The Vesuvius Club

20. Death by Steam

ALTHOUGH dear Mr Unmann hadn’t furnished me with a precise time, I knew I wouldn’t have to wait long, stuffed like a plug of tobacco in an iron pipe, for my end to come. I also knew that it was ludicrous to think of shinning my way upwards. Even if I could get out of the bonds that imprisoned me, it was clearly a very long way to the surface. No, I had one chance and that was to get down the pipe and into the bomb-chamber.

All this flashed through my head as I sat there, my lungs burning in the airless tube, my head throbbing appallingly as I fought down the urge to panic.

I am no escapologist but had taken the very basic step (heaven bless my tutoring at Lady Cecely Midwinter’s!) of expanding the sinews of my forearms and ankles as much as possible so that, when relaxed, there was at least a little give in the ropes.

I tested that give now and found that it was inexpressibly comforting.

I would not be saved from being boiled alive like a crab in a kettle by having my hands and feet free, however. My immediate priority was to break through the grille upon which I was perched.

Conscious that Unmann and his thugs might still be in the room I began to press down as silently but as hard as I could on the meshed surface. Cramped by the identical grille above me it was almost impossible to get any kind of momentum going but I struggled on, sweat coursing down my body, occasional jets of steam warning me of the horror to come.

I brought both feet down harder and harder on the grille yet it seemed scarcely to yield an inch. Now caring not a whit that my actions might be overheard, I slammed my whole bodyweight on to the grille, grunting in frustration and pain as the heated metal bit into my flesh.

At last I felt a tiny movement. The grille had drooped at one edge. I felt with soaking fingers and touched bare, sharp metal. Elated, I moved my hands towards the break and began to rub my bonds rapidly over it.

From deep below came an ominous rumble.

I had to escape at once! The bonds were tearing. If I didn’t, then I was doomed. They seemed about to give! If only I could get a chance to talk to Bowler. His mania—one rope gone—seemed only for power—a second bond snapped—not the wanton destruction of the whole of Italy —Free!

I manoeuvred myself round in that tiny space and wrenched at the broken grille with my hands. The deep, disquieting rumble, like a giant clearing its phlegm-choked throat, sounded again.

As I forced the grille back upon itself, it sent out a dreadful shriek of tortured metal. Without a second thought I wriggled like a caterpillar into the shaft beneath it and let go.

Under different circumstances it might have proved exhilarating but my head was pounding sickeningly, my arms and legs ached and bled and I was still in imminent danger of tumbling straight into the bowels of that infernal machine.

As it was, I skittered pell-mell through the great iron pipe until I crashed, feet-first into another grille. I sank back and yelled in pain as my knees cracked on impact. A great trembling began in the pipe and red-hot vapour began to bleed upwards through the grille. The steam! The steam was coming!

Where there was another grille there had to be another inspection hatch. I began to kick frantically at the grille beneath me. If I could only get through it and into the next of these cramped chambers, I might effect an escape through the side of the pipe. It mattered not that I might find myself amongst the enemy, that I might even flop out at Venus’s feet, if I didn’t get out of there in minutes I was doomed.

I kicked again and again and still the temperature rose. Sweat seemed to gush from my face and arms as I rolled on to my back and rammed my feet against the metal floor for all I was worth.

Then! A gap! I squeezed myself through, the wire tearing at my flesh and immediately pressed my palms to the hatch. With a shove, the latch broke and the door crashed open. I tumbled through into light.

The cooler air hit me like an Arctic front. I dragged myself out of the pipe and slammed shut the hatch just as a colossal blast of steam came soaring upwards.

Falling to the floor, I pressed the door closed with my feet. I watched the pipe tremble and bulge and rattle, and even through the soles of my shoes I felt a terrible heat rise, then all was quiet.

Scarcely able to believe I was alive, I took stock of my situation. I looked up and saw the pipe extended upwards as far as I could see. Below, through clouds of steam and some kind of gantry I was standing on, I could make out the great volcanic chamber and, at its heart, the convection bomb.

I was on one of the catwalks that criss-crossed the upper levels of that vast, rocky chamber. Incredibly, because of the tremendous noise and confusion all around, I had not been observed.

Reduced to a sodden wreck in shirt-sleeves, I crept along the gantry, stealing occasional glances over the railing at the scene below.

