Prince Albert said, “Come, along, dearest.”
“I will not.” The Queen tore her hand free. “Britain is in danger. I can’t run off like a ninny and hide. I must defend my kingdom.”
I heard Slade stifle a groan. The Queen’s contrary nature had asserted itself at the worst possible time. Dr. Kavanagh frowned because attention had shifted away from him.
“It’s not necessary for you to be here,” Prince Albert said. “I will help Mr. Slade resolve the situation peacefully.”
The Queen swelled with wrath. “Are you saying that you and Mr. Slade can accomplish that better than I can?”
Prince Albert winced; he realized he’d touched a sore point. “Of course not. But you’re the Queen. If anything happens to you, what will become of Britain?”
“Why should anything happen to me?” the Queen said, in high dudgeon now. “Why do you assume that I’ll fail?”
“Think of the children,” Prince Albert pleaded. “Do not put their mother in danger.”
The Queen hesitated, torn between her duty as a monarch and her love for her children. Then her plump, girlish face hardened into mature lines. “There are times for being a mother and times for being a soldier. This is the latter sort of time. I will stay.” She embodied the spirit of her ancestors who’d ridden into battle at the forefront of their armies. At that moment she looked like Henry VIII. “You go.”
“I can’t leave you.” The prince was aghast.
“You will take care of the children. That’s an order.”
Prince Albert was stunned; evidently his wife had never pulled rank on him so harshly before. “Well, then…”
Dr. Kavanagh interrupted: “I’m going ahead with my demonstration. Stay and watch it or not.”
“Go!” the Queen urged Prince Albert. “Now!”
He lumbered away, casting a worried look over his shoulder. The Queen turned to Dr. Kavanagh. “There’s no need for a demonstration. I believe your theory about diseases. I believe that your invention is as wonderful as you claim. Your scientific achievement is duly recognized.”
Even as I admired her for her courage and her astute assessment of what to say to placate him, Kavanagh said, “Your recognition isn’t good enough.”
Her eyebrows went up. “Why not? I am the highest authority in the land.”
“Lord Eastbourne tried to sweep me and my discovery under the rug.” Kavanagh bent an accusing stare on the Queen. “What’s to say that you won’t?”
Drawing herself up, her head high, she said. “I swear on the throne.”
Her oath rang with the full augustness of her royal blood, but Kavanagh only frowned, toying with his matches. He absently set down the jar.
The soldiers rushed at him. Slade said, “No! Don’t!”
Kavanagh screamed, gathered up his bomb, and clasped it to his chest.
“If you break the jars, we’ll be infected and the entire Crystal Palace will be contaminated,” Slade said.
Even as the soldiers skidded to a halt, Stieber fired his gun. The Queen shrieked. One soldier spun, fell, and lay still. A wet patch spread on his uniform jacket. The other soldier gaped with shock. He was a middle-aged man who’d probably spent years guarding the royal family but never experienced a crisis like this. Confused, he aimed the rifle at Kavanagh.
“Do not shoot him,” Stieber said. “Drop your weapon and walk away.” He needed Kavanagh alive, for the Tsar. He aimed his gun at the Queen. “Do as I say, or I’ll shoot Her Majesty.”
She gasped. The soldier let his rifle fall and reluctantly departed. Stieber said to Kavanagh, “If you give me the bomb and come with me to Russia, the Tsar will give you your own laboratory.”
Awe, disbelief, and yearning combined in Kavanagh’s expression. “He would do that?”
“Yes,” Stieber said.
“I’ll top that offer,” Slade said, and looked to the Queen. “With Your Majesty’s permission.”
“You have it,” she said. “Proceed.”
“Not only will we give you a laboratory,” Slade told Kavanagh, “you’ll have unlimited funds for your research.”
Kavanagh listened, as rapt and wishful as a little boy at Christmas, looking at toys in a shop window. Setting his bomb on the floor, he glanced from Slade to Stieber. I wished I could do something to sway his decision, to avert disaster.
“Oh, don’t be so stingy!” the Queen scolded Slade. She said to Kavanagh, “I’ll put Britain’s best scientists at your disposal, to assist you with your work. I’ll create a new Royal Scientific Society and appoint you head of it.” She seemed to understand better than anyone Kavanagh’s need for affirmation of his importance. “And you’ll give lectures about your discoveries to Parliament.”
Emotion choked Kavanagh. “Such riches are laid before me. But it’s too late.” He burst into tears. He smiled a sickly smile filled with pain. “I’m dying.”
Stieber blinked as enlightenment struck him. “He has the disease?”
“Yes,” Slade said.
George Smith, Mr. Thackeray, and the Queen shrank away from Kavanagh, fearing contagion. Stieber cut his eyes at Slade. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Would it have made any difference if I had?” Slade said.
Stieber didn’t bother answering. “Come with me, Dr. Kavanagh. Share your knowledge with the Russian scientists before you die. The Tsar will give you a state funeral, with your body embalmed in a glass coffin and the Russian army parading you through the streets of Moscow.”
Kavanagh sobbed. “I have two more days to live, at most. I wouldn’t make it to Russia in time.”
“Give us the bomb,” Slade said, “and we’ll have your state funeral here in England.”
“Miss Bronte and I will write your life story together,” Mr. Thackeray said. “She’s a famous authoress, I’m a famous author, and everyone will read about your great scientific breakthrough.”
“I’ll publish your biography,” George chimed in. “I own a major publishing house, I should mention. I’ll flood the country with copies of the book. Your face will be on the covers, in every bookstore in Britain.”
“You’ll be immortalized,” Slade said.
“Immortalized.” Kavanagh’s voice was hushed; his eyes shone with tears and rapture. “It’s what I always wanted.” For a moment I thought he would capitulate. We were all paralyzed by suspense. I felt hope in the air. We waited… until Kavanagh’s habitual distrust returned. “But when I’m dead, I won’t know whether you kept your word. Instead of giving me the honors I deserve, you might just relegate me to obscurity.” His ghastly expression showed how much he dreaded that fate. “No. I won’t be bought by promises. I must go ahead with my original plan. Then I can die happy, because everyone will know what I’ve done.”
He struck a match. With trembling hands he applied the flame to the fuse.
42
The fuse caught fire. It began to burn. The flame reflected in Niall Kavanagh’s spectacles. Kneeling before his bomb, he had the reverent look of a saint witnessing a divine visitation. For an instant, the rest of us watched in motionless, horrified silence. The next instant, everything happened so fast that I barely had time to register who did what and when.
Slade exclaimed, “Your Majesty! Run!”
She tried to, but stumbled on her skirts. George Smith rushed to help her. Supported on his arm, she ran with him, but tripped again and fell, bringing George down with her. Slade charged toward the bomb. So did Stieber. He didn’t want the bomb to explode, kill him, and foil the Tsar’s plot against England, but neither did he want Slade to gain possession of the device. Before Slade could throw himself on the fuse and smother the flame, Stieber rashly gave in to his desire to destroy Slade. He fired the pistol.
I screamed, “Look out!” But I was too late. Slade dropped as if the bullet had cut his legs out from under him. A shout of pain burst from him as he landed with a heavy thud, on his side, before he reached Kavanagh. He tried to raise himself, his hands slipping in blood that spread on the floor beneath his body. Stieber aimed the gun down at Slade. I rushed to him and grabbed his arm. He threw me off and pulled the trigger.