Part 13 (1/2)

”Lucky me,” I said.

The last of my money got us one way tickets to Budapest, with stops and changeovers in Cambrai, Brussels, Stuttgart, Munich and Graz. I'd come this way as a young man sent to war. I'd taken the opposite path home as an older, more cynical man. When I'd first ventured south, I'd been fleeing the life of a cobbler, fleeing the life of a man who never left the grit and horses.h.i.+t of the city streets. I was fleeing my father and his life. When we're young, often we don't know the value of what we have. I loved my father despite hating his life. I joined the service to see the greater empire and claim adventure. My father died in the five years I spent adrift. He died and no one in my family knew how to reach me. I came back to a city lessened by his absence and stayed because my military service taught me that there is no such thing as the better place. All the places we live in our lives are tainted by the pettiness of human interest and the only happiness is that which we make for ourselves, independent of location.

Mary and I boarded our train in France. We played the role of the married couple poorly. Our relations.h.i.+p was too fresh. We held hands, we kissed openly, and we did not exhibit the tired silence of a couple long wed.

I let my mind wander to that time of old marriage, if we reached it. I saw us getting to Budapest. An acquaintance of mine from the army ran an inn in the English expatriate section of town. I'd find work with him, guarding the door, breaking fights, making sure the employees were not dipping into the till; basic strongman work. I'd play the role of the thug and Mary and I would find a little home for ourselves, an inexpensive flat. She would take to nesting, hanging cheap marketplace rugs on the walls. She would master Hungarian delicacies. Each morning I'd come home from work to the smells of cinnamon and c.u.min and b.u.t.tered flaky pastry. She would grow fat and heavy with child. Not on purpose, but not by surprise either. We would have a little girl, who I'd name Irene after my mother.

I'd start acquiring the tools of a boot maker. Start moving away from strongman work, because violent hands are not meant for the fathers of children. I have an intimate knowledge of cobblers' tools; welting stands and lasting stands, puller bars, cutters, snips, and stamps. I'd use our flat as a shop, creating decorative boots for market retailers. Eventually I'd open a shop of my own and Mary would have another child, a son to go with our daughter. I would teach him how to make boots and how to be a man. My daughter I would love unconditionally, though I can't imagine what I'd have to teach her. Our pa.s.sion for each other would recede, but we'd build a friends.h.i.+p through the raising of our children. We'd grow old, our children would grow old, and all things would be well in our beautiful simple lives.

I saw this dream in my mind like a kinescope collage of moving images. Everything was real, everything came true and happened and our lives were no longer burdened with fear and desperation. I was convinced that I'd been granted a premonition, that Mary and I would get away, would gain our lives and our freedom.

We were captured two days into our travels.

Twelve.

Charles Darwin Discusses the Difficulties of Life and Travel Mary and I switched trains at the Munich Central Station. We were seated in third cla.s.s amongst the common folk. Like travelers on our way to country families or transplanting to separate jobs or doing whatever it is regular people do when they are not fugitives.

I should have known; perhaps in the back of my mind I did know. It was a foregone conclusion that we would be found.

I left Mary to use the car lavatory. It was short, cramped, and set up like a hall closet with a toilet installation. The lav smelled wrong, but this was not unusual. Lavs tend to not be homes of pleasant scents. What was unusual was the type of smell, a faint whiff of circus animals, manure of horses and elephants and other strange beasts. I hadn't smelled anything like it since Darwin's office.

Walking back to our seats, I caught Mary's eye. She was pale and panicked; she shook her head as if to tell me to run away, to flee. Mr. Stevens, Darwin's personal secretary, sat next to Mary, blocking her into the window seat. A gazette lay open across his lap and hands. I tucked my hand into my jacket and clutched the handle of my Colt Army.

”Excuse me, mate.” I drew back the hammer of my pistol. Stevens looked up from his paper.

”You're in my seat,” I said.

”Am I?” Stevens c.o.c.ked whatever pistol lay under his gazette. ”No need to get upset,” he said. ”There's a much better seat waiting for you in the luxury caboose. Our employer would like to speak with you.”

”If you...” I started. Stevens interrupted me.

”If you don't get moving things are going to turn b.l.o.o.d.y chaotic here. If our employer meant you harm you would not have the benefit of seeing my face. Now be a good fellow, and I'll keep an eye on your missus.” Stevens winked at Mary.

I tightened my grip on the pistol and looked at her. She saw my eyes, my hand, my face, and knew more about my intentions than any mind reader could have gleaned. It was at that moment that I truly fell in love with her.

Mary shook her head. I released my gun and withdrew my hand from my jacket.

”Good decision, mate. See you soon.” Stevens returned to reading his paper. I went about-face and made the long walk to the back of the train. We were six cars from the rear. Dining, baggage, pa.s.sengers, a group of soldiers; everything in the world stood between me and the slow walk to my destination.

A lean Arabic guard lounged outside the luxury cabin. He opened my jacket, regarded my firearms and beckoned me through the door. It was strange to me that I wasn't disarmed. What game was Darwin playing?