Helmeted men were milling everywhere, checking gauges, monitoring the great motors, affixing God knew what to the great brass globe in which poor Charlie lay. I spotted Bowler, hard at work inside some strange brass and mahogany panel shaped like a church pew. And there were the berobed Venus and Unmann, crossing the floor of the chamber arm in arm, like Bertie and Alexandra on a blasted state visit. They approached the imprisoned quartet of Mrs Knight and the professors and there was some talk and mocking laughter, though I could make out nothing specific above the din. With a final flourish, Venus and Unmann put on their grotesque ritual masks and separated, Unmann towards my side of the cavern, Venus up a spiral staircase and into a small hut that projected from the rock walls like a wasps’ nest.

I kept well-hidden and watched as Unmann quit the chamber through the iron door. I glanced down at the hapless hostages and then over towards the curious hut. Unarmed, I had little chance of blustering my way into it and ending Venus’s deranged plans. But if I could get to Bowler there was just a chance I could convince him of his folly.

And, of course, there was Charlie Jackpot who seemed to require rescuing six times before breakfast.

I sped down the spiral staircase, round and round and round until I emerged, giddy and breathless in the shadowy perimeter of the great cavern. I looked about cautiously then took my chance, sprinting over to the central machine and clambering as silently as possible up on to the dais where the brass globe stood. I spread my hands over the glass panel and peered inside. Charlie caught my eye at once and reached up to bang his fist against the glass. I stayed him with a hushing finger to my mouth then sank down and attempted to hide myself in the lee-side of the object.

I looked quickly about but no one seemed to have detected me. Making an instant examination of the bolts that held the device together, I knew I’d require some kind of tool if I were to release Charlie.

I got to my feet once again, tapped on the glass panel and gestured to Charlie to have patience. Then, I slipped away down the steps and looked about for some method of opening the sphere.

A burly helmeted fellow with a ’kerchief wrapped around his mouth and a rifle around his shoulder was the closest person to me. In a broad brown belt around his ample waist I spotted tools including spanner, screwdrivers and knives.

Noiselessly, I crept up behind him, pulled the spanner from his belt and cracked him over the back of the neck with it. If I had expected him merely to sink to the floor like any reasonable thug I was disappointed. I had forgotten about their immunity to pain. I tried again, even harder but the spanner merely thwacked over his bull-like neck as he turned sluggishly toward me. I really didn’t have time for this. I dropped to the floor, pulled a knife from his belt and, sliced away his hamstrings in one graceful roll. He dropped like a stone. Grabbing the belt, I dragged him over towards the sphere and then planted the knife into his chest as though staking a vampire.

That was the end of him. Sometimes one must be direct.

Relieved, I picked up the spanner and turned towards the sphere.

Bowler was waiting for me.

I raised the spanner above my head and the shocked undertaker ducked. At once, I locked my arm around his throat and dragged him back towards the hissing machines.

«You’re mad!» he cried. «I will be missed!»

«I’ll smash your bloody head to pulp if you don’t listen to me and keep quiet!» I ordered.

Cowed, he held up his hands to the level of his ears and shrugged. «You’re too late anyway, Box. The ceremony will begin in minutes.»

I tossed the spanner to him and poked the end of the guard’s knife into his nose. «Unscrew that thing and get the boy out of there.»

Bowler got to his feet and began to unscrew the glass panel slowly.

«Hurry! Or you’ll be seeing the inside of a pine box damned sooner than me.» I jabbed the knife toward him and his actions grew noticeably quicker. «Now listen to me, Bowler. Venus has lied to you. This bomb will start a chain-reaction that will cause all of Italy’s volcanoes to erupt. It will destroy the entire country.»

«Ha!» Bowler unscrewed another nut and tossed it to the floor. «He would never»

«Wouldn’t he? Now tell me what your evacuation plans are.»

Bowler shrugged. «At the climax of the ceremony, the process will begin and we will be ferried back to the surface.»

I shook my head. «In what? Venus’s trained zombies have been making short work of the lifts, Bowler. There’s no way out for anybody. He wants you all to remain here with him. For his ultimate revenge.»

Bowler took this in and then shook his perspiring head. «Why should I believe you, Box? Venus is an honourable… person, terribly wronged. He will lead us out of the fire and towards glory!»

The panel was off and Bowler lifted it carefully to the floor. Keeping him covered I looked down into the device.

«Charlie!»

Looking tired and ill, the youth began to clamber out of the sphere. «Put it on my tab, Mr Box. Thanks. What do we do now?»

I swung back towards Bowler. «Now we’re going to pay a little call.»

It took only moments for Charlie to change into the dead guard’s clothes and to disguise his face with the sweaty ’kerchief. I tossed him the rifle.

