The Death Collector

Chapter 19

Sir William shook his head. ‘There is one other way we can go.’

George and Liz both looked each way along the gantry. Men were now climbing on to it from the ladders, starting along the narrow metal walkway towards them.

‘I don’t see …’ George started. Then he stopped, realising that Sir William was pointing to the ladder just ahead of them. It led upwards, towards the roof. ‘You have to be joking,’ George finished.

Sir William raised his eyebrows. ‘If you have a better idea, young man, then I suggest you come out with it pretty sharpish.’

George looked at Liz. He looked at the men making their ponderous way along the gantry towards them. He looked at the ground, twenty feet below, and imagined being shoved over the flimsy guard rail that ran along the gantry. Then he looked back at the ladder. ‘I’ll go last,’ he said. ‘In case they try to follow us.’

‘And what do we do when we can’t go any higher?’ Liz demanded, following Sir William as quickly as she could up the ladder.

‘Don’t ask,’ George hissed back at her.

Sir William’s voice floated back to them through the thickening mist. ‘We climb out of one of the skylights and down the roof, of course.’ This time, George could tell he wasn’t joking. The skylights were level with the next gantry, wide open and sucking the smoke out into the cold night beyond. He hurried up the ladder after Liz and Sir William.

This ladder was much the same as the one they had already climbed. But higher up, it was full in the path of the rising steam. The bolts holding the ladder to the walls of the foundry were rough with rust, flaking away as the ladder strained against them under the weight. George watched black showers of corroded ironwork drop away from the bolts, the rungs, the sides of the ladder as he climbed. Looking down, he saw the first of their pursuers starting up the ladder after them. The ironwork creaked and groaned in protest and he shouted for Sir William to hurry.

Sir William stepped out on to the upper gantry, just as the ladder pulled away from the wall. One of the upper bolts sheared, the extra strain immediately breaking the bolt on the other side with a screech of tearing metal. The top of the ladder lurched outwards. Liz screamed, and Sir William had to lunge to make it to the upper gantry.

‘Go on, quickly!’ George shouted.

Sir William was reaching across for Liz. She grasped his hand, jumped. She slipped, her feet suddenly dangling over the edge, in space. George reached out desperately, managing to get his hand under one of her feet and push upwards just as Sir William heaved Liz towards him.

With a gasp of relief as Liz joined Sir William on the safety of the gantry, George hurried to follow. The ladder was pulling further and further away from the wall, away from the connection to the gantry. He would have to jump. Liz was beckoning for him, ready to try to catch him. He braced himself as he reached the top rung.

And a hand closed over his lower leg, gripping it tight. George gave a yelp of surprise. He kicked out with his other foot, holding on tight to the sides of the ladder with both hands. The grip loosened, and he managed to rip his leg free. He jumped at once.

Just in time. The ladder continued to break away. Several more bolts sheared off and fell heavily into space, clattering to the lower gantry thirty feet below one after another. The top of the ladder was swinging more rapidly now, pulled over by the weight of the men climbing up it. As George’s stomach crashed into the gantry, as he struggled to hold on, as he hauled himself on to it, the ladder finally tore from the wall with a squeal of tortured metal. Liz helped him to his feet, and they both glanced down as the ladder crashed to the floor below.

Sir William was also looking down. But not at the falling ladder, or the men sliding angrily back down to the gantry below. He was looking out over the manufacturing floor. Liz joined him, breathing heavily. Standing behind them, George too saw the larger metal exoframes arranged behind the ones they had seen before. And beyond that, the shadowy outline of more ironwork being assembled from the most distant engines and furnaces. Silhouetted in the drifting smoke, George could see the vague shapes of struts and braces sticking up like broken teeth.

‘Glad you could join us, young man,’ Sir William said. ‘But I think we should hurry.’ He led them over to a skylight, fastened open to allow the smoke and steam to escape. It was easily large enough to climb through, and Sir William called back that there was a ladder down on the other side.

‘Lucky,’ Liz said.

‘An informed guess,’ Sir William called back. ‘They need to get in from the outside for maintenance after all.’

George let Liz follow Sir William. ‘They’ll soon realise where we’re going. We’d better get a move on or we’ll find them waiting at the bottom of the ladder.’ He pushed through the open section of roof after Liz. The steam and smoke swirled round him — wet and hot. Outside the London smog was cold and damp. For a moment, caught between the two, eyes stinging and unable to breathe, George imagined what hell must be like.

Eddie did not see the figures hiding close to the iron gates that led out of the park, even though he had been half expecting them. Only when they moved — detaching themselves from the shadows and stepping towards him — did he realise they were there.

With a cry of surprise, he turned to run. But more figures were appearing through the mist, closing in on him. He was trapped, and his only option was to stand and fight. He hefted the orange-shaped stone in his hand wondering whether to keep it as a weapon or to hurl it at the first man who came for him. He hoped it would be Blade.

It was not. It was a tall, spindly figure that Eddie recognised immediately as Lorimore. As the figure scuttled towards him, rubbing its bony hands together with satisfaction, Eddie saw that his features were as thin as his body. His nose was barely more than a line down his face, his eyes narrowed to slits.

