Iron and Blood (51 page)

The crowd at the gates had become a riot, with the Pinkertons and the mine guards outnumbered despite their guns and clubs. Long abused without recourse, the miners vented their frustration with rocks and boards, wading into the fray fearlessly. Some of the miners had pistols, and returned fire when the guards shot into the crowd.

“I think the Pinkertons have their hands full,” Mitch observed.

Movement in the shadows and the sound of horses’ hooves caught Drostan’s attention. In the light of the fires that ranged all around the gaping sinkhole, Drostan could see a black carriage headed pell-mell for the rear gates. And on the back and side of the carriage were crests showing a crimson falcon.

“Someone’s getting away!” Mitch shouted.

“Not yet.” Drostan toggled the transmitter on his lapel. “Airship—can you hear me?”

“I thought you weren’t going to make a scene?” Nicki snapped. “Flyboy had to make us all airsick to avoid that fireball you sent up!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Drostan muttered. “Look, I need to talk to Wunderkind—”

“I’m here,” Adam’s voice cut in.

“Someone’s trying to escape; may be Brunrichter and Tumblety,” Drostan said. “They’re too far away from us, and we’ve got hostile fire between here and there. Can you do something to stop them—preferably without killing them?”

“We’re on it,” Adam replied.

“Don’t you dare leave me out of this!” Nicki interrupted. “You need me to locate the targets!”

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving you out,” Drostan replied.

The
Allegheny Princess
loomed large in the sky, following the speeding carriage. A bolt of man-made lightning streaked down, burning into the grass a few yards ahead of the carriage, sending the horses rearing in panic, kicking up clods of dirt and a fine shower of toasted grass.

When Drostan’s eyes had adjusted once more to the darkness, he saw that Farber’s lightning had carved a rough circle around the carriage, leaving it stranded on its own little island.

“What do you think?” Adam chortled, proud of himself. “And that’s only at half-power!”

“I think you’re a dangerous man,” Drostan replied. “Great job. We’ll be in touch.”

Smoke hung over the mining complex. The air was sharp with the smell of burnt wiring, scorched metal and roasted zombie. The Gatling gun’s muzzle glowed red. Between gunfire and Ketchum grenades, the armored men lay in a tangle of broken bodies and twisted metal. Behind them, the fire around the crater where the warehouse had once stood was burning itself out.

“Let’s get back to the mine entrance,” Drostan ordered. “Jake will need our help.” He pitched in with Mitch and Kovach’s guards to carry what remained of their equipment and weapons.

“What now?” Drostan asked as he trudged back to where Jake stood guard at the mouth of the Vesta Nine. “We took care of the mad doctors, and there won’t be any more zombies—at least, not from that direction.”

“Good work,” Jake said.

“How can I help?” Drostan asked.

Jake eyed him thoughtfully. “You see ghosts, right?”

Drostan hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah.”

“What do you see now, here?”

Drostan took a deep breath and focused his concentration. Finding ghosts at the mine was not difficult; not being overwhelmed by their numbers was the challenge. “I see lots of dead men,” Drostan said. “Miners. All the hullaballoo brought them out, but they’ve got no reason to run away—except…”

“Except what?” Jake pressed.

“They’re afraid of the
gessyan
,” Drostan said. “They hide from them.”

“Can you tell them what we’re doing? Get them on our side?” Jake asked. “We’re going to need all the help we can get.”

Drostan nodded. “I can try. Not sure what they can do, but I’ll tell them.” After a moment, he turned back to Jake. “Done.”

Another transmission through the earpiece startled Jake. It was from Kovach’s second-in-command. “The men are in position, sir. Locked and loaded.”

Jake peered toward the angry mob at the gates. “Anything changed out front?”

“Negative. Looks like a big brawl from here.”

“Good,” Jake replied with a smile. “Let me know if anything changes, and make sure no one gets past your line.”

“Affirmative, sir.”

