the doctor. Yes, sir, said the driver and the wasted no time in moving the horses on once the door of the carriage was pulled closed. The site? asked the doctor. Ill explain when we get there. It should take no more than fifteen minutes or so. The rest of the journey unfolded in almost total silence. Anticipation was almost tangible, and it seemed that everyone knew that any other form of discussion would be without merit. Gem watched as the London streets pass by in a blurring mixture of lights, rain and darkness. Rising gothic architecture, busy streets and relentless advertisements passed, but for the moment, she simply stared through the rain-beaded window, immersed by Londons essence.
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Chapter Thirteen

Beneath the Feet of the Empire

Gem had no real concept of where the carriage had taken them when it came to a final rest and Captain Bolt offered her his hand as she stepped down. All she knew was what she saw, and that was very confusing indeed. They stood outside a gate set in a high and ornate iron railings, before a low, but sizeable building. Two soldiers stood on either side of the gates, and Gem counted three more positioned at points within the grounds. The building itself was a grey and drab ministerial looking affair with only two floors, the properties surrounding it dwarfing it in height, but it was notably wider and had extended grounds surrounding it. The soldiers saluted Captain Bolt, who returned the vigorous and formal salutes almost casually. Captain Bolt, said the soldier on the left. Good to see you, men, said Bolt, patting one on the shoulder as he entered into the grounds of the building. The rest of the party looked at each other and followed the captain across the gravelled forecourt, which crunched underfoot as they walked up to the main building. Other soldiers were milling informally within the grounds, but each had a rifle hooked over the shoulders. They stopped and saluted the captain, who returned the salutes before entering the building through its large main, black enamelled door. Dr Vandell and the children followed him inside and found that they stood before a wide flight of stairs that led up to a balcony above, but also down to what appeared to be an underground level. What Im about to show you is strictly confidential, and must not be discussed with any other person, unless I give express permission to do so, even if you believe they are already aware of Project Coal. Project Coal? said Gem. Youll see shortly, Gem, said Captain Bolt. He led them down the stone stairs that etched their way beneath ground-level. The air grew colder with each step of the descent. You know of the history of Londons Second Great Fire? he asked. Yes, replied Dr Vandell. Awful devastation.
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Well, a great deal of the story was fabricated for public consumption, to hide the real cause. It was not, as reported, a lightning strike on a gas storage depot. What was it? Twenty years ago, a meteor crashed into the planet, right here in London, at this very location. It decimated the better part of a square mile and embedded itself more than a hundred feet underground. The loss of life was in the thousands and fires spread throughout this side of the Thames. Oh my, said the doctor. Voyce and Payne were two of a handful of survivors within that square mile of destruction. The chances of them surviving the impact were minimal, but they had been underground, working in the sewage pipes when the meteor hit. Is that when Voyces throat was damaged? asked Gem, thinking immediately of the scar that ran across the mans neck. No. I did that, replied Bolt. He paused for a period of several seconds before continuing with his explanation. It is, however, what gave them their powers. How, I dont know, but what we do know is that everyone who survived within the immediate area of the blast when the meteor struck found themselves with extraordinary powers. Powers that have steadily grown over the years to the startling level we witnessed at Rhum. We had no idea they were so well developed. They damn near dragged the Gallant right out of the air, with the thrust she produces! Our rifles were totally ineffective. How many were there? asked Dr Vandell. Im sorry? How many people survived the blast and took on these new abilities? We believe it was twelve, excluding Gabriel Syn. Syn was here, too? asked Gem. He has these powers as well? No, not at that time. Ill come to him in a moment. Anyway, following the impact, Her Majestys forces were mobilised and brought to the area in an attempt to fight the fire and help the injured. You have no idea of what it was like. The destruction of the immediate area was complete. Nothing was left standing, not one building. Ive seen photographs, it was dreadful. You were here? asked the doctor. Yes. I was just a private stationed at the palace in the Queens Guard. Every available hand was called to help, and I was only too eager to contribute. My unit assisted the fire service wherever we could. It took nearly a week to put out the fires, and then only with the assistance of a heavy rainstorm. Some said it was God weeping when the dust settled and he saw what had happened. Anyway, he said, shaking his head, as if to throw a memory away, we eventually made it through to the impact site. There had been reports about the meteorites impact, but it had happened early in the morning, and eyewitnesses were few and considered unreliable. Especially when so many people automatically claimed it was the gas depot that had exploded. It soon became a propagated myth that became a reported fact, or so we would have it, after we found the true cause. I returned to my regiment after I had finished assisting the fire brigade and I was soon stationed here, which was at that time simply a deep crater. We were ordered to keep the public from crossing the mile radius of the impact site, as the area was considered too dangerous to allow anyone to enter, although many tried to search for loved ones, or scavenge.
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When the scene began to be cleared, they found the meteorite. I first saw it two weeks after the impact, while on duty. I could still feel heat rising off it, and this was from at least a hundred yards away. The captain came to a halt before a set of great double doors, on either side of which two guards stood, saluting the captain as he approached. Poor lighting helped to give the room a basic and dingy, infrequently visited, feel to it. Bolt turned to face the party. Some of what now happens in the story, continued Bolt, I can only relate to you as it was related to myself, because at the time I was only stationed here on guard duty, to protect the public. I was not privy to the discussions and testing that went on. However, what our scientists first concluded was that the damage was not nearly enough. Not enough? said Dr Vandell in an unusually high voice of disbelief. Yes. They said that an object of that size, travelling at enough speed to pierce the earths atmosphere, should at the very least, have destroyed an area the size of greater London. Entirely. Not to mention the destructive after effects. How big was the meteorite? asked Gem. It has a cubic capacity of one thousand square feet. Which, to put into terms for you, is about the size of a large house. It has, that is to say, it is still in one piece? asked the doctor. Yes, said Bolt. It is. He nodded and two soldiers pulled the handles attached to the giant doors. Screeching cut the air as casters under each door followed groves in the floor. The doors opened to reveal a suspended walkway that reminded Gem of the underground machine room at Syns facilities on Rhum, giving an elevated position to those standing on it and allowing them to overview the entire area. Bolt led them inside. The ceiling was of red brickwork, supported with iron girders and fitted with six electric lights that buzzed to themselves. The atmosphere was chilled and damp, and a strange musty smell hung in the air. The grated steel mezzanine walkway gave a view of the crudely concreted floor several dozen feet below. Chains secured to the roofing girders above them suspended the walkway, which swung noticeable as they moved along its length. Reaching a foot or two above the walkway at its centre, and thirty feet or so in length, the meteorite sat, tar black and shining, and if an inanimate object could do such a thing, sleeping. Its surface rippled with contours, yet smooth in its irregularity, as if it had been hand polished for many years. Tom followed Gem, his eyes fixated on the rocks absorbing, black surface. Bolt walked down the steps to the lower level and along the length of the black rock, brushing his fingers along its surface. We cant move it, he said. Its density makes it heavier than lead, as best we can approximate. Approximate? questioned the doctor, walking alongside the meteorite, looking up its great body. Every attempt has failed to penetrate its surface, whatever weve tried. Drills, explosives, heat, cold; nothing enables us to make the slightest chip in it. And, in that shape, we cant move it. So, we decided to leave it here and build this facility around it. Tom stepped up to the side of the meteorite and put his hands against the smooth surface, stretching his fingers out across it. Sixty-Eight, he said, looking back to Gem. Impossible! said Bolt, staring at the boy. Everyone stopped and all eyes fell upon the boy who rarely spoke. Dr Vandell nodded and smiled.
