Sawyer Fan - Thanks - I've been having fun getting into their heads. As for hugging and reassuring Tom, perhaps we can take it in turns. LOL.
Note: This part contains a tribute to Clez and her great story "Ghosts of Old". Thanks, Clez, and I can't wait for the next update! (The swordfight showdown must be getting close, right?)
Title: "Rubicon 1 - Aftermath" Chapter 3
By Ten Mara
Rating: PG-13
CATEGORY: Story, Drama/Angst
DISCLAIMER: The literary characters referred to are copyright their respective authors, and "LXG: The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen" is copyright 20th Century Fox, based on the comic books by Alan Moore and Kevin O'Neill. The characters and movie universe are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, no profit will be gained. Characters not recognized are mine, and a few real-life historical people of the time are used (information on the latter will be given in the chapters where they are featured).
xXx
Tom set off to find Nemo, with whom he had gotten on fairly well during the League's first adventure. The Captain seemed to see from his fascination and questions that he was genuinely interested in the submarine and appreciated its marvels. Okay, he shouldn't have referred to it that time as a 'canoe' . . . .
And I really shouldn't have been so surprised that it could make such fast speeds. After all, when he was nearly fifteen, he gained firsthand experience in a special hot air balloon a mad professor had built. Tom, Huck and their friend Jim ended up sailing it across the Sahara Desert at an amazing rate. But that was such a lighter contraption, and traveling by air. Who knew that this huge sub could cut through water so quick?
His politeness had also won points with the Indian. Aunt Polly would be so proud.
He went up to the bridge and could not see Nemo there, but he was probably in his study just off this room, so Tom asked one of the officers if the Captain was available. Within a minute he was being ushered into the study and Nemo was coming from around his large desk to greet him.
"I'm sorry; I know you're busy," Sawyer began, then saw how the Captain was still walking somewhat stiffly. I thought Jekyll said he was all right. Mustn't be anything major then, but still . . . .
Nemo saw his concern. "It could have been a lot worse. And by all means, come in, Agent Sawyer. How are you?"
"Okay," Tom replied quietly. As long as we're just talking physically.
Nemo gave him a searching look, then fortunately seemed to leave such questions at that. He led him over to another section of the luxuriously appointed study, which apart from a conference area had a fireplace surrounded by plush armchairs and other furniture suitable for a parlor. The Captain gestured to a large armchair and eased himself into one directly opposite it. "Help yourself to some refreshment. Do the British require you back inside the fortress?"
"No. They know the layout well enough now." The proffered fruit and water was on a table right next to Tom. He made himself take some, then commented, "From what Jekyll told me, this sub is full to the seams with people at the moment."
"Yes. I'm trying to organise ways of keeping them in certain sections. But the children will need some fresh air once we are out of this area and also enough room to roam."
"Yeah, all that energy will have to go somewhere." Tom well remembered how he was as a kid. He still had plenty of restless energy to burn - in the adrenalin rush after the gunfight in the library, he hadn't been able to keep still while introducing himself to the League. "Is your back all right?"
"It will be. I just have to avoid straining it. Doctor Jekyll and I encountered a beast in the fortress - one of M's henchman who had drunk a lot more of the elixir at once than Jekyll would ever dream of. In the battle I was thrown against a wall, but as I say, it could have been a lot worse. My usual attire turned out to be good protection and padding." The Indian gave a small chuckle.
Tom smiled, then grew more serious. "What's the latest on M's sample case?"
"A group of my men were a little distance away when they saw M go down, shot. They had been trying to reach him to stop him getting to the Nautiloid, but would not have got there in time. They did get to the body before the British troops though, and there was no sign of a case. It must have sunk, and in water that cold and deep, there is no way that it can be retrieved by divers. So I have some men currently in the Nautilod, using it to go down and see if the case is visible through the observation windows. If they can locate it, they can operate mechanical arms to pick it up. My men on the ice did find the Fantom's mask though."
That did not surprise Tom. M seemed to have quite a fixation with keeping that mask, even when he was not wearing it.
"Captain Nemo, I have a few requests to ask of you."
"You may certainly ask. And I in turn will do my best to grant."
"Firstly, could you give me directions to the refrigeration room where Quatermain is?"
"Ah. Yes, I will show you on this model of the Nautilus." It was a wooden replica which opened up to show a cross section of the interior of the submarine. The information was quickly given and memorised.
