The New Adventures of Richard Knight Read online

  Knight rose swiftly and snatched up his pistol. He went back to the door and peered out. More men, dressed like his late attacker, were in the corridor. As one, they looked toward the room and he hastily stepped back inside. He didn’t have much time. He looked back at the body and came to an instant decision. Swiftly, he stripped off his clothes and those of the dead man and then redressed himself in the dead man’s outfit. He shoved his Colt into the provided holster, disdaining to take the automatic pistol. Better a tested weapon than one that might fail him at the wrong moment.

  Preparing to put on the mask, he marvelled at its construction. It wasn’t just a disguise, but a breathing mask as well, akin to the kind divers wore. There was a miniature oxygen supply stuffed into the cheek pads and to activate it, all he had to do was bite down on a tab inside the mouth. Shaking his head, he slid it on.

  Squaring his shoulders, he stepped out into the corridor. “Anything, Vual?” one of the three waiting at the end of the corridor asked. Knight tensed and shook his head. The one who’d spoken continued, “Are you sure? I thought I heard something.”

  “Raum, we don’t have time for this,” another said. “The crew will have gathered their courage by now. We need to go.”

  “Yes,” Raum said, his fingers curling into fists. “Come on.” The others hesitated a moment and then fell in behind him, following him out of the corridor. Knight joined them, his mind making note of the names. He’d read them somewhere before, but couldn’t put his finger on it. It probably didn’t matter much anyway.

  Knight followed them into the dining room, his palms itching with the urge to put these men down. He felt ill as he looked at the terror-stricken faces of the passengers clinging to their seats. They weren’t all German, of course, though most were, and wealthy. As targets went, the Skanderbeg was a plump one.

  “Time to go,” Raum said loudly, gesturing to the windows. Knight watched as the men climbed out the windows one after another, some carrying nylon bags stuffed full of looted valuables. He joined the line and slipped out, experiencing a moment of vertigo as he caught sight of the polished black surface of the night ocean below. Then he was on top of the gondola. Following the example of the others around him, he clipped the hooks and catches on his harness to the semi-rigid lines dangling down the side of the bag.

  Taking a breath, he began to climb with the others. If anyone had noticed that he wasn’t Vual, no one said. Either he was lucky or they were unobservant, maybe both. Despite Knight’s physical capacities, the climb to the top of the Skanderbeg’s airbag was a perilous one. More than once, he almost lost his footing. The bag was slick with frost and condensation and it trembled beneath his feet as he reached the top.

  A jungle of mooring cables awaited him there. Unlike the others, these were taut. He gripped one, testing it. The others began to climb the cables. Knight was momentarily overwhelmed by memories of boot camp. Then, with a grunt, he began to follow Raum and the others. Soon enough, his arms and shoulders were burning with exertion. He glanced down and immediately wished he hadn’t. For a moment, the ocean and the sky were one, and he lost all sense of direction. Stars spun crazily across the surface of his vision and the vibration of unseen engines in the cable he clung to seemed to grow wilder. It was different in a plane; there, you had a few inches of sheltering steel frame to give you the illusion that you were safe from the yawning void, but outside of that shelter, hanging over the abyss...

  “Vual!” someone shouted. Knight’s head snapped up and the vertigo receded. Raum was looking down at him. “What’s wrong?” the masked man shouted.

  Knight shook his head and continued to climb. He couldn’t risk speaking more than was absolutely necessary. Even muffled, the risk of someone realizing he wasn’t this ‘Vual’ was too great. Granted, eventually he was going to have to take off his mask, and wouldn’t there be trouble then? He smiled mirthlessly.

  As he climbed, he wondered what Larry Doyle would say if he could see him now. The pugnacious former marine would likely call him an idiot for attempting this stunt and quite rightly too. Among the list of Dick Knight’s more boneheaded moves, this one would likely take tops. But some professional instinct, honed to a razor-sharp keenness by a life lived on the edge of danger, was prompting him forward and pitching him into this mad escapade. By nature, spies were curious people and none more so than the man the international intelligence community knew as ‘Q’.