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What is it? Gem asked him. Those numbers he comes out with, I think theyre elements from the periodic table, said Dr Vandell. The what? Everything in the world, on the most microscopic level, is basically made up of chemical elements. These elements can be arranged in a table diagram and each assigned a number. I first suspected it yesterday evening, after Tom pointed out the captains medals. He said the numbers twenty-nine, forty-seven and seventy-nine. These are representative of copper, silver and gold, on the periodic table, and almost certainly what the medals are composed of. There are, however, gaps in the periodic table, where we know there are elements that should fit in, but we have yet to discover them. Yes, said Bolt. The meteorite is made from just such an element. Sixty-eight is unknown. I believe he can sense the physical composition of items somehow, said Dr Vandell. You think Tom is has something to do with this meteorite? Gem asked Captain Bolt. He couldnt be, could he? Hes too young. Well, those that were in the radius of the blast have not visibly aged a day since, but I very much doubt it. Very much, he repeated. Perhaps he Bolt left the thought verbally unfinished. Regardless of the circumstances that brought him into being, I need to check some research regarding the term Gaia, maybe then we can start drawing conclusions, said the doctor. Tom continued to walk along the length of the rock, holding his hands against it and looking across its surface. You said something about Syn, not being one of the twelve who survived the impact, but you seemed to suggest he has powers too? asked Gem. Yes, replied Bolt. The meteorite did change him. It made him more intelligent, several-fold, and he was our leading scientist before that happened. How did it happen? asked Gem. Again, I must emphasis that I wasnt here at the time, and so didnt witness the events, but Im told that when the residual heat of the meteorite had subsided enough for closer inspection of it, Gabriel Syn was the first man they turned to. He spent weeks down here with it. Eventually, the thing, although still very warm, got cold enough to touch, and that is when it happened. What? Gem asked anxiously. He touched it, said Bolt with a shrug. He is reported as then falling unconscious and remaining like it for four days. At first, it was thought that he had suffered some kind of collapse following endless hours of research and not enough rest, the way these people seem to do things. Between then and him waking up, many people touched the meteorite, which had mysteriously not only cooled, but even now remains at a lower temperature than the surrounding air by several degrees. None suffered from the same symptoms. When Syn came around, he wasnt the same man anymore. He seemed removed from everyone, cold, and as Ive said, it became apparent that his intelligence had grown exponentially. He suddenly became the foremost scientist in every field. Every single one. Over the following years, he would make amazing scientific discoveries and assist other researchers whose work interested him, or he felt he could benefit from, pushing them in directions they
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would never have dreamed of, but never concerned with taking any direct credit. His only desire was to have access to almost unlimited funds from the British government, who, we thought, were the major benefactors of his studies. Suddenly, England was thrust into the forefront of a new scientific age, where transport and power took amazing new directions based almost entirely on Syns work. So, if everything was going so well in favour of Britain, then where did it go wrong? asked Dr Vandell, removing a cigar and lighting it. In my opinion, it was the second Syn woke from his comatose state, and that from that very moment on, he was playing us for fools. He would deliver so much that the government was appeased, and they, in turn, made a vast fortune in selling technology and assistance to other nations. Whatever Syn asked for, they gave him, including Rhum. That is when they stopped keeping a close eye on his work. It never struck anyone that Syn might be holding back and only giving the government enough to keep them satisfied, more than satisfied, but ultimately second-rate developments when compared to his other work. All the time, he seemed to hold some kind of control over the others who had been exposed to the strange properties of the meteorite. All of them underwent changes, not only in their abilities, but in their personalities too. Family ties were no longer important to any of them, only Syns bidding. Something that became more apparent as the years passed and they soon came to call themselves The Table of Shadows. The Table of Shadows, thats what Wyncote said before he died, said the doctor. A number of investigations and altercations throughout the British Empire later, and we find ourselves in a position whereby Syn was actively defying Her Majesty and her government, and therefore England. He was selling national secrets and that was not to be tolerated. So, we struck at Syn. Which is where we met you, concluded Bolt, looking between Dr Vandell and the children. I dont know what to say, said Dr Vandell. Im sure youll have numerous questions, but for the time being, I think we should find some dinner, as I am absolutely famished. The vagrant sat hunched in a barbershop doorway, sheltering from the incessant rain. The night was growing late and the street was largely empty, but his eyes still flickered up from time to time to ensure no one observed him. He spread his handkerchief of parts wide on the step beneath him and looked across its contents. The vagrant had already dismantled the items he had stolen from the house for any components that he had wanted. Links of chain, pins, clasps and a number of the stones had joined the collection, which he now mulled over. He nudged the pile of pieces around with his dirt-engrained fingers, looking at the combinations. First, he chose two small, silver-framed, coloured glass fairy wings and pushed them to one side. The vagrant followed these with a selection of a dozen tiny shinning black stones, each one no bigger than a grain of salt. He completed his selection with a number of pins and several of the most delicate cogs and springs. Holding his hand over the parts on the handkerchief, the man concentrated and the components began to draw themselves together, slotting almost naturally into one another. The coloured glass wings lifted up and flapped with several slow and careful movements. Two thin antennae twitched into life and the butterfly awoke.
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The vagrant put his grimy hand down to the material allowing the butterfly to climb up his fingers and onto the back of his hand. He studied its elegant form, smiling as it stretched its wings and its tiny black stoned eyes surveyed its surroundings. Gem, Tom and the others had left the meteorite and returned upstairs, where Captain Bolt escorted them to a dining facility on the upper floor. It was sufficient and quiet, but ultimately basic and designed for keeping the soldiers nourished, not for entertaining. After dinner, the children excused themselves and were escorted to private rooms, which provided each with single beds and washing facilities. Dr Vandell and Captain Bolt stayed behind for a nightcap from a half bottle of whiskey that Bolt managed to secure from a drawer in a cramped and untidy office. May I speak with you candidly for a moment? asked Dr Vandell, looking Captain Bolt dead in the eye. Of course, doctor, always. I would imagine we have a great deal to discuss without the children around. Yes, said Dr Vandell, opening his cigar case, and removing his last cigar but one. I can have someone fetch you some more, if you would like, doctor? offered Bolt, watching as the cigar was lit. That would be most kind, thank you, said the doctor, billowing smoke into the air. I wanted to talk to you about Tom and Gem. Of course. Whatever it is Tom can do, he is just a child, and one with severe difficulties. I realise that, doctor. No doubt you do, but you must not lose sight of that in your pursuit of Syn and the others. I cant let him go, doctor, if that is what you are going to ask. No, I can understand his importance, but equally, hes no match for the likes of Payne and Voyce, given what I was told happened on Rhum. Hes not a weapon. No, he isnt, agreed Bolt. But what he gives us is a window into that world. We have never had an opportunity like this and we need to understand more about them before it is too late. Too late, for what? I dont know what it is that Syn has planned, but we need to deal with him sooner, rather than later. All our intelligence information indicates development programs of machinery of war and power, and Rhum was only one of his research facilities, there are almost defiantly others. Ones that are more secretive. That cannot have a good outcome. I understand. Then, what is it you are asking for, doctor? That you understand. Bolt sighed, swilling his drink around the sides of his glass. Im not a father, doctor. I do not have any family to speak of, and Ive been married to the military and my country for nearly my entire life, but I am not a monster. I wouldnt knowingly put Tom in a position where I thought he would come to any danger. Understand this; if I let Tom go now, and asked you to help him disappear, they would never stop looking for him. They found him once, and theyll do it again and again, until they have what they want. Tom, and anyone around him is in direct and very real danger, this includes yourself and Gem. He is far safer at my side, where I can protect him.
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And Gem, where does she fit into this? Gem is the key to Tom. For some reason, nobody else is allowed anywhere near him, and nobody can focus him in the way she can. I would ask, but not demand, that she remains with him. I would imagine she would insist on doing so anyway, they seem inseparable. Yes, agreed the doctor, studying the glowing end of his cigar. And yourself, doctor? Will you be staying? I sincerely hope so. Bolt smiled and half laughed to himself. If Gem is the key to Tom, then you are the key to Gem. That girl has an iron will. Dr Vandell laughed and nodded in agreement. Yes, she does quite, doesnt she? he replied. In seriousness, I need someone qualified to try to understand Tom, and help us understand him. It would be far safer for you to stay with us, for the time being, at least. He fascinates me, at the same time as he frightens me. I know hes the most pure soul Ive ever met, but the power he has the doctor left the thought unfinished. Yes, he said suddenly and resolutely. I will stay, for the time being, until we know a little more about how this will all continue. Good. In fact, excellent! remarked Bolt, tilting his head back and clearing the remaining contents of the glass. Tomorrow we need to report our situation to my superiors. Oh? Who would that be? Tell me, he said, with a grin and a mischievous look at the doctor, have you met Her Majesty or the Prime Minister?

