Falling Machine, The (The Society of Steam, Book One) by Mayer Andrew P

Author:Mayer, Andrew P. [Mayer, Andrew P.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Pyr
Published: 2011-06-20T16:00:00+00:00

Wickham furrowed his brow as he ran, trying to gather his thoughts. His lungs were burning from the exertion and the large quantities of the frosty air that he was pulling in through his nose.

While his body might not be as strong or reliable as it once had been, his mind was as sharp as ever. There was a slight concern, however, as he reviewed the path of the maze in his mind, that Brandon had taken them in a complete circle before he had brought him back into the cul-de-sac where the ambush had taken place. And that meant that even if he went the right way, they'd still be waiting for him before he could escape. But would the Ruffian even be able to pull off a scheme like that? He prayed the German was truly as big a buffoon as he appeared to be.

He made a sharp left and relaxed when he saw the street a few yards ahead of him. Once he escaped the maze he would be relatively safe. They could chase him, but assaulting him in public would mean police, or at the very least witnesses.

As he burst into daylight, Wickham's feeling of triumph instantly evaporated. He hadn't managed to reach the street at all. Instead it was another cul-de-sac—this one even smaller than the one he had just escaped from, and no more useful.

From behind him he heard gleeful shouts from Jack and his thugs. “We've got him now, boys!” The tone of the man's voice was truly the most atrocious blend of London and New York accents he had ever heard. Wickham would at least tell him that before he died.

He turned around to face his pursuers, holding up his stick as menacingly as he could manage. If he was doomed, then he'd go down fighting.

He hoped it would be Jack who came through first. He'd taken down big men like the Ruffian before, but it was the ability of the marksman to attack him at range that put him at the biggest disadvantage.

As he steeled himself for the final confrontation he felt something slip around his shoulders. Before he could react it yanked tight, pinning his arms to his sides. He gasped when he realized that he'd been roped and was rising up into the air.

It was painful and awkward, and by the time he had devised a plan to struggle free, he was already too far off the ground to avoid plummeting to his death. And even if he could survive the fall, he'd end up face-to-face with his pursuers.

With the next jerk of the rope the cane fell from his hand and dropped to the ground below. It bounced back into the air a single time before clattering across the cobblestones and finally rolling to a stop next to a pile of rubbish in the gutter.

Wickham looked up to the rooftops to try to see who it was who had captured him, wondering if it was friend or foe. But what he discovered was not an answer to that question.

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