Black Knight

  Also by

  The Inventory: Iron Fist

  The Inventory: Gravity

  TO MUM –

  THE WORLD’S BEST – KEPT SECRET!

  Contents

  Cover

  Dedication

  It’s A Kind Of Magic

  The Retrieval

  Bringing the House Down

  Expansion

  Wan-Soo

  Aaron

  Riya

  Doors

  The Black Knight

  In Seine

  Counter-Measures

  See the Unseen

  The Rig

  Failure Overview

  Do You See What I See?

  Off the Grid

  Into the Light

  Storm Warning

  The Assessor

  Guess Who’s Back

  Tunnel Runners

  A Voice in the Dark

  The Call

  The Summons

  Rocket Man

  Memory Lane

  The Climb

  Bring in the Decoys

  The Eclipse

  Left in the Lurch

  Into the Wild Black Yonder

  Land of the Giants

  A Leap of Destiny

  The Only Line of Escape

  What is Normal Anyway?

  Copyright

  Since arriving at Waterloo station, Stephan Ebert had marvelled at London as it passed by his carriage window. Everything looked so magnificent, so brash … so new. 1897 was turning into an exciting year and, as the British Empire slowly headed towards a whole new century, there was a tangible air of excitement and optimism. It was a far cry from his home in Prussia.

  He withdrew the letter from his breast pocket, unfolded the expensive vellum sheet and reread it for the hundredth time. It intrigued him. Even the bold logo at the top of the letterhead hinted at secrets to be told:

  THE COMPANY OF MERCHANT ADVENTURERS

  The name was known only in certain quarters. Under Queen Victoria’s reign Chartered Companies had wielded great power, even governing British colonies abroad, whereas the Merchant Adventurers were an odd exception, having kept a low profile.

  Stephan’s horse-drawn carriage clip-clopped through the spider’s web of streets, and he was thankful that his driver knew their destination or he feared he’d be lost in the metropolis. However, when they arrived at the townhouse, he began to wonder if his driver had made a mistake. There was no logo or emblem indicating this was the home of such a worthy institution. Just a dark blue door.

  Stephan scratched his hawk-like nose and wondered if he’d arrived at the wrong address. Nervously, he approached the heavy door and raised his hand to rap for attention. There was no need; the door opened before he could touch it, and his clenched hand almost followed through to punch the butler waiting for him on the other side.

  “Herr Ebert,” said the butler without flinching from the near-miss. He gestured inside. “If you would be so good.”

  Stephan stepped across the threshold and into an elegant hallway. A marble staircase coiled upwards before him, decorated with gold-plated gas lamps that burned despite the light flowing through the tall street-facing windows. The walls were decorated with oil paintings depicting far-off lands, magnificent clippers, and even the surface of the moon.

  Stephan didn’t have time to study them as the butler strode towards a far set of double doors, over which a coat of arms stood proud.

  “This way, sir.”

  The doors opened up into a lavish library, with bookshelves stretching twice the height of a man, requiring mahogany stepladders to reach the uppermost shelves. In the centre of the library stood an elderly gentleman, with a scraggly long grey beard. He leaned on a cane as he examined an exquisite timepiece on the mantle.

  “That’s a fine clock, sir.”

  The man whirled around and his eyes lit up when he saw Stephan.

  “Stephan!” cried the man as if they were old friends. “Thank you for coming.”

  Puzzled, Stephan accepted the man’s tight embrace.

  “Sir William?” It was the name at the bottom of his summons, the only contact he had in the Company.

  “Yes, yes.” Then he patted the timepiece. “But this is no clock. It’s a rather rare and curious antique from Greece.” The man looked Stephan up and down, taking in every detail – from the handsome raised cheekbones to the neat point his widow’s peak formed on his forehead. Despite his age there was a young twinkle in his eyes. “Of course, you don’t remember me, do you? I was a friend of your father’s. Oh, I remember you though. I met you dozens of times when I was in Königsberg, although you were much younger. About yea high,” he said, using his cane to point at Stephan’s waist. “Now you are the picture of your father.” Stephan accepted the compliment with a gentle inclination of his head. “I believe you have become something of an expert on solar astronomy?”