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Chapter Fourteen

With Heart and Voice

Her Majesty, Queen Victoria, is a wise woman, said Captain Bolt, leading the disparate group through a magnificently ornate hall in the west wing of Buckingham Palace. Toms head did not stop moving as he absorbed everything the palace had to offer. She is giving the country back to the people and becoming a monarch who expects to be advised and consulted, not to dictate, continued Bolt. Her counsel is valued and her outlook is as strong as anyone Ive ever met. She has been of great importance when Prime Ministers have changed, and along with them their politics. Her Majesty has remained a constant and valued ally. She is, in a word, formidable. How many people know about the rock? asked Gem, increasingly frustrated with Toms desire to investigate everything as they walked behind the captain. Meteorite. Surprisingly few. Fewer still, know of its true origins, and only a handful know the complete story. When introduced to the Queen, it is normal to bow slightly and address her as Your majesty, after that, you should refer to her as Maam, and on departure once again as Your majesty. Gem, you should curtsey. Do you know how? Of course, she lied. She had practiced curtseying with every available moment that she had been able to afford herself some privacy since learning whom she was to meet that morning. Well, do your best. And, Tom, said Bolt, Try not to swear at her majesty. Tom nodded and smiled. Gem had fully expected to be shown to a throne room of some kind, so it came as both a shock and disappointment when the group were led to a more than comfortable, but homely, sitting-room. In a far armchair, nearest to perhaps the largest fireplace Gem had ever seen, rested a man in a dark suit, who appeared to be asleep. His hair was balding back beyond the crown where a ring of wavy grey hair began to curl and retreat into large sidewhiskers. A neat bow secured his winged shirt collar and a relaxed posture pushed his chins up into his plump face. Gem thought he looked rather grandfatherly. Tom pointed at a remarkable watch chain that hung across the front of his waistcoat. Seventy-nine, he said, looking at Gem, who nodded. Yes, gold. Bolt coughed loudly into his hand. The man stirred with instant alertness, nearly leaping from his chair. Oh my, he said. I must have dozed off for a moment there. Oh my.
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Im sure we can overlook a man, with such a heavy weight of responsibility on his shoulders, stealing a moment to rest his eyes, said Captain Bolt, offering his handshake. Captain, said Lord Russell, standing and warmly responding to the gesture. Prime Minister. A long night, Im afraid, said Lord Russell in defence of his discovery. Please, no need to explain, said Bolt, holding his palm up to the Prime Minister to stop him from elaborating further. Everyone, began Bolt, turning to the group behind him. Im honoured to introduce Lord Russell, our Prime Minister. Good morning, said Lord Russell, with a smile at the party who had positioned themselves in a formal looking alignment. A far door to the room opened with a click, causing everyone to turn towards it in anticipation. A footman stepped into the room and held the door open. There was no mistaking the Queen as she entered. Gem had seen many images of her, not the least being on the coins she had in her possession at that very moment, but the Queens presence still took her aback. Queen Victoria wore a wide and ruffled blue satin dress that brushed across the rug underfoot as she moved. A piece of white lace held back her dark hair, matching well with a pearl necklace. Gem did not know the Queens actual age, but her skin was smooth and her face framed rosy cheeks above a soft smile, and she estimated her to be no more than thirty. An aura filled the room and Gem felt that if she had closed her eyes while the Queen had entered, she would have instinctively known it was her. Captain Bolt, said the Queen, her smile growing wider as her cheeks rose and narrowed her eyes. What a pleasure to see you! she said, holding her hand out to Bolt. Your Majesty, said Bolt, taking her hand and kissing it affectionately. An honour, as always. I married too soon, she said with a sigh and a laugh. She turned to the Prime Minister and smiled again. Lord Russell. Lord Russell bowed and kissed her hand in response. Your Majesty. And, who do we have here? she enquired, looking past Bolt at the group. I would like to take the opportunity to introduce you to some people who have recently served their country well, said Bolt. Ah, yes. Ive read your report. First, began Bolt, moving to the doctor. It is my pleasure to introduce Dr Vandell. He runs a refuge for homeless and destitute children in London. Dr Vandell, said Queen Victoria with a nod of her head. Your Majesty, replied the doctor, bowing. Gem sniggered in a burst of nervousness and found everyone in the room looking at her. She felt herself flush and knew she had turned a bright red without the need of a mirror. Which brings us to Gemma Lightfoot, said Bolt, feeling no need to point her out. Gem, please, Your Majesty, she said, compounding her embarrassment with a rushed attempt at a courtesy. The Queens smile of greeting turned to one of bemusement. Gem has shown great character and resolve in helping protect young Tom, here, continued Bolt, holding his hand out towards Tom, who looked up at the Queen through his heavy hair, which, as usual, was falling into his eyes.
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Tom wrung his cap between his hands and his eyes echoed a confusion inside him. He studied the Queen up and down before he put an arm forward and almost succeeded in touching her dress, had Gem not lunged forth and intercepted his hand. Two, he said. No, Tom! said Gem. He never wants to touch other people. I dont know what came over him. Im sorry, Your Majesty! The report indicates he can sense things, said the Queen looking quizzical. Yes, Maam, said Gem, remembering her etiquette. At least she had managed to do one thing right, she thought. Bolt spoke up, As best we can tell, he is able to sense peoples emotions, as well as chemical elements, and to manipulate them to an extent. He refers to elements by their according number value on the periodic table. Yes, I noticed that in the report, but in this case, I think it is something else. Something else, Maam? I believe he senses the baby, said the Queen, drawing her hands across her dress and around her abdomen, pulling the material across a most definite bulge. Oh, I see, replied Bolt. Gem had not realised the Queen was pregnant, and then realised that the dress had been chosen for exactly that effect. How long until the happy occasion? asked Captain Bolt. Not too much longer, thankfully. Early May. Well, my sincerest best wishes. Yes, Maam added Dr Vandell. Such a remarkable young boy, said Queen Victoria, studying Tom for a time before taking to an armchair opposite the one the Prime Minister had been napping in. Please, sit down, she encouraged of everyone, indicating to the chairs surrounding her. The Prime Minister retook his original position, while the others arranged themselves across a long sofa. Tea? asked the Queen. Please, replied everyone in unison, with Tom mimicked the general confirmation of head nodding. The Queen asked the nearby footman to offer tea to her guests, which he promptly did by lifting a silver tray from a sideboard and placing it on a low table between the seated group. He first served the Queen, followed by the Prime Minister and the captain, and then the others. So, Captain Bolt, started Queen Victoria, holding her teacup in its saucer before herself on an upturned palm, what do you believe the Table of Shadows will do next? I dont know that yet, Maam. I know what I would do, but Syn is chillingly unpredictable. What would you do, captain? I would retreat, gather my resources, assess my effectiveness and determine a strategy for going about my objective. Which is? asked the Prime Minister. I dont know at this time. It maybe to acquire Tom. They seem to have gone to great lengths to do so previously. However, I cannot directly answer that question because I dont know what it is Syn sees as his objective. Frankly, Prime Minister, its like playing a game of chess and not being allowed to view the other players moves. I cant attempt to counter
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something when I dont understand what it is that he holds in value. And after Rhum, it appears he is playing with more knights than pawns on his side of the board. Then we have a great deal to discuss, said the Queen, and for the time being at least, until we decide what to do, I think it wisest if you all stay here at the palace as my guests. A cant think of anywhere safer, can you? The following morning, the children tore across the Hyde Park gardens, chasing the ducks along the edge of the lake, the biting chill wind reddening their cheeks. The Queen was to inspect the construction site of the of the Great Exhibition, and had invited Dr Vandell and the children to escort her. Captain Bolt insisted on accompanying them despite a guard that followed the party, his eyes ever alert. The Great Exhibition was to be hosted in Hyde Park later that year. The designer, an excitably curious fellow called Paxton, showed them around, demonstrating that progress was already underway on erecting the great glasshouse nicknamed Crystal Palace by the newspapers, of which the massive structure was beginning to take shape. The Queen voiced her confidence in the progress so far, but warned against complacency. After brief discussions, she had suggested the party return to the Palace via the paths through the newly completed Dinosaur Park. Tom was in awe as they followed the pathway through the park, wanting to climb the fencing and reach the dinosaur statues situated along the lakeside. Gem held him back, but it was clear she too wanted to inspect the strange animals at closer range. Go on, you two, said the Queen waving her hand and smiling. Just be careful not to tread on any flowerbeds or to fall in the water. The children ran towards a herd of Anoplotheria and began to run their hands over the strange creatures. To watch children is to be young again, said the Queen, sighing as Tom and Gem ran around the statues. Dr Vandell nodded. I cant ever remember Gem acting with the abandonment of a true child. She was robbed of that pleasure; of living in the moment. Perhaps Tom is teaching her something, said Bolt. Perhaps he is, agreed Dr Vandell. Ive never witnessed someone so alive. He seems to have an insatiable inquisitiveness. The kind adults teach children to lose, if you take my meaning. I do indeed, said the Queen. We need to learn much more about this unusual boy. Have you ever heard of the Gaia Hypothesis, Maam? asked the doctor. No, doctor, I cannot say that I have. It is a new theory. One that has been met with great derision and debate amongst the scientific community, but one that nonetheless may be pertinent to explore. I had to check on it using one of your engines, as its not really my field of expertise. Gem says that Syn referred to it when she met him, calling Tom the Gaia child, and both Wyncote and Bolt have referenced it. Go on. It has been suggested that the planet is not so much a piece of rock hurtling around the solar system with the miracle of life flourishing upon it, but a living entity within itself. The theory suggests that the cumulative actions of organisms living on and within it, from the microscopic amoeba through to the giant blue whale, in combination with the planet itself, actually control the atmosphere of the Earth, producing a harmonising result of life that if