Nemo then said, "I wish we were going directly to Nairobi to lay Quatermain to rest, but we cannot abandon these people, not after what M did to them. Letting the British officers be aboard is a big sacrifice for me, but I believe my efforts will give me a foot in the door, so to speak, with them. It could be useful at some stage in the future."
"They'll owe you," Tom agreed, nodding. "A good position to be in. When we're clear of Mongolia, I need to try to get a message to my superiors. They may want me to head right back to the US from England. Or at some earlier port." At that thought he frowned.
"We have saved the world from being plunged into war, and you personally saved Venice. I think that your government should allow you enough time off to take Quatermain to Africa."
"Here's hoping," Sawyer replied. Then he made his second request. "In the meantime, I would like to start learning martial arts. I know you are very busy, so is there someone on your crew also an expert at it who I could take lessons from?"
Nemo just looked at him, almost through him it seemed to the suddenly uncomfortable Tom. There was curiosity in the Captain's eyes.
"You believe you require more training than what the American Secret Service gave you?"
Tom's right hand unconsciously brushed his throat for a moment. The gesture was not lost on Nemo; the wounds had not been bandaged, so were clearly visible, and the Captain had seen them before when reunited in the fortress. The cause was obvious.
"I have had defence training, but it would be good to get some practice in, improve where needed and learn new moves. Guns aren't always there when you need them. Or in close quarters, not very effective." The spy was glad he managed to keep his voice steady and matter-of-fact.
Learning new and useful skills would be good, and keep him busy. Also, the physical exertion was useful to channel out emotions and tire him, so he could hopefully sleep more soundly at night.
Nemo nodded. "Things will be very busy here until the last of our guests disembarks in England and we talk to the British Government. Until then, and until my back is fully healed, as I am sure that Doctor Jekyll would insist, I will not be able to take you for lessons. But I can certainly introduce you to one of my men who is just as good at martial arts as I am. We practice together regularly. He would be happy to have another student and I'm sure you will be a dedicated one."
"That's great, thank you."
"I will take you to him after breakfast tomorrow and you can arrange a time then to begin the lessons. During the day it looks like the exercise rooms and obstacle course rooms will be playgrounds for the children, but the men must be able to use them the rest of the time. You are welcome to join them, or you may use my personal exercise room or course. Then there is the shooting gallery, which will be available at any time, since that will definitely be off limits to the children. And I'm sure an hour can be set aside before sunset each day for your use of the observation tower or the retractable crows nest if you wish to practice your long range shooting."
"I'd appreciate that very much." Tom then started eating his fruit, knowing that Nemo would not be satisfied unless he consumed something.
There was a pause, then Nemo said carefully, "Agent Sawyer, you said you shot M. Did you do so from the fortress tower?"
The American did not meet his gaze. "Yes."
"Over that distance, a truly remarkable shot."
"I had a great teacher." Tom hoped that Nemo wasn't about to ask him what had happened in the fortress. But no question was forthcoming - yet, and Mina may have told him anyway.
The agent hesitated for a moment, then said, "My final request is that you tell me what I can do to help around here."
The Captain nodded. "I will consider and let you know. For now, let us arrange times for you to use those rooms." They did so, and when Tom took his leave, Nemo's parting words were: "If you need anything else, Agent Sawyer, please tell me. I will see you at dinner."
xXx
Tom knew he should go to the dining room or the kitchens to get some very late lunch, what fruit he had consumed not being enough of a meal, but he certainly didn't feel hungry and headed back to his quarters instead.
He sat down in one of the armchairs and eyed the Webley revolver. He would put it back it Quatermain's room at some point, but not just yet.
His own Winchester rifle was nearby, and he leaned over and traced some of the knife marks on the metal. A versatile weapon - it had certainly come in handy as a mini-quarterstaff at times as well. Quite a nod to the Robin Hood adventures that he loved to read and playact as a child.
He remembered how impressed Quatermain had been with the Winchester.
Tom could never recall any memories of his own father, who died soon after he was born. He had not known Quatermain for very long, but was feeling his loss very badly, and not just because he was the cause of it.
Memories came to him then. As soon as one finished, another would take its place.
----------
"This hunt's too dangerous for a woman. Even one such as yourself. Best leave it to me."
At Quatermain's comment, Tom saw Mina bristle and for a moment he thought he was going to again see her sprout fangs and red eyes, this time to attack their leader.