Jake turned back toward the mine to find Renate walking toward him. Andreas was maneuvering the biggest of the Alekanovo stones into place. “It took a little debate,” Renate said, with a smile that suggested ‘argument’ would be more accurate, “but Andreas and I think we’ve determined the most powerful positioning of the Russian stones.”

“The more you can prepare now, the faster we can act once Rick and the others come out,” Jake said. “Anything you can do in advance, do it. We can’t count on having time to do more than react when the explosions start.”

Renate nodded. “I figured as much. We’re planning to have all the wardings set so all we have to do is activate them. At least,” she added, “that’s the plan. And you know what they say.”

“Nothing ever goes as planned,” Jake said. “I know. But let’s hope that just this once, it doesn’t apply to us.”

Jake was restless, and the burden of being the point man for the night’s activities weighed heavy on him.
This is for you, Father,
he thought. He might not have been able to get the kind of evidence necessary to convict Veles or Thwaites in a court of law for Thomas Desmet’s murder, but he could make it expensive for them, and warn them off troubling Brand and Desmet’s people in the future. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. But it would have to do.

The earpiece gave a shrill squeal that nearly deafened him. “What’s going on down there?” Nicki asked. “Have the men come out of the mine yet?”

“Not yet,” Jake replied. “See anything from up there?”

In the distance, Jake heard gunfire, both small arms and the
rat-a-tat-tat
of Gatling guns.

“There’s a firefight going on, behind a building,” Nicki replied. “We’re high enough I can’t see which side is winning. Looks like it’s getting out of hand at the gates. People are waving burning torches around and firing rifles. Better stay clear.”

“Got my hands full where I am,” Jake said. “Have you spotted any ‘company’?”

“
Non
,” Nicki replied. “And my friend continues to read the telegrams. They’re very interesting tonight.” That meant Cady was code-breaking the encrypted messages from the Department, and between Veles and Thwaites. They had already agreed that since their transmissions between the ground and the airship might be intercepted, no names would be used.

“Anything?” Jake asked.

“Nothing we can’t handle.” There was a commotion that drowned out a few words. “Gotta go.” The transmission clicked off.

Now we wait for Rick and the others to get back so we can seal up the Night Hag and her
gessyan
friends—for good
, he thought.

“W
E’VE GOT TO
get the rest of those men out before we lure the
gessyan
back in.” Rick adjusted the straps on the combined gas mask and night-vision goggles that Adam Farber had created. He glanced at the others—Kovach, Father Matija, and the
Logonje
priests—and decided that they all looked like creatures from a nightmare with their faces covered by the gear.

The real nightmares lay ahead of them, in the depths of Vesta Nine.

“Jacob and Hans are down below,” Kovach said. “The deepest two levels are being mined by
werkmen
or clockwork zombies. That’s where the tourmaquartz is—and likely there are natural shafts going even deeper, to where the
gessyan
were before they got loose. We’re not going that far. The level above those has been using slave labor. Jacob and Hans are going to need some help freeing the slaves from their manacles and sending them back up in the elevators. That’s where Rick and I come in.”

“And what would you have us do?” Matija asked. Matija and his fellow priests were dressed in long black cassocks, covered by black leather baldrics with a variety of pockets and scabbards for cavalry sabers.

Kovach met the priest’s gaze. “Hold back the dark, Father. Those
things
are down there, and they may decide they want fresh meat.”

Kovach and Rick each carried one of Farber’s new force guns. Their night vision goggles would help them move through the darkness, and they came prepared with several of Adam’s electric torches and miners’ lamps, just to be on the safe side. Rick was armed with a revolver and a knife, as well as the Maxwell box and the remote trigger Adam had rigged just for this operation. Kovach had a shotgun and a revolver, as well as a rifle slung over his shoulder. Rick was certain that Kovach had other, concealed weapons on him, as well as the sack of explosives he carried with disconcerting nonchalance. He caught a glint of silver at the neckline of Kovach’s shirt, and knew that he’d been sure to wear his saint’s medal this night.

