The Romulus Equation (15 page)

‘Possibly.' Quaint considered that for only a fleeting moment. ‘But the Consortium sets itself above mere mortals like
you
.'

‘Like
me
? What does
that
mean?'

‘I'm rambling. Forget I said anything,' Quaint said, hurriedly. This was neither the time nor place for a discussion about mortality – or indeed, his distinct a lack of it. ‘The Hades Consortium sits like gods amongst the clouds and dictates humanity's downfall, playing with people's lives as if they're purely for its own entertainment. It's about time we brought it back down to earth, don't you think?'

Clad in the thick wrap of darkness, Cornelius Quaint, Viktor, and Romulus and his small band of men, were still crouched in the bushes opposite the Fevretti Fountain. Quaint checked his fob watch. It was almost ten o'clock. There were still a few people milling about, but he hoped the piazza would be clear enough soon to put their plan into action.

‘Well?' asked Viktor.

‘Not bad,' replied Quaint. ‘But I'll be a lot better once this place is clear.'

‘I meant “Well?” as in “Well, what do we do now?”'

‘We wait,' said Quaint.

‘For what?' asked Viktor.

‘The right moment.'

‘And when is that?' asked Viktor.

‘Not just yet,' said Quaint.

‘Will it be soon?'

‘How the devil should I know? I'm improvising!'

From his position amongst the bushes, Quaint watched a single guard dressed in a pale blue shirt and black trousers approach the fence around the fountain and lock the gate. He gave it one last tug to make sure it was secure, and then tore off his peaked cap and strolled from the piazza, his shift completed.

‘We'll leave it a few minutes to make sure he gets a decent distance away and then we'll make our move,' said Quaint. ‘Viktor? I hope you're not too rusty.'

‘We shall see' said the German. ‘Our task depends on it, eh?'

‘No, picking that lock is the easy part,' said Quaint. ‘The hard part is going to be making sure I don't end up blowing us to Kingdom Come.'

‘Blast you, Cornelius, must you take away my thunder?' roared Viktor. ‘I had only just convinced myself that we might be successful in this venture, after all!'

Quaint winked. ‘That makes two of us.'

A few minutes later…

‘Come on, Viktor, this is taking too long!' hissed Quaint as the German fiddled around with the lock to the chain that secured the gate to the fence surrounding the fountain. ‘At this rate we'll still be here when the guard starts his shift in the morning!'

Viktor snorted into his bushy moustache. ‘You want to give it a try, be my guest, but this is a triple-barrelled Kingsmith lock. This is very difficult. The slightest misstep and the inner latches snap into place immediately. And if that happens,
mein Freund
, nothing short of one of your explosion sticks will be able to open this gate!'

Quaint patted Viktor on the back. ‘Sorry. You're right. Look, I'll shut up and let you get on with it. But do speak up if you think it can't be done.'

‘How
dare
you! I did not say it could not be done, I just said it was difficult!'

Romulus sidled up to them. ‘Will this take much longer? We do not have much time,
i miei amici
.'

Quaint and Viktor shot him affronted glares. ‘We know!'

‘We need to get this done
quickly
… need to get… underground!' Romulus suddenly grasped at his chest, his fingers clawing at his clothes.

Quaint spun around. ‘Are you all right?'

‘Do not
look
at me!' the Italian roared.

As though hearing something upon the breeze, Quaint scoured the night sky, his eyes gradually catching the glow of the full moon behind the grey clouds.

‘I'm an idiot!' he snapped.

Viktor raised an eyebrow. ‘Now all of a sudden you come to your senses?'

‘And not just me,' said Quaint, nodding at Romulus who was grinding his teeth, seemingly in pain. ‘Hurry up, Viktor. We need to get Romulus out of the moonlight.'

‘Moonlight? Whatever for?'

‘Let's just say that it brings out the beast in him,' Quaint replied.

‘Oh, I see!' laughed Viktor. ‘I suppose he is a werewolf or something,
ja
?'

Quaint paused. ‘Don't be absurd, Viktor, there's no such thing.'

As Romulus doubled over Quaint rushed to support him, and as he saw the crime-lord's pained expression, all the loose parts of his suspicious mind which swam around without solidity clicked into place.

