Author: Charlie Higson
Category: Horror
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/charlie-higson/page,12,49988-by_royal_command.html
Yes.
James already had a secret compartment in the heel of one shoe, inside which he kept his penknife. It would be next to useless in a fight, but it had saved his bacon on a couple of occasions.
Now he had another plan.
Once he had finished sewing the pocket he removed a razor-blade from its cardboard packet and slipped it inside. He held the jacket up to the light to inspect his handiwork. He was satisfied. You couldn’t tell that the razor-blade was hidden in there, and James was confident that there was no danger of cutting himself as the tail would always hang safely down below his chair.
This was the fifth secret pocket he had made today. In one he had a book of matches and a set of lock picks he had been given by his friend, Red Kelly. In another were a pencil stub and some slips of thin paper. And there was a long metal skewer down his other jacket tail, where there was also a second razor-blade sitting in its own pocket.
Just in case.
There was a long tradition at Eton of using your coat-tails to smuggle items in and out of school, and much larger objects than these had been hidden in boys’ jackets before now.
Satisfied, he slipped the jacket on and studied himself in the mirror.
No one would ever have known what the tails contained. He smiled. It was like a stage magician’s jacket, full of secrets. He wondered if he should try and hide a white rabbit or a dove inside it. Maybe a length of silk handkerchiefs tied together…
Actually that might not be such a bad idea. Silk was surprisingly strong and he could use it like a rope.
James looked at his clock. That would have to wait for another time. It was getting late. Making the alterations to his jacket had taken longer than he had expected.
He packed away the sewing kit and grabbed his hat.
Earlier that morning he had received a note from Andrew Carlton, telling James to meet him in Windsor at their lock-up. The boys in the Danger Society had maintained a small garage here and since the Society had been broken up James had pretty well forgotten all about it.
He left the House, walked briskly through Eton and across the bridge into Windsor. It was a warm and sunny day and James was pleased to find that the pain of Bentinck’s beating had almost disappeared. It didn’t affect his movement at all beyond a slight tightness.
He made his way to the backstreets behind the Victoria Barracks. The garage was in an old mews building in a little courtyard, and as James approached he saw Andrew waiting.
‘We wanted to keep it a secret until it was finished,’ said Andrew as he unlocked the padlock on the garage doors. ‘Not that it really is finished. Not sure it ever will be.’
‘The Bentley?’ said James as Andrew pulled the doors open. And there it was.
James had bought the car last year with money he had won at an illegal casino. She was a 4½-litre Bentley Blower. A big, powerful open two-seater, built for racing. She had been a near wreck when James had got her and so much had happened since that he had all but forgotten about her.
The boys of the Danger Society hadn’t, though. They had been busy.
‘We’ve worked on her every available moment,’ Andrew explained. ‘It was Perry’s idea, and he was pretty cut up that he couldn’t be here to help out after he was sent down. But he’s still been helping, in his own way. In fact I doubt we could have finished it without him. He visited me in London just before the start of the half with a big pile of one-pound notes. The only thing not finished is the paintwork.’
The car was painted a flat, gun-metal grey.
‘It rather suits her,’ said James, running a hand along the car’s flank. ‘It shows her history. We should leave her just as she is.’
‘So you like her, then?’
‘She’s beautiful,’ said James. ‘If that’s the right word for such a brute. Does she run?’
Andrew shrugged. ‘None of us have been able to take her out on the road. Though the man from the workshop who finished her off drove her round here for us.’
‘I don’t know how I can ever thank you all for this.’
‘Being allowed to work on her has been all the thanks we need,’ said Andrew. ‘Although I’d dearly love to take her out for a spin one day.’
‘It’ll be my pleasure,’ said James, trying not to grin from ear to ear like an idiot as he inspected the magnificent car, going over every detail. The work was crude and not finished to the usual high standards of Bentley, but somehow it made the car seem more powerful, more rugged. She was a working machine and not a gentleman’s plaything. The leather seats didn’t match, but at least the wheels did. The controls were scrounged from spare parts, mostly from other makes of car. In fact some were not even from cars at all, by the looks of them. There was an odd assortment of knobs and dials and levers.
