Free Island of Doom: Hunchback Assignments 4 (The Hunchback Assignments) by Arthur Slade Page A

We aren’t barbarians. It will be a pleasant and polite series of conversations, I promise.” He waved his pistol. “Now please stand up or I’ll shoot you.”

12

Transporting the Dead
    I n her thirty-seven years Miss Hakkandottir had seen hundreds, if not thousands, of bodies, and now she was carrying load after load of cadavers to the island. She had been at it for weeks. There were three more coffins resting in the car of the airship
Hera
as she floated across the Pacific. This last batch had been from New Zealand, brought to her by desperate prospectors who had yet to find a vein of gold. Another hanged man, his neck stretched too long. Someone who’d died in a mine by suffocation, the body in pristine condition; a particularly happy find. And a man who’d ingested poison after losing all his money in a card game. He was an odd shade of yellow.
    Designed by Dr. Hyde, the ice coffins showcased his trademark ingenuity. Despite the humidity and warmth ofthe Pacific, the ice melted slowly so the bodies stayed cold, in the same state they had been not hours before their deaths.
    Miss Hakkandottir’s orders had been to keep the coffins closed, but curiosity got the better of her and she opened them one by one to gaze down on the faces of the dead. Hardened, muscular men who had lived tough lives. The combination of gases and cold kept them looking as though they could snap their eyes open at any moment. She mused about what she’d look like when she was dead and shrugged it off. Death was not something she dwelled upon.
Fearlessness is better than a faint heart
, her father had told her many times. The hour of her death had been written long ago; she could not prevent it.
    It was an important but boring task to transport the dead back to Atticus. She had brought a total of one hundred and seven bodies to the catacombs of the Clockwork Guild’s lair. There was something sacred about the job. She laughed. Sacred? When had she ever been concerned with spiritual matters?
    The trip took three days. She did love being airborne. From here she could look to the northwest, where the giant shipyards on the coast of China were building three new steam-powered Guild battleships: the
Hydra
, the
Gorgon
, and the
Medusa
. They would be larger and more powerful than the
Wyvern
, her last battleship. No navy would be able to stand in their way. Each ship would be accompanied by a fleet of steam-powered Triton boats. Any and all nations would tremble at the sight of this armada.
    She had no desire to be the captain of a seafaring vessel—ifshe was to be captain of anything it would be in the air. No nation—not England, not Germany, and not France—had an airship with as much weaponry and speed as the
Hera
. With enough coal and food she could strike London and vanish into the night before they even knew who had dealt the blow She imagined having a hundred airships at her command. No. A thousand! The stunned world would be in awe of her.
    “I want a perfect landing this time,” she said to the pilot. The wind was blowing out of the northwest, and the crosswind would make it difficult. “Yes, Captain,” the pilot replied. She noted that his hand was steady on the wheel. Good. Only the best of the Guild soldiers could work with her.
    Below them three small Triton boats were cutting through the water at a speed she estimated to be over twenty-four knots. In a short time there would be a hundred of them. The Guild Master had some plan or other at play, but he was always so secretive about his grand intentions. Even Dr. Hyde, whom she could twist into whatever shape she desired, had been secretive.
    The pilot lowered the flaps and a gust of wind banged the
Hera
against the dock, a rattling that made the ship shudder. It was enough to set Miss Hakkandottir’s nerves on edge. She grabbed the pilot with her metal hand, ignoring his pleading, and lifted him over the side of the open car. “You’ll land perfectly next time.” Then