The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen Read Free Page B

to cover our
exit. I think it will be rather impressive."
    The Fantom glanced up to the hangar's next level and gestured to one of his
loyal henchmen who stood on the iron steps above. The soldier tossed down a
sleek and complicated rocket-launching weapon. The masked leader shrugged his
cape out of the way, shouldered the weapon, and cocked the firing pin.
    "Are you mad?" the German scientist cried upon seeing the rocket launcher.
"This place is full of hydrogen gas!"
    "Exactly." He turned to Dante. "Get Herr Draper to safety please."
    Shouting into his radio box, Dante sounded the retreat. Leaving the corralled
factory prisoners waiting for rescue from the incensed German army, the invading
soldiers in British uniforms beat an orderly withdrawal from the main work
area.
    The masked leader swung the weapon to bear on the space behind them, where
the six enormous zeppelins hovered by the yawning open doors of the hangar.
Shouting curses at the English, the Kaiser's reinforcements swarmed through the
front doorway, demanding that the British troops surrender.
    When the oncoming German soldiers were halfway across the hangar, running
directly under the dirigibles, the Fantom fired the heavy rocket launcher.
    "Nein!" Karl Draper shouted, his face filled with horror. Dante pushed him
impatiently ahead.
    Whistling, sputtering, and buzzing as it flew, the rocket trailed a control
wire behind it. The Fantom studied the trajectory like an expert skeet shooter
and adjusted his aim to put the nearest zeppelin in the crosshairs. He couldn't
possibly miss.
    The wire-controlled rocket angled up and tore through the side of the
gas-filled airship, then detonated. Though a single spark would have been
sufficient, the Fantom found this extravagant method more dramatic and
satisfying.
    Contained within baffled chambers of the huge lighter-than-air dirigible, the
rich hydrogen gas erupted in incinerating flames. The explosion sent out shock
waves powerful enough to knock the rushing German soldiers flat. Many of them
caught fire, like living candles, screaming as they burned and fell to the
hangar floor. The trapped factory workers and defeated guards tried to escape,
but the flames rolled forward like fiery floodwaters from a burst dam.
    A wave of flame spewed from the first dying zeppelin and ignited its nearest
counterpart, triggering a catastrophic chain reaction that leaped from one
zeppelin to the next. Soon, the entire Valkyrie Works were in flames.
    The Fantoms' silver mask caught and reflected the dazzling firestorm. He
admired the holocaust he had triggered. Quite impressive.
    Then he turned and followed his men, thoroughly satisfied with how well he
had stirred the hornets nest.

THREE
The
Brittania
Club
 Nairobi ,
Kenya
    A dry savannah wind blew along dirt roads lined with single-level stores,
huts, and merchant stalls. A few natives loudly hawked overripe fruits and
vegetables from produce carts. The smell was thick with rot, manure, and sweat.
It seemed inconceivable that a person might choose to live here unless he had
absolutely no other options.
    Sanderson Reed looked at his surroundings with disdain, waving his straw hat
in front of his face as much to chase away the odors as to cool himself. He was
a pallid bureaucrat in his late twenties; to him, traveling so far from home was
an unpleasant chore instead of an adventure.
    "Nairobi. The big city… according to the map of Kenya." He made a snorting
sound.
    According to the briefing M had given him, this was little more than a
glorified, boggy watering hole for the Maasai people. Not exactly civilization.
Reed wished he was back in London. For all its faults, at least that city had
culture.
    Hearing him mutter, the dark-skinned driver of the wagon turned to him.
"Sorry, sir? Did you say something, sir?"
    "Nothing worth repeating. So, where is the Britannia Club? Are we almost
there?" The drive had been as interminable as it was