The Fall

42

Tuesday evening, 21^st December 1865.

Jud said to Sam, ‘We’re in bigger trouble than we thought.’

Sam looked up at him as he sat at the table with a mug of hot coffee in his hands. ‘Bigger trouble? Christ, I thought it couldn’t get any worse. Did you hear how many died in the attack? More than a thousand.’

Jud nodded as he sat in the chair opposite Sam. In the hallway of Perseverance Farm the grandfather clock chimed seven. The notes sounded sombre.

Sam continued. ‘And those are only the confirmed deaths. There’ll be even more bodies, or what’s left of them, in the burned-out buildings. Including Ryan’s wife. Did you know she was pregnant?’

‘Yes, I’d heard. And I’ve heard about the women and children who were abducted. Did you know Sue Burton was taken, too?’

‘I heard a couple of hours ago. Lee took some persuading not to throw himself in the river. He’s gone to pieces over this… Hell, what a mess. What a damn awful mess.’

It was now almost 24 hours since the attack on Casterton by the Bluebeards. Buildings were still burning, though the heavily falling snow was beginning to damp down the worst of the fires.

After leaving Lee and Ryan in the town, Sam had run hack to Perseverance Farm. It lay midway between Casterton and the amphitheatre and he’d expected to find the place reduced to ashes. Yet by some miracle the Bluebeards had missed it on the march into town. Zita and the rest were safe.

Meanwhile, Jud had returned to the narrow boat to find it gone. His first thought was that it had been sunk by the Bluebeards with Dot on board. But then he’d heard the familiar chug-chug of the motor.

The narrow boat had come gliding out of the darkness and the falling snow, his wife at the helm. She told Jud later that when she’d seen the Bluebeard armed with the axe coming on board she’d simply jumped over the side and had swum for it in the freezing water. There she trod water, well out of harm’s way, while the Bluebeard had gone through the boat filling pillowcases with jewellery and bottles of whiskey. After he’d left she’d climbed back onto the boat, untied the moorings and then had taken it across the river where she felt it would be safe to wait until Jud’s return.

‘The cold would have killed skinny folk like you,’ she’d told them. ‘Lucky I had some pretty good natural insulation. So, you see, cellulite does have its uses.’

Now Jud and Sam sat drinking coffee after a day helping out at the town. But it had been a Herculean task, and Sam was reminded about Humpty Dumpty, whom all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put together again. Probably a good third of the town had been destroyed by the fires.

Sam took a deep swallow of the coffee, feeling that welcome warmth go sliding down his gullet to heat his stomach. ‘You were saying that this is going to get worse before it gets better. How come?’

‘For one, Casterton’s cut off by the snowfalls. All the roads and railway lines are blocked. Even the telegraph lines are down.’

‘So we’re going to be on our own for while. But surely we’ll manage?’

‘Normally, yes. If it was just a case of clearing up the aftermath of what the Bluebeards have done.’

‘I can hear a “but” coming along here.’

‘Yes, and a big “but” at that. I’ve been talking to Rolle.’

‘He’s here?’

‘He was in the town earlier. I managed to grab a word with him before he left. I don’t know where he was going but he was in a heck of a hurry. But that’s beside the point. Anyway, he told me he’s seen the Bluebeards at work before – but never in such huge numbers. He says this is only the first instalment.’

‘You mean they’re going to come back?’

‘Yes.’

‘But surely they just hit and run like pirates or… or even muggers. They wouldn’t be stupid enough to walk back into a place they’ve just raided?’

‘But what’s to stop them? They know the roads into the outside world are impassable for the next two or three days at least. Even if we could get a messenger out on foot, what could the authorities do?’

‘They could send in the army.’

‘What army?’

‘Hell, Jud, take a look at the maps in the schoolrooms. In 1865 Britain ruled half the world. The maps are all red, showing how much you limeys actually owned. Remember the saying? The sun never sets on the British Empire? You don’t conquer that much without a pretty substantial army.’

Jud gave a grim smile. ‘Exactly. Today, in 1865, Her Majesty’s army comprises around a million troops.’

‘You see. They’ll blitz these barbarians. They won’t know what hit them.’

‘And you’re right about the huge Empire, too, Sam. And that’s where most of the troops are stationed. Out there in the hot spots of China, India and Africa. Our problem is that the garrisons here on mainland Britain probably number only a few thousand men at most – and they’re dotted here and there all over the country.’

‘But surely they can marshal enough troops to stop those Bluebeards dead in their tracks? Our troops would be armed with rifles and artillery. For heaven’s sake, those Bluebeards might be ferocious monsters but they only have axes and clubs.’

