Onyx City (The Lazarus Longman Chronicles Book 3) Read Online Free Page B

“All five on the target. Try the Webley. We drew up the contract for ten thousand of them last year. The loading mechanism is a vast improvement on the Enfield’s.”
    “I’d like to see Mr. Clumps have a try,” said Lazarus.
    The big man brought his cigar up to his silver lips and inhaled deeply, blowing the smoke out through his mask’s nostrils. He selected the Webley Mk I and broke it open to slide in the cartridges. Lazarus watched him intently while reloading the Peacemaker. As Mr. Clumps raised the revolver and pointed it at the target, Lazarus aimed his Peacemaker at the big man’s head.
    “Drop it!” he shouted. “All of you get back!” he commanded Morton and the scientists.
    Mr. Clump’s metallic face slowly revolved on its neck to fix its hollow eyes on Lazarus. His gun arm lowered but still gripped the Webley.
    “Longman, have you lost your bloody mind?” Morton bellowed.
    “Stay back!” Lazarus shouted. “I don’t know what’s going on or how it happened, but this thing is a mechanical! Somehow a bloody mechanical posing as a human has snuck into your top secret basement, Morton!”
    “You may put down your revolver, Mr. Clumps,” Morton said, “lest our agent actually damage you.”
    Mr. Clumps set the Webley down on the table and turned to face Lazarus.
    “Bravo, Longman,” Morton said. “Bravo. I was confident that if anybody could call him out on it, then it was you. Ingenious workmanship, eh? You can set your gun down too, you know. He’s not a danger.”
    “Morton, what the hell is going on?” said Lazarus, still pointing his gun at those blank, lifeless eyes.
    “I’m sorry for the trick, old boy, but we needed to see just how passable our creation here is. It seems that only a man with extensive experience with these mechanicals can see through its disguise. Still, that’s good enough for us.”
    “You mean your crackpots actually built one of these things? How?”
    “With some help from our American friends. We called in some specialists from the C.S.A. for advice, but he’s all British workmanship. Put down your gun and I’ll show you.”
    Lazarus slowly set the pistol down on the table, not taking his eyes off the mechanical.
    “Mr. Clumps,” said Morton. “Remove your mask.”
    The giant reached up and fiddled with some screws that were disguised in the molded sideburns of the mask. With those steady, massive hands, he removed the metal visage to reveal what had once been a man’s head. It was sickly, pale and bald. Its jaw was missing and a blackened pipe protruded from the esophagus.
    “The organic pilot’s vocal chords are still intact, which was essential for authentic speech,” Morton explained. “Steam from its internal boiler is released from this pipe too, disguised as cigar smoke which necessitates the permanent ‘smoking’ action. It’s a fake cigar, of course, with a small light that simulates burning and a scent valve that disguises the steam as tobacco smoke. A mild blend from Spitalfields, in fact.”
    “What of its fuel source?” Lazarus asked. “Not mechanite, surely.”
    “Actually, yes,” Morton replied with a smile.
    “How on earth did you get mechanite into England?”
    “It was part of a new deal with the C.S.A. They lent us some scientists and a small supply of the stuff in order for us to try out this experimental model. Think, Longman! Think if we could disguise mechanicals as people!”
    “To what end? They’re not clever enough to be spies. And too clumsy to be assassins.”
    “Ah, yes, well, their applications are not yet fully understood, but it’s through experimentation that we shall find out the potential possibilities.”
    To Lazarus this sounded a lot like ‘because we can’. “And this is supposed to be my colleague on the mission? A mechanical? Well you can forget it. I’m out if this thing has anything to do with it.”
    “Come now, Longman, don’t be prejudiced.”
    “Prejudiced? Several of these