The Map of Chaos (Trilogía Victoriana #3)(12)
Murray looked into his eyes, waiting for a response.
“And h-how is it going to h-happen?” Charles replied at last.
“I’ll tell you,” Murray said calmly, still staring straight at him. “It will happen like this: the eminent Professor Dodgson will blow his brains out on the afternoon of the fourteenth of January 1898—that is to say, this afternoon—after battling with depression for months, having been defeated in a crucial debate by his former pupil”—here Murray grinned at Wells—“to see who would save the universe.”
“My God . . . ,” Jane murmured, moving closer to Wells, who wrapped his arms around her as he observed with dread Murray’s thugs, their bodies gradually tensing as their boss went on.
“It will be a great loss,” Murray continued, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. “A terrible shock, Professor, but after a few months everyone will have forgotten. And then the millionaire Gilliam Murray will announce that his team of scientists has succeeded in creating a magic hole in their laboratory, just as the great Professor Dodgson had planned to do—a hole through which humanity will be able to escape its dreadful fate.”
“What!” Charles exploded. “But the hole is my creation! I—I won’t let you steal it!”
“Listen, Charles . . .” Wells tried to calm him, as he saw the two thugs raise their guns and aim at Dodgson.
“You won’t let me?” Murray gave a hoarse, rasping laugh while Charles fidgeted nervously on the spot. “In case you hadn’t realized, Professor, I didn’t come here to ask your permission. I am Gilliam Murray, and I take what I want.” He gestured to the redheaded giant. “Martin, please. Aim at the temple. Remember, it has to look like suicide.”
The killer nodded and strolled over to where Charles was standing, unable to move. Wells made as if to help his friend but was stopped by the other man pointing his gun at him. Wells put his arms around his wife once more, and the couple watched the redheaded man press his gun against the old man’s temple with theatrical delicacy. Dodgson, too bewildered and scared to do anything else, shifted his weight from one leg to the other.
“A few last words before you leave, Professor?” asked Murray, amused.
Charles scowled and tilted his head slightly, as though leaning against the gun that was about to kill him.
“W-When you don’t know where you are going, one path is as good as any other,” he replied.
Wells swiftly placed a hand over his wife’s eyes, and everything went dark. Jane didn’t see what happened; she only heard a blast, followed by the muffled thud of a body hitting the ground. Then silence. A few seconds later, cracks appeared in the darkness as Wells moved his fingers away from her eyes, and Jane saw Murray gazing impassively at Dodgson’s outstretched body while the redhead stood over him, holding a gun with a wisp of smoke rising from it.
“My God, Bertie . . . ,” she sobbed, burying her head in her husband’s chest.
Murray turned to the couple.
“I have to confess, Mr. Wells, I wasn’t expecting to find you here, accompanied by your wife, and”—he looked at Newton, who had started to bark ferociously—“your pet dog, so I’m afraid there is no part for you in my little play. But as I’m sure you’ll understand, I can’t let you live. And after I’ve killed you, I shall throw your bodies into the hole. As you said yourself, a magic hole is the perfect place to dispose of the evidence of a crime.”
“Damn you, Murray,” Wells hissed in disgust as he held on to Jane tightly. “I hope your Albatross sinks under your vast weight and crashes, preferably into the Church’s Holy See.”
Murray gave a loud guffaw, then signaled to the thug whose weapon was trained on Wells.
“Go ahead, Tom. It doesn’t need to look like suicide, so you can shoot them anywhere. Oh, and kill that damned mutt while you’re at it.”
The young man answering to the name of Tom looked at the picturesque trio he was supposed to execute. He decided to start with the man. He cocked his pistol, extended his arm, and aimed at Wells’s head. But Wells did not flinch. Rather than beg for mercy, close his eyes, lower his head, or improvise some last words, he stared straight at the youth. And for a split second the two men looked at each other in silence. Wells’s bravery seemed to take the lad by surprise, or perhaps he was laughing to himself at this stupid display of courage, but in any event he delayed pulling the trigger. Wells guessed that, despite all his experience, the killer had never had to shoot someone who showed such dignity when helpless, moreover with the addition of a sobbing wife in his arms and a faithful hound at his feet. Realizing that the time it would take for the lad to pull the trigger was the only time he had in which to act, he wheeled round, grabbing Jane by the arm and pulling her toward the hole. If they were going to go through it, better alive than dead.
“Jump, Jane, jump!” he cried, shielding her body with his as they bridged the short distance between them and the hole Dodgson had managed to tunnel into the air.
Wells feared he would receive a bullet in his back at any moment, but as he lunged forward and his body started to go through the hole, he knew the killer would not have time to shoot. Newton followed them, leaping through just as the orifice folded in on itself with a deafening roar. Then what could have been a gust of cosmic wind swept through the room, accompanied by a flash of white light that blinded the three men left behind.