The Demi-Monde: Summer (43 page)

‘No. With all respect, Colonel Dashwood, that is the obvious and somewhat superficial interpretation many will make. My own belief – and that of AcademicianNon Ki Song – is that the
Flagellum Hominum
refers to more subtle and esoteric differences within the peoples who occupy the Demi-Monde. De Nostredame’s work in identifying and describing Dark Charismatics – the race he calls
H. singularis
– demonstrates that there are secret and secretive species of HumanKind alive and active within the Demi-Monde, races of which we are afforded only fleeting glimpses.’ He glanced towards Rivets. ‘Perhaps the vampyre encountered by nonFemme Rivets was a member of one of these secret species.’

Rivets beamed at having someone as eminent as Mendel support his belief in vampyres. He couldn’t resist the temptation to stick his tongue out at Trixie.

‘But who are the Five?’ asked Norma.

‘The
Flagellum Hominum
assists us here, though only four are given names:

‘Sounds like a lot of old bollocks to me’ was Burlesque’s comment.

‘I agree, nonFemme Bandstand, that there is much here to fuel doubt, but there are other lines that could support a more generous interpretation. These come in the final two stanzas contained in the book:

‘This, I would suggest, is an exact description for the Column of Loci, now housed in the Galerie des Anciens in Venice. With the Column being constructed of Mantle-ite and weighing two hundred tons, it is most certainly “inviolate”. Further, I have examined illustrations of the pictograms shown on the sixth face of the Column and note that these are a perfect representation of the manner in which traits of living organisms are transmitted from generation to generation. Before I was exiled to the Coven, I did extensive experimentation regarding the breeding of plants, principally those of the common pea or
Pisum sativum
variety. My research showed that certain characteristics
of the original, parent plants are present in their offspring without any blending or averaging of the original, parental characteristics. This principle of inherited characteristics may be illustrated in a quite satisfactory manner by an algorithm very, very similar to the one shown on the Column. Thus, I can say with all confidence that the Column really is “adorned with the Secret of Life”. I have no doubts that the Column of Loci discovered by Michel de Nostredame is the Column referred to in the
Flagellum Hominum
as “the Key to Life and to Destiny”.’

‘And the final stanza?’ prompted Norma. ‘Where do you suggest the “Resting Place” of the Column is?’

Mendel took a deep, deep breath before replying. ‘This, I think, is obvious. The hexagonal plinth of the Column precisely aligns with the shape of the hexagonal platform Speke observed atop the Great Pyramid when he surveyed Terror Incognita by balloon. This symmetry is too remarkable to be ascribed simply to coincidence, and of course the Pyramid is in the centre of our world … in Terror Incognita. It is my belief that whoever takes the Column of Loci and places it atop the Great Pyramid will emerge victorious from Ragnarok.’

There was shocked silence around the room. Finally Trixie began to laugh. ‘I’m sorry, Academician Mendel, but what you are suggesting is impossible to accomplish.’

‘Impossible?’ asked Mendel.

‘Of course. For one thing, the Column of Loci is in Venice and we’re marooned here in Rangoon surrounded by the SS. And secondly – and most importantly – no one, absolutely
no one
, has ever entered Terror Incognita and returned. The ForthRight sent two regiments of SS across the Wheel River last Winter and nobody ever heard from them again. Taking the Column and erecting it on top of the Great Pyramid isn’t just impossible, it’s
suicidally
impossible.’

‘Hopefully, not quite as impossible or as suicidal as you believe, Colonel Dashwood,’ said Su Xiaoxiao quietly. ‘I have received a PigeonGram from Nikolai Kondratieff in Venice who has also come to understand the significance of the Column. Although necessarily brief, the message advises that Kondratieff has devised a plan to thwart the powers of Darkness and to achieve this requires the use of a steamship capable of hauling a pontoon of three hundred and fifty tons of laden weight. His wording is elliptical but my suspicion is that the pontoon will be used to transport the Column to Terror Incognita.’

Norma whistled. ‘Kondratieff is trying to steal the Column?’

‘So it would appear, and to do that he needs a steamship.’

‘This Kondratieff of yours doesn’t want much, does he, Femme Su?’ observed Wysochi. ‘That’s a powerful steamship he’s looking for.’

‘Correct, Major Wysochi, and one that will need an able commander to captain it.’ Su Xiaoxiao’s gaze came to rest on Trixie. ‘I understand that you, Colonel Dashwood, have something of a reputation as an exponent of river warfare.’

Trixie Dashwood eyed Su Xiaoxiao warily. ‘If you are alluding to my exploits when I seized three barges from the ForthRight, then the answer is yes; if, however, you are alluding to my competence as a sailor, then the answer is no. The sum total of my naval experience is managing a steam-barge for one hour when I ran it up two miles of river.’ She smiled. ‘Anyway, this discussion is moot: we don’t have a steamship.’

‘We might not have a steamship, Colonel, but we have an
WarJunk
. The ForthRight has in its possession the three WarJunks surrendered by AdmiralNoN Heii. I would propose that we commandeer one of them.’

‘And just where is this WarJunk of yours moored?’

‘It’s berthed under guard on the St Petersburg shore of the Volga, on the Boundary side of the Anichkov Bridge.’

‘Great. So, assuming we can hijack this WarJunk – and that’s a mighty big assumption – we’ll still have to run the gauntlet of the ForthRight artillery lined along the shore of the Volga.’