  He needed to know who these pirates were. That was it, in essence. If only to insure that he brought enough force to bear to smash them utterly. They had left wrecks and ruined bodies behind them for months now, raiding the coast of Europe and the United Kingdom alike. The Germans were furious and the French were apoplectic. Countries were on the verge of war, each blaming the other for the activities of the pirates. Considering how much of a powder keg Europe was these days, it would only take the smallest spark to set things alight. It was Richard Knight’s job to stave that off for as long as possible.

  He looked up again, trying to discern what sort of vessel he was climbing aboard. It was roughly of a size with the Skanderbeg but the clouds that seemed to cling to it obscured any detail beyond its bulk. Whatever sort of airship it was, it had cut its engines to drift along in the Skanderbeg’s wake. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Knight reached the top of the cable where hands were extended to help him up onto a flat, open platform that hung below a wide, blocky gondola. The wind whipped and curled across the platform, which was lit by electric lights and lined by cable winches.

  One by one, the men climbed up a metal ladder into the gondola. Knight dutifully joined the line, noting the odd color of the platform...it was a deep, raw red, the kind which put him in mind of unpleasant things. In fact, everything was that same red color, even the ladder!

  Heat, intense and sweltering, met him as he climbed the ladder. He could feel the vibration of the airship beneath his fingers and in the soles of his feet. “Up, up, up!” Raum was shouting, gesturing for the men to hurry. As Knight regained his feet, he saw Raum grab a baroque looking speaking tube and say, “Fire the cables!”

  A thunderous thrumming caused Knight’s teeth to rattle in his gums and he turned. Through the aperture, he could see several men on the platform, cranking the winches and retracting the mooring cables. Something struck his shoulder. He turned. The man called Shax gestured. “Let’s go. He wants to see us...and the loot.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Shax turned and started off through the narrow metal corridor. Knight hesitated. Should he follow? Or attempt to find someplace to hide? Or, better yet, figure out how to force this strange bird to land? All of these thoughts caromed through his mind and his hesitation was only a matter of seconds, but it was noticed. “Vual,” Raum said, grabbing his shoulder. “Snap out of it, fool!”

  Knight shook his arm free as Raum went on. “What is wrong with you? You hesitated on the line-that is not like you. Usually you are the first one up...”

  Knight was tempted to simply shrug, but knew that wouldn’t suffice, not this time. Instead he coughed, trying to disguise his voice as best he could, and said, “Feel sick.”

  Raum stared at him for a moment, and then grunted and turned away. Knight followed after him, observing his surrounding carefully. The interior of the gondola was simultaneously more primitive than that of the Skanderbeg and yet somehow unlike any airship Knight had ever been aboard. Its walls and bulkheads were cluttered with baroque grotesquery. These demonic faces and wrought flames combined with the narrow, oddly angled corridors and the heat to create what Knight could only think of as a floating hell.

  Voices chattered through speaking tubes and he felt the leviathan tread of unseen engines rumbling. They were pulling away from the Skanderbeg. There was no turning back now. What had they wanted? Knight’s hands clenched at his sides as he fought to keep his tread calm and steady. Already, he was noting the markings on the bulkheads. If this vessel were anything like other airships, the cont
rol cabin was to the fore of the gondola, in the opposite direction to the way he was travelling. That was where any sort of radio transceiver would be. If he could get in touch with Doyle...

  Sweat dripped into his eyes beneath his mask. The heat grew stronger as they moved deeper into the guts of the gondola. Black clad figures moved through the bulkheads around him. He estimated the crew to number perhaps forty, including the raiders. Not big, but nothing to sneeze at. The voices were a mix of accents, all speaking English.

  “Keep your mouths shut,” Raum said suddenly. Knight nearly collided with Shax. “I will do the talking,” Raum continued. Then, with a stiffening of his shoulders, he stepped through an ornately enamelled bulkhead. It had been crafted to resemble the maw of some great beast and Knight’s muscles tensed with atavistic alarm.

  The room beyond was large and the ceiling was nonexistent, being as it was open to the underside of the airship’s gasbag. Red, of course, Knight noted. The room was lined with welded and wrought covered braziers that stank of strange incenses and cast shivering light across the hideous frescoes painted upon the curved walls. As they entered, Knight saw a second group of men enter from another bulkhead. He turned his attention from them to the room’s inhabitants.

