Cameron Bell groaned just a bit more, but settled back in his seat. He viewed what the colonel and Darwin had viewed. The posters. The mood of the people. Then suddenly he saw something more and called for the driver to bring the hansom to a halt.
‘Right in the middle of me recitation,’ the driver complained. ‘I was wandering lonely as a clown and everything.’
‘What is the meaning of that?’ asked Cameron Bell.
They were parked before the Houses of Parliament. The driver having a route of his own that led to Scotland Yard.
‘What what is that?’ the driver asked.
‘That!’ Cameron Bell pointed.
‘Ah,’ said the driver. ‘You are referring to the banner extending down the tower of Big Ben. Which I will ‘ave you know is the name of the bell and not the mech-an-emism what makes the clock work. The banner is of the Chancellor of the Exchequer.’
‘It is a black silhouette,’ Mr Bell said through his bandages. ‘A tall black hat, a long black cloak, but no facial features at all.’
‘That’s because no one’s seen his facial phy-si-o-ognomy. ‘E’s too modest, see. No one even knows ‘is name. ‘E came into power as if from ‘Eaven. Runs the whole Government all by ‘is self, they say. The Prime Minister’s ‘ad to go away for treatment for alco-mor-lism or some such thing. Troubled, ‘e is, the papers say.
Cameron Bell made a very large groan indeed.
‘You sound sick, guv’nor. Should I take you instead to the London ‘Ospital? Old Jo Merrick the Queen’s physician will give you a looking over.
Cameron Bell began to sweat beneath his bandages.
‘Joseph Merrick?’ he managed to mumble. ‘The Queen’s physician?’
‘Poor old Mr Treves,’ said the driver. ‘‘E slipped on a banana skin in the morgue, fell ‘eadfirst onto ‘is big bone saw.
Cameron Bell made further groanings.
Then looked on in some dismay as a number of gentlemen wearing all-black clothing and all-black pince-nez glasses issued from the Houses of Parliament and demanded that the hansom cab move on at once in the interests of National Security.
The driver gave Shergar a good geeing-up. ‘Don’t want to argue with the gentleman in black,’ said he. ‘No telling where you might end up in bits.’
At Scotland Yard Cameron paid off the driver.
‘Cheers, guv’nor,’ said the man. ‘Do you know what? Even with those bandages on your bonce, you remind me of someone.’ And then he shook his head and drove away.
Cameron thought back to his previous encounter with that driver at the Crystal Palace. The matter of the Educator ray gun and his precious gold watch. Cameron still had his precious gold watch. He now remembered that he had left the Mark Five Ferris Firestorm behind in his room at the Adequate.
Cameron sighed. There had been a time when his life had been uncomplicated. When he had his work and his house and his treasures. How had it all gone so terribly wrong? What had been the catalyst that had sparked his descent into chaos and complication?
Cameron Bell made the grimmest of faces beneath his bandages. It had been his visit to the Electric Alhambra to see Alice Lovell and her Acrobatic Kiwi Birds. If he had not been there upon that particular night— Cameron Bell now entered Scotland Yard. At the desk in the grand entrance hall sat a policeman. He was a young policeman and wore a uniform that Cameron Bell did not recognise. An all-black uniform with strange insignia. He looked up from the notes he was making and viewed the bandaged visitor.
‘Yes?’ he said in a manner somewhat surly.
‘I would like to speak with Commander Case,’ said Mr Cameron Bell.
‘Commander Case?’ The young man in the uniform of black tapped the keys of a lettered board beneath a complicated apparatus of brass.
‘That looks rather splendid,’ Cameron Bell observed.
‘It’s a crime engine,’ the young man replied. ‘Very latest thing. All the information required is in here. On punched pieces of paper.’
‘How does it work?’ asked Cameron.
The young policeman struck it with his fist. ‘It mostly doesn’t,’ he said.
‘I only want to speak with Commander Case.’
The young policeman struck the crime engine once again. ‘Stupid thing,’ he said. ‘It was working a minute ago.
Cameron looked down at the desk. The young policeman’s name was printed on a little brass plaque.
