The Map of Chaos (Trilogía Victoriana #3)(152)
“I am so glad I brought along this semiautomatic Walther, which I kept as a souvenir of my last trip,” he declared suddenly, brandishing the weapon proudly and causing them all to jump. “It is a standard-issue Wehrmacht pistol used in the Second World War, a rather crude weapon compared to my heat-ray gun, which I lost while fighting a Tyrannosaurus rex. And although there is nothing I enjoy more than killing you with my bare hands, George, it seems this afternoon I have my work cut out for me. Because, you see, I am afraid I am going to have to kill all of you . . . ,” he said with feigned regret. “After I have destroyed that book you wrote, Professor, which might take away my powers.”
“You don’t have any powers, Mr. Rhys. What you have is a terrible disease,” replied the old man, trying to make his voice sound as calm and convincing as possible. “And if we don’t find a cure, it is you who will end up being destroyed, the same as all the other cronotemics. Sooner or later, your molecules will disappear into the void without a trace. Unless, that is, the universe explodes first.”
“I see,” said Rhys rather wistfully. He thought about it for a few moments and then replied, “But, do you know something, Professor? I don’t believe it will destroy me. On the contrary . . . That may happen to those other poor wretches, but, you see, I think the virus has made me immortal . . . It has made me into a kind of god, a being beyond the existence of any universe. Actually, I couldn’t care less if I am a superior being or a common invalid. I want to continue to be whatever I am. My powers are astonishing! And now that I understand them fully, and, thanks to you, I have discovered that we live in a multiverse where anything is possible, imagine all the things I could do! I could seduce Madame Bovary, drink Doctor Jekyll’s potion, sink Noah’s ark with a missile! I am sure I could travel to distant, fantastical worlds . . . Or even jump into neighboring multiverses, before this one explodes . . . And very soon I will become the most powerful being in all Creation! I will be Invisible Death! The God of Chaos! And I will not allow some stupid book to stand in my way!” he finished with a brutal, savage roar.
For a few seconds, the Villain stood panting, a faraway look in his eyes, lost, perhaps, in the labyrinth of his own folly. Suddenly he looked straight at the old man.
“Give me the book, Professor,” he ordered with surprising calm, “so that I can throw it on the fire as though it had never existed.”
Wells shook his head and squeezed Jane’s hand hard. He had no intention of giving Rhys the book. It contained the key to saving the world, and besides . . . it was a whole year’s work.
“Really?” said Rhys, with theatrical disappointment. “I am sure I can make you change your mind.”
With an incredibly swift movement, he seized Jane’s twin by the hair, slammed her head against the table, and pressed the muzzle of his pistol to her temple. Wells’s young twin made as if to intervene, but the creature’s scowling face stopped him in his tracks, and he simply contemplated the scene as helplessly as the old couple.
“Don’t be foolish, George: we both know you are no hero. Why not help me persuade your old teacher instead. Tell him to hand over the damned book or I’ll kill her.”
The young Wells obeyed instantly. Turning to the old man, he implored, “Give it to him, Professor, for the love of God!”
Wells looked at him with infinite sorrow. That would not save the girl, or them. He knew this better than anyone; true to his name, the Villain would kill them all and destroy the book, or destroy the book and kill them all—it mattered little in what order.
“Right now, that book is the most valuable thing that exists in the entire universe. Do you really think I would be foolish enough to carry it around with me?” Wells improvised.
“Then take me to where the damn thing is before I lose my temper. Perhaps we could all do with some fresh air,” muttered the Villain, hissing like a snake preparing to strike its prey.
Wells glanced at Jane’s twin, her face still brutally crushed against the table by the creature’s translucent hand, and he tried to gain some time.
“Mr. Rhys, listen to me! You and I can come to an agreement. If you allow me to save the universe, I promise I will find the way to make the virus not go beyond your body. After all, I created it. That way, you would be the only one in the entire multiverse with the power to—”
The Villain pointed his weapon at the young Wells, who suddenly found himself staring down the barrel of a pistol; he pulled the trigger without even looking at him. Wells’s twin fell to the floor, his head blown off. Rhys smiled and released the girl, who, half-dazed by what had just happened, knelt down and took her beloved’s lifeless body in her arms. Fortunately, from where they were standing, the old couple couldn’t see this tragic scene. All they glimpsed was the back of the girl’s head, which began to shake with her sobs. That was where the Villain aimed his pistol.
“Do you take me for a fool, Professor?” he said wearily, as though bored of the whole affair. “I’ll shoot her this time unless you tell me where the book is.”
Wells squeezed Jane’s hand firmly as he muttered to himself, “Forgive me, forgive me . . .”
The Villain shook his head, visibly displeased by Wells’s stubbornness, and pulled the trigger. A blue flash spewed from the barrel. They did not see where the bullet struck, but the girl’s sobs stopped abruptly. Rhys glanced casually at the fruits of his wickedness and then grinned at the old couple.