  Armed men, clad in black, stood at attention near the raised rotunda that was the only three dimensional feature of the room besides a set of oversize scales that occupied the center of the floor. And on that rotunda sat a robed and cowled figure, whose head was bent low and whose robes were the color of dying embers. The figure looked up as they entered.

  For the third time that night, Knight froze. He had been expecting another mask; what he got instead was a burnt mass of meat that could only hesitantly be called a face. Two lidless eyes, the color of urine, peered unblinkingly out of deep set, scarred sockets and blackened teeth clicked together in a lipless mouth. The nose was a crumpled chunk of gristle that flared like an animal’s as Raum stopped and sank to one knee. Knight and the others followed suit.

  “HhhhhhhRaumm,” the thing on the throne wheezed. “Have you brought me treasures?”

  “Yes, my lord,” Raum said, his head bowed. His men laid out their bags on one side of the scale, causing it to dip. The yellow eyes swivelled to another man.

  “And you, Orias,” the thing said.

  “Yes, my lord,” Orias responded. He snapped his fingers and his men trotted forward, dumping bags onto the scale. The two sides fluctuated, but it was obvious that one side was lighter than the other, if only by a little bit. “Our take was a bit-ah-light,” Orias said lamely.

  “Hhhhhhlight,” Another wheeze, but this one gave Knight the impression of a snake’s rattle. The head straightened and gloved fingers gripped the armrests of the seat. “My divinations told me how much would be aboard; Orias...are you saying that I hhhwas wrong?”

  Orias hesitated, but said nothing. Knight felt his hackles prickle. It was like being in a very small space with a very large predator. The wreck on the throne should not have been frightening, yet it was. The creaking voice continued. “Thievery is a sin, Orias...” The cowl jerked forward and the burnt teeth clicked again. “Where is the rest of it,” it demanded, its voice cracking and wavering.

  “My lord,” Orias began, half-rising. “I swear to you, that is all that I-”

  A glove bobbed up in a sharp gesture. Raum threw himself flat. Orias spun, cursing even as he sought to draw the pistol at his side. But he wasn’t fast enough. The men stationed near the throne fired as one, their rifles snarling like a dog pack. Orias was punched backwards as the carbine bullets blew him out of one hell into the next.

  “I hhhwill brook no thievery,” the thing in red said softly.

  Orias’ body twitched once and lay limp. The gunmen had returned to their previous positions with military briskness. Knight tore his eyes from the dead man and turned them back to the throne. What in the name of God have I stumbled on, he thought.

  “I hhhave no need of thieves,” it murmured, yellow eyes scanning the masks of those assembled. “I hunt thieves,” it said, snapping its teeth. “I...smell thieves.” Those horrible eyes seemed to jab Knight in the gut. It rose in a rustle of its robes, arms hanging limp at its sides as it stepped down off the rotunda with eerie grace. “Thieves are why this world almost drowned in blood two decades ago,” it said to no one in particular. “Thieves are why I...burned. They damned me,” it said softly, peering into the eyes of each man standing before it. Knight began to edge backwards. “Thieves and crooks and greedy-gut bankers; they stole the world and we let them.”

  The robes hissed as they brushed across the floor. If there were feet beneath them, they made no sound. “Thieves took my name,” it continued. A gloved finger traced the sharp edge of a mask’s cheek. “They took my ffface.”

  “Great Bael,” Raum began, rising to his feet. “We stripped the vessel bare of all portable loot. But we could go back and see if Orias missed anything...”

  “Yes,” Bael said, as he-or she-reached Knight. The touch was light, and almost gentle. Then it grew stronger. “Your mask doesn’t fffit, Vual. Why is that, Vual?”

  “He is feeling ill, he said,” Raum said.

  “Hhhe is not ill. He is dead,” Bael said. Fingers like steel hooks bit into the mask and jerked it off of Knight’s head. Knight stumbled forward and more fingers, curling like the legs of a spider, fastened around his jaw and slung him to the floor.