‘It's the change,' said Quaint. ‘It's coming, isn't it?'

‘Leave me!' Romulus flung out his arms as if he was breaking free from invisible chains, and Quaint was almost knocked off his feet. ‘The beast is eager for release.'

‘But you can contain it, yes?' asked Quaint.

‘For now,' seethed Romulus, biting back the pain in his guts. ‘I need to save it for Remus. He alone shall face my fury… monster against monster.'

‘Good man,' said Quaint, flashing a weak smile, ‘because I don't want to be crawling along a narrow tunnel with one eye on my front and the other on my back. Just keep your beast caged until we need him, all right?'

Romulus straightened himself up, concentrating his composure. ‘You do your job, Cornelius… and get us into those tunnels. I shall do my part when called upon, have no fear about that. Now let us hurry.'

‘You heard the man, Viktor!' said Quaint.

Viktor returned his attention to his job. He reached into his belt of knives – one for every occasion, it seemed. The German carried them with him at all times, and even slept with one under his pillow. Thin stiletto blades, arrow-headed daggers, curved knives – the array of fearsome weapons went on. Viktor was exceptionally talented at his day job. After all, he was not renowned as the greatest knife thrower in Europe (or the World, if you asked him) for nothing – but opening a Kingsmith lock was a challenge far more daunting than catching a dagger between his teeth at twenty paces. With a thin-bladed knife in one hand, and a wedge-tipped knife in the other, he deftly navigated the Kingsmith's mechanisms.

The lock itself had three autonomous steel barrels inside that linked into place in sequence. If anyone tried to open the lock without a key out of sequence, the precariously balanced barrels would snap into place at once, sealing the entire chamber. Anxious sweat swarmed on Viktor's forehead as he gingerly twisted the blades like a surgeon operating on a patient. There was a loud snap, like a twig being stepped on, and Viktor gasped, dropping his knives to the floor.

Quaint grabbed hold of the German's arm. ‘What? Did you trip it?'

Viktor's head fell into his hands, and he dragged his fingers through his wheat-coloured cropped hair. ‘
Mein Gott
… I… I did it.'

‘Did what? You mean you tripped it?' asked Quaint.

‘
Tripped it
?' boomed Viktor. ‘Of course I did not “trip it”!' He pushed against the gate and the chain slipped free, falling to the ground.

‘As unaccustomed as you are to overfamiliarity, I think this calls for a hug,' said Quaint, throwing his arms around Viktor – but as the German's bear-like grip squeezed him back, the conjuror instantly regretted it. ‘Let's make it a quick one though, eh?'

‘Oh,
ja
!' trumpeted Viktor. ‘We have much to do and time is short!'

‘Not just that,' wheezed Quaint. ‘People are watching.'

‘Any of those amongst us who are the religious type might like to pray to whichever deity they revere, because this explosion is going to draw everyone in a two-mile radius right to us!' proclaimed Cornelius Quaint, some minutes later.

He surveyed the faces of the group of men with him. Questions, there must have been many, but all of them seemed anxious to get things done, so they held their tongues. Even Viktor's worries were restrained for once. With a resolute nod, Quaint pointed Romulus and his men to a safe spot, and took out his tinderbox and an explosive stick, placing it on the base of the fountain's statue, by the goddess Diana's feet. Striking the flint against his tinderbox, the spark shot from his hand and lit the fuse… and then a worried look crossed his face.

‘Did I set it for ten or twenty seconds,' he muttered.

A little over nine and a half seconds later he got his answer as a terrific explosion shook the whole piazza, raining chunks of marble and debris in all directions. The place where the statue had once stood was now a large pile of rubble and dust. The iron gate and surrounding fence had been blown asunder, as well as much of the surrounding area. But at the spot that was formerly the marble base for the statue, there was a clear entry point into the tunnel below.

‘
Allarme! La fermata, non si muove
!' yelled a cacophony of Italian voices.

Through the smoke, Quaint saw several people rush into the piazza from all angles, staggered by the sight that greeted them. Quaint quickly ushered his crew from their hiding spot and in through the hole into the aqueduct below. Romulus first, swiftly followed by his band of men, leaving Viktor and Quaint topside. The conjuror bit some length off a second explosive stick's fuse and struck his tinderbox.