James climbed into the driver’s seat and started her up. The noise of the engine was music to his ears as it coughed and growled and rumbled into life, shattering the peace and quiet of the sleepy mews. The whole car shook on its springs, like an animal eager to be off and running.
Reluctantly James cut the engine and silence returned.
The smell of hot oil and petrol filled the lock-up, but as far as James was concerned it was the sweetest perfume.
He got out of the car and walked over to Andrew.
He couldn’t think of anything to say, but the expression on his face told the whole story.
He was still thinking about the car half an hour later as he entered Windsor Great Park to meet Roan for her picnic. She had drawn him a map of where they were to meet, a secluded spot among some trees. She had also drawn little stick figures of the two of them enjoying the picnic together and he couldn’t wait to act out the scene.
As he marched along the wide tree-lined track known as The Long Walk all thoughts of school, and Bloody Bentinck and The Invisible Man, drifted away.
The park was busy with families enjoying the sunshine, walking, sitting on the grass, riding horses. Deer wandered on the fringes of the forested areas where the oaks and elms and chestnuts were in full leaf. James was overcome by a sense of how good it was to be alive.
He wished he could have driven over in the Bentley. It was the perfect day for a drive. He pictured himself at the wheel, flying round a bend with the wind tugging at his hair. He could almost hear the throaty growl of the engine.
He broke into a run and dashed past Snow Hill with its statue of King George III dressed as a Roman emperor sitting on his horse looking regally towards Slough. The royal family had always owned the park and it was impossible to forget their presence. There were the towers and turrets of Windsor Castle to the north, the Frogmore mausoleum to the east, where Queen Victoria was buried with Prince Albert, King George up on his hill in the middle. He remembered what Roan had said to him about not living in the real world and he wondered if the royal family ever looked out of the windows of their huge castle and thought about what life must be like for the ordinary people out here going about their everyday business.
He followed the map until he identified the patch of woodland Roan had marked with an X. He soon found the path that led away from the open grassland in among the trees.
A minute later, there was Roan, sitting on a blanket in a clearing, lit by broken sunlight, filtering down through the leaves and branches overhead. He stopped for a moment to look at her, while she was still unaware that he was there.
She was eating an apple and looked utterly at peace with the world.
James took a moment to pull himself together. He slowed his breathing and adopted a casual expression, and then, when he was sure that he would appear as relaxed and untroubled as the maid, he sauntered into the clearing.
As soon as he stepped out of the shadows, however, he realised that Roan was not alone.
A young man was there. He had been hidden from James’s view, sitting with his back against a tree stump. When he saw James, he tossed a chicken bone aside, sprang lightly to his feet and bounded over to greet hi
m.
‘You must be the famous James Bond,’ he said with a broad Irish accent to match Roan’s, and he slapped James hard on the shoulder.
James fought hard not to show his disappointment. He had assumed that he and Roan would be alone. There had only been two stick figures in her drawing…
Don’t be a fool. Why shouldn’t she have asked someone else on her picnic?
The young man was as handsome as Roan was beautiful, with a glamorous mop of wavy fair hair and dark blue, almost black eyes. He was dressed in an olive-green moleskin suit with a bright orange waistcoat and a red scarf knotted loosely around his throat.
Roan stretched out on her back on the blanket and called over to James.
‘This is my pal, Dandy O’Keefe,’ she said. ‘Us paddies need to stick together, you know. When we’re so far from home.’
‘Is there anyone else joining us?’ said James, with a brave attempt at sounding unconcerned.
‘No, it’s just the three of us,’ said Roan, closing her eyes and letting the sunlight fall across her face. ‘I bumped into Dandy this morning in town and he sort of invited himself along.’