‘Yes.’

Su Xiaoxiao’s simple agreement shut Trixie up for a moment, which she used to formulate new objections. ‘It’s still impossible. An WarJunk is a complicated fighting machine, so I’ll need a hundred experienced hands to work the thing.’

‘We have Femmes in our ranks who trained on the WarJunks.’

Trixie wasn’t to be dissuaded. ‘It’s a ridiculous plan. Leading my fighters into Terror Incognita means I’m leading them to certain death. It’s a suicide mission.’

‘It’s suicide if we stay here in Rangoon, Trixie,’ said Wysochi quietly. ‘And presumably the
Flagellum Hominum
wouldn’t tell us to take the Column to Terror Incognita only for us to be destroyed when we got there.’

For several long seconds Trixie glowered at him, then shoved her chair back and stood up from the table. ‘You will excuse me, Femme Su, but I must consult with Major Wysochi.’ And with that the two of them retreated to the back of the room out of earshot.

Norma didn’t have to hear what was said to understand just how intense the debate was. There was much wagging of fingers, shaking of heads and shrugging of shoulders, but finally, after five minutes a red-faced and clearly unhappy Trixie Dashwood returned to the table.

‘I have been persuaded by Major Wysochi that, though this adventure is madcap and nonsensical, it is a better option than to remain in Rangoon and be pounded to death by ForthRight artillery. As the Major says, it is better to die in pursuit of a dream than simply to die.’ She filled her glass with Solution, downed it in one swig and then turned to Gregor Mendel.

‘You’re certain that the Column must be taken to Terror Incognita?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then, presumably, ABBA would not set a task that was beyond the wit of woman to complete.’

‘That is what the verses contained in the
Flagellum Hominum
suggest.’

More silence, then Trixie let out a long, long sigh. ‘Very well, when do you want the WarJunk stolen?’

Burlesque scanned Hereji-Jo Castle through the telescope loaned to him by Su Xiaoxiao and felt his spirits droop. He’d brought Rivets, Dong E and Odette on a constitutional to the gardens abutting the Castle to get the gauge of the place, and now, having seen the beast, he had to admit to having cold feet about the whole adventure. He had heard what Su Xiaoxiao had said about the place being impregnable but he hadn’t really believed her – no place, in his opinion, was truly impregnable. But now he wasn’t so sure.

What he saw both depressed him and scared him. Depressed him because he didn’t have a fucking clue as to how they’d be able to break into it and scared him because he wasn’t sure what they’d find inside if they did.

Bloody Rivets and his big gob!

Hereji-Jo Castle was a huge and menacing edifice that emerged out of the ground like a stone-fortified fist. It was a bunker of a place built to shut people out and it did this by the employment of an architecture that was uncompromisingly brutal. Everything about the castle was big, oppressive and intimidating. It was a military engine rendered out of huge blocks of scabrous black stone that even in the warmth of the Summer sunshine radiated a cold, lethal intent.

For long minutes Burlesque trained his spyglass on the massive front gates that seemed to be the only way into the Castle, and along the enormous slablike walls, a hundred feet high if they were an inch, searching for a chink – hah! – in its defences, for a place where an agile little man like Rivets might squeeze through. But search as he might, he could see no open windows, no convenient vines growing on the walls, no doors left ajar.

He turned to speak to Rivets and then stopped. The boy was entertaining himself by idly knocking the heads off burdocks with a stick, and for a moment Burlesque was reminded just
how young he was. He was only a kid: a kid who carried a man’s worth of experiences on his shoulders. The poor little sod had seen more misery and hatred in his short life than anybody had a right to. It just showed what a resilient bugger he was, that he’d come through it all still sane – well, saneish, anyway. And now the boy had fallen in love, the object of his affections sitting amidst a crowd of daisies, absent-mindedly weaving them into chains which she then garlanded about his head.

Burlesque smiled to himself: if ever there was a boy entitled to experience a little
l’amour
it was Rivets.

Don’t be soppy
.

He got a grip on himself and signalled to Odette to join him. She gave him a beaming smile, put her knitting to one side and wandered across in that wonderfully undulating way of hers. She sprawled down on the grass beside him and began to nibble at an apple.

‘So whaddya fink, Odette?’ he asked, nodding towards the castle.

Another of those secret little smiles as she pressed her body against his.

Stop it, you Frog minx you
.

‘I ’ave none of your mostly experiences in the doing of – ‘ow you say –
le domaine de cambriolage
…’

‘Burglary?’ suggested Burlesque.

‘Oui, le
burglary. Therefore I must bow in the ‘umble way to your expertises
marveilleuse
. I am ‘oping you already ’ave the plan most clever,
n’est-ce pas?
’

Burlesque shrugged. ‘Wish I ‘ad, Odette, my luv, but I ain’t. This Hereji-Jo place looks cast-ironed and double-bolted to me. Yeah, I’m floored, and that means we’re up shit creek wivout a paddle between us.’

‘Je ne sais pas où se trouve ce lieu que tu appelles
“Sheet Creek”,
mais je sais que nous ne sayons pas
“oop it”.
Dong E dit ce jardin
s’appelle, “Le lieu de Contentements Tranquilles”
.’ She must have seen Burlesque’s confusion. ‘Dong E ‘as said that these jardin ees named “The Place of the Quiet Contentments”.’