  “Merely amateur work, sir, but I and a few others are making startling discoveries about sunspots and how they create a phenomenon known as electromagnetism.”

  “As discovered by Oersted over seventy years ago.”

  Stephan was impressed. There was clearly more to Sir William than met the eye.

  The old man tapped his cane on the floor. “I may be old, Herr Ebert, but I have an inquisitive mind. Tell me, do you recall Alexander Graham Bell’s invention, some sixteen years ago? He called it a metal detector. It utilized electromagnetism to find concealed metal objects. The Company” – Sir William arced his cane through the air to indicate the building around them – “has a very specific agenda. One we are keen to pursue.”

  Stephan allowed Sir William to guide him to a metal pyramid, some four feet tall, that had been positioned on the floor. “Imagine being able to use such a device to search for metals, but over a large area. A county, or perhaps an entire country.”

  “To find what, precisely?”

  Sir William grinned mischievously. “Buried treasure.”

  Stephan was confused by the way Sir William weaved through topics. “Your letter was scant on detail, sir.”

  “That’s because I don’t have the words to adequately describe what you are about to see.” He rapped the pyramid with his cane. It gave a hollow clang. “This Company received its charter from Henry IV, would you believe, back in 1407. But it was far older than that. We started off overseeing trade, but our interests expanded. As did our resources. Yet our mandate stayed the same: look for new opportunities, new ways to keep the Empire’s coffers full and keep Britain great.”

  “Pardon me, sir, but Prussia is not part of your Empire. Nor do we have ambitions to be so.”

  Sir William laughed. “Of course not. But Prussia has you. And you are the leader in your field of expertise.”

  Stephan was not used to hearing such praise and his cheeks glowed with embarrassment. “I am only an astronomer. And as such have no idea why I am here.”

  Sir William gave him a curious look from under his bushy eyebrows. “All scientific disciplines are connected. We require experts from all areas. You are here because of this.”

  He tapped the pyramid again, this time two precise knocks that signalled the opening of a door at the end of the room. Two men entered: a suited gentleman, who led a spaniel on a lead, and younger man wearing thick rubber dungarees who looked as if he’d be more at home on the footplate of a steam engine. He carried a metal flask with a nozzle at one end and Stephan noted he moved with slow, deliberate movements, as if the contents of the flask would explode at the slightest jolt.

  “Allow me to introduce Mr One and Mr Two.” Both men nodded their heads in greeting.

  Stephan raised an eyebrow. “Peculiar names.”

  “Secrecy is imperative at the Company. If y
ou please, Mr One.”

  Mr One opened a hatch on the side of the pyramid and coaxed the dog inside.

  “Come on, Pippin. There’s a good boy.”

  The spaniel’s tail wagged as he obligingly lay inside, his chin resting on his front feet, his big brown eyes locked on his master. Mr One scratched the dog’s head and gently closed the hatch.

  Sir William noticed Stephan’s uncomfortable look. “Don’t worry, the animal has done this many times before. Mr Two, please demonstrate.”

  Mr Two pointed the flask at the pyramid and squeezed the nozzle. Nothing happened. He tried again. Still nothing. With a sigh, he began prodding the nozzle.

  “Sorry, sirs,” he said in a thick Cockney accent. “Mechanism’s gone an’ jammed up. I’ll have it goin’ in a jiffy.”

  Sir William treated Stephan to an embarrassed smile. “New technology. There’s always something that goes wrong.”

  From a distance, Stephan circled the pyramid, examining it as best he could. “What is it made of?”

  “Just iron. That’s not what’s special.” Sir William nodded at his two assistants who were still examining the nozzle. “But that is.”

  “Careful,” warned Mr One as his colleague angrily twisted the nozzle.