"Sawyer, you're with me," Quatermain continued. "The rest of you are to remain here."
What? Tom wasn't the only one to stare at his choice, though fortunately he didn't blurt the word out. Not that Tom wasn't glad to be going, he'd hoped to be asked or ordered, but . . . . Quatermain, you're about to go hunting an ape-like monster man and you're NOT taking the vampire or the immortal or the invisible man with you, you're just taking the young secret agent? Interesting choice.
The adventurer seemed oblivious or uncaring to everyone's reactions.
"All will be ready within the hour," Nemo told Allan. "My men are attending to it now."
All of what will be ready? Tom wondered. The hunter seemed to have shared only with the Captain the full plan of how he was going to snare this monster.
The hunter nodded. "Good. We'll go see the police inspector in the meantime, make sure he's done what we telegraphed him about, and has alerted everyone to keep off the streets in that area and lie low for tonight. Then we can get on the hunt."
Tom considered that perhaps Quatermain wanted to keep an eye on him. After all, he had just forced his way into the League unannounced and uninvited.
Or the hunter wanted the chance to observe him.
Turns out just as well he did observe me, Tom thought as he now sat in his room on the Nautilus, looking forlornly at the Winchester. Otherwise I would have ended up crushed, thanks to Hyde.
When the submarine was limping towards Mongolia after the bomb blasts, Tom had thanked Jekyll for saving the day. Jekyll blushed and then hesitated, before blurting out, "And I'm sorry about the gargoyle."
"Huh?" You lost me there.
"The gargoyle. Back in the Rue Morgue. Hyde shoved it off the roof at you."
"Oh - so that's what that was. I didn't get a good look at it." Tom thought that while Jekyll was genuinely sorry about the incident, Hyde wouldn't be. Well, perhaps sorry that it had missed him.
----------
On their first night all together aboard the Nautilus, Quatermain had not been pleased that hardly any of the League showed up at dinner. So the next day he gave an order that they all gather together to discuss plans and share what they had uncovered so far, if anything.
The League was ranged around the parlor area of Nemo's study. By this stage they had already gone fruitlessly over any ideas so far of what the Fantom would be doing to disrupt the conference in Venice. Nemo answered some questions about his vessel. Then they fell into awkward chatter and silences, though Tom could clearly sense that several team members would have preferred to excuse themselves and leave. But they did not want to provoke Quatermain, who wanted them to bond. Or whatever.
Skinner made a comment about liquor, leading the hunter to remark, "When my fellow group of explorers and I were young, we invented a drinking game. There were a list of things, and when each item was announced, if that thing had happened to you or you had done it, then you could have a drink for each time it had occurred. For example, one item was 'If you have killed a lion'."
"I'd imagine you very quickly got drunk on that one alone," Mina said, her face growing even colder at the thought of such a 'sport' and such a game.
"Well, I did say that we started this game when we were a lot younger. It reached the point where we had all killed a lot of lions, and so it was easier just to have one drink to cover it, no matter what the tally. But the person with the most notches got to have the better liquor to swallow. If they so chose. In the later years, it just became a way to pass time and reminisce. For those of us that were left, anyway."
The grease-painted thief leapt up and headed eagerly for the drinks table. "Let's try it then. I'm always game for a drink or to drink for a game, such as it were."
"Killed a lot of lions, have you, Skinner?" Gray asked archly.
"Oh, come on. It'll be fun. And you wanted us to be more sociable together, didn't you, Allan? Arm yourselves with your drink of choice, everyone. And bugger the 'most notches, better liquor' rule."
"Well, if we get drunk, at least we have time to recover. Or stick with water," Quatermain commented. "Though I doubt many of you will find you have done a lot of the things on this list. Even you, Gray, with all your years."
With varying degrees of enthusiasm and amusement, the rest of the League fetched themselves drinks and then headed back to their chosen seats or spots.
"Go on, Allan, fire off some more from the list," Skinner prodded.
Tom realized that 'If you have killed a lion' would not be repeated. There goes my most likely chance in this game. He had shot a lion to save Huck when they were in Africa. Not that the others would probably believe him.
"If anyone has been mauled by a lion, have your drink." Quatermain did so.
"This game's been rigged!" Skinner muttered, before saying, "Does a bite by a pug dog or a rather vicious gerbil count?"
"I did warn you, Mr Skinner, that this was an African game."