‘Constable Gates,’ said Cameron Bell, ‘I know my way to the commander’s office. I will trouble you no more.
‘Ah, there,’ said the constable. ‘I have it now. No I don’t. Yes I do. No I don’t. Oh yes. We have no Commander Case.’
‘Oh dear me,’ said Cameron Bell.
‘We have a Sergeant Case, though. Ah yes, I remember. He was in charge of the murder investigations at the Electric Alhambra. He closed the place for six months while he searched it. Then declared it safe. It reopened the very next night. Master Scribbens the Brentford Snail Boy topped the bill. Horrible business—’
‘Quite so,’ said Cameron Bell. ‘If you would direct me to his office?’
‘Oh, he doesn’t have an office any more,’ said Constable Gates. ‘He has a hut.’
‘A hut?’ said Cameron Bell.
‘Outside. He’s in charge of the carriage park.’
The hut in the carriage park was not a thing of beauty. By comparison it made former Commander Case’s former office seem a veritable luxury suite at the Ritz. The ex-commander had installed a paraffin stove for brewing tea. And he was not a man to be trifled with if you parked your carriage over one of the lines he had painted to mark out who parked where.
Cameron Bell wore a sympathetic face beneath his bandages.
The sergeant sitting in his hut looked up at his approach. He looked up once. Then looked up once again. Then rose to his feet and made two very big fists.
‘It is the assassin!’ he cried aloud. ‘The ruiner of my prospects! The thief! The arsonist! The murderer!’ And now he tugged from his trouser pocket a ray gun. It was an Educator, and this he pointed at the bandaged detective.
‘Cameron James Bell,’ the sergeant declared. ‘I am arresting you in the name of the law. You do not have to say anything, but anything you do say will be ignored anyway and I may just have to shoot you.
Sergeant Case kicked over his paraffin stove. As an afterthought he then kicked over his hut.
‘Hello, two thousand pounds,’ said he. ‘I am taking early retirement.’
50
t this very moment in an East End chapel, a man and a monkey beheld a wondrous thing. Before them stood a metallic creation of quite outstanding beauty. It was most unlike its American predecessor. That automaton, constructed in parts by various engineering works around and about Wormcast, Arizona, had about it the functional, workable quality of a machine and nothing more.
This, however, was something far superior. This was a man formed from brass and burnished as of gold. A man who bore the classic proportions of Michelangelo’s David. A metal figure, fully articulated, precise in every muscle and sinew down to the finest detail.
Darwin took a smart step back. ‘I am fearful,’ he said to the colonel.
‘Understand your feelings, my dear fellow.’ The colonel stepped forwards, reached out to touch the chest of the golden figure. His fingers hovered and then retreated. ‘Come,’ said the colonel, ‘help me knock off the rest of the packing case. Behold the rest of the wonder, as it were.’
Darwin was not keen, but he tugged away the pine shavings as Colonel Katterfelto reduced the remains of the packing case to sections and stacked them against the wall beneath the stained-glass window. Sunlight now fell fully on the wonderful creation.
Sparkled on its shoulder plates and upon its noble brow. For the head and face of the Mechanical Messiah alone were sufficient to inspire awe. As Colonel Katterfelto peered up at the face with its classical features and fine aquiline nose, he was entranced to see that the eyelid
s were fully articulated and pure white ivory teeth showed between jointed lips, which had about them such a reality as if it was a living person turned by some Medusa’s glance into a thing of metal.
‘I now feel very fearful indeed,’ said Darwin. ‘This is a…a…’
‘Please say it, my little friend,’ said Colonel Katterfelto.
‘This is … a holy thing,’ said Darwin. ‘And I do not know whether I should be in its presence.
‘Oh, you should, my dear fellow, for you are good and true.’
‘But I may have no soul,’ said Darwin, turning his eyes to the floor.
The colonel patted Darwin’s head. ‘You do have a soul,’ he said. ‘You couldn’t have such feelings if you didn’t.’
‘Really?’ Darwin looked up at the colonel. ‘You really think that I do?’