  “I know what I’m—”

  The nozzle suddenly snapped off in Mr Two’s hand.

  “ONLY A LITTLE!” screamed Mr One, but his warning came too late.

  A large glob of red liquid squirted from the flask, spattering across one side of the pyramid. For a moment nothing seemed to happen. Then, as the liquid changed from red to black, the painted side of the pyramid suddenly tilted to face the ceiling. They could hear the dog barking in reaction to the sudden movement as the pyramid floated two feet in the air.

  “That’s incredible!” breathed Stephan. “Is it a kind of magic?”

  Sir William shook his head. “Magic is just poor man’s science.”

  His words were barely out when the rest of the paint splatter turned black and the pyramid shot upwards like a bullet, smashing through the ceiling in a shower of wood and plaster.

  “PIPPIN!” yelled Mr One in despair as they all crowded to look through the huge hole.

  The pyramid had punctured through all five floors of the building and through the roof. They could just see it accelerating skyward – Pippin’s howls fading as it disappeared through the low cloud cover.

  Stephan’s jaw hung open in astonishment.

  “Where’s it going?”

  When nobody answered he looked at Sir William and repeated the question. Sir William merely smiled, then used his cane to point upwards.

  The old aircraft hangar was one of the smallest in the aerodrome, with barely enough space to house a pair of private jets and the associated repair crew. Today, however, there were no aircraft, just variously sized crates stacked around the edge of the building. A team of four men and women swiftly hammered together new crates in the centre of the room, each specifically constructed to fit the items placed inside.

  With a rumble, the hangar door partially opened and a figure wearing a black polo neck, blue jeans and a white sports coat entered. He sported a small satchel over his shoulder and wireless headphones playing eighties electronic music just loud enough to drown out the constant hammering and screech of buzz saws.

  The man went by the name of Lee. It wasn’t his real name of course, just the nickname he had been assigned working for an international criminal organization. He was, he was proud to say, a thief of some distinction.

  As he approached the workers, one of the women noticed him and immediately laid down her tools to greet him. She shook his hand and spoke in an Australian accent.

  “You arrived quicker than I anticipated!”

  “If you found it like you said, then nothing’s gonna keep me away.” Lee pulled off his aviator shades and eagerly looked around. “Is it really here?”

  The woman’s eyes lit up as she nodded. “Oh yes. And it works. Come.”

  Lee took a deep breath. Finally, he thought, after pulling off the most daring heist in history, he was finally close to the prize.

  She led him to a large workbench, covered in a variety of gadgets and devices. Lee placed his satchel under the table and studied the man sat at a computer, diligently cataloguing each item. “Gustav, show him.”

  Gustav looked at Lee with an expression that was close to that of hero worship. “Hey! Is it really you? I am in awe of your work!” He held out a hand that Lee noticed was dripping with grease from a half-eaten burger sitting next to the computer. Lee made no motion to shake it, but that didn’t lessen Gustav’s enthusiasm. “You were really down there? In the Inventory?”

  “Yes.”

  “What was it like?”

  Lee considered for a few moments before answering. “Deadly.”

  The answer seemed to satisfy Gustav and he returned to his computer, rapidly typing on the greasy keyboard.

  “It’s taking us for ever to catalogue everything you stole from there. This is just a small batch of what we recovered. We don’t even know what most of them do, and that’s slowing us down.”

  “Well, I’m so sorry,” said Lee in a voice dripping with sarcasm. “We only had minutes to loot what we could, so, you know, organization wasn’t the top of our priorities.”

  “Here it is,” said Gustav, calling up an item on the database. “Item four-twenty-six.” He turned in his seat – but then stopped and looked curiously at Lee. “How did you do it? Thousands of items snatched in minutes. That’s some awesome magic trick.”

  Lee hesitated. Even inside a top-secret organization such as Shadow Helix, rumours spread. What the Collector, Lee and the others had achieved was talked about in hushed voices and always with a sense of awe.

