“Look,” said Veronica. “There’s more.” She pointed towards a small rocky shore on the far side of the tank, where the tentacles of an octopus were curling slowly out of the water and onto the rocks. They watched in horrified fascination as the beast ponderously dragged itself from the murky depths. As before, the creature that emerged from the water was an elaborate hybrid, a surgical construction that bore the torso of a monkey with the eight puckered arms of an octopus in place of its legs.
It slid across the rocks, its appendages curling and wriggling as it propelled itself along, its downy fur flattened and dripping. It scuttled towards a crevice in the rocks, squeezing into what Veronica assumed to be a small, artificial cave system or habitat.
“It’s unnatural,” said Veronica. “Repellent.”
“It’s a remarkable achievement,” said Newbury.
“But those poor creatures…” said Veronica. “It’s monstrous. Think of how they must have suffered.”
Newbury was quiet for a moment. “Come on,” he said, after a while. “There’s more to see.”
“If it’s more of the same, I’m unsure I want to see it,” she said as he led her out of the darkened passageway.
A moment later they reemerged into the bustle and clamour of the main exhibition hall. It took a moment for Veronica’s eyes to readjust to the light.
Close by, a large crowd had gathered around what appeared to be a huge glass enclosure. She couldn’t see what was within, other than the fronds of a few small trees peeking above people’s bobbing heads. There was an insistent tapping sound, too, as if something was repeatedly striking the glass. It reminded her of the noise made by Bainbridge when he rapped on Newbury’s front door with the end of his cane.
As she approached the exhibit, Newbury in her wake, whatever was inside the enclosure emitted a shrill, primal screech that caused the skin of her forearms to prickle with gooseflesh. She felt the bass rumble of it in the pit of her stomach, and her every instinct told her to flee. Instead, she pressed on, manoeuvring through the jostling crowd. They parted easily enough as she pushed towards the front.
What became apparent in the first instance was that there were not one but two creatures inside the enclosure. It took her a moment to come to terms with exactly what she was seeing. They were like something drawn from a nightmare of a deranged fantasist: two enormous birds, each at least ten feet tall, with plumages in all the gaudy colours of the rainbow, indigos, yellows, reds, and blues. They stalked about on two legs, splayed, taloned feet reminiscent of huge lizards. Their beaks were large enough that she imagined they could take off a person’s head in a single, snapping motion, and their beady eyes were darting and urgent, eyeing the crowd through the plate glass.
One of them opened its immense jaws and emitted another shriek, its pink tongue wriggling inside its mouth like a captive snake. It hissed and darted forward, its small, useless wings twitching as it thundered across the enclosure, butting against the glass and causing the crowd to fall back with a collective intake of breath. The barrier flexed in its housing but held firm. The creature shook its head in frustration, stepped back, and began rapping its curved beak against the glass pane once again, as if was attempting to chip away the glass in an effort to get at the gathered people outside.
To Veronica they might as well have been prehistoric beasts somehow resurrected in the here and now, excavated from the archives of history and renewed through some dark art or technology. She glanced at Newbury, who was reading the information plaque beside the enclosure.
“They were found in the Congo,” he said, when he noticed her looking. “A whole colony of them, living amongst the ruins of an ancient civilisation. It says here they can swallow a creature the size of a small dog.”
Veronica’s eyes flicked back to the twin beasts, which had now returned to stalking around the perimeter of their enclosure, heads bobbing nervously. One of them began pecking at something on the ground, its long neck snaking round as its razor sharp beak tore at the object, gouging chunks from it. She realised with disgust that it was the remains of a goat.
“Vicious brutes, aren’t they?” came a familiar voice from behind Veronica. “I certainly wouldn’t wish to encounter one in a dark alleyway.”
She turned to see Bainbridge standing behind her, a smile on his lips. “It’s good to see you, Miss Hobbes.” He watched the beasts for a moment with what appeared to be equal parts horror and admiration. “Dreadful things,” he said.
“Beautiful, though, in their own way,” said Newbury, joining them. “Good afternoon, Charles.” Bainbridge inclined his head. “I must say, I’m delighted with the rather impressive venue that you and Archibald selected for our little rendezvous.”
Bainbridge laughed. “Yes, I thought you’d like it. Although I fear I cannot take any credit. Archibald picked the place. Something about killing two birds with one stone.” He glanced at the two birds in the glass pen with a grin. “He said it was the perfect place for him to clear up a little misunderstanding.”
Veronica raised a sardonic eyebrow. “A little misunderstanding?”
Bainbridge shrugged. “You know as much as I do, Miss Hobbes.” He glanced at Newbury. “Any word?”
“From Aldous?” He shook his head. “No, not yet. I did, however, pay a short visit to the Prince of Wales this morning.”
“You did what?” said Bainbridge, aghast.
“It occurred to me,” said Newbury, “that in the Prince we might find an ally. The other day when he visited Chelsea, he expressed his concerns for his mother’s … health. He said that I should call if there was ever anything he could do to help.”
“And?” prompted Veronica. She was as surprised as Bainbridge to hear Newbury’s announcement.
“So I asked about that list of agents we needed. If Her Majesty was not prepared to let us see it, it struck me that perhaps there was another way.” He grinned to himself as their expressions changed.
“Let me get this straight, Newbury,” said Bainbridge, apparently flabbergasted. “You called on the Prince of Wales to ask for his assistance in obtaining sensitive materials behind the back of the Queen herself?”
“Yes, well. I suppose it does sound rather sensational when you put it like that,” said Newbury, laughing.
Bainbridge grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “The sheer audacity of it! Well, man, what did he say? Did he throw you out on your ear?”
“He said there were people at the palace he could trust, and that I should return to Marlborough House tomorrow evening to collect the information we needed. He’s very much on our side in this matter, Charles.”
Bainbridge chuckled. “At last, some good luck. Well done, Newbury.” He glanced down at his pocket watch. “Right, well, we’re meeting Archibald by a particular exhibit. Some sort of search lamp, designed to be mounted on the belly of an airship, I believe.”
Newbury nodded. “Similar, I’m guessing, to that one just over there?” he said, chuckling as he pointed across the hall. Veronica followed his gaze. About twenty feet away, through the milling crowds, she could see a large silver lamp mounted on a swivel housing. A man in overalls was demonstrating the device, throwing a brilliant beam of light up and out through the transparent ceiling of the Crystal Palace. A small crowd of onlookers were marvelling.
“Come on,” said Newbury, brightly. “Let’s see if we can’t find the professor.” He led Bainbridge away towards the search lamp exhibit.
Veronica took one final look over her shoulder at the two massive birds in their enclosure, shuddering as they continued to rend flesh from the now barely distinguishable remains of the goat. Then, with some trepidation, she followed Newbury and Bainbridge as they started off in search of their somewhat dubious friend.