‘I do.’ The colonel straightened his shoulders as best he could and fought against the tears. ‘And you are here at this moment. We shall make history together. We shall mould the future. Make things right, eh, Darwin, my boy? Make the world go right?’
‘How can it be so different?’ Darwin whispered. ‘From the one in America? So special? So holy?’
‘British engineering,’ said the colonel. ‘Best in the world and always will be. Tell you what.’ He looked down at the monkey. ‘Before I pop in the Magoniam, I think that we should say a little prayer.
‘I don’t know how to pray,’ said Darwin.
‘Well, you just follow me. I’ve said a few in me time. In moments of battle. Death staring me in the face. All that kind of horrible stuff and things of that nature generally.’
Darwin put his hands together and tightly closed his eyes. Colonel Katterfelto cleared his throat. ‘For what we are about the receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful.’
Darwin opened up an eye. ‘That is grace,’ he said.
‘Just getting started,’ said the colonel. And then he looked up at the marvellous figure standing there before them. ‘Tell you what,’ he said. ‘A man of deeds rather than words, me. Have the magic here in me pocket.’
‘The magic?’ Darwin asked.
‘The American version wouldn’t work,’ said the colonel, ‘because it lacked a vital component. Magoniam. Only found on Venus. Have it here in me pocket.’ He tugged out a piece of Magoniam and held it upon his palm. ‘Pop it into the chest and off we go.
Darwin the monkey was thoughtful. ‘You are really totally sure that you are doing the right thing?’ he said.
‘Sure I’m sure,’ said the colonel. ‘Never been surer in my life.’
He looked down at the Magoniam that glittered in his hand.
‘Gold,’ said Sergeant Case, his ray gun pointed at Cameron Bell. ‘Pure gold, you are. Thank you so much for surrendering to me.’
‘I did not come here to surrender as such,’ said Cameron Bell, making calming gestures with his now raised hands. ‘I came here to ask for your help. In return for which I will close the Electric Alhambra cases for you. Allowing you to take all the credit and regain your rank as commander.’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Sergeant Case. ‘Two thousand pounds will last me the rest of my life.’
‘If I am not allowed to act unhindered,’ said Cameron Bell, ‘your life may be a short one.
‘You think to threaten me?’ There was a touch of madness in the eyes of Sergeant Case. Cameron’s observation of the ex-commander’s left trouser cuff informed him that the man holding the ray gun was now a heavy drinker.
‘I can give you back your rank,’ said the private detective. ‘You have to trust me. You know that I am not guilty of those crimes I am accused of.’
‘Two thousand pounds,’ said Sergeant Case. ‘That is the price on your head.’
‘You would sell me, even though you know me to be innocent?’ Cameron Bell glanced all around and about the carriage park. So far no one had entered it but him. No one else had heard the sergeant’s shouts, nor seen what was occurring.
‘If it is money you want,’ said Cameron Bell, ‘then I will pay you more in return for my freedom. And I will solve the cases. And you will prosper for it.’
‘Your house burned,’ said Sergeant Case. ‘You have no money. Unless you have added bank robbery to your extensive charge sheet.’
‘I have this.’ Cameron Bell reached slowly into his pocket. Drew out the uncut diamond, held it up.
‘I have an extensive knowledge of gemstones,’ said Mr Bell. ‘This I know will fetch three thousand pounds at least on the open market.’
Sergeant Case eyed the gemstone greedily. ‘Three thousand pounds?’ he said.
‘At the very least,’ said Cameron Bell. ‘Probably more. The lies were easily back on his lips. The uncut diamond was worth no more than five hundred pounds at most.
Sergeant Case returned his ray gun to his pocket. ‘Let us repair to the pub,’ said he, ‘and discuss these matters at length.’
In Whitechapel a length of time had passed.
The colonel held the Magoniam. The little door to the empty compartment in the chest of the Mechanical Messiah was open. Awaiting a golden heart to make it complete.
The colonel stood in silent prayer.
‘Oh, please go on,’ said Darwin. ‘I cannot stand the suspense.