‘Well, well, well.’ Lorimore’s voice was as sharp and pinched as his features. ‘What have we here? A young lad who would appear to be missing his coat, and on such a cold night too.’ He paused several feet from Eddie, teeth visible between thin lips as he smiled malevolently. ‘Do you perchance have a spare coat that might fit this young man, Mr Blade?’

Blade’s voice came from behind Eddie, making him jump. ‘I did, Mr Lorimore, sir. Only trouble is, it got all ripped to pieces.’

Lorimore shook his head slowly, and Eddie thought of a cobra he had once seen at Regent’s Park Zoo. ‘Such a pity. But I suppose the thing to do is to make sure that the lad matches his coat. Ripped to pieces, you say, Mr Blade?’ His whole body seemed to shake with laughter at this — a high-pitched nasal whine like a pig in pain.

Blade too was laughing, great guffaws that almost doubled him up. If he was going to make a move, Eddie realised that this might be his only chance. He raised the stone, and ran straight at Lorimore, shouting with rage.

Lorimore stopped laughing at once. As Eddie grew closer, running now at full pelt, stone raised, he saw Lorimore’s eyes suddenly open wide. A skeletal finger pointed at Eddie and Lorimore’s mouth was open in what might be fear, or surprise, or …

Eddie launched himself at Lorimore, sending them both flying. Eddie fell on top of the man as they hit the ground, winding his opponent while guaranteeing a soft landing for himself. Eddie smacked the stone down as hard as he could.

Lorimore twisted, desperately reaching to grab Eddie’s hand as it hammered down at him. He managed to deflect the blow and almost prised the stone from Eddie’s grip. But then the blow hit home — glancing off Lorimore’s shoulder. The man screamed out in pain. Eddie wrenched himself free, rolled to his feet, and still clutching the stone he bolted straight for the gates.

Lorimore’s men were running to help their master, and only Blade gave chase. He was knocked sideways by one of the thugs running the other way. He spun away into the mist with a loud curse. Over and above Blade’s shout, Eddie could hear Lorimore yelling at his henchmen to leave him, that he was all right, that they must get after the boy …

But Eddie was already out of the gates and running down the main road — sprinting after a cab that rattled past. He shouted for it to stop, managed to get level with it for a few seconds, and saw the driver’s muffled face staring down at him in surprise.

Then a heavy arm made a grab for Eddie. He gave a screech of surprise and fear.

‘Steady on,’ the driver said in a gruff voice as he hauled Eddie up on to the seat beside him. ‘You got any money for your fare, then?’

‘We should have stayed with him,’ George said again.

Liz held his hand. She knew how he felt — she felt the same. But as Sir William had pointed out, and as they both knew, to stay in the park would have meant certain capture.

‘He had a good chance,’ she said quietly. ‘They can’t have known he was hiding inside the statue.’

‘Then why isn’t he here? He should have got here well before us — he’d have come straight here.’

‘He might have had to remain inside for hours. Who knows?’

‘Or he might have been caught, trapped inside or grabbed as he tried to get out of the park. We were lucky enough to get away ourselves.’ George pulled his hand free and turned away. ‘We should have stayed.’

The three of them were sitting exhausted in Sir William Protheroe’s office. They had checked and re-checked that the British Museum was no longer being watched. It seemed that all of Lorimore’s men had been at the Crystal Palace. The Museum was deserted — eerily quiet and unlit. The first staff would not arrive for hours yet. Liz yawned, wondering if she was going to get any sleep at all tonight.

‘How long do we wait for Eddie?’ she wondered as George sulked silently and Sir William leafed through the paperwork on his desk. ‘What if he’s been here, found we weren’t back yet and left again?’

‘To go where? He will have waited, I’m sure. I really wouldn’t worry,’ Sir William went on without looking up. ‘If any of us is capable of outsmarting Lorimore’s employees and escaping his clutches, it is young Eddie. I imagine he’s on his way back here now.’

‘I wonder if he found anything,’ George said quietly.

‘I hope so,’ Sir William replied. ‘Otherwise I must confess I shall be at rather a loss as to what to do next, despite our brief visit to the foundry.’

‘So we just wait,’ Liz said.

They did not have to wait long. Eddie arrived a few minutes later. He was, Liz noticed, wearing a new jacket. At least, it was new to Eddie. To be honest it had seen better days, and it hung heavily to one side as if he had stuffed the pocket with weights.

‘Where have you been?’ she cried at once. ‘We were so worried.’

‘Had to walk back from Marylebone, didn’t I?’ He sat himself down on the desk, prompting Sir William into a rapid scramble to move papers and books before they disappeared under him.

‘You got a train?’ George asked in surprise.

‘No, a cab,’ Eddie replied, equally bemused. ‘But I only had enough money to get to Marylebone. I’m skint now, if anyone can sub me,’ he added hopefully.

‘I think,’ Sir William said, ‘that we should repair to the laboratory. There is room there for us all to sit down and compare notes as it were.’

While Liz had been to the British Museum several times before with her father, she had never found herself ‘backstage’ before. She was fascinated by the corridors and rooms hidden away out of public sight — the areas used for administration, for storage and for research.

