The Chess Queen Enigma (28 page)

“And so we have learned several things,” announced Mina unnecessarily. “Mr. Pix is dealing in an illicit trade, which is not particularly startling news. Today or this evening, he went to investigate near a location where two or more of
these devices have been found, along with an unusual number of corpses. He has been concerned about a new customer of his, who, Miss Babbage, for your edification, had apparently placed a rather large order of these items. It's quite simple to connect the dots. Mr. Pix believes this customer intends to use this large number of portable—batteries?—for some nefarious purpose, and he went to determine what it is.”

“And now something bad has happened.” They both turned to me. I might have sounded a little upset. “We have to find him.”

“Naturally. That's why he wanted us here. So we could determine how to locate him. But we are
not
going to go haring off without a plan, Evaline.” Mina glared at me.

I opened my mouth to argue, but she spoke over me. “I'm sure you consider Mr. Pix a relatively capable and intelligent young man—disregarding his reputation, of course. One must assume if someone with his wiles and skills found himself captured—or worse—then it would behoove us to be as prepared as possible. Especially in the event we find ourselves encountering the very person whom I believe is this mysterious client of his. You and I have personally experienced this cunning and dangerous individual. It will not do to underestimate the Ankh.”

It took much too long for the preparations Mina insisted upon, and more than once I tried to storm off on my own.
But she was right. If someone had managed to capture or otherwise detain the slick, sneaky, wily Pix, we needed to be prepared.

However,
I
needed no preparation other than a variety of weapons. I was faster, stronger, and more physically agile than most any other person in London—mortal person, anyway. It was Mina and Miss Babbage—who'd somehow, to my increasing annoyance, remained involved—who felt they needed a complete arsenal of weapons and gadgets.

And not only that, more manpower. So we had to wait not only for Dylan to arrive, but also Inspector Grayling. Of all people!

We'd gone to Miss Babbage's workshop because it was closer, and because she claimed she had things we might need. I was wandering around restlessly when I came upon something in the corner that looked interesting. Like a miniature crossbow with finger-sized arrows. Hmm. I was much more of a handmaker than a cognoggin, but this looked like something even I would want to use.

Miss Babbage noticed me poking around and immediately came over, draping a cloth over the project. “People aren't allow to look at my work until it's done,” she said.

Fine
. I marched back over to a stool near a table cluttered with cogs and dials and pipes. I didn't care that I'd accidentally-on-purpose knocked over a container of nuts and bolts. Miss Pretty Blond Inventor Girl didn't seem to notice or care.

Dylan arrived first, to Mina's obvious relief. “You said it was urgent,” he said, shrugging off her thanks. “Of course I came.”

“But you've been so busy at the hospital, I didn't know if you could get away.”

He got very serious, stepping close to look at her. She was nearly as tall as he, and he put his hand on her shoulder. “Mina. If you ever need me, you know I'll be there.
Always
. You've done so much for me, and I . . .”

I had to look away because the moment seemed so private and personal, as if the two of them had forgotten anyone else was there. For once, Mina seemed to have nothing to say. And when I turned, I saw Inspector Grayling standing in the doorway of the workshop with Miss Babbage. She was watching with interest. He had an odd expression on his face.

When no one spoke, Grayling cleared his throat loudly. Mina jolted, then spun away from Dylan. “Oh—er—excellent, Inspector Grayling. You've arrived.”

“Obviously.” Grayling seemed rather stiff as he and Miss Babbage walked over to join the rest of us. “Indeed. And what—no dead bodies in the vicinity? What have you gotten yourself into this time, Miss Holmes?”

Mina explained briefly—for her. She included the fact that this was related to a case her uncle was working on with Lestrade in order, I assumed, to give credibility to the situation. The only thing she did not mention was her belief the
Ankh was involved. And, surprisingly, she also gave no details about Pix and who he was. Or wasn't.

Grayling absorbed the information quickly. “Very well. I can only suppose you have a plan, then, Miss Holmes?”

“Naturally.” She went on to describe what she had in mind while I paced and grumbled.

“Let's
go
,” I finally snapped. “We can prepare forever, but if we don't
get to it
, nothing will get done.” I started for the door, not caring whether anyone followed me.

But Grayling, Dylan, and Mina were right on my heels—with my partner still giving directions and making suggestions. Miss Babbage had been elected to remain behind in case of the worst happening—she would notify Mr. Holmes and Sir Mycroft if she didn't hear from us by dawn.

One could only hope she'd remember to do so and not get distracted by one of her private inventions.

Mina refused to ride on Grayling's steamcycle, but I was more than happy to climb on. Thanks to the split skirts I'd donned in anticipation of a meeting with Pix, I was able to ride astride very easily. I felt Grayling wince as he leveled his arms on either side of me to take the handlebars, and I wondered if the vampire gouges were bothering him.

But then we were off in an exciting burst of speed, leaving Dylan and Mina to ride in a taxi. That was part of the plan, for us to arrive separately in case someone was watching. We would also do what Dylan called “covering” each other. Apparently that meant for one set of us (Mina and Dylan)
to watch as another set (Grayling and I) went in first, in case there were problems.