Colonel Katterfelto bowed his head, did a sort of curtsey and then with great reverence placed the piece of glittering Magoniam into the empty compartment of the metal being’s chest and closed the little door.
‘Oh Lord,’ said Colonel Katterfelto, ‘have mercy upon us and please save this wretched world.’
‘It is a wretched world,’ said Sergeant Case, downing half a pint of porter at a single gulp. ‘And you didn’t help matters, Bell. I trusted you to solve those murders, and what do you do? You burn down the Crystal Palace and fly away in a spaceship.’
‘It wasn’t quite like that,’ said Cameron Bell, although he knew that it was very much like that. ‘There were complications. But I know who the guilty parties are and I will bring them to justice.’
‘Take off those ridiculous bandages,’ said Sergeant Case.
‘I dare not, as you know full well.’
‘Say I trust you, said the sergeant, his fingers tightly gripping the uncut diamond. ‘How do you propose to close the cases? By bumbling around like that? Looking like Mr Wells’ Invisible Man?’
‘Obviously not,’ said Cameron Bell, downing whisky as he spoke. ‘I cannot function efficiently with a price upon my head. This is why I came to you. I need you to arrest me.
Sergeant Case threw up his hands, splashing porter about. ‘That was what I intended to do in the carriage park,’ said he. ‘If that was your intention, why waste my time here?’
‘I am paying for your time.’ Cameron Bell indicated the uncut diamond. ‘You will arrest me and incarcerate me in a cell at Scotland Yard. You will not, however, claim the reward money.
‘And why would I not do that?’
‘Because you will not be able to. You will arrest me and incarcerate me and you will notify all of the newspapers. They will print my face upon their front pages and crow that the monster murderer and assassin has been caught and is awaiting trial. Then I will be free to close the cases.
‘How?’ asked Sergeant Case.
‘Because you will secretly release me from captivity so that I can go about my business without someone taking a pot-shot at me for the bounty.’
‘I am utterly confused,’ said Sergeant Case.
‘It is simplicity itself You arrest me. A blaze of publicity occurs. Your rank is restored. You take on exclusive charge of your notorious prisoner. No one enters my cell but you.’
‘Ah,’ said the sergeant, ‘I see. But you will not be in the cell, you will be out solving the cases.
‘I have already solved them,’ said Cameron Bell, ‘but I must bring the criminals to justice in order to clear myself of the charges against me. Naturally, once I have proved myself innocent, the reward money for my captur
e will dissolve into nothingness. But you will have the uncut diamond. The credit for solving the cases. Your rank returned to you also. And I would demand a very large office if I were you, too.’
Sergeant Case did noddings of the head.
‘And one thing more,’ said Cameron Bell. ‘If I am denied the freedom and opportunity to bring the guilty parties to justice—’
‘Parties?’ said Sergeant Case. ‘There is more than one?’
‘Three,’ said Cameron Bell. ‘Although only two can actually be brought to justice. One of which is the most evil being that has ever walked upon the face of this Earth, and the other the greatest criminal mastermind in history.’
‘And I will take credit for bringing both of these to justice?’
‘Yes,’ said Cameron Bell. ‘And within twenty-four hours. That is all the time I need. Twenty-four hours and all will be done, I promise you. But if I am not allowed to go about my business freely, within a week from now the British Empire will be at war and thousands will be dead.’
‘Truly?’ asked the sergeant.
‘Truly,’ said the detective.
‘Then the Lord save us all,’ said Sergeant Case. ‘The good Lord save us all.’
‘Lord save us all,’ said Colonel Katterfelto, falling to his knees upon the cold chapel floor. Darwin the monkey took several paces back and hid himself behind a pillar.
The sunlight shone through the stained-glass windows, playing rainbows over the silent figure’s beautiful brazen body.
Colonel Katterfelto caught his breath.
There came a sound, as of a distant choir.
As of angelic voices raised in song.
As of a time, not now, but long ago.
And growing, did this sound appear
To fill the chapel, thrill the ear.
A chorus of Angelic Host,
Of Father, Son and Holy Ghost,
Of love and light, and light and breath
And being in a golden golden glow.