‘Roan told me you got into a whole heap of trouble last time she was out with you,’ said Dandy, grabbing a fresh chicken leg and passing it to James. ‘I hope you’ve not told anyone you were coming here today, Bucko.’
He winked at James, who shook his head.
‘It’s our secret, isn’t it?’ said Roan.
‘Well, it’s safe with me,’ said Dandy.
‘Dandy’s a gardener,’ said Roan. ‘He works for the school as well. Looking after the grounds. He’s the greenest fingers of any man I know.’
‘Ah, it’s all fertilisers and chemicals these days,’ said Dandy.
‘Dandy used to work on one of the big estates back in the old country,’ said Roan.
‘I’ve come over here to make me fortune,’ said Dandy. ‘Though between you and me, it’s going to take the devil of a long time. I’ll be a hundred years old with a beard around me ankles by the time I make me millions. Too old to enjoy them. Now come along, let’s get stuck in here, I’m starving.’
‘You’re always starving,’ said Roan as she handed round plates of food.
James was amazed at the food. There was bread and cheese and ham, cold pies and chicken, pickles and hard-boiled eggs. She had brought water and lemonade and some bottles of beer for Dandy, who gave one to James.
‘This is quite a spread,’ said James.
‘I’ve made great friends with the kitchen staff at Codrose’s,’ said Roan with a wink.
‘Roan could charm the crown off the King’s head,’ said Dandy.
‘You should see Codrose’s pantry,’ said Roan. ‘It’s fit to bursting with food. And he’s miserly with it. You’re a Codrose boy, James, so by rights this food is yours.’
‘I’ve no right to it at all, of course,’ said Dandy, taking a swig of beer. ‘Which makes it taste all the sweeter.’
Dandy went on to tell a long story about getting into an argument in a pub in Virginia Water that had Roan crying with laughter. He was great company, always talking, joking and telling stories, but, all the same, James wished that he hadn’t come along, that it was just him and Roan.
‘Dandy’s always in trouble,’ said Roan. ‘He loves a drink and he can’t walk away from a fight.’
‘Listen to her, James,’ said Dandy. ‘As if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. To hear her talk you’d think she was a saint, but I’m sure you know her well enough to know she’s no shrinking violet. I’ve seen her deck three men with one punch.’
‘Ah, now you’re exaggerating, Dandy. It was one punch and a kick.’
‘She’s got a wicked kick on her, James. You don’t want to get on the wrong side of her.’
Dandy took a big folding knife out of his pocket and used it to cut himself some slices of hard cheese. The knife put James’s penknife to shame. It looked like a hunter’s weapon, big and powerful, with a blade that had been lovingly sharpened. Suddenly, all his preparations, stitching the razor-blades and tools into his coat-tails, seemed pathetic.
‘You’re staring at me knife, I see, Bucko,’ said Dandy, eating the cheese off its blade. ‘What is it with boys and knives? Are you wondering if I know how to use it, perhaps?’
‘Well…’
Without another word Dandy suddenly flipped the knife expertly in his hand so that he was holding it by the tip of its blade then tossed it hard at James.
James froze, but the knife flew harmlessly past his ear and he heard a dull thud as it embedded itself in a tree.
He looked round; the knife was gently quivering.
Roan laughed.
‘He didn’t even flinch,’ she said. ‘You’ll have to try harder than that to put the wind up this one, Dandy.’
Dandy laughed as well and went to fetch the knife.
‘Don’t pay him no never-mind, James,’ said Roan. ‘He’s never hit anyone yet. That’s his party trick. You were supposed to yell and duck.’
‘You gave me the old stone face,’ said Dandy, wrenching the knife out of the tree with a grunt. He wiped it on his sleeve and passed it to James.
James felt the weight of it in his hand. If he had someone like Dandy by his side The Invisible Man would be no threat.
‘That was a good shot,’ he said.
‘Maybe I should join a circus, eh?’ said Dandy, and he sprang on to his hands and walked upside-down across the clearing while Roan clapped and laughed.