  “Portable holes,” Lee finally said. “But not like the small hole you can slap on the wall so you can pass your hand through. These were quantum wormholes.” He couldn’t help but smile when he saw Gustav’s uncomprehending frown. “Specially made. In theory they expanded so we could sweep up a whole zone in one hole – which is like the end of a worm’s burrow. Then we transported it through the tunnel, ignoring tedious things such as rock, time and space, and dropped it all out at the other end.”

  Gustav nodded. “I think I understand.”

  “The problem is … well, it didn’t work quite as reliably as we needed. Some items, quite a lot of them, just ended up randomly scattered across the globe. And the ones we did receive arrived in such a jumble…” He gestured around the warehouse, indicating that was why the team was working so hard to organize them. “So, where is it?”

  “Oh, yes. Here.” Gustav rolled his chair across to a pile of creates and selected one no bigger than a wine case. 426 had been scorched on to its side by a laser. He handed it to Lee.

  Lee took a deep breath and held it as he slid the top of the case off. Nestled inside in packing foam was an oblong of black Bakelite, with three large dials cast in the centre.

  “The Teslator. It really exists.”

  He carefully lifted it from its packaging and ran a finger lovingly along the edge. It was a unique: a priceless key in the task ahead.

  He rotated the first dial clockwise and felt a heavy click as it turned. A small white light flickered to life. Next, Lee rotated the second dial, noting the radio frequencies painted on to the device, most of which had faded over the years. As it fell on a specific frequency a regular tone began to pulse from a speaker sunk in the end of the device. It wasn’t particularly loud or extraordinary – but its significance made Lee shudder so hard he expelled his breath in one long sigh.

  Gustav smiled and tapped the device. “Exactly. I checked the position and the phase-sync. It hasn’t been altered. That’s a signal nobody’s heard for at least sixty years.”

  “This is it,” Lee muttered quietly. “This is exactly what I have been searching for.”

  He switched the power off and quickly placed the Teslator back in the ca
se.

  “Shall I inform headquarters?” said the woman from just behind Lee. She had been so silent that he’d forgotten she was still there.

  Lee shook his head. “No. Shadow Helix doesn’t want this broadcast over the airwaves. I will deal with this myself.”

  He replaced the lid on to the case, put on his shades and pushed them up the bridge of his nose.

  “Thank you. You guys have been awesome. I’m sending a very cool reward your way.”

  “Is it a new car?” Gustav rubbed his hands in anticipation.

  “Oh, it’s better than a car! You’ll explode with delight, believe me!” Lee gave Gustav and the woman a polite nod before he walked briskly out of the hangar.

  His grip on the case tightened as he approached the private jet waiting for him. By the time he placed a foot on the plane’s airstairs the powerful bomb that had been in his satchel exploded. He stopped to look back as a huge orange fist of flame brought the hangar’s curved roof down, further fuelling the conflagration.

  Lee gave an easy smile as he called up to the crew inside the plane who had gathered at the door to watch.

  “Alert Shadow Helix – the processing centre has been destroyed, all staff lost. Tell them it was a terrible accident.”

  Dev could see the corridor stretching out before him. It had the same bland feel as the others inside the Inventory, except these were hexagonal in shape. He had the memory of turning left through a door that hissed open as he drew near and he knew, just simply knew, what lay beyond – except the memory was like trying to recall a dream after waking up too quickly.

  Then a ball struck the side of his head so hard he toppled sideways into the mud and went temporarily deaf in that ear. All memories of walking down this alien corridor vanished as he realized he was playing football in school on a particularly chilly day.

  Dev picked himself up and rubbed his ear, which throbbed to the touch. He looked up to see Mason high-fiving the boy who had kicked the ball.

  “Good save, Dev,” said Mr Crapper, his unfortunately named PE teacher. He was a pleasant man most of the time, but woe betide anybody who dared make a joke out of his name. Dev had seen even the toughest Year Eleven students buckle under his wrath. “Except maybe next time don’t use your head as a goalpost.”