  Knight, at his physical peak, rolled with the blow and leapt to his feet, his fist cracking into the center of Raum’s mask. Raum fell back and Knight jerked his pistol from its holster and turned, firing with predetermined wildness. As he’d hoped, men fell to the deck in an effort to escape the hail of lead. He spun, jerking the Colt from beneath his shirt as he moved and he fired that as well, plugging the nearest rifleman.

  As that man tumbled, Knight tossed aside Raum’s weapon and grabbed up the fallen carbine. It had a long rectangular clip and a thin strap, which he looped around his arm as he extended the barrel toward the pulsing gasbag above. “Everyone, freeze!” he roared. “Freeze or I shoot!”

  The men who’d been rushing toward him stumbled to an ungraceful halt. Knight grinned tightly. “That’s what I thought. Step back,” he said.

  Bael took a step forward, robes trailing behind it. The yellow eyes seemed to bulge in their sockets as the gloved hands clenched and unclenched like steel clamps. “HhhhI knew I smelled a thief,” Bael said, head cocked. “Who are you?”

  Knight felt a chill sweep through him as those eyes fixed on him. He aimed the Colt at Bael. “Don’t come any closer. I’ll ask the questions here.”

  Bael spread its arms. “Shoot me. Burn me. Bury me. Boil me. I will not die again.”

  Knight was tempted, but he restrained himself. He needed answers... “Good to know. I’ll aim for the kneecaps then,” Knight said. “What say we land this thing?”

  “Or you will do what, thief?” Bael asked.

  “I will blow in that bag above and kill us all. I assume it is full of hydrogen. One round from this carbine ought to do it,” Knight said harshly.

  “Shax,” Bael said. “Go to the speaking tube on the wall. Tell the gunners to hhhdestroy the Skanderbeg.”

  “No!” Knight said.

  “Yes!” Bael snarled, his voice rising to a screech. “We will greet Satan together, we and they. We will burn like twin comets and then boil the ocean below. Unless...unless you drop your weapons.”

  Knight was torn by indecision. It was possible, just possible, that he could kill Bael before he gave the order. It was possible that he could shoot the bag before the gunners fired. It was all possible. But not likely, he knew. He dropped his weapons with a sigh.

  They were on him a moment later. Blows rained down on him with expert precision, striking the vulnerable portions of his anatomy and robbing his limbs of strength. Bael grimaced down at him as his arms were twisted behind his back and his knees bent. “You have hateful eyes, thief. They make me
feel like I am burning again. But it is you who will hhhburn. And your eyes and the secrets they have seen will burst into nothingness in the fire we make of this lost world.” It glanced up. “Take him to the sinner’s cage. I want him to enjoy our hospitality before I put the question to him.”

  Knight was hauled to his feet. Bael eyed him. “After he is ensconced there...destroy the Skanderbeg.”

  “No! Damn you!” Knight bellowed, jerking free of his captors and lunging for Bael. A gloved hand caught him on the throat and he felt Bael’s crushing grip on his larynx. Bael looked weak and fragile, but it was unbelievably strong. Knight gasped as his feet left the deck and he was hoisted into the air.

  “Damn me? Damn you!” Bael hissed. “Damnation awaits both of us, thief, but only one will greet it with open arms. I saw Satan in the fire and he saw me, and offered me everything! And I took it! I am Hell’s Hand, and I have you in my clutches!”

  With a shriek, Bael hurled Knight to the floor and turned to the rotunda. Limping and wheezing, it ascended back to its seat and sat heavily, cowled head turned away. It gestured limply. “Take him away. Destroy the airship. Leave no trace of our passage.”

  Knight, throat and pride bruised, was dragged away, a grim darkness settling across him as he stared death at the figure on the chair. One way or another, even if he had to die to do it, he knew he was going to kill Bael.

  ***

  The wind whistled and shrieked beneath the gondola like a lost soul. Knight was dragged out of the protective embrace of metal and dragged onto a shaky platform much like the one he’d used earlier to board the vessel. With a start, he realized that the airship was studded with such platforms, though this was the lowest of them, and beneath it hung the cage. He wondered if the vessel ever landed...