"Well, can't you adapt it for fairness? A bloke could go dry!"
Quatermain smiled, then poured himself a glass of water in readiness for his next proclamation. Tom wasn't surprised he wanted to keep a clear head - and that the hunter was in no danger of dehydration during this game. "Drink if you have ever found hidden treasure."
Nemo, Tom and Skinner joined Quatermain in drinking to that one.
Mina said, "I question your definition of buried treasure, Mr Skinner. In your profession I'm sure it was someone else's property."
"All treasure was originally someone else's property, love."
"Yes, but I think what you found was probably more current than most. And probably still in the owner's possession!"
"Just for that, I'm not going to tell you what it was and leave you to wonder. Nemo, what was your haul?"
"I have found many treasures under the sea," Nemo explained, "And not just from shipwrecks."
"I recall you found the lost city of Atlantis?" Quatermain asked.
Nemo nodded and seemed about to elaborate, much to at least Tom and Quatermain's interest, but Skinner cut in again. "What did you find, kid?"
"Twelve thousand dollars in gold in a cave," Tom replied.
"Not bad at all. Did you get to keep it?"
"Half of it." The other half had been Huck's. That thought caused Tom to go quiet and wistful, and remember how Huck's drunkard father did his best to take the money.
Quatermain saw his change in mood and did not press for more details. "All right, onto the next one."
Tom briefly considered whether to arm himself with another beer or water. He'd certainly had an eventful life so far, but, compared to the others, he doubted there would be another opportunity for him to have a drink in this game.
"Have you ever been trapped in a cave?"
Then again . . . . Tom thought, and reached for the water pitcher to hastily fill his glass and down its contents.
"You've been a busy boy," came Gray's droll remark.
Nemo's eyes were curious, but he turned to Quatermain first. "I gather that was when you found King Solomon's mines?"
"Yes. Some friends and I were trapped in the treasure chamber for about twenty-eight hours. Even when we found our way out of it, we were still lost in a labyrinth of tunnels for a long time. We thought we had been sealed in alive with all those diamonds."
"What a way to go." Then Skinner seemed to reconsider. "Almost my idea of heaven, though not if I was locked in to the death and couldn't spend the goods."
"How long were you trapped for?" Quatermain asked Tom.
"Three days." With my childhood sweetheart and a murderer. He still had nightmares about it occasionally, but fortunately he could cope with dark or enclosed places.
The game and tale-telling continued for several more rounds. Mina had not had a drink yet, but did not look perturbed by that fact. None of the rounds gave Tom another chance to, until -
"Have a drink if you have ever been shot."
Skinner asked, "Shot at or really shot?"
"Really shot."
"Damn," the invisible man muttered.
"Just as well you stated only one drink no matter how many times," Dorian said wryly. "Otherwise I would be obliged to throw back at least sixty glasses due to that battle in my library alone." He then artfully swallowed his wine.
Quatermain smiled and went to throw back his water, then stopped and stared at Tom, who was downing his own. "You, lad?"
Tom lowered his glass, feeling very uncomfortable as everyone stared at him. They had apparently accepted his other adventures, or were at least making a polite show of doing so, but he could tell they were starting to wonder if he wasn't stretching the truth or making this up. "Um, yeah."
"Mr Skinner, as you have said before, spies get shot," Mina pointed out. "How long ago, Agent Sawyer?"
"Quite a while. When I was fourteen, actually."
"Fourteen? Well, unless the American Secret Service recruits them very young, you must have had, what - a hunting accident?"
"In a manner of speaking." Shot by people hunting for a runaway slave.
He could see from the looks on some faces that they were still trying to weigh up just whether he was telling the truth. So he raised his left leg and lifted his trouser leg up enough to show the scar on his calf. He briefly thought this was probably not a done thing in polite society, at least in Europe anyway.
"It didn't go all the way through, so it had to be dug out."
"All right, Agent Sawyer, you have us all quite fascinated. Tell us how on earth you got that wound," Quatermain ordered. "Was it a hunting accident?"
The Tom Sawyer of his early teen years would have been all too happy to spin the tale and embellish it freely, maximising and inventing more grandeur for himself. But somewhere along the way he had grown up and become uncomfortable with doing that. He had also realized that the tales were strong enough on their own anyway, without embroidery.