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such a balance were tipped in favour of a particular species, then the planet would selfregulate in order to right the wrong, so to speak. Im not quite following, doctor. Imagine a scenario in which the world plunged into a new ice-age, and imagine how that would favour certain types of organisms such as the polar bear, the seal and the penguin. But it would be devastating to the vast majority of other life, particularly vegetation. The Gaia Hypothesis supposes that this upset would not be conducive to life on the whole, and the balance would need to be restored. Plants would die out, volcanoes and animals would cause carbon dioxide levels to rise unchecked without plants to recycle it into oxygen, causing the planet to heat up, life thrives again. The plants, along with the planets own mechanisms, recycle the carbon dioxide into oxygen and the balance rediscovered. Of course, this is to simplify it to the point of damaging the quality of the scientific argument, if you understand my meaning Im not sure that I do said Bolt. If you take the Gaia theory, and only understand that the Earth is a self-regulating environment, of which every part of it and its inhabitants contribute to maintaining the balance, we could say that the Earth might be Alive? asked Bolt. Yes, alive, said Dr Vandell, looking across at Tom and Gem as they ran around the great statues. We just need to broaden our definition of the term. Well, it bears consideration, I suppose. After all weve witnessed many strange things previously unthinkable, but I dont understand how this fits in with what is happening though. Well, supposing the planet is alive, and then it is invaded by a foreign body. The meteorite? Exactly! The meteorite lands and begins infecting the planet. The Table of Shadows? An infection? Yes, if we were to consider them as damaging the equilibrium of the planet, or cancerous cells, which if left unchecked were to cause devastation previously unconsidered. Beyond England, beyond Europe, but on a cataclysmic world scale. Are you suggesting that these people may be spreading some kind of disease? asked the Queen, her breath forming rapid white clouds in the cold air before her. No, not as such. I dont know exactly what Im suggesting, but consider this; when our own blood is invaded, our body reacts and will try to fight the intrusion. It does this on a daily basis, most often successfully without us even noticing. Sometimes we do notice of course; such as fighting off a cold. Sometimes we may lose such a fight and the doctors words drifted to a stop, his eyes glazed and his mind consumed by a memory of his wife. He sat at her bedside and held her hand. Trying to stay strong for her, trying to keep a glimmer of hope in his eyes so that she would not look at him and see the despair he truly felt. Doctor? prompted Bolt. Im sorry, said the doctor, shaking himself from his thoughts. During the past several days Ive witnessed things I thought impossible. Categorically impossible. I now find myself re-evaluating my outlook. Im suggesting, incredible as it may seem, that just perhaps; the Earth has created a response to this infection. How? In Tom. That he is the balance.
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Doctor, that is a stretch, even in the present circumstances. Are you saying that the planet brought Tom into being to contest the Table of Shadows? Yes. Im not suggesting that this is a conscious act as we would understand it, but perhaps this young boy is all that stands between our survival and a cataclysmic upset in the balance of things. Even if that is not the case, it may well be what Syn is thinking. He did refer to Tom as the Gaia child. I began Bolt, think I need to sit down. Had anyone stopped that morning and looked for it, they may have noticed the tiny glass-winged butterfly that followed them. Tom noticed it, but to him it was just one curiosity amongst a wealth of others. Later, the party awaited lunch together, seated at a long table in a room toward the rear of the palace. Gem secretly looked to Dr Vandell for guidance on the use of her napkin and which knife and fork to use from her setting. Tom sat beside her smiling, his random choice of cutlery held in his hands before any food arrived. The Queen, Dr Vandell and Captain Bolt were once again in solemn discussion. What are we going to do? Are we going to stay here? asked Gem, breaking into the conversation. Three pairs of eyes turned to her simultaneously. We dont know yet, Gem, said Dr Vandell. Weve been afforded great hospitality from Her Majesty for the time being. Gem twisted her napkin in her hands. Then what are we going to do? We have yet to decide, replied Bolt. But you must have some idea. Yes, my dear, said the Queen. We do have some thoughts, but we need to learn more from our reports on Syns whereabouts. Gem tightened her lips. She felt they owed her more honesty and openness, which was not forthcoming. Youre safe here, said Bolt. We wont let anything happen to you or Tom. Now, captain, you really are not in a position to give the child such assurances, replied an unsettling gravelled voice from the doorway. The group looked up in unison from their seats and Gem led their surprise with a sharp gasp. Its him! she said, pointing to the doorway where Syn stood observing the room through the soulless dark lenses embedded where his eyes should have been. Bolt instantly took to his feet, drawing both of his pistols from his belt, and positioning himself between the Queen and Syn. He fired twice in quick succession. The shots crashed into a large mirror behind Syn, which shattered and fell in a cascade of broken pieces across the mantelpiece and floor. That will be most unlucky, said Syn, looking behind himself at the shards of scattered mirror. Seven years, they say. Can you afford that amount of misfortune? Tom stood from his position next to Gem and was out of her reach before she realised what he was doing. He walked confidently across the room to a chorus of screams of concern, and reached forwards to touch Syn. His hand disappeared into the professors leg, only to reappear when he removed it. This boy is good! said Syn, shaking his head. I suspect his potential is boundless.
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Gem began to comprehend what had happened; Professor Syn was not there at all. This is simply a projection of my will, said the professor. His pale hairless skull and deep scar contrasting starkly in the light. You cannot harm me. An explosion filled the room. Gem flinched in her seat. She looked up to find Bolt had taken careful aim with the pistol in his right hand and had fired once more, this time aiming squarely at Syns head. The shot had embedded itself in the wall alongside the previous two. Just to be certain, said Bolt, thrusting both guns back into his belt. Not that I would miss. Your singular lack of intellect and reliance upon force makes you a quite unpredictable opponent, like any wild animal. And your lack of sanity makes you quite unpredictable, sir, replied Bolt with barbed hostility. A tiny butterfly fluttered across the room before landing upon the mantle beside Syn. The outline of its wings seemed to be almost real silver to Gems eye. Should butterflies be out at this time of year? Now we have each finished our opening gambits, and can afford to be slightly more candid, understand this Bolt; Im going to make your death one that people will speak about for years to come. I will ensure that it is something quite magnificent and particuarly drawn out. Instead of the threats, Syn, replied Bolt, why dont you tell us what it is that you came for? The boy, he said, opening his hands as if the answer were obvious. And, why would we allow that? Because if you dont, Ill take him by force, and that will be the worst scenario for everyone here. It will also be very costly for those that are not directly involved, but perhaps you would consider such meaningless deaths as collateral damage. Unacceptable, said the Queen, stepping out from behind Captain Bolts protection. Your Majesty, said Syn, bowing. I want the boy. If he is not handed over immediately, I will send Mr Payne and Mr Voyce to retrieve him. I will also order the destruction of the palace and everyone within it. So that we are clear, that includes you, Maam. Bolt edged forward, reaching for the sword at his side before seemingly realising it would be of no assistance against the phantom projection of Syn. How dare you threaten her! he said. It was the first time Gem had seen him overtly emotional, even for a second. Its quite all right, captain, said Queen Victoria, putting a hand out to stay his sword arm. It is not the first time I have been threatened, nor the will it be the last, Im sure. Almost forgotten by Gem during the turn of events, the Prime Minister spoke up, his eyes thin and his voice now powerful, deep and measured, You will not threaten her Majesty, nor will you take by force a British subject from her heart. You will pay dearly for this, Syn. I will see to it Bolt is given everything he needs. We never shall be slaves to your demands, not for one moment! Professor Syn laughed, Im sure, Lord Russell, that those are sincere words, but you must understand that you have no possibility of putting any weight to them. All of you, stop and listen to me. All I ask for is the boy. You know very well that we can take him, should we desire to. A regiment of your troops are no match for us. Really, thats not how I remember Rhum, said Bolt.