‘But the cold fact of the matter is we still have to get word to the proper authorities. Then they’re going to have to bring troops into barracks from Christmas leave. Put them on trains, bring them as close to Casterton as they can. Then either clear the snow off the line or somehow march them here across all those snowdrifts. All that before they can even fire a shot in anger.’

‘Hell.’ The penny had dropped. Sam shook his head. ‘And in the meantime the Bluebeards will have come back and finished what they started.’

‘Exactly.’

‘So it looks as if it’s down to us?’

Jud nodded.

‘How much time does Rolle think we’ve got?’

‘Anywhere between three and four days.’

‘Why doesn’t he think they’ll return sooner?’

‘Well, they’ll have had a couple of hours’ march through the snow to Casterton, then they’ll have had to carry all the loot back with them to whatever time zone they call home. They’ll have taken food and booze with them and, like any army that’s won a battle, they’ll want to rest.’

‘And maybe party?’

‘And party. Remember, they took the women back with them, so…’ There was no need for him to finish the sentence.

‘Christ.’

‘It sounds callous, but that’s going to give us a short breathing space.’

‘So what next? Get everyone out of town before the Bluebeards come back and start murdering and looting all over again?’

‘We could get some out. But there were a lot of people hurt in the last attack. With the roads blocked, you’d have to carry the wounded out on stretchers. We also have young children and the elderly. How could you ask them to walk out across all those snowdrifts and blocked roads? The conditions out there are nothing less than Arctic. They’d drop like flies.’

‘Jud, we seem to be running out of options fast here.’

‘I was thinking we could fortify some of the bigger buildings in town. Perhaps we could hold them off until help does get through or they simply give up and return to wherever they came from.’

‘That might work. But it’s a heck of a risk. Those buildings weren’t designed to withstand a siege. What if the Bluebeards simply set them on fire? They’d slaughter us the moment we ran out into the street.’

Jud sighed. ‘Then we’re out of options.’

‘So what the hell do we do next?’

‘Then, gentlemen, you ask me.’

‘Carswell?’

Sam swivelled his head round in astonishment to see Carswell standing at the kitchen door. Immaculately dressed as a Victorian gentleman, silver-topped cane in one hand, he was smiling broadly as he slipped off his gloves.

‘Carswell,’ Sam repeated, realising his mouth must have dropped open into an astonished ‘O’. ‘How on Earth did you get here?’

‘The river’s not frozen over yet. And no, before you ask, I haven’t yet quite mastered the knack of walking on water. I came by boat.’

Sam watched Carswell set down his top hat, cane and gloves on the table. Carswell looked round at the bare furnishings. ‘Still hanging out with the little people, I see.’

‘Carswell, did you know that Casterton was—’

‘Yes, yes, dear boy. I know all about it. Quite shocking, I’m sure.’

Sam shook his head in disgust. ‘Carswell, you’re a son of a bitch.’

‘Indeed I am, sir. That’s why I’m rich and you’re… well, slumming it, I see.’

‘So why are you here?’

‘Why am I here, dear chap?’ Carswell looked from Sam to Jud, his eyes bright, a smile playing on his lips. ‘What other reason could there be? I’m here to save your necks.’

‘Coffee?’ Jud asked as Carswell sat down at the table.

‘How kind. Thank you. Two sugars, please.’

Sam said, ‘Carswell, did I hear you right? You’re actually here to help us?’

‘Your hearing is perfectly sound, Mr Baker. Ahh, now that coffee isn’t completely awful.’ Warming his hands around the cup he said, ‘Now, forgive my eavesdropping, but I have to say straightaway that both your earlier plans were doomed to failure, as I believe you realised. You can’t evacuate the town through the blocked roads – and no, Mr Baker, don’t even suggest trying to get everyone out by boat. Mine is almost out of fuel, and even if fuel was plentiful and we used both boats to full capacity, we wouldn’t be able to evacuate more than a small fraction of the three thousand or so souls still in the town.’ He sipped his coffee, then wrinkled his nose. ‘Well, a trifle bitter, but hot, which on a freezing night like this is occasionally more important than a fine flavour… Now, your other plan of fortifying key buildings in the town such as the town hall, the police station or whatever is quite out of the question.’

Jud began, ‘But what if we were to barricade the—’

‘No, no. Listen. Sam Baker here is quite right. There is far too much timber employed in the construction of the buildings. And, after all, these barbarians, the Bluebeards, are familiar enough with siege techniques. They’d roll burning barrels or carts against the timber doors. Once those were alight you’d come running out like rats smoked from a nest to be cut down in the streets.’

