The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen

THIRTY EIGHT The Cave. Blizzard, Night

While thawing out by the fire after shouldering various crewmen aside so he could hold his invisible hands and other extremities closer to the warmth, Skinner donned spare clothing and once again reapplied his white face makeup. He looked like a frozen corpse, but at least he had stopped shivering, unlike Henry Jekyll.

"Ah, the things I do for the Empire." He was deeply disappointed to learn that his comrades had finished the last drops of whiskey in Quatermams hip flask.

When the other League members listened to the scraping whisper of the blizzard outside, Nemo was the first to demand answers. "So, if you weren't among the traitors, how is it you knew to follow Gray?"

"Heh! He was the only one creeping around as much as me." The invisible man turned his ghostly painted face to Mina, and his lips curved in a broad smile. "He has quite a way with him, eh, Mina?"

She didn't answer. She was dressed warmly, though the cold of their surroundings did not seem to affect her anyway.

Sawyer expressed indignation on her behalf. "So why didn't you just tell any of us?"

Skinner snorted at the suggestion. "With all the suspicion on the ship, I knew you'd never believe I wasn't the spy. You've been such dear friends, after all, aheh! So, I did what I'm good at. I thought it best to 'disappear' and wait for the real traitor to show himself."

Minas face remained hard, and she stared at him with icy green eyes across the firelight. "Why not do something to the nautiloid? It sounds as if you had plenty of opportunities."

"I'm invisible, not heroic," Skinner said.

Quatermain shifted his position, mentally reassessing everything they thought they knew. "Skinner, we need your information. What are we dealing with? Tell us everything you saw and learned while you were out sight-seeing."

"Sight-seeing? Why don't you try creeping around naked in the snow for hours?" He scowled at Quatermain's empty silver flask, then grudgingly accepted a cup of fortified tea. "All right, I'll describe everything for you as best I can. That fortress is an awfully big place."

"Where did it come from?" Sawyer asked. "Did M design it himself?"

"It was built long ago by a czar who allied himself with Cossack bandits and warlords in an attempt to conquer Europe and Asia. But they caught him cheating at a gambling game and slit his throat in his sleep. Not very good at thinking ahead, those Cossacks. Without the czar, they were left to do their raping and pillaging across Mongolia on a more customary scale."

"The citadel was abandoned… and M simply couldn't resist its allure. The place has all the amenities a discriminating mad genius bent on world domination could ask for." The invisible man slurped his lukewarm tea. "He's made a few modifications and improvements, of course."

Using words as an artist might use a fine brush, Skinner painted detailed verbal pictures of all he had seen inside. Foundry furnaces stoked by Mongol laborers produced fresh iron for making his weapons of destruction. Sweating and straining in the simmering orange heat, they poured molten metal into large casts. After the molds were quenched and cooled with icy water pumped from the nearby Amur River, muscular laborers used hammers to break the components free. Parts for his war machines.

Chains dangling from winches and pulleys raised the heavy iron pieces and shuttled them over to a maze of lathes, drills, and presses on the factory floor, where they were pieced together. Some workers constructed massive land ironclads, such as the one that had smashed through the Bank of England vault; others assembled monstrous long-barreled cannons, smaller guns, and rocket-launching tubes. Outside in the frigid daylight, teams test-fired the weapons, launching explosive artillery shells and shrieking rockets, using the empty peasant dwellings as makeshift targets.

"Worst of all," Skinner continued, "in the dry dock beneath the fortress, I saw M supervising laborers riveting hull plates in the diabolic heat and shadow. The vessels are still under construction, but soon M will have a fleet of armored submarine warships of his own."

"They've copied my Nautilus, "Nemo said, pained.

"Nautili, actually. Eight of them for now," Skinner said. "But, heh, I'm sure he'll build more."

Even in the firelight, Sawyer's face was flushed with anger. "Nemo, can you fire rockets from your own ship, like you did in Venice? Blow that whole place to Hell?"

"We are out of range, Mr. Sawyer. And all those people inside… surely some of them must be innocent slaves." Nemo turned to Skinner. "What of the kidnapped scientists?"

"M holds their families hostage inside the fortress. The men are forced to work, or the women and children die. Simple and straightforward."

Nemos face darkened with fury, and he shook his head. "Monstrous. I see M has learned much from his barbaric predecessors."

The invisible man rubbed his unseen hands together. "Aheh! That isn't the half of it. M isn't just mechanically inclined when he designs his new weapons. He uses biology, as well. He's forcing the captive scientists to work night and day — to make new versions of us. As if one of me wasn't quite enough."

"What do you mean?" Quatermain said.

"You should see the chemicals and substances he is mass-producing. All distilled from our best — aheh! — traits. He will create invisible spies, an army of Hydes, vampiric assassins… and send them all off to wage war in a fleet of unstoppable submersibles." Skinner turned the tinted lenses of his glasses toward them. "Delightful, eh?"

Jekyll knotted his hands together, and his face sank in dismay. "I won't let my evil infect the world."

"Think any of us feel differently?" Mina looked at her pale palm, where the cut from the broken glass had long since healed, leaving no scar whatsoever. She felt as if Dorian Gray had violated her again.

Sawyer was impatient. "I'm tired of just sitting here in the cold, when we know M is just over there all cozy inside his fortress. What are we going to do?"

"We put an end to him," Nemo said with quiet force.

The invisible man, at least, continued to think pleasant thoughts. "Chimney pipes lace the buildings, factories, and foundries — so a few well-placed bombs in the furnaces would make quite a bang. Heh!" As if in agreement, the wood in the small campfire suddenly crackled and snapped. Skinner held his transparent hands over the warmth. "I know the way down, and I'm least likely to be seen."

"Skinner, I didn't know you were such a barefaced liar." Quatermain surprised the invisible man, then gave him a sly smile. "All this time, declaring you weren't a hero."

"Shut up, or I'll come to my senses." The invisible thief actually seemed embarrassed. "Besides, any more like me, and I lose the franchise."

Tom Sawyer, holding his Winchester rifle, cocked it suddenly with a loud sound. Ready to go, he stood. "That man killed Huck Finn. I'm not gonna let that pass. He's mine."

But Quatermain reluctantly touched the young agents rifle barrel, forced him to lower it. "This cannot be a hunt to the death, lad. Mores the pity." Sawyer looked as if the old adventurer had betrayed him, but Quatermain remained firm. "We must take M alive, if his secrets are to be uncovered."

Mina's green eyes looked feral in the firelight. "Not Gray, though." She stood, like a vengeful spirit rising from the grave. "He's lived long enough."

"I'll handle him—" Sawyer said.

"No," said Mina. "Dorian is… my business."

Sawyer understood and nodded grimly.

The storm outside seemed to be lessening, but their work had just begun. Quatermain said, "M decided that he could use our particular abilities to help him wage war — its time we demonstrate just how right he is. Only we'll be waging war on him."

"Right!" Sawyer shouldered his Winchester. "If we work together, getting into that fortress of his should be a piece of cake."

Quatermain strode to the cave opening and led the way out. "The game is on."