I was still a little surprised Mina even
wanted
to go after Pix. But I remembered how determined she was to capture and reveal the Ankh and realized that desire must take precedence over her dislike of dark, underground places and dangerous escapades.

No matter to me. I was born to do this sort of thing.

Access to the subterranean monastery was through the sewers that were part of the network around the River Fleet. The river traveled north and south through London, but because it had become so clogged and filled with waste over the past centuries, buildings had been erected around and on top of it. Most of the river, therefore, was underground. The avenue above it was, of course, called Fleet-street.

Grayling and I left his steamcycle hidden inside the entrance to the sewers. We were hardly a few yards inside but already the stench was overwhelming. My eyes stung and the inside of my nose felt as if it were on fire.

“Aren't you afraid someone will take it?” I asked, handing him the aviator hat and goggles he'd loaned me. “And incidentally, I don't care what Mina says—I'll ride on that cycle any time.”

He flashed me a brief smile, then glanced toward the tunnel entrance as if to check whether Mina and Dylan had
arrived. “No one will take it, Miss Stoker.” He leaned forward and pushed a button, then stepped back.

As I watched in astonishment, the vehicle seemed to cave in on itself. It sighed and groaned, then sank down—for it had been hovering just above the ground—and when it was finished, the cycle looked like nothing more than a jumble of junk. He whipped something out from beneath his coat and a black cloth settled down over the lump of misshapen steamcycle. “Shall we wait or go on?” he asked after the cover was in place.

Of course I wanted to go on, but I sensed he preferred to wait. So I compromised. “Let's take a look around first.”

I was able to stand upright in the tunnel, but Grayling was too tall and had to stoop a little. Along the edge of the sewer canal were narrow walkways that kept us mostly out of the disgusting muck; although there were many places where it overflowed when the path dipped. The tunnel was dark as night, and the only illumination was from the small headlamps we each had strapped on like hats. Rats darted about, slipping into the putrid sewage with soft splashes. There were other creatures I didn't care to identify that splashed and surged in the oily water. I had a walking stick that also doubled as a knife blade, and I used that to assist in keeping my balance when I came across something slippery or uneven.

It would be a miracle if Mina didn't end up in the sewer canal.

I could hardly imagine what it must be like for the toshermen who made their living by trudging through the sewers, day after day in the dark and disgusting filth. They skimmed through the muck in search of anything valuable: coins, buttons, keys, objects made of metal or ivory . . . even bones—human or otherwise—which apparently were used to make glue.

Suddenly, my stick probed something too soft, heavy, and large to be ignored. My heart lurched into my throat.

“Grayling.”

He joined me as we knelt next to the body, and from somewhere on his person, he pulled out a larger, more powerful light.

I reared back at the sight of the white face, smeared with grime and already being nibbled upon by a horde of maggots and who knew what else. But
it wasn't Pix
. I exhaled with relief and looked away, but Grayling didn't seem to have any qualms about shifting the body.

“Hold this.” He handed me the light as he bent closer to the victim, lifting arms and legs, and turning it onto its side. He was, fortunately, wearing gloves.

I couldn't watch as he examined the white, maggoty body, which was why I saw the two shadows as they approached. They were accompanied by small circles of light. The soft splash followed by a muttered cry confirmed it was Mina and Dylan.

I looked toward them so my headlamp would light their way, and when they got close enough I called out softly, my words echoing quietly in the cavern. “Hurry up, Mina. There's a dead body here for you!”

Grayling choked back a laugh, but whatever bit of humor he had expressed was gone by the time Mina and Dylan joined us.

“Take a look here, Miss Holmes,” Grayling said as Mina crouched unsteadily next to him. I could smell a bit of sewage clinging to her hems and saw that she, too, was wearing heavy gloves. “There are no marks on the body that I can find . . . except this here. What do you make of it?”

I obligingly shone the light down, but was beginning to get impatient. Pix was in here somewhere—I thought—and the longer we waited, the more of a chance . . .

Well, the more of a chance something awful had happened to him.

Or was happening.

“Two small marks. Not a vampire bite,” Mina said. She sounded very nasally, and I realized she was breathing through her mouth so as not to inhale the stench of the sewers. I wondered how long that would last.

“A vampire bite?” I said. I should probably take a look. But I didn't really want to. The memory of a maggot crawling out of the dead man's nose still haunted me.

“I agree. The marks are too far apart, and too small. And the position is wrong,” Grayling said. “But it's like the others they found.”

“Let me see.” Dylan pushed his way in, and so the four of us were thus crouched around the corpse. “Where—oh. In the back of the neck. One on either side of the nape. That's an odd place. There is a little bit of red around each of them. Like a burn?”

“Indeed.” Grayling pushed to his feet, his movements stiff.

“I observe your arm is still bothering you, Inspector,” Mina said, also standing. Her hatless head was dangerously close to brushing the top of the tunnel. “Have you had it seen to? Vampire gouges are nothing to be trifled with.”

“You've been clawed by a vampire?” asked Dylan, also standing. “That can be very seri—”

“I'm fine.” Grayling's voice was flat and nixed any further comment. “Now, shall we be on with this?”