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The Queen moved to the centre of the room. She looked undaunted by the apparition before her and resolute in her posture. Enough, she said firmly. You will not have him. Not while I am Queen. Very well, replied Syn. Well have to see what we can do about that. His form vanished in a blurred haze, leaving his position within the room vacant. The butterfly fell apart at the same moment, in a flurry of tiny mechanical parts that spilled across the mantelpiece and to the floor. Bolt wasted no time in issuing orders. Get her out of here, he commanded of the footman. Get her personal guard around her, and have their man report to me. Immediately! The footman looked flustered, but hurried to the Queens side, and took her arm. You think he is coming now? To the palace? asked the Queen as the footman escorted her from the room You heard him, replied Bolt. Take the Prime Minister too! he shouted at the footman. Lord Russell followed in shuffling steps after the footman and the Queen. Before they were out of the room, several guards who had been posted outside the room rushed to their side to escort them. Bolt was reloading his pistols, slotting cartridges from a box mounted upon his belt into their chambers. Damn! he said to himself. Surely they cant attack us here, said Dr Vandell. Were in the middle of Buckingham Palace. He will, just to show he can, said Bolt grimly. He wants to show he can walk into the very heart of the Empire and take what he wants, and he thinks theres nothing that can stop him. Hes wrong. Youre best off going with the Queens guard, suggested Bolt, slamming shut the chambers on his pistols with a flick of each wrist. Ill look after the children. No, replied Vandell, a steely resolution in his eyes. I maybe able to help. Bolt stopped and looked at the doctor. A smile crept up one corner of his mouth. Youre a bold man, doctor. These children are lucky to have ever found such a person to take care of them. Gem looked to Bolt for guidance. She gathered up Toms hand, immediately feeling his perplexity at the sudden change in behaviour and emotions surrounding him. She had no idea if he had understood anything of Syns threats, or what was happening around him. Its all right, she said in an attempt to comfort him, and not least herself. There was a familiar whistling sound in the distance. Bolt recognised it before Gem and she found herself and Tom pushed to the floor. Get down! shouted Bolt. Dr Vandell simply looked stunned, but after a moments indecision, he did promptly as he was told. An explosion rocked the palace and plaster dust fell from the ceiling across the room. What was that? asked the doctor, taking to the floor. An artillery shell, said Bolt. Right in the damned heart of London! That was a range finder. Another whistle approached as Bolt finished his sentence, followed by a further explosion, this time closer and causing minor structural damage to the room. The frame that had mounted the mirror above the mantelpiece fell from its position and struck the floor as
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the wall cracked in two. A piece of coal rolled out of the fireplace and into the middle of the rug before it. Dr Vandell reached for a pair of tongs and lifted it back to its natural home. That was close, said Gem. If we stay here, were dead, said Bolt, picking himself up off the ground. Move! Go out the way the Queen left, he shouted through the confusion. Gem pulled Tom, who was squeezing her hand. Come on! she cried, climbing to her feet. A third shell hit the palaces grounds, but this time it felt to Gem as if it were some distance away. Where the hell are they firing from? shouted Bolt. A showering of plaster and gold paint fell upon him as he reached the doorway. This way, he said, making sure everyone was leaving the room by the door he had designated. Which way out? cried Dr Vandell, reaching the doorway, faced with choices of directions. Bolt looked confused. I dont know! Any way that gets us out of here! Dr Vandell disappeared around the doorway and out of sight. Quickly, Gem! called Bolt, waving her towards the door with his pistols. But why would he risk killing Tom? she cried while pulling Tom through the door, with Bolt following quickly after them. He maybe trying to flush us out into the open, or perhaps he thinks that if he cant have Tom, then neither will we. Frankly, I dont know, but we need to get out and find where that artillery is coming from. Gem followed Dr Vandell along the passage as it continued with a right hand turn. A further explosion struck towards the rear of the palace, rocking the buildings foundations. Several glass windows in a nearby room cracked from the shockwave. Dr Vandell led them quickly along the hall. Several of the great paintings that had been mounted along the walls had dropped to the floor, lying in broken frames. Another explosion struck the palace, this time only a room or two away. The blast threw Gem from her feet and she was knocked senseless as she struck a wall. The smoke and sound temporarily overwhelmed her senses, and she felt Toms hand slip out of her own and into the grey mist. A high-pitched shrill ringing filled her ears. Tom! she cried, unable to hear her own voice. Tom! she cried again, pushing herself up the wall and onto her feet. Smoke raced along the hallway, thinning itself out. Gem flinched as an unexpected hand touched her shoulder. Captain Bolt was wiping at his face, where a small cut had opened to the right side of his temple. Damn, he said. Are you all right? Huh? she answered in a flustered confusion, her head thumping with each heartbeat. The ringing began to subside. Ive lost Tom, she said peering into the drifting clouds of smoke and dust. Jewel, said Tom, appearing at her side and retaking her hand. Dust and debris layered his face and clothes, but the warmth of his spirit flooded through her. Tom! she said, crying and wrapping her arms around him. She kissed him on the cheek and turned, looking for the others. A voice from along the passage ahead called out through the smoke, Gem? Captain? It was Dr Vandell, who was coughing almost uncontrollably, but was still alive. Here! called Gem. Continue on, doctor! Hurry! commanded Bolt, ushering everyone forward.
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This way, called Dr Vandell and soon they could see him, waving them towards himself. Glass crunched under Gems boots and she almost tripped over a fallen wooden beam that crossed her path, but she clambered over the debris until she reached Dr Vandell. They followed the passageway around a corner and along another forty feet or so until they found its conclusion. Dr Vandell reached out and tried to turn the handle to the door at its end. Its locked! he said, taking several large steps backwards and charging at the door with his shoulder. Gem heard a splintering of wood and saw the doorframe give slightly. Dr Vandell gave another push and the door opened under protest, allowing them to enter. They found themselves in one of many entranceways, and the fresh outside air worked its way into the room through the cracks in the door. Dr Vandell reached for the black iron doorknob and turned it. The door opened and washed them with clear air. The group spilled out onto a short run of steps that ran up from the lower level into the palace grounds. Thank God, said Dr Vandell. They stood at the far right corner of the palaces foundations, with a clear view of the rear gardens where others were beginning to amass amid the confusion. A group of five soldiers ran past them, their rifles drawn. You there, said Bolt, reaching out and grabbing the nearest one by the arm. Yes, sir! said the soldier, visibly shaken by the events around him. Whats going on? Where is the artillery coming from? We dont know, sir! We were on our way to find out. They seem to be coming from the direction of The Mall. And the Queen and Prime Minister, where are they? Being dispatched to the rear grounds of the palace by carriage, with an escort, sir! Very well, said Bolt, releasing the man and flicking his head to indicate he should carry on with his duties. I suggest that you do the same, Dr Vandell. Tom, Gem, you stay at my side. If its all the same, Ill stay too, said Dr Vandell, forcefully. Bolt pursed his lips. Hmmm, he said, turning and striding towards the front of the palace grounds. I dont have time to argue. Gem followed closely behind with Tom and as they rounded the palaces long north wall, she found herself looking across a scene of destruction. The front right wing of the palace lay in ruins, and she could see into a haze of smoke and fire within the interior. Dark clouds drifted from the building, high into the sky above, signalling the disaster to the rest of London. The sandstone courtyard had been ruptured by two significant holes where shells had fallen. Bewildered soldiers ran back and forth without orders, looking for an enemy to fight. A small group of men gathered behind the great black gates that separated the palace from the road and a growing crowd of spectators. Gem noted the shelling of the palace appeared to have stopped. She looked around, attempting to see where the barrage had come from, but saw nothing other than panic and confusion in all directions. Bolt strode towards the soldiers at the gate. What are you doing? he asked. We have a report that a submarine has surfaced in the Thames, just after the Hungerford Bridge. Its armed with a cannon!
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So, thats how, said Bolt. But its over a mile in range! he said, shaking his head in disbelief. Well, lets get some men together and go to it! I dont think we need to, sir, said one of the soldiers, looking up from his kneeling position at the gate. Theyre coming to us. Bolt looked through the railings of the gate, Well, Ill be the son of a... Gem followed his eyes, out and along The Mall, a parade route stretching for the better part of a mile in a wide straight path directly from Buckingham Palace to Trafalgar Square. Carefully aligned trees ran its length on each side, and deep in the distance between them, Gem could make out two dark shapes moving towards the palace, flying more than a dozen feet above the ground. What is it? she asked. Dark men, said Tom, pointing along The Mall. Gem felt fear pulsate through his hand, but was unable tell who it belonged to. Voyce and Payne, said Bolt. Theyre coming.