«Lead the way, Mr Bowler. I’m your prisoner.»

I raised my hands and encouraged Charlie to make a good show of threatening me with the rifle. With a deep sigh, Bowler led the way and the three of us advanced through the steaming mess of pipes and machines towards the spiral staircase.

Bowler took out his watch from the pocket of his oil-stained coat. «This is senseless. The countdown will have begun. You are too late.»

«Shut up and move.»

We ascended rapidly and approached the metal landing on which the observation room stood. A solitary guard stood outside the door. Bowler gestured to me and the guard stepped aside. The undertaker knocked and opened the door. Charlie pushed me through in a show of aggression and suddenly we were inside.

The chamber was rather curiously like a signal-box on some suburban railway line. The window was fogged so that the only light in the dim little room came from the multitude of panels and switches that covered the far wall. Sitting in a swivelling red chair was Venus, resplendent in the scarlet robes he had adopted in the Vesuvius Club for that little «rehearsal» I had witnessed.

His delicate white hands were busy at the controls and he glanced over at us absently. «So, Bowler! You have brought us a little present. It seems my dear Cretaceous was not able to finish you off, Signor Box.»

«He very nearly poached me,» I said, taking the rifle from Charlie and advancing on him. «But I’m a resourceful fellow. As you can see.»

Venus’s face fell. «You are too late. The»

«Yes, yes, the countdown has started. I know. But you can stop it from here. Very carefully but very quickly.»

«Or what?» hissed Venus. «You think I fear death? I embrace it! It is my destiny!»

I looked at Bowler. «You see, man? He’s utterly deranged. He has no intention that any of you should leave the volcano.»

Bowler gave a strained laugh. «You’re pathetic! Do you really think that…» He tailed off and his gaze became fixed on Venus who had a strange, messianic smile on his fine features. «Is… is this true?»

Venus threw back his head and laughed. «It will be a glorious end, Signor Bowler. We shall take all of Italy with us!»

Bowler’s hand flew to his mouth. «Oh my God!»

He raced towards the door. Charlie caught him. «Oi! You’re going nowhere, mate.»

Charlie hauled him back into the room. Bowler’s chin was trembling. «But we’ve got to get out of here!»

«We shall stay,» I commanded. «And stop the countdown. All of Italy is at stake. Mr Morraine, will you oblige?»

For answer, Venus merely folded his arms.

«Then if you will not, I shall!» cried Bowler. «You cannot be allowed to destroy us all.»

So saying he dashed across the cabin and began to wrench wires from the machinery. With a roar of rage, Venus was upon him, pummelling Bowler’s face and chest with surprising force. I wasted no more time and shot at the flashing scarlet form. The first bullet hit Venus in the arm and he staggered back. The second tore through the fabric of his robes and bit into the wall.

Clutching his injured flesh, Venus powered past me and, knocking Charlie to the floor, flung open the door and was gone.

«Quickly!» called Bowler, pulling more of the complicated mass of wiring. «The device. If he reaches it, he could still set it off!»

I needed no further encouragement.

«Come on, Charlie!» I urged and we raced from the hut. Charlie took the rifle and shot the helmeted guard dead without breaking his stride. I leant over the staircase and could see Venus’s slim figure flitting through the steam-shrouded pipes towards the sphere. I grabbed the rifle from Charlie, rested it on the iron banister and loosed off a volley of shots.

Venus emerged from the steam with a large group of his opium-sodden drones. He pointed up at us.

«Kill them!» he howled. «Kill them!»

With their curious, sluggish movements, the helmeted fiends began to fire back at us. Charlie picked up the rifle from the dead guard and we careered down the spiral staircase at a fearsome pace, dodging bullets and responding in kind.

«We have to stop him getting to the bomb!» I cried as we reached the base of the steps. We ran in a frenzy across the floor of the chamber until we reached the brass sphere. Venus was nowhere to be seen.

«Mr Box!» gasped Charlie. «Look!»

I noticed in that moment that the glass panel was no longer where Bowler had left it. It was being screwed back into place from within the sphere. His slender frame squashed visibly, Venus lay crouched inside, grinning madly.

He raised his hand and smiled. The crazy fool was waving at us.

Then there came a strange ratcheting sound and the sphere rolled forward like a billiard ball, vanishing into the great bronze pipe.

Despite the noise and the heat and approaching thugs it felt suddenly as if a great hush had descended.

«We’ve failed,» I said quietly.