‘And I suppose you have come here out of the goodness of your heart to explain how we should save ourselves?’

‘Precisely. A little more coffee if you have it, please, Mr Campbell.’

Jud nodded and went to bring the pot. Sam caught Jud’s eye. He would have liked to kick that arrogant son of a bitch Carswell out into the snow, but while the man dangled a solution in front of them like a sweet juicy carrot in front of a donkey all they could do was stay polite and listen.

Jud set the cup in front of Carswell.

Carswell said, ‘Uhm, you wouldn’t have a drop whiskey or brandy to liven that up, would you?’

Jud nodded. ‘I think we have some. Will Irish do you?’

‘Oh, any port in a storm, but it does have the aroma of the bog about it, don’t you think?’

‘Okay, Carswell,’ Sam said as Jud set the whiskey bottle on the table. ‘Before you ask us to sit up and beg or lick the dog poop off your boots or whatever else you’ve got in mind, are you going to tell us this master plan of yours for stopping those murdering bastards coming back into town and killing every man, woman and child?’

‘Seeing as I’m not doing this out of sweet Christian charity, I can safely ignore your impertinence.’

Jud frowned. ‘But who’s paying you?’

‘And how much?’ asked Sam.

‘I don’t think vulgar price-taggery is important at a time like this. Let’s just say I’m here as a professional consultant.’

‘You mean we’ve got to pay you some kind of consultancy fee for helping us?’

Carswell didn’t answer.

At that moment Ryan Keith came in. He looked like a zombie. His hair was stuck on end, and his eyes were red and sore. He saw the whiskey on the table, poured himself half a cupful and went and sat on a stool by the fire. So absorbed was he by the death of his wife just a few hours earlier that he didn’t even notice the three men in the room.

After giving Ryan a dismissive glance Carswell poured a small tot of whiskey into his cup. ‘Well, that’s injected some spirit into the coffee. Now, to action…’ He pulled half a dozen sheets of neatly folded paper from his pocket. ‘To save your lives from the next attack will require superb planning – that’s my department. And a great deal of hard work and, ultimately, courage – which is your department. You’ll also have to sell this scheme to the whole town and persuade every man Jack of them to work with you. In the end, they will have to fight alongside you. Fight like lions, I should add. Fight with every ounce of determination and strength they can muster. Because this isn’t going to be easy… it’s not going to be easy at all. Now, gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to Operation Rolling Vengeance.’

Carswell began to unfold the sheets of paper. As he smoothed them down onto the tabletop he told them what they needed to do.

Carswell said, ‘Today is Tuesday. My guess is that the next time the Bluebeards strike will be at dawn, probably either Friday morning or Saturday at the latest.’

‘So?’

‘So, my dear Mr Baker, I suggest we should be ready to attack them the moment they exit the time gate – which, Rolle informs me, is down by the river.’

‘Attack the Bluebeards? Are you serious?’

‘Absolutely serious,’ Carswell said crisply. ‘The best form of defence is attack.’

‘But how? We’ve a town full of exhausted civilians, not a garrison full of crack marines.’

‘But you’ll have surprise on your side. Always a worthy ally. As you say, the Bluebeards will emerge from their lair expecting no opposition from a demoralised and beaten population with no weapons worth speaking of. What they will find – to their amazement – is an effective, well-armed fighting force with more than a few surprises up its sleeve.’

‘Hell, Carswell. In the past you’ve accused me of coming up with some fanciful ideas. Now this really takes the biscuit.’

‘Hear me out, Mr Baker.’ Carswell tapped a sheet of paper. ‘These are the blueprints of your war machines. If you’re lucky, you have around 72 hours – at the most – to build them.’

‘What on Earth are they?’ Jud angled his head. ‘That’s a drawing of the tour bus, isn’t it?’

‘Spot on, Mr Campbell. And it shows just how you’re going to turn it from a vehicle designed to carry trippers about the countryside into a rolling fortress on wheels.’

‘A rolling fortress?’ Sam looked at Jud, who worriedly nipped his bottom lip between finger and thumb. ‘You mean something like a tank?’

‘Well, perhaps something more like a battleship – only one that moves on land rather than water.’

Sam glanced at Jud again. ‘Jud, do you think it’ll work?’

Jud stared back down at the plans, his lip still pinched between finger and thumb. After a while he looked up at Sam and said in a small voice, ‘It’s going to have to, isn’t it?’