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Chapter Fifteen

The Gates
Is there a cannon? asked Bolt, turning to one of the nearby guards. Only a ceremonial one, sir, said the soldier. Go get it! Bolt pointed at three other soldiers, You, you and you. Help him. On its way, sir! cried one of the men as they disappeared towards the rear of the main building. What shall we do? asked Gem. Bolt ignored the question and shot a look across Gem at the growing crowds of public gathering along the fences to watch the palace burn. Get them out of here, quickly, he ordered of the remaining soldiers. How? asked the nearest private. Bolt glanced around, and then drew one of his pistols. He fired several times into the air narrowly over the heads of the onlookers. The crowds screamed and began to disperse with a panicked immediacy. Thats how, replied Bolt, turning to address the group. No arguments. Everyone get back towards the palace! Dr Vandell nodded and shepherded the children away from the gates. Gem strained her neck to turn back on itself so she could see what was happening as the doctor hurried her away. The dark shapes approaching along The Mall grew more visible by the second. Far down the road, Voyce and Payne levitated a dozen or so feet about the ground in upright positions, their arms outstretched at their sides, and their long black frock jackets trailing like fans behind them as they made quick progress along The Mall. Mayhem erupted along the length of the road as people and horses panicked to escape the path of the men as they closed towards the palace. A column of soldiers ran to the railings on either side of the gates and took up positions along their length. They held their heads low and trained their weapons on the approaching men. There were now thirty to forty soldiers in defensive positions in front of the palace, with the majority audibly voicing disbelief at what they were seeing. Gem found it difficult to disagree with them. Hold your fire! called Bolt.
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Dr Vandell drew to a stop and put his hands on Gems shoulders, as she in turn wrapped her arm around Tom. They watched at a distance yet Gem could almost feel the tensing of fingers upon triggers. Voyce and Payne neared quickly and Gem was now able to make out their cruel features and piercing eyes focusing towards them. She waited, holding her breath, unsure of which side would launch the first assault. Hold your fire! repeated Bolt to a nervous looking row of soldiers. We aint trained for nothing like this! cried one, his gun trembling in his hands. Voyce and Payne descended in a slow arc before alighting the ground twenty feet from the gates as casually as if they had stepped from a train. We are here for the boy, shouted Payne, straining his broken voice above its usual hoarse whisper. I cannot let you take him, replied Bolt. That is your final word on the matter, captain? Well, I may have others to follow, but yes, for the time being. Then you leave us without choice. Theres always a choice. Payne extended his hands before his body and pushed them slowly apart in a long breaststroke movement. The thick iron gates twisted in upon themselves with a groan, looking for the entire world as if they were melting in heat of the sun. Mother of mercy! cried one of the soldiers. Fire! shouted Bolt, swinging his own pistols up and taking swift aim. A chorus of thunderous shots rang out as the soldiers fired upon the two men. The world slowed and Gem felt like shouting a warning of the futility of the action, but she knew Bolt was aware of what the outcome would likely be. Voyce stood unscathed beside his companion as the bullets deflected harmlessly away, repelled by the hazing shield of thought that surrounded them. He began to hurl the right flank of soldiers into the air with gestures. Some were fortunate enough to be cast long and low to the ground. Others were not to so lucky. Payne strode confidently to an abandoned carriage nearby, its brakes creaking and grinding as the horse shifted restlessly, shuddering and neighing while attempting to pull itself free of its reigns. Payne waved a hand at the harnessing which snapped in two, releasing the horse. The animal reared and sprang forward, unleashing its fear into a galloping escape. Payne signalled at the carriage, spinning it through the air, side over side. It plunged over the buckled gates into the palace grounds, casting a comet tail of splintered wood behind it and catching several soldiers as it fragmented. Bolt barely managed to duck beneath it as it cart wheeled over his head before it came to rest in a heap of broken parts behind him. Voyce took an apparent pleasure out of controlling one particular sandy-haired young soldier. The soldiers eyes rolled over white in their sockets and he lumbered around to face his comrades, turning his gun upon them. Voyce then forced him to fire off several rounds at his fellow soldiers, who pleaded ineffectually with him not to do so, before he too was cast aside with an inhuman disregard. Payne treated the remaining force with equal ruthlessness. One by one, he threw the soldiers across the palace grounds, including Bolt, whom he singled out and cast twenty feet to the rear. Bolt collapsed and lay unmoving, his pistols scattering across the stone underfoot with a metallic grinding.
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Soon, nobody stood in defence of the palace or the children other than Dr Vandell. Gem held onto Tom and pushed him behind her as the dark men moved relentlessly towards them. You! said Payne, pointing directly at Gem. The corners of Paynes mouth turned sharply downwards, displaying a single-minded hatred. Dr Vandell stepped in front of the children, standing between them and the dark men. Youll have to come through me, he said. Payne lunged forth, catching the doctor by the throat. His gloved hand wrapping under his chin and Gem could hear it creaking as the stretched leather tightened about his neck. You feel that? Payne asked. The doctor let out a horrible gurgling sound that bit through to Gems very core. Please, no! she begged as Tom stepped out from her protection. That is death coming to collect you, said Payne, whispering to Dr Vandells ear. Let him go! cried Gem, raising an imploring hand and taking a step forward. Voyce pulled out the device that had rendered Tom unconscious on the train, its brass fixtures glinting in the sunlight. Voyce tightened the cylindrical tube attached to its main body and pointed the device at Tom. The gun snapped at the air and Gems eyes flew to Tom beside her. A visible haze rippled across Toms body and Gem realised with a rushing excitement that he had learnt how to protect himself against projectiles in the same manner as the dark men. A vicious looking needle fell to the ground at Toms feet with a clink. His eyes looked curiously back at Voyce. An instant later and the weapon had been invisibly wrenched from Voyces grip and cast through the air. Voyces eyes widened and he looked to his companion for direction. Dr Vandell struggled against Payne, who continued to hold him out at arms length, his face turning a dark purple and arms flailing at Paynes ineffectually. A clap of thunder pierced the air and Gem flinched with a startle. Her heart racing, she looked up and then back to Payne, now standing over Dr Vandell, who in turn lay gasping on the ground of the courtyard, holding his hands to his chest. Gem watched on with a detached surprise as she realised Payne had lost an arm. The arm with which he had been holding the doctor by the throat. I can see Im going to have to take you fellows apart, piece by piece, said Captain Bolt from Gems right side. She had been so involved with the dark men, that she had not seen him. Bolt stood supporting himself unsteadily against a small wheel-mounted cannon. His forehead awash with his own blood and a deeply split lower lip stopped his grin from being complete. Beside him, four soldiers held their weapons trained on the dark men. Payne screamed in what appeared to be more in fury than agony, whirling around and grasping at the shoulder where his arm used to be. Get her! he shouted at Voyce through a grimacing face. Voyce lunged forward and grabbed Gem by her right arm, wrenching her towards his own body. Jewel! cried Tom, putting a hand out to reach her. Tom! Stay back! If we cant take you, then you will come to us! hissed Payne, looking sideways at Tom through bloodshot eyes, his face whitening beyond its usual pallid shade and his forehead glistening with sweat.
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Voyce took several steps backward, dragging a struggling Gem with him. He crushed her arm in a vice-like grip and she found herself screaming with pain. Tom started towards her, his hand outstretched. Jewel! Again, Voyce crushed and twisted her arm, but this time Gem tried to resist an outburst, swallowing down the mounting pain, trying to keep her frightened eyes from connecting with Toms No, Tom! cried Bolt, rushing forwards with a notable limp, drawing his sword towards Voyce. Voyce turned Gem between himself and Bolt, using her as a shield to hold him at bay. Payne took to the air, clutching at his wound. He banked around and began to fly rapidly in retreat along The Mall. Voyce hooked his arm around Gems ribcage and she felt the air forced from her lungs as they too lifted from the ground and pulled away from the palace backwards. Tom ran towards Voyce, as did the others, chasing them as they retreated. Jewel! he cried. Voyce took Gem more than two dozen feet up, where he waited to see Toms reaction. Doggedly, Tom looked up and began to raise himself into the air, his arms trailing behind his body. Tom! No! cried Bolt. Voyce backed away, gripping Gem even tighter in his arms, squeezing her until she groaned in agony. Tom moved closer towards them, his eyes steely with purpose. Satisfied that he had drawn his quarry, Voyce swung about and began flying after Payne along the vast length of The Mall. Gem felt the pressure about her body relax and she managed to swallow a desperately needed breath of air. Below, she noted a thick trail of blood on the ground tracing the path Payne had taken. She tried to look back over her shoulder, but could not see Dr Vandell or the others, knowing they were being lost behind her with every passing second. The ground moved quickly beneath her feet and she began to see Trafalgar Square looming towards her from her heightened vantage point. Bolt watched Gem and Tom disappear with the Voyce along The Mall. Some of the more fortunate soldiers who had survived the onslaught were regrouping, looking at each other through dazed and bloody eyes. Damn, he said. If someone can tell me how today can get any worse, please do so. Dr Vandell climbed to his feet, the colour returning to his face. Where have they taken them? his voice was fractured and rasping. Back to the submarine. When that reaches sufficient depth of water, there is no way we will be able to follow them, said Bolt. He stopped and put a hand to his mouth, tenderly feeling around a cut as he thought the situation through. We need to stop them, he said. How? Bolt dropped his hand from his mouth and arced his arm across the remaining soldiers able to stand. I want three of your fastest horses and your two best riders! Sir! replied the men without question. Get to it! commanded Bolt. Someone find me a length of rope or something from somewhere. Make sure its long, at least forty feet.
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Yes, captain! said one soldier, turning and running away. Doctor, Im afraid there is nothing I can ask of you for the moment. Thats all right, captain, there are many here that need my help. Good work. Now, said Bolt, has anyone seen my pistols? Voyce held Gem firmly around the waist as they flew along The Mall. When she tried to turn her head to see if Tom was following, she could only smell a musty odour coming from Voyces clothing, which strangely turned her thoughts to Mrs Johnson and how much she would disapprove. Nelsons Column approached, rising into the cloudless blue skyline above Trafalgar Square. Voyce took an unexpected bank to the right through the tree line and across a short stretch of grass that ran alongside a small body of water. They continued gaining altitude as they approached a road and thick line of buildings. Instinctively, Gem raised her feet as they rushed over the slated rooftops. As they crested the buildings, she saw the River Thames separated from them only by a short curving road and a thin line of trees along the bank. They dropped over the buildings and traced the road towards the Thames. The wind blurred Gems eyes as she looked down at the road below where several carriages and pedestrians had come to a halt, watching and pointing at them with looks of disbelief etched so deeply into their faces that Gem could make them out at a distance. The road running along the riverbank was thick with people who had congregated to witness the strange looking machine that had surfaced in the middle of London. The submarine came into view as they passed directly over the crowd and slowed to something near a brisk walking pace. It was simplistically sleek in its design, trading increased width for a shallower depth. A fractured light at the front of the boat splintered out into the dark waters of the Thames, dancing with the undulating surface, beneath which the better part of the black panelled body was submerged. A raised platform on the boats upper deck reminded Gem of the forehead and back of a dolphin; rounded, high and muscular looking. A formidable looking cannon was mounted at the rear where a gunner sat in a seat fixed to it, surrounded by a number of gears that Gem assumed allowed him control of the angle of the weapon. At the very aft of the boat, partially breaking above the waterline, two great oil engines, unlike any Gem had previously seen, mounted either side of the machines fin-like tail. A number of guards held defensive positions on all sides of the deck, training their weapons towards the crowds who seemed not to realise they were being threatened. Payne stood on the deck of the submarine, clutching at his shoulder where he had tied off the remains of his sleeve around the wound in a makeshift bandage. Blood ran across the plating under his feet and beads of sweat cascaded down his face. Get her inside, he hissed at Voyce, nodding his head towards an open hatch. Hes following. Voyce drew them closer to the submarine and the hatch, where they set down. As his arm released Gem, she swung around to see where Tom was. A good forty yards away, at an elevated angle to the submarine, Tom crossed through the trees behind them. Members of the crowd along the bank railings began pointing at the boy as he flew above their heads, his eyes trained on Gem the whole time. No, Tom! Go back! she cried as she waved her hands, indicating he should retreat.
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Voyce pushed Gem towards the hatch and had he not pulled her back at the last moment, she would have fallen through it and down the ladder. He shook her again and she found herself with little choice but to descend into the dark and claustrophobic interior below. She glanced back one last time at Tom as he set down on the far end of the ships hull, his eyes brimming with cold rage. Gem climbed down the ladder using the rungs, slipping the last few in her fluster and dropping onto the grated flooring. The inside of the boat was wider than she had expected and a run of galvanic lights illuminated a path along its length to where a thin glass window was mounted at the bow, through which she could see into the illuminated underbelly of the Thamess cloudy waters. She felt herself drawn along its length by the complexity of the controls surrounding her. Brass handles and release valves seemed to be almost everywhere amongst a sea of dials, knobs and buttons. Four crewmembers sat at stations, twisting and turning the controls. Voyce slammed down on the metal walkway behind Gem, causing her to turn with a panic and face him, realising there was nowhere to run. He began to walk towards her, forcing her to back away along the body of the submarine. Too late, she realised she had missed a railed staircase that steeply descended to a lower level, and that she had trapped herself on the bridge without anywhere further to go. She retreated into a map table behind her, reaching out with her hands to trace her way around it, while never allowing her eyes to move away from Voyce as he approached. Payne levitated down the length of the ladder to its base, taking a position behind his companion. He looked up through blood red eyes at the hatch and smiled, the perspiration from his chalk coloured face, dripping off his chin. Turn us around, and get us underway, hissed Payne at the crew. Tom dropped inside the submarine through the hatch. He landed softly, but showed no interest in the wealth of objects surrounding him. Voyce grabbed Gem by the arm and pulled her from her feet, dragging her towards his body where he held her as she struggled ineffectually in his grip. Be a good boy, Tom, rasped Payne, and we wont hurt her. You understand that dont you? Get out of the way! roared Bolt at the pedestrians and carriages in the road before him. Get out of the way! A coiled length of rope hung diagonally from his left shoulder across his body and under his right arm. Bolt commanded his horse well, guiding it through the London streets along the least congested paths, cantering as quickly as the pavements would allow the horse. Several times, horse and rider had slid, more than turned, around street corners. Two soldiers galloped after him. As good as their riding was, Bolts wild-eyed chestnut mare was stretching away from them by the second. Move! Bolt shouted, heeling the horses flanks and whipping the reigns across its shoulders. They broke through an alley and onto the Strand where the far wider road afforded them more room to manoeuvre through the crowds. Bolt threw a look across at the river, where he saw the submarines engines beginning to churn the water and turn itself around to head out to sea. He had seen it move once before and knew he had little time before it completed its change of direction and could begin to pick up speed.

