George Mann - The Affinity Bridge

The room was crowded and hot, the steam-driven presses firing noisily as they worked at incredible speeds, pistons pumping furiously as they pushed out the brass components that would be used in the assembly of the clockwork men. A swarthy-looking man in a pair of grey overalls looked up when they entered the room, downed his tools and passed the chest plate of the automaton unit he was working on to another, smaller man who had been assisting him. He made his way over to the group of three interlopers, wiping the grime and oil from his face with the back of his sleeve.

"Can I help you?"

Newbury stepped forward. "Yes. We have an appointment with Monsieur Villiers. The clerk on the desk in reception sent us through."

The man eyed them warily. "An appointment, you say? Can I see some identification?"

Bainbridge bustled forward impatiently. He pulled a small leather wallet from his pocket and flicked it open, presenting it to the man. Inside was an official badge and papers from Scotland Yard, bearing the crest of Her Majesty. The man looked perplexed, as if he were unsure whether he should let the Chief Inspector and his companions through to see his employer, or why they should even be interested in speaking to the reclusive scientist. Eventually, though, he seemed to come to a decision. He stood aside and waved them at the door to Villiers's workshop with a shrug. "He's in there."

"Thank you." Newbury inclined his head in gratitude and approached the door to the workshop. He didn't bother to knock, instead reaching out for the handle and giving the door a gentle shove. It swung into the room to reveal the same cluttered workbench they had seen before, buried beneath a vast array of components, but no sign of the man they were looking for. Newbury ushered the others through, then closed the door behind him.

Bainbridge was frowning. "Where the devil are those damnable fellows hiding?" He cast around, trying to make sense of the cluttered workshop. He looked flustered, as if he thought that the two men had somehow managed to get away.

Newbury was just about to respond, when Veronica tugged on his arm. "Look!"

He followed her gaze to where she was pointing. The automaton in the corner-the demonstration model they had seen during their previous visit-was rising out of its chair and edging towards them, its left arm outstretched, its fingers opening and closing like the shining brass pincers of a crab. Its feet clacked on the tiled floor as it walked. Bainbridge, seeing the sinister-looking device making a beeline for him, grabbed his cane with both hands and gave the brass knob a sharp twist to the right. "Oh no you don't!"

The shaft of the cane began immediately to unpack itself, and now that he had a better opportunity to observe the mechanism, Newbury was even more impressed. Small hinges unfurled at the top of the cane, causing thin brass rods to uncouple from the main shaft of the weapon so that they formed a kind of metal cage around the device. The central column began to spin rapidly, generating sparks of light within the cage itself. There was a sudden flicker, and then blue light arced along the length of the weapon, running back and forth along the conductor rod with a sharp electrical hum, from the handle all the way down to the tip of the shaft. Bainbridge, raising the weapon before him like a rapier, wasted no time. He jabbed the point of the cane towards the chest of the shambling automaton, the sharp tip actually managing to pierce the brass plate and bury itself deep in the heart of the clockwork device. Pulsing electrical energy leapt from the cane into the delicate internal mechanisms of the automaton, which either overloaded the device or caused its delicate clockwork brain to seize. There was a grinding sound from deep within the machine, the stink of burning oil, and then the device gave a spasm and dropped to the floor, rendered useless by Bainbridge's attack.

Newbury edged forward and leaned over the unit. The blue light that had flickered beneath the porthole in its chest had gone out and its eyes had ceased spinning.

He looked up at Bainbridge, who was busy repacking his cane. "Good show, Charles!"

Bainbridge smiled. "Now you see why I always endeavour to have the device by my side. One never knows when it may come in handy."

Veronica sidled up beside them. "When you two gentlemen are finished congratulating one another, I have something interesting to show you." She stepped away again, crossing the room to where the automaton had been sitting when they first entered the room. Newbury couldn't help but emit a short chuckle when he saw the scowl on Bainbridge's face. He made his way over to Veronica. "What is it?"

"Here." She ran her hands over the wall, demonstrating the thin outline of a door, hidden in the wall behind the automaton's chair. "I wonder if this is where we'll find our quarry."

Newbury put a hand on her shoulder. "You're to be congratulated, Miss Hobbes. I'll wager this is exactly where our quarry will be hiding. Stand back, won't you?" He waved the others back from the wall to give himself room to manoeuvre the chair out of the way. Then, returning to the wall, he ran his fingers around the edges of the door. Bizarrely, it appeared to have been cut directly out of the wall, as if someone had simply chopped a section of the wall away and then reattached it on a pair of well-placed hinges. It was decorated in the same dark wood panelling as the rest of the room. Newbury admired the handiwork; it was an exceptional piece of engineering, and if Veronica had not noticed the thin outline of the door it was likely they would have abandoned their search of the workshop and moved on. He ran his hands over it again. There were no obvious switches, handles or triggers in the vicinity. Not knowing what else to do, Newbury gave the door a push and felt it give a little. He pressed more firmly, until there was a clicking sound, and then stood back as the door swung free towards him. He caught hold of it in his left hand as it came towards him, peering cautiously into the brightly lit chamber revealed on the other side.

Pierre Villiers stood beside a low mortuary slab in a room that had been fitted out like a hospital surgery. White tiles covered the floor, walls and ceiling, and bright gas lamps burned with intensity in fixtures situated along each of the walls. A trestle table had been set up beside the slab, holding an array of tools, knives, lenses and other items of surgical equipment, and Villiers himself was stooped over the empty skull of an automaton, preparing to transfer a human brain into the cavity. The organ itself rested beside him on the slab, suspended in a large glass demijohn filled with a yellowish fluid that bubbled effervescently, as if it were connected to an air supply of some sort. The entire setup reminded Newbury disconcertingly of the morgue: cold, clinical and filled with the overwhelming stench of death.

Villiers did not look up as Newbury, Bainbridge and Veronica filed into the room, their shoes clicking on the porcelain tiles. He was alone, with no sign of Chapman to be found. Newbury cleared his throat. After a moment, Villiers looked up with the briefest of glances, before turning away and continuing with his work. He talked as his fingers danced around inside the automaton's brass skull. "Sir Maurice. I did not expect to be seeing you again so soon."

Newbury laughed. "I think, Monsieur Villiers, that you did not expect to be seeing me again at all."

The Frenchman shrugged. "As you say."

"They're not quite as infallible as one has been led to believe, are they, these automatons you've created?"

Villiers reached for one of the tools on the trestle table beside him and began cranking something noisily within the brass head. "No. But they are beautiful though, are they not? A wonder of modern science? Do not tell me that you are not intrigued, Sir Maurice, that you are not at least a little bit interested in how I managed to make them work." He glanced up, looking at Newbury, although his eyes seemed to be focused on something else that the others could not see. He cleared his throat. "Here, let me show you what I am doing."