“Time’s a-wasting. Let’s get moving,” Rick said.

Thanks to the knockers and the alarms, miners and guards had already cleared out, making it easy for Rick and the others to enter at ground level. Even through the masks, the air smelled of coal dust, sweat, lamp oil, and damp dirt. Kovach led the way to one of the cage elevators that took men deep into the shaft. Rick did not let himself think about the almost bottomless drop into the darkness as he and the others shuffled into the square metal cage.

“On the way back up, we can pack the elevator like they do for the shifts,” Kovach said. “Each of these cages can hold at least thirty men—more if they’re skinny. You can move practically a whole shift with one load—we hope.”

The clank of chains and the rumble of gears made Rick’s stomach clench.
We’re hanging over a drop that goes most of the way to China, with monsters at the bottom. No reason to be nervous.

An oil lamp burned on each level of the mine, and Rick counted them as they made their descent. Most miners wore a lamp attached to their hats, and even that was risky due to bad air, what miners called ‘firedamp’. The explosions that occurred when an open lamp flame hit a pocket of firedamp had killed hundreds of miners. Even worse was the blackdamp, poisonous air that seeped up from the depths of the Earth. What with bad air, tunnel collapses and frequent accidents, mining was already dangerous without having to worry about immortal, bloodthirsty monsters lurking in the dark.

“Almost there.” Kovach’s voice seemed loud in the darkness. With all but the slaves and
werkmen
gone, the shaft was eerily quiet. Beyond the single lamp on each level, tunnels stretched into impenetrable darkness. The priests had begun to quietly chant, and Rick found himself envying Kovach the protective medal he wore.

The air was stuffy and breathing seemed more difficult. The deeper they went, the more every one of Rick’s instincts screamed for him to run while he still had the chance.
What does it feel like for someone who actually has magic, like Matija?
he wondered.

The clanking slowed and they reached the final landing. The elevator hung suspended over the abyss, and a six-inch gap separated them from the tunnel. Rick resolutely did not look down as they disembarked. He tried to stretch, only to nearly hit his head on the rough ceiling.

“There’s a reason a lot of miners are short,” Kovach said with a chuckle.

Deep below them, the sounds of steel on rock carried up through the elevator shaft, a constant clink and thump as clockwork creatures worked in conditions untenable for the human slaves. Near the elevator, Rick spotted two metal boxes the size of lunch pails. One of them was locked, but the other’s lid was open, revealing handfuls of opaque greenish crystals. Rick and Kovach exchanged a glance, before filling their satchels and pockets with as many of the crystals as they could.

Down the long, dark tunnel, a dim yellow light bobbed closer. Kovach raised his shotgun, while Rick reached for his revolver. Matija and the priests each drew a golden relic from inside their cassocks, ready for the worst.

“Glad you’re here.” Jacob emerged from the darkness. “Hans and I have most of the slaves out of their shackles, but they’re a sorry lot. We can save their lives, but I fear they’ll be fit for nowhere except Dix Mountain.”

Rick and the others followed Jacob down the tunnel. The darkness seemed to have physical weight, pressing in on them from all sides. Rock enclosed them like the walls of a tomb, and the warm, fetid air stank of unwashed bodies and urine. Rick had never been claustrophobic, but now he had to consciously fight the urge to flee in panic.

Jacob led them into a chamber off the tunnel. The ceiling was low enough that Rick had to duck. The enormous weight being held up by the support pillars—all those levels above them—did not bear dwelling on, not if he wanted to stay sane. The dim glow of oil lanterns and miner’s lamps dispelled enough of the gloom that they could push their nightvision goggles up on their foreheads.

Rick could make out the shadowy forms of pale, half-starved wretches in the dim light. Hollow-cheeked, painfully thin, filthy and unshaven, the enslaved miners stared at Rick and the others with deadened gazes, as if the concept of rescue had long ago been abandoned. On the nearest slaves, Rick could see dark ulcers on their ankles where manacles had kept them at their job.