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Several men armed with rifles had taken guard positions on the deck of the submarine as it made its way to deeper waters. One was mounted at the rear of the most vicious looking cannon Bolt had ever seen. You two, shouted Bolt at the following soldiers, slowing his horse to a canter. Get to London Bridge and evacuate it! Yes, sir! replied the men, stooping low in the saddle, as they sped to catch up with him. Bolt threw his horse to the right and broke away towards Waterloo Bridge. As he reached the neck of the bridge, he dismounted, abandoning his horse, and ran the rest of its length on foot, not wishing to draw attention from those on the surface of the submarine, but causing a great distraction among the pedestrians on the bridge. Bolt pulled the rope off himself and unwound it as he ran, glancing over the wall of the bridge at the submarine upstream, which now headed towards him with a building speed. Rope in hand, Bolt ran several dozen more yards until he aligned himself with the path of the submarine and the arch of bridge it was aiming to pass beneath. He ran across to the far side where he tied off one end of the rope around a wall pillar and glanced over the edge at the water below. How far do you reckon that is? he asked of an elderly couple who stood with a growing group of people watching the submarine with dumbstruck fascination. I reckon about thirty feet, said Bolt, answering his own question while measuring off lengths of the rope an arm at a time. Still, better too short than too long, he said, continuing to talk to himself. I am going to kill myself one day. Theres no bullet with my name on it, just a damn foolhardy antic somewhere thats going to end me. Wrapping the rope around his left forearm, Bolt pulled one of his pistols from his belt and climbed onto the outer side bridges wall. He waited until he could hear the great engines of the submarine echoing beneath the bridge and leapt. He cast himself backwards, freefalling for what felt like an eternity. The jolting demand on his shoulder nearly wrenched it from its socket as he reached the ropes length, before the counter action swung him back under the bridge and along the length of the submarine. Bolt crashed down several feet onto the bow, landing with an impact that forced him onto one knee and jarred his senses. For everything it had done to him, it had awarded him the element of surprise and he fired a shot at the nearest rifleman. The man cried out and fell back, toppling into the river where he was quickly left behind. Bolt looked along the length of the submarine, seeing two nearer men and a third some way off, who was already peering down his rifle sight at him and presented a more immediate threat. Bolt fired at the third man, winging his target and affording himself enough time to draw his second pistol and make short work of the two nearer men. Both men fell to the deck, while the rifleman Bolt had clipped in the shoulder dropped his weapon, turned and leapt from the submarine into the water. Bolt ran along the surface of the boat, his revolvers outstretched, ready for any further resistance. As he approached the hatch door, the captain kicked it down closed, span the screw-wheel handle into a locked position, and jammed his sword in the winding mechanism to prevent it from being opened. He had no wish to trap Gem and Tom inside, but needing to buy himself as much time as possible.
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What was that? said Gem, reacting without thinking to the sound of shots outside the submarine and the hatchway slamming down. Payne looked up as if he were able to see through the metal skin of the submarine surrounding him. He rushed across to a periscope, which he put his eyes to and began to turn as he looked along its mirrored length. He had made an almost complete circle before he stopped and the corners of his mouth turned downwards. Bolt! he said, spitting the word out. It doesnt matter; he cant stop us from up there. Well reach deeper water soon and submerge. Well drown him like a rat, sneered Payne, pushing away from the periscope. The two mounted soldiers rounded onto the entrance of London Bridge, their horses restlessly gasping and sweating at the shoulders. We need to clear the bridge! cried the first. How? asked his companion. The soldier reached across and pulled a pistol from his holster. Follow me! He kicked his horse and galloped along the bridge, shouting at people to move from his path. He reached the middle and looked down the Thames to where he could see the submarine rapidly approaching. He raised his arm and fired the gun into the air. Immediately people began to panic and rush away from him, both north and south off the bridge. Thats how! he said, with a grin. Clear the crowds off the bridge to the north side and Ill handle the south. Bolt struggled with the system of cogwheels and levers, but he had found the control to elevate the barrel, if not how to rotate the gun, which was still in a right-angled position in relation to the direction of the submarines direction. He cranked a random handle rapidly in an effort to move the gun with no success. How the hell do you move this thing? he said to himself, pulling at some of the other levers, leaving the painted red one for last. The barrel groaned as he released a clutch that fixed the gun in place and he turned the crank handle next to the elevation control, finding not only the gun, but also himself, wheeling around to the left, gradually aligning with the bow of the boat. Come on. Get them off that bridge! he said, looking along the barrel of the gun and seeing London Bridge little more than a quarter of a mile away and rapidly approaching. The outline of people, horses and carriages moved quickly across it, but it was yet to be cleared. Off the bridge now! Clear the way! cried the soldiers, turning their horses from side to side and moving in a zigzag fashion across the bridge, herding the terrified pedestrians along its road and footpath. What can the fool possibly hope to achieve? sneered Payne, once again peering through the periscope at Bolt. He cant aim that gun at the deck, so all he could possibly do is fire it at London himself He span the scope around, looking in the direction the submarine was heading, a realisation dawning on his face, his jaw slackening. NO! screamed Payne, pushing away from the viewer. He sped towards the ladder leading to the main hatch, where he thrust his remaining arm up and the hatch cover groaned and screeched as though someone were putting it through an immense pain.
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Gem could see the great toll the action was taking on Payne as he twisted his fist in the air until the hatch exploded outward. Payne leapt up and disappeared onto the deck in a single bound. Payne exploded through the hatch and onto the deck like a shell fired from a cannon. Ill be with you shortly, said Bolt, looking past Payne at London Bridge, now only fifty feet off the main bow. He pulled the red handle to fire the massive gun. The weapon boomed with a shuddering violence. Bolt found himself thrown back in the seat by the recoil, which sent Payne tumbling to the decking. The shell struck the west side of London Bridge just above the arc of the forth and fifth legs of its foundations, the point through which the submarine was about to pass. Great clouds of black explosive smoke mushroomed into the sky as substantial sections of the bridge gave way and collapsed into the river. In the following seconds, as the smoke began to clear, Bolt could see through the bridge completely, realising he had blown a hole straight through it. Pieces of masonry on either side of the gap continued to fall into the Thames as the bridges mid-section collapsed entirely onto its own foundations. Bolts ears rang with the explosion. He could feel the engines desperately trying to alter the submarines course, but it was too late. The hull collided with the collapsed section of bridge that had buried itself into the waters of the river. A wrenching struggle of metal against stone filled the air as the submarine ground to an abrupt halt, its nose rising up out of the water and into the fallen bridge. A gash opened along the right side of the bow and water began to rush inside. Bolt wasted no time. Still disorientated, he clambered down from the gunnery position and stood over Payne, who lay reeling from the impact. He drew one of his pistols from his belt and took aim; he was not going to give the man a heartbeat of opportunity. The round cracked out and bounced harmlessly away from Payne, ricocheting off the surface of the submarine. Payne flew to his feet using his powers to assist himself. In one fluid movement, he grabbed Bolt by the throat and lifted him into the air. You! cried Payne, his eyes raging. You! Bolt struggled to raise his gun, but Payne was causing him to feel as if every bone in his body were being crushed at the same time. The weapon dropped from his hand and clanged against the deck. You! repeated Payne, slowly crushing Bolts throat with an unnatural strength. Bolt struggled, but his limbs felt like they were made of lead and he found it difficult to move. He put both hands up and tried to pry open Paynes single one wrapped about his throat without success. This is your final day, said Payne, his eyes locking with Bolts. Bolt dropped his left arm, reaching behind his back and fumbling against his belt for his second pistol. His eyes exchanged a moment of pure defiance with Payne. Paynes face grimaced with what looked like pleasure as he cocked his head to one side and watched Bolt fall away from the world. Shaking with effort, Bolt drew the pistol up an inch at a time. His vision began to darken at the edges and he knew he had only seconds before he passed into unconsciousness. Die, hissed Payne. Bolt raised his leaden arm and pushed the pistol hard into Paynes right side below the ribcage.
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A dawning realisation broke in Paynes eyes and his grip loosened about Bolts throat. For England, whispered Bolt, firing. Payne dropped Bolt. He held his single arm to the wound and looked at the blood that covered his glove. His face was almost a pure white and his eyes filled with a startled look. You, he said and dropped to his knees. For a moment, he stared up at Bolt with disbelieving eyes, before he toppled over sideways and fell from the boat, drifting away under the dark waves of the Thames surface. Below deck, the force of the impact had thrown Gem and Voyce along the right side of the navigation table. Voyce had managed to maintain his grip on Gem and pulled her to her feet alongside him as he regained his footing. Tom, however, had not once lost his balance or moved from the position he had occupied before the collision. He remained focusing entirely upon Voyce, his resolute eyes beginning to frighten Gem. Water flooded the hull and brought with it an icy chill as it swamped about their legs. The submarines crew deserted their posts and waded to the exit, leaving the three of them alone in the increasing darkness as some of the lights began to explode. Voyce growled at Tom and crushed the back of Gems neck where he held her before him. Argh! cried Gem, struggling to free herself and twisting under the pain. Tom took a solitary step forward, causing Voyce to tighten his grip even more. Argh, no, please! begged Gem. She knew what Voyce was trying to achieve in baiting Tom, but she found herself helpless to stop. Tom, go back! she said through the blinding agony, disappointed at her resistance. Voyce thrust his free hand towards Tom. Gem could see his hand shaking with effort as he attempted to overwhelm the boy using his will, but Tom remained unphased. The hazing of the air began to appear along the entire length of Toms body, glowing with a light blue in the darkened interior of the boat. The boy took a further step towards Voyce, who in turn cast Gem roughly to one side, freeing his second hand and thrusting it into the air in the direction of Tom. Tom raised both of his hands with his palms facing away from the middle of his chest. The aura surrounding him grew stronger and more defined, lighting the structure around them and dancing off the knee-high water. Voyces arms began to shake wildly and his face grimaced with effort, yet Tom did not appear to be trying in this strangest contest of wills. It was then that Gem began to realise something of the power of the young boy she had met and had grown to call a friend. He was not exerting force, but allowing Voyce to use all of his. Groaning, Voyce began to buckle under the pressure. His nose dripped blood into the water and the veins on his temple bulged. His entire body shook with convulsions as he gritted his teeth and desperately battled against the boy. Toms aura grew brighter, his eyes focused. His hands before him, he took a step towards Voyce, as if he were fighting an invisible wind. Voyce staggered backwards before collapsing entirely onto his hands and knees in the water and gasping for breath. Tom stepped closer until he stood over Voyce. He reached down with his right hand and laid it upon Voyces head.
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Voyce shuddered at Toms touch, his eyes rolled back and his mouth gaped. The veins on his throat and temple bulged as his entire face turned scarlet. Gem watched with mounting horror as the man buckled under Toms hand, his face twisting and contorting with anguish. Thats enough, Tom, she said, reaching forth and grabbing at his free hand in an attempt to pull him away from the man. Later, Gem would have difficulty understanding and articulating what happened, but she doubted very much that Tom had meant for her to receive the images in the way she did. Like riding on a roundabout that span too fast for comfort, the lights and time surrounding her blurred away to irrelevancy. A flooding of someone elses thoughts, emotions and memories struck her in a deluge that she found overwhelming. She felt Toms hand in the distance, and pulled away, freeing herself from him. The interior of the submarine snapped back into being her reality and the water continued to creep up her legs as controls sparked and the hull creaked eerily around them. Tom continued to keep his hand upon Voyces head and fill his mind. Gem found herself crying, overwhelmed by the knowledge. She wanted to stop Tom, to pull him away, even from this most evil of men, but was frightened to reach out and touch him. Two mirroring tears of blood ran in tracks down Voyces face. Tom! Please! Leave him! she cried in desperation. Tom removed his hand and Voyce fell face first into the water, collapsing upon the flooring. There he stayed, floating in the water for several seconds. Gem edged forward, reaching out with a hand to turn the man over. Tom grabbed her wrist, stopping her from moving towards Voyce and looked solemnly into her eyes. Suddenly, Voyce stood, roaring a silent scream of anguish. Her shook with surging emotion his body looked unable to contain before pushing himself up and smashing through the upper decking, punching his way through the metal hull to the daylight above in a single terrifying movement. In all she had seen the men do, Gem had not seen anything with such strength of violence. For a moment, she stood stunned, attempting to come to terms with all she had witnessed. She edged forward and looked up through the torn hole in the decking above, seeing only the faintest wisps of clouds passing overhead before Bolts bruised and bloodied face looked down on her over the lip of the hole. Theyre all gone, said Gem, wiping the tears from her eyes. I saw, said Bolt, looking up to the sky. Where did he go? As far away from Tom as possible, answered Gem, looking at the boy, who gazed back at her as he ever did, through a mop of unruly hair and the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Syn? Never here, said Gem. And Payne? she asked. Bolt shrugged with indifference. I was tiring of his conversation. Frankly, Im more concerned with what Her Majesty is going to do with me when she sees what Ive done to her bridge, said Bolt with a shrug. He winced as he smiled, his fingers instinctively tracing his split lip. He lent forward and reached down with one arm, ready to lift Gem out of the wreckage.