‘Three seconds should do the trick,' he told the German.

‘
Three seconds
?' gasped Viktor. ‘We won't get far enough away in three seconds!'

‘In that case, it's been a blast seeing you again,' Quaint said, pushing Viktor into the hole. He lit the explosive's fuse and dropped it at the mouth of the tunnel and leapt blindly into the darkness…

He fell a good ten feet and landed in a crumpled mess on top of Viktor's flailing arms and legs. The German kicked off the ground with his heels and began to run at pace – run where, he had no idea, he was following the faint amber glow of Giuseppe's torch ahead in the distance, jogging up and down in the darkness as the men tried to get as far away from the tunnel entrance as possible. The explosion shook the walls like an earthquake and curtains of thick dust streamed down inside the enclosed tunnel.

‘Remind me again whose idea it was to set off an explosion whilst we are underground?' asked Viktor caustically, as he pelted his bulk clumsily down the tunnel.

‘The same person who's going to crash right into your back if you don't pick up the pace!' Quaint called, urging the knife thrower on. ‘Just keep following Romulus's men! He's got the map so he knows where he's going.'

Quaint heard the tunnel roof crack above his head and took a nervous gulp. He caught sight of the last light of Giuseppe's torch fleeing in the distance, and noticed a large chasm appearing before his eyes in the tunnel's roof. Being buried alive was not amongst his preferred ways to die.

After a sprint down a labyrinthine series of tunnels that bent and twisted with every blink, Romulus stopped dead and held up his flickering torch. The flame tickled the ceiling of the tunnel, dancing wildly as if threatening to go out. The air was barely non-existent, and Romulus panted heavily.

‘Gather round,' he said, waiting for Viktor and Quaint to catch up. ‘According to the map, this tunnel extends for two miles north, and then we must head southwest, where we should link up with what used to be the old concourse to the outskirts of the city. Once we are closer to the Hades Consortium's lair, we only have the one tunnel both in and out. We will need to keep close together, and only speak if it is vital. There is little oxygen to be found down here, and you may have noticed that we are heading down, as well as along. Things will get worse before they get better.' He'd barely finished the sentence before he slumped against the wall of the tunnel, clutching his chest. Quaint pushed through the group of men, steering Romulus's face so he could get a look.

‘You're in pain,' he said. ‘Any time you want to sit this one out, let me know.'

Romulus thumped his fist against the wall. ‘I can do this! I have waited… a long time for this moment… I will contain my rage in check until we reach Remus… and then he is all mine. Now, forget about me and let us continue.'

Continue they did.

Several tunnels branched off deeper into the darkness, whilst fallen rocks blocked access to others. The narrow tunnels had once formed a network of lanes for commerce, houses and communities, but now they were mementos of a ghost city, concealed by feet of rock. Quaint was thankful for that as this route was his only way into the Hades Consortium's lair.

Had he known what was waiting for him, he might not have been so keen…

The foundry was silent, yet the thick columns of smoke spewing from its chimneystacks continued. With Prometheus's arm clamped around his torso, Renard moved each foot in front of him with all the grace of a lame nag. With each footstep he felt a stabbing pain in his stomach. Prometheus's pace didn't slow, and was hardly being sympathetic to the Frenchman's wound. Destine, on the other hand, had torn emotions. As much as she despised her son, only he could get her where she needed to be – to Cornelius's side – so at that moment, he was precious cargo. Despite his insistence that he would rather die than lead her into the Hades Consortium's headquarters, his will had been broken. Destine had been victorious in their duel, and both she and Renard knew that once the connection had been made, she could breach his mind whenever she felt like it. With every step he fought against his body, against each and every move that he was forced to make.

‘How long has this place existed?' asked Destine.

‘The Hades Consortium doesn't like to stick in one place for long, but we've had this as our main base of operations since we moved out of Bombay,' Renard replied, watching the impatient flicker in his mother's eyes. ‘Ironically, this place is far hotter than India, considering that it's built on top of a volcano.'