James felt a pang of jealousy. Why couldn’t he make Roan laugh like that? He knew better than to try right at this moment, though – that would only make him seem desperate. The last thing he wanted was to look like he was trying too hard.
Besides, there was no competition. Dandy was older. He was a man. James was just a boy.
Dammit. Sitting in the Bentley, revving the engine and dreaming of the open road he had felt grown up, on top of the world, ready to face anything.
He passed the knife back to Dandy who put it in his pocket.
‘I don’t suppose they teach you knife throwing at school,’ Dandy said.
‘No,’ said James. ‘But there is the Corps. We train to be soldiers. There’s shooting…’
‘Sure, and marching and saluting and polishing your boots,’ said Dandy. ‘I know all about the army. I know all about training you boys to be good soldiers, to be able to march to some foreign land and shoot the natives. To die for King and country.’
‘Leave him alone, Dandy,’ said Roan. ‘Don’t tease the boy.’
‘Who’s teasing?’ said Dandy with mock indignation. ‘Besides, he’s old enough to stick up for himself. Isn’t that right, Bucko?’
‘I suppose so,’ said James. Though he didn’t feel very old right at that moment. He looked away, trying to hide the confused emotions that he was sure were playing on his face.
And that was when he saw him. Ducking behind a tree.
The Invisible Man.
14
By Royal Command
James tensed, becoming alert, like a dog that had caught a scent.
‘What is it?’ said Dandy, who had noticed the change in him.
‘It’s probably nothing,’ said James, peering into the gloom beneath the trees. ‘I just thought there was someone there for a moment.’
‘It’s a public place, Bucko, there’s lots of people about.’
‘No,’ said James. ‘It’ll sound ridiculous, I know, but I think someone’s been following me. Spying on me.’
‘A boy from the school, you mean?’
‘No… I don’t know. A man.’
‘Spying on you? Now who would want to spy on you?’
‘I’m probably just imagining it,’ said James.
‘Well, let’s go and find out,’ said Dandy, and he was up on his feet before James could say anything else. ‘Which way did he go?’
‘There… Among the trees…’
Dandy stalked o
ff in the direction that James was pointing. James ran to his side and kept pace with him.
‘And just what are we looking for?’ said Dandy.
‘A man,’ said James. ‘He wears a trilby.’
‘Most men do,’ said Dandy. ‘Can you narrow it down a little?’
‘Not really, no,’ said James. ‘I’ve never seen him up close.’
A movement caught James’s eye and he turned to see a figure flitting from tree to tree some distance away.
‘There he is!’ he shouted and set off at a run.
The two of them pounded deeper into the woods, their footsteps dulled to muffled thumps by the thick carpet of leaf mould on the ground. They split up and crashed through the undergrowth, keeping watch for any movement.
They could find no sign of the man, however, and both soon slowed to a walk.
James headed towards Dandy. It was dark under the closely planted trees and very quiet. James was about to say something when Dandy put a hand on his arm.
‘Hold still,’ he whispered. ‘Listen… we might hear him.’
They stood there, unmoving. James was aware of the deep stillness in the woods. There seemed to be no birds or wildlife of any kind here. All he could hear was Dandy’s breathing.
He took a couple of paces away from the Irishman, peering between the grey tree trunks.
Nothing.
Eventually he shook his head and turned around.
Dandy was standing with his knife open in his hand. There was an animal intensity about him and James saw him in a very different light. He looked as if he could have stepped out of a history book; he was every inch the wild Irish warrior, stalking the forest for deer. Roan had said he liked to fight, but what exactly was he intending to do with that long blade of his?
There was a heavy, expectant mood. The air hung lifeless in the branches of the trees. Dandy stepped closer to James.
Then there was a shout and the mood was broken. It was a girl’s voice, calling for help, and James’s first thought was that it must be Roan.
‘Who was that?’ he said, and headed towards the sound.