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Chapter Sixteen

Beyond The Bridge

Four days had passed, but the experiences that Tom had given to Gem within the submarine continued to consume her. The imagery had kept her awake at night and caused her to scream with anguish into her pillow on more than one occasion. She stood alongside Captain Bolt and Dr Vandell, holding Toms hand, looking across the nearly empty throne room of Buckingham Palace towards the Queen, who she sat dressed in a beautiful white floor length gown and her crown. To her right, a footman stood beside her holding a tray of small black boxes. On her left, stood Lord Russell, the Prime Minister, smiling broadly. The room was almost entirely furnished in reds and gold. A vast chandelier hung overhead, recently remounted after the damage to the palace. Rebuilding was already underway, as the Queen had refused to allow the palace to continue looking anything less than complete for a moment longer than absolutely necessary. Lord Russell, suggested the Queen, nodding towards the tray the footman held. Of course, Your Majesty, said the Prime Minister, taking his queue and moving to the footman to relieve him of the tray. You are excused, said the Queen, dismissing the servant. The footman left the room quietly by the far door. Once he had gone, the Queen stood and walked to the group. She stopped and looked at Bolt with a growing frown. You demolished two of the Empires proudest landmarks in the better part of an hour. I have seriously considered having you taken in irons. As Your Majesty sees fit, said Bolt with a short bow. However, your fearless protection of our country against odds which seemed overwhelming has earned you our eternal gratitude and respect. You looked disaster in the eye and did not flinch. It may be that the public never know the full circumstances of your heroism, but the Prime Minister and I do, and for that, we are England, and we thank you on her behalf. In recognition of valour of those who rise above their fear in the face of an enemy, we hereby award you with our highest honour. We have decided to call it the Victoria Cross,
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and you are to be its first recipient, captain, said the Queen, taking a medal up from the tray and pinning it to the tunic of Bolts uniform. Thank you, Maam, said Bolt quietly. Doctor, began the Queen, moving to her right. Im told you had opportunity to save yourself, yet you chose to stay for those who needed help. During this time, you are all considered to have been under the command of Captain Bolt. This entitles you to be awarded as well, she said, lifting a medal and pinning it carefully to the doctors suit breast. Thank you, Your Majesty, said Dr Vandell, putting his hand up to touch the medal before bowing to his Queen. So, to young Gemma Lightfoot, and Tom. The Queen stopped mid-sentence and looked about, searching for an answer to an unasked question. You dont have a surname, do you Tom? she said. Tom shook his head, surprising Gem. Well then, until you find one; just Tom. Each time I see the pair of you, you are hand in hand. This reminds us and shows us the way. We need to be mindful of what it is we fight for in times when we find ourselves away from the light. You have both displayed great courage and fortitude in the face of our enemy, and we are proud to award you both with the Victoria Cross. The Queen pinned a medal to Gems dress and then handed a second one to her. Perhaps, she said, you would like to award this to Tom. Yes, Maam, said Gem, growing flustered in Queen Victorias presence once again. She took the medal in trembling hands and studied it as she pinned it to Toms shirt. As its name suggested, the medal was in the form of a cross, within the centre of which was a representation of the very crown the Queen was wearing at that moment, and over it proudly stood the British Lion. An inscription ran underneath, it read For Valour. Tom looked at Gem as she attached the medal to his chest. Twenty-Nine. Thirty, said Tom. Really? said Gem, feigning interest while she concentrated on fixing the medal in position. Clearly, she thought, the Queen had a knack for such a task. The Prime Minister spoke up, Thank you. Each of you. We must consider ourselves at war with an enemy that will not show himself and fights a very different battle. I feel secure, knowing there are people like yourselves, who can take the fight to them. People who are willing to protect those that cannot protect themselves. Again, I thank you. We thank you. England thanks you. Prime Minister, said Bolt, nodding his head in a bow of acknowledgement. An hour later, Gem stood on the balcony of her room at the palace, looking out over the rear gardens, staring into an unnaturally blue sky. The air was cold, but she found it rousing. A penny for your thoughts, said Dr Vandell approaching from the doorway, where the curtains flapped lazily with the wind. Gem was pleased he was there, but she did not want to talk about what was on her mind, unsure that if she began she would be able to say it to completion. The pain had yet to subside and she doubted that it ever would. She remained silent. I knocked, but you didnt answer. I thought youd be out here. I saw you earlier when I went for a walk around the grounds. Shes very kind, said Gem. The Queen? Yes, yes, she is, agreed Dr Vandell. What do we do now? asked Gem.
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Well, there are still a lot of questions to be answered. I intend to spend some time with Tom and see if we cant get some answers to help him find himself. Gem flinched from the words. The rest seem intent on tracking down Syn and this so called Table of Shadows. Eventually though, I will have to return to the refuge and my responsibilities there. Perhaps you should write a letter to Ellie, to tell her how you are. Dont leave me, said Gem suddenly. Not for a while, but you dont need me as much anymore, Gem. Youre growing up. Ill always need you! cried Gem, turning abruptly and hugging his chest. A fountain of emotion was welling up within her and she was struggling to keep it down. Ill ask you once more, Gem, about what it is that is making you so unhappy. After that, I wont enquire again, but Ill always be ready if you wish to discuss it, he said reassuringly. Now, something is clearly troubling you, and I want to help. Gem pushed away from the doctor, unable to look him in the face. She stared out across the palace grounds, rubbing at her eyes, but it was too much. She broke down. Its Tom, she began, utterly falling apart. What is it? Toms all right, isnt he? No. He isnt. I saw what happened. Not all of it, but enough. I couldnt take it all. I had to stop it. Voyce saw it all, but then he should have. Theyre evil, Dr Vandell, evil. Tears streamed down her face and her throat tightened. What is this? I dont understand, said the doctor, putting an arm around Gem as she rested her head on his shoulder. Come now, Gem. Its all right. Its Tom They... They tortured him. Who did? I saw Payne and Voyce there. They knew about it. They knew what happened! How could they? she sobbed. Take your time, Gem. I dont understand. When we were on the submarine, Tom touched Voyce and released his memories upon him. Memories of what happened before we met him. I think he wanted Voyce to understand. There was a woman. A kind looking woman, who Tom loved very much. I think it was his mother, but then she was taken away from him and he was put in a tiny dark room and they stopped him from feeling, and they stopped him from hearing, and they stopped him from seeing. Sensory deprivation, said the doctor. Ive heard of it. Lord God! Not a child! Not to a child! They kept doing it. Time and time again, wept Gem. Leaving him in the dark, unable to feel, unable to scream. Frightened and alone. How long did this go on for? Gem cried uncontrollably. You cant imagine the pain, she said in a voice that would not let itself be any more than a whisper. How long did this go on for? asked Dr Vandell again. Gem said nothing, her face contorting with anguish. Dr Vandell put a hand under her chin and lifted her face until he was able to look her in the eye. How long did this go on for? he asked. Years. Years?
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Gem felt Dr Vandell shudder and pull her even tighter into his body. She could not tell how long they stood there in mutual silence, but they began to watch the orange sun fall below the trees in the distance. Jewel? said a small voice from beside them. Tom? replied Gem, looking back to see him peering around Dr Vandell. Gem put out her arm and he responded to her gesture, gathering up her hand. His touch was warm and comforting, and for the time being, her pain fell in two. Ill leave you alone, said Dr Vandell. Ill see you for dinner. Yes, said Gem as the doctor took his leave. You know, Tom, she said, looking down at him through raw eyes. You are the strangest boy. Jewel? said Tom. Yes? she said, not expecting a reply. I am your mine, he replied from beneath a frustratingly long fringe of unruly hair.

THE END

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- A NOTE During the story, many references are made to inventions and events that are not true. It is not my intention to write over history due to laziness (not entirely anyway), only to provide what if alternatives. To this end, the following facts should be acknowledged. - There was only one Great Fire of London. It lasted from September 2nd to September 5th 1666. - The telephone was patented by Alexander Graham Bell in 1876. - The first powered airship flight was not until 1852, by Henri Giffard in a steampowered design. - While the first internal combustion engine was patented in 1823, it was not until 1860 that it was brought into production. - The periodic table was not devised until 1869, by Dimitri Mendeleev. - The depth of the Thames at Cringle Wharf, is 8.6 metres. This is high enough to fit two double decker buses through, one on top of another, undetected. - The Victoria Cross was not issued until 1856. - Electric, or Galvanic, lighting was only demonstrated in 1850. Swann and Edison both invented the first electric incandescent lamps in the 1870s. - Motor Cars using gasoline engines where not patented until 1886, by Karl Benz. - The first submarine was invented in 1620 by Cornelius Jacobszoon Drebbel. - The first syringe was invented in 1853 by Charles Pravaz. - The Analytical Engine was designed by Charles Babbage and he worked upon it until his death in 1871. It was never built. However, designs for his Difference Engine were used to create a replica, which can be viewed in the London Science Museum. Babbage is considered the father of computing. - Gaia Theory was formulated by Dr James Lovelock in the 1960s. - The Great Exhibition opened in 1851, not 1850. - Hyde Park dinosaurs opened in 1854 and can be visited today.
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- The Gatling gun or rotating-barrel cannon was created in 1860 by Richard Gatling. - London Bridge has been demolished and rebuilt several times, but never by Captain Bolt. It is not to be confused with Tower Bridge, the more readily associated London landmark.

- Most of everything else is authentic.

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