And besides, Mrs Harker wasn't the type to be impressed by that sort of boasting or exaggeration. So with brevity and plain facts that would have thrown his younger self into a spin, Tom explained how his injury had come about. He was still an arresting storyteller without the gilding.
He told of how as a fourteen year old he had gone to stay with his aunt and uncle in Arkansas, only to find Huck and Jim there. That had been quite a surprise, because at the time Tom and the whole of their hometown had thought that Huck was dead, killed by his own father. But instead his friend had faked his own death to get away from his father and from the smothering care of the Widow Douglas, who wanted to 'civilise' him. Jim was one of the Widow's slaves, and he had run away, hooking up with Huck to try to reach a free state.
So when Tom stumbled across them, Jim had been captured as a runaway, and Huck was determined to help Jim escape. Tom offered to help, but he knew something his friend didn't. He explained this thing to the League.
Skinner nearly choked on the drink he was having, regardless of the rules of the game. "So you set out to free a slave that you already knew was free?"
Tom nodded sheepishly. "I wanted the adventure of it. I had very romantic notions of how escapes should be made, thanks to all the novels I'd read. I thought it was the way that it had to be done and that this was a perfect opportunity. So I kept it to myself that Jim had been freed in the Widow's will - Huck and Tom didn't know that she was dead - and we were a long way from our hometown, so no one else knew."
He was so glad that he was the only one who ended up getting hurt during the big 'breakout'. It made him inwardly cringe now to think how much danger he'd put his friends in, and how he wore the bullet on a watch chain around his neck for several years afterwards, before putting it away.
Not to mention that even after my leg healed fine, I kept putting on the limp for quite a while to get attention.
By the look on Mina's face, she seemed impressed that he freely admitted his foolishness in the whole venture.
----------
A knock at the door startled Tom out of the memories. He discovered it was one of Nemo's kitchen staff, bringing him a tray of food, and that the contents were things he had tried while onboard the sub and enjoyed. Nemo obviously paid attention.
Tom made himself eat, then the memories came back to him again, catching his mind like it was a loose raft on the river, pulling him along.
----------
His stupid, unthinking comment that had ended his first shooting lesson with Quatermain. "Did you teach your son to shoot like this?"
Tom had been so annoyed with himself for upsetting the hunter that he had then done something just as unthinking - for half a minute resting his chin against the muzzle of the elephant gun as he stared forlornly out to sea, as if it was a fence railing or a hiking staff, before realising. Bright move, Sawyer. Way to lose your face and life if the gun discharged!
How heavy the elephant gun was during that lesson, but how when he needed to use it that final time to shoot M, he hadn't even registered the weight. Other things were weighing down on him instead.
After the first aborted shooting lesson, and rescuing himself from the danger of blowing his own chin off, Tom realised that Quatermain had left behind not only his elephant gun but its equipment too. He didn't want to just leave it up here, but he didn't think that he would be welcome in the hunter's presence at the moment.
Still, sending the gun and equipment back to Quatermain via one of the crewmembers seemed . . . cowardly somehow.
So Sawyer had taken them to Quatermain's room, only to be told by one of Nemo's men who was standing watch in that area of corridor that the hunter had asked not to be disturbed. By me, or by anyone?
Tom had then gone into his own room and written a note, nothing elaborate or long, just apologising for his thoughtless behaviour. He gave it to the crewman with the gun and accessories, to pass along to the hunter.
He calls the gun 'Matilda'. I wonder if that was after anyone in particular?
The next time he saw Quatermain was on the way to dinner that night. Both halted in the hallway.
"I am s-"
"It's all right, lad." The hunter smiled at him. "I was young once too and can remember what it was like, tongue getting ahead of the brain a lot." But then he paused for a moment and said, "However, to be fair, it was a reasonable enough question. I just reacted badly - I'm used to Africa, where my friends kept away from mentioning my son."
Then the hunter seemed to cheer up a little, or at least give the appearance of it. "Thank you for returning Matilda to me. We can have another lesson tomorrow, if you're willing."
And if we manage to save Venice tonight, Tom thought. But he was pleased and relieved that Quatermain was being not only understanding but making overtures of friendship again.
After dinner Quatermain announced he was going back to the Nautilus library for more research. It would still be several hours before they reached Venice. He made no qualms about Tom joining him, and over the next hour he often asked him questions about what they were reading over. Just like how he had included the agent in his other consultations with Nemo over what could be awaiting them in Venice. It was nice to be respected by someone of Quatermain's stature, even if in another way he kept contradicting it by calling Tom 'lad' or 'boy'.
