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A group of wraiths hove into view at the side of the bridge thenwafted away.
A man walked into the path of the omnipede. He was carrying theheadless corpse of a woman slung over his shoulder. As Burtonjammed his heels down, the man looked up and gri
The millipede hit him square on and he vanished beneath itsstampeding legs.
“Idiot!” Burton spat.
The machine ran on, slowed to a scuttle, and came to a stop. Theexplorer hoisted himself out and moved back to Hare.
“I just caught sight of a police cordon at the end of thebridge. It looks like they've blocked off the Strand. We can gethelp.”
Damien Burke groaned and his eyes fluttered open. “You appear tobe injured, Mr. Hare,” he mumbled.
“I am, Mr. Burke. As are you. Don't worry, we haven't far togo.”
He looked at Burton, held out the spine-shooter, and said: “Yourgun, Captain.”
“No, you keep hold of it while I run ahead.”
“But-”
The king's agent jumped to the ground, scooped up a sharp-endedlength of wood, and stalked forward, holding it like a spear, hiseyes stinging as particles of ash and soot drifted into them.
“Oy! You there!” came a shout. “Go home! Get off the streets oryou'll find yourself under arrest!”
“Police?” Burton called.
“Yes.”
“I am Captain Sir Richard Burton.”
“The Livingstone chap? You're joking!”
“I'm perfectly serious, Constable, and please don't ever referto me as ‘the Livingstone chap’ again!”
A uniformed man emerged from the smoke. “Sorry, sir. No offenceintended. And it's sergeant, actually. There's a police cordonbehind me. I'm afraid I can't allow you to pass.”
Burton threw his makeshift weapon aside, dug a hand into hispocket, and pulled out his wallet. From it, he took a card which,approaching the policeman, he held out for inspection.
The sergeant examined it. “Stone the crows!” he exclaimed.“You're rather important!”
“It would seem so,” responded Burton dryly. “I have two injuredmen with me, Sergeant-?”
“Slaughter, sir.”
“Slaughter? Really? How grimly appropriate.”
“Yes, sir. Sergeant Sidney Slaughter at your service.”
“My colleagues are Lord Palmerston's men and they need to get toWhitehall without delay. Can you rustle up an escort?”
“Certainly. Are they back there?”
“Yes. In an omnipede.”
“I'll give you a hand with them. We'll get them to thetollbooths-they mark the edge of the cordon-then I'll arrangetransportation.”
“Thank you.”
They hurried back to the giant insect where they found DamienBurke propped weakly against one of its canopies, brandishing thespine-shooter.
“Thank goodness, Captain,” he gasped. “I appear to have regainedmy wits just as Mr. Hare lost his. However, I fear I may revisitoblivion at any moment. I'm in quite dreadful pain.”
Burton took the gun from him and helped him down to theroad.
“This is Slaughter,” he said.
“I wouldn't go that far, Captain.”
“The sergeant. It's his name.”
“Oh dear.”
The policeman slipped his shoulder under Burke's healthy arm.“Don't worry, I've got a hold of you. Let's be off.”
They staggered away, while Burton climbed onto the omnipede and,employing his great strength, lifted the prone form of Gregory Harefrom the floor. He dragged him down the steps then followed afterthe policeman.
A couple of minutes later there came a hail.
“Hey! Sergeant! Over here! I say! Is that you, CaptainBurton?”
“Yes, who's that? Come and give me a hand!”
The haze parted as Constable Bhatti stepped out of it.
“Ah! Hallo there!” Burton said.
“Hello, Captain. Strewth! Who're these two?”
“Palmerston's men.”
Slaughter lowered Burke and said to Burton: “Lay your managainst the booth here.” He called to a nearby colleague:“Constable Peters, dash off and fetch a carriage, would you?” Thenhe turned to Burke: “I'll run you both to a hospital.”
“No,” Burke responded hoarsely. “We need to get to Whitehall.I'll give you the address.”
“But you need your wounds seen to, man!”
“We'll get medical assistance there. Please, do as I say.”
Slaughter shrugged. “Very well, sir.”
Constable Bhatti muttered, in a low voice: “Captain, I saw Mr.Swinburne a little while ago and managed to snatch a quick wordwith him. He was with Herbert Spencer-and disguised as an urchin.They were on the trail of a fellow named Doyle.”
“How long ago? Any idea where they were headed?”
“Perhaps an hour, and to the Cheshire Cheese tavern on FleetStreet.”
“Good. Maybe they're still there.”
“If you're going to follow, I recommend you take the same routethey did-along the Embankment and up Farringdon Street. It's alittle less direct but whatever you do, don't try to pass throughthe Strand. There are monsters ru
“Monsters? What do you mean?”
“I don't know what they are. One has been glimpsed through thesmoke. Huge, apparently. We tried to do a recce by air but ourrotorchairs dropped like stones. We lost four men. Then we tried tofly swans over the area but they panicked as soon as they got nearand flapped off in the other direction, taking their drivers withthem. Only our ru
“Wrong? What do you mean?”
“He seems, um-how shall I put it?-even more incomprehensiblethan usual.”
“Ah. Yes. My fault. I mesmerised him. I'm sure the side effectswill wear off in due course.”
“Mesmerised! Why?”
“I believe this rioting is being instigated by some sort ofmediumistic transmission. I was trying to shield him againstit.”
“Phew!” Bhatti exclaimed. “I wish you'd stay and give mycolleagues the same treatment. We've had men going off half-cockedabout Roger Tichborne, men ru
“And you, Constable? How are you faring?”
“I've had a throbbing skull since this chaos began but I'llsurvive. Is that the carriage I hear?”
“I believe so. Will Burke and Hare be taken care of?”
“Yes, Captain, Sergeant Slaughter will get them to where theyneed to go.”
Burton turned to Palmerston's men, both of whom were consciousnow, both slumped against the side of a tollbooth.
“I'm going to leave you in Sergeant Slaughter and ConstableBhatti's capable hands, fellows.”
“Right you are, sir,” Damien Burke said. “Incidentally, we nevergot the chance to ask: was our mission successful?”
“It was. My thanks to you both.”
“Good luck, Captain.”
Burton gave a nod of his head, slapped Bhatti's shoulder, noddedto Slaughter, and ran off into the swirling haze. He sprinted tothe end of the bridge, past constables who, having learned of hispresence, allowed him through the cordon, then descended the stepsto the Albert Embankment, which he followed eastward.
The foul stench of the Thames enveloped him as he ran, theexertion causing him to gulp lungfuls of the poisonous,particle-laden air. He started to cough, his eyes and nosestreamed, and when he reached the end of Middle Temple Lane, hestopped, bent double, and spewed black vomit into the gutter.
His head was spi
He pushed on.
Time and again he saw wraiths but only two actual men tried toaccost him and both went down in an instant with cactus spines intheir thighs.
He reached Farringdon and moved in a northerly direction alongthe thoroughfare, away from the reek of the river. There were fewerbuildings ablaze here and the smoke cleared somewhat, allowing hima better view of the abandoned street.