The caboose was adorned with lavender papered walls, thick carpet, overstuffed couches and a crystal chandelier that jostled with the train's b.u.mps and shakes. Bram Stoker sat on one of the couches, Charles Darwin on another. A second Arabic guard stood behind Darwin, motionless, expressionless. Stoker and Darwin were drinking giant snifters of brandy.

”Mr. Fellows!” Stoker rose and offered me his hand. I didn't take it.

”How did you find me, Darwin?”

Darwin looked into his amber gla.s.s. He examined the brandy like a gypsy regarding a crystal ball, like a mystic source of knowledge and answers.

”Mr. Fellows, do you know how much of an imposition it is for a man of my age to travel? And the expense of traveling with suitable accommodations is... substantial. If it weren't for the fact that my good friend Bram has an investigative a.s.signment in Transylvania...” Darwin nodded at Stoker. ”Well, I would be much more upset than I am.”

”How did you find me?”

Darwin waved his stick fingers to dismiss my question as though it was beneath him.

”At some point in time, I a.s.sume Lord Barnes told you his all-encompa.s.sing hypothesis of humanity. How greatness is dictated by breeding, schooling, luck, and specialty?”

”I heard him say something to that effect.”

”His absurd little bit of science is really the genesis of our rivalry. I've long said that man's greatness is nothing more than his survivability. A young man can attend the best schools and die of tuberculosis before reaching adulthood. Well-bred parents can produce monsters. We see this in the royal families of Spain. Luck is a fool's notion; it does not exist. All the world runs on cause and effect. If you are run over by a horse, it is because you stepped in its path, not because the forces of fortune are conspiring against you. And specialty, while useful, does not make up the entire equation. Specialty is food without water, bread without yeast, rain without cover. Survivability takes in all factors and focuses on results. The better man is the man who can survive the longest. Take yourself and Abraham Silver for example. He was an employee of mine, set against Barnes. You were two men of similar skills given similar tasks. In all things he seemed your superior. He was elegant, well-spoken, better educated, and less restricted to moral attachments. And yet here you stand before me while he rots in a pine wood box. You are the survivor, thus you are the greater man.”

”Get to the point, Darwin. I'm not here for your lectures.”

”You asked a question, Mr. Fellows. You cannot ask a question without receiving a thorough answer. Here is mine. I know how to find you because I see everything.”

”Pardon?”

”I see everything. I told you a moment ago that there is no such thing as luck. It would be more accurate to say there is no such thing as chaos. Ours is an orderly universe. Every event, every action and reaction is predictable. If you strike a ball with your hand the exact same way with the exact same strength over and over again it will always fly in the same direction. If this train strikes another train, the damage will be based solely on the speed of both vehicles and the point of impact. We accurately predict the days and seasons based on movement of our planet around the sun. We predict rain based on cloud formations and the better our view the more accurate our prediction. There is no such thing as chaos, Mr. Fellows. There is simply what we can observe and what we cannot observe.”

”That's not true. I've been to war. Some men were lucky and survived. Some men had no luck. They were consumed by illness or torn by blades or bullets. We all went the same way but some of us came home and some of us didn't.”

”Mr. Fellows, it is predictable that men will die in war. They always have. It is predictable that there will be survivors. There always have been. And if you were to put in front of me a regiment of men, I could unfailingly tell you which ones would come home and which ones wouldn't. I could see which ones were faster, which ones were smarter, which ones were too brave or of weak const.i.tution- all elements for accurate prediction. This is my gift. This is why I can look at trees and animals and tell you their accurate ancestry; this is why I knew that you would flee London and seek Mr. Alder Clemens of Budapest. I have access to your Central Bureaucracy file, I know your service record, and I've observed you personally. You cannot take an action that I cannot accurately predict.”

I pulled my pistol from my holster and pointed it Darwin. b.o.l.l.o.c.ks to order over chaos! Darwin did not look alarmed.

”You won't shoot me because you care about Mary. This is not a difficult thing to predict either. You have taken risks for her before, held her own safety above your own. That includes coming to this very cart instead of fleeing the train or attacking my secretary.”

I put my gun away. Darwin was right. Any action I did now was tempered by my desire to keep Mary safe. That was my main priority.

”I had a good idea where you were going. The rest was just confirming your location through contacts and setting up this meeting.”

”What do you want with me?”

”Our little game is not done. You are not done. We have much to do. Lord Barnes has been hurt. Taking the Bow Street Firm from him is the most damage I've ever done. He is on the ropes, but he is not finished. Lord Barnes is a worthy opponent. He has gone to ground. He has found a hiding place that I have yet to uncover, so I must draw him out. Or rather, you must draw him out.”

”I thought you could see everything. Why can't you see him?”

”Lord Barnes has similar skills as myself, though not as well practiced. He has hidden himself in a place I cannot reach, and yet I know he will surface to come for you.”

”Why me?”

”Jacques Nouveau is dead. He was slain by an a.s.sa.s.sin's bullet in his workshop the morning after Bow Street burned. With Nouveau gone, you are his next target, then Bram, then Stevens. These are the players of this game and when he has finished with them, when he has eliminated everyone who has any knowledge of Saxon's automatons, he will have held me to a tie. He will hunt for you. He will find you. He will send men against you.”

”I'm your bait?”