Sir William’s laboratory was just down the corridor from his office. It was a surprisingly large room, dominated by a central wooden workbench. Tall cupboards lined the wall opposite the door, and the other walls were covered with shelves and cabinets full of glassware, equipment and specimens of all shapes and sizes. Liz could see what looked like bones on one shelf, strangely carved statues on another. Leaning up against one of the cupboards was what looked like a plunger for unblocking drains, though it was attached to the end of a telescopic rod made of shining silver metal.

There was a bench along one wall of the laboratory, and George, Liz and Eddie sat here while Sir William paced up and down in front of them.

‘We shall also,’ he said, ‘have less chance of being overheard down here. Now then, Eddie, tell us what you found.’

‘Nothing,’ Eddie said.

Sir William stopped mid-pace. ‘Nothing? Nothing at all?’

‘He was interrupted,’ George said. ‘He didn’t have much time.’

‘I had enough,’ Eddie said. ‘There was nothing in there. Well, nothing much.’ He reached awkwardly into the pocket of his new jacket and dragged out the stone. ‘Just this stone, which was really handy when I needed to get away I can tell you.’

Sir William frowned. ‘Where did you get that jacket?’ he asked. Immediately he shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. ‘No, don’t tell me. I’ve a feeling I don’t want to know. Some washing line or laundry basket between here and Marylebone, no doubt.’

Eddie opened his mouth to reply. But Sir William shook his head again and lifted the stone from his hands. He turned it over several times, examining it closely. ‘Curious,’ he muttered. ‘Very even shape, isn’t it?’

Liz watched him closely, aware that George and Eddie were also leaning forward in anticipation and interest.

‘Quite smooth too. Yet it hasn’t been machined or worked so far as I can see. Hmmm.’ Sir William weighed it in his hand, then put it down carefully on the workbench beside him.

‘What is it?’ Liz asked, with a mounting sense of excitement.

‘What?’ For a moment, he seemed not to realise what she was asking. Then he gave a short laugh. ‘Oh it’s probably just an old stone,’ he said. ‘Curious, but I imagine unremarkable. Though I should like to examine it properly when all this is over and done with and I finally have some time to myself.’ He sighed. ‘But just at the moment we have something of a problem. Either we were wrong about our evidence being inside the iguanodon, or we were too late and it has already been removed. Either way, the question is: what do we do now?’

He tapped his fingers on the workbench as he considered the problem. Liz glanced at Eddie and George, but neither of them seemed to have a clue what to do next either.

‘We must have missed something. Something in the diaries,’ Liz decided.

Sir William nodded thoughtfully. ‘I agree. Let me see that scrap of paper from the diary again, would you?’

George retrieved it from his wallet. ‘You have an idea?’

‘Just a notion. Almost certainly nothing, but you never know …’ Sir William took the small piece of paper and held it up to the light. ‘Well, we shall soon see,’ he murmured, and put it down beside Eddie’s stone on the workbench while he busied himself on the other side of the room.

‘What’s he up to now?’ Eddie wanted to know.

Liz shrugged. Sir William was hunting through a collection of bottles and jars. All three of them — Liz, Eddie and George — were so intent on what Sir William was doing that they failed to notice the movement from the other side of the laboratory.

Liz was the first to realise they were not alone. A figure had emerged from one of the tall cupboards where he must have been listening to their deliberations. He ran to the workbench where the precious scrap of paper from Sir Henry Glick’s diary lay. He was a young man, thin and gangly with slicked back dark hair.

Sir William turned at the sound of running feet and Liz’s cry of warning.

‘Berry? What are you doing, man?’ he demanded.

But Berry did not answer. His eyes were fixed on the workbench, and his hand shot out towards the paper.

George was already there, knocking the young man’s hand away and trying to grab hold of him. But Berry twisted out of George’s grip and took flight. He was across the laboratory and out of the door in a moment. Eddie was after him at once.

‘It’s all right!’ George shouted after Eddie. ‘He didn’t get it.’

But Eddie had already gone. George ran after them both, the door banging shut behind him.

‘He’s right,’ Sir William said to Liz in the stillness that followed. ‘We need to talk to Berry. Short of trying to see Lorimore himself, which I do not think would be a good idea, Berry may be the only lead we have left.’

George could see them both ahead of him as he ran. Berry glanced back frequently, the fear on his face easy to see. Eddie had his head down and was running for all he was worth. He was gaining on Berry, but not enough to catch him.

Berry slammed a door behind him and it crashed into Eddie, knocking him into the wall. But he was up again in an instant. George caught the door before it closed, and pelted after them.

They charged through the foyer, but Berry was already disappearing through the main doors. Eddie was close on his heels. George, out of breath, was still too far back. He tried to forget that he could hardly breathe, tried to ignore the blood drumming in his ears, and raced after them — out of the doors, down the steps.

The fog was swirling in the black night, thickening the darkness. A figure solidified out of the air in front of George, and he grabbed at it.

But it was Eddie.

‘He’s gone,’ Eddie said. ‘I lost him in the fog. He’s got away.’