I'm twenty-one years old. AND I'm a Secret Service Agent! Does that not indicate just a bit of maturity? Heck, I managed to trail you from that museum in London to the docks - not bad considering you were in Nemo's automobile and I wasn't!
The spy was determined to show how diligent and professional he could be as they worked in the library. But after an hour, Quatermain remarked, "You've been very quiet."
"How do you know I'm not usually quiet?" Tom countered.
The adventurer did not say anything, simply giving him an amused look over the top of his glasses instead.
"I'm applying myself. There's a lot to cover."
"And you're doing so admirably. But you seem too quiet, like you're afraid you'll say the wrong thing again. Don't keep your tongue or character locked away, Agent Sawyer. It makes for a very dull life."
----------
Tom slumped forward in the chair in his cabin, then raised his hands to try to wipe away the tears that were falling.
----------
On their way to Mongolia in the patched-up Nautilus, Quatermain regularly sought him out, not just for shooting practice, but for company, it seemed.
Then the hunter said, "I asked Nemo to get his contacts to dig up some information on you."
"Me?"
"Yes. You and your friend Finn gave the St Petersburg newspaper its most interesting headlines. You certainly did not have a dull boyhood. I think what most impressed me was that murder you solved when you were only fifteen."
Tom knew that Quatermain had gotten that information on him not just to see if he had been telling the truth in the drinking game. There had been the potential that this American was a 'spy' in their midst, because he suddenly turned up unannounced and uninvited at Dorian's place. They did not have a file on him like with the others. He did save them from the gunmen, but that could have been just a trick to win their trust. Now they did know who the traitor was. Traitors, actually.
And it was a long way to Mongolia to settle the score with them and stop their plans.
The hunter said that in Africa he got one of his friends to pretend they were him if any story-seekers turned up, but he voluntarily told Tom some of his adventures and seemed to enjoy doing so.
The spy had heard of Allan Quatermain while growing up, occasionally reading about him in the newspapers, aware of some of his exploits in fairly general terms. But the books of his adventures were only published in Britain, where the adventurer was a national hero, so it was only now that Tom was getting the full tales. Even fuller tales, because he got the feeling that Allan was telling him more than what he put in the published accounts. Must get some copies and find out.
Then Quatermain remarked, "I'm sure you've got plenty of stories yourself. Let's have one now. Perhaps the full story of the time you were shot, or trapped in that cave."
The adventurer enjoyed his tale of how he got a heap of boys from his village to whitewash Aunt Polly's fence - a chore that he was supposed to be doing as a punishment. But the telling that caused the most laughter was of how Tom, Huck and Joe Harper ran away so they could be free to live on an island in the Mississippi and do what they wanted. The sheer joy of freedom soon paled, and Tom found out that their relatives thought them dead, so he orchestrated things so that they turned up again in church in spectacular fashion during their own funeral service. The town was so happy to see them and so amused that punishment for their trick was light.
"And Huck is the friend and fellow agent the Fantom killed?" Quatermain asked.
Tom nodded. He was going to nail that bastard. "In a way, it's strange about Huck's death. He and I were considered dead in town when we ran off to Jackson's Island that time, but then he faked his own death in that same year to get away from the Widow and his father. I didn't know. For months, I thought he was dead. And I wasn't there when the Fantom killed him - we'd been assigned different stakeouts in search of this guy."
"So do you feel like you expect your friend to walk back in at any moment?"
"Sometimes. Not always. I saw his body . . . after. And I wonder what would have happened if we'd both been on the same stakeout. Whether that would have made a difference. It all just gives me a strange mix of feelings. But telling you about him, talking about what we got up to, that's a great help." It was the truth.
"Then by all means, keep doing so. I'm sorry that I never got to meet him."
----------
All too soon, it was time for dinner, time to face the others. To sit at the dining room table without Quatermain being there. But at least he and Huck had been avenged by M's death. Heavy-hearted, Tom left his room.
One more memory flared up before he could stop it.
In the fortress tower, when Quatermain had said, "Get him!" Tom had wanted to refuse, to insist on getting his injured mentor medical help, but he knew Quatermain would never allow it. M could not be allowed to get away, even if at the cost of his life.
Tom sighed heavily and swallowed. Then he forced his feelings from his face, and continued on to the dining room.
END PART THREE