Chapter 14:
"Mastermind"

August 4, 1915
Red Star Chemicals
Research Laboratory Headquarters

Perhaps it was just Alek's imagination, but Dr. Nora Barlow looked extremely comfortable holding a man at gunpoint. Her expression was smug, even. He'd known that she was a formidable scientist, and her involvement with the military meant that she was no pacifist, but Alek could not help feeling impressed and appalled at the steadiness with which she wielded her weapon.

"Alek," she began, "while this may seem like a peculiar place to begin, I'd like to start by asking you something."

"Ah, of course," Alek agreed, pretending not to be confused.

"Excellent," Dr. Barlow enthused. Alek's eyes flicked to Eliot's face. It was blank. Totally expressionless. Either he was shocked by this baffling turn of events, or he was doing his best to give nothing away.

Alek suspected the latter. Vost would make an excellent poker player.

"Aleksander," Dr. Barlow began, "your account of the soiree from which Deryn and Sullivan were abducted was incredibly detailed. Would you do me the favor of repeating, step by step, what happened that night, starting with your meeting of Eliot Vost?"

Alek frowned. "Indeed, Dr. Barlow, although my memory may not be totally accurate. It has been a while."

"I have confidence in your abilities." She nodded. "Begin."

Alek sorted through his memories of that exhausting night. "I met Eliot Vost, but I thought he was Sullivan." He began. "Eliot quickly corrected me and pointed out Dr. Sullivan, he was just a few meters away. Then…ah, then the lights went out, and that madman on the balcony started screaming at everyone. I believed it was a diversion, so I left Vost and went to light those curtains on fire- no, wait. I skipped over something." Alek mentally retraced his steps.

"Before I left Vost, he gave me his briefcase. Then we split up." Alek corrected himself.

"Yes. And where did Vost say that he was going before you split up?" Dr. Barlow asked.

"He was worried about Sullivan," Alek recalled. "He seemed desperate to keep his partner safe."

"Very well. Continue," replied.

"We split up, he went to Sullivan, and I set the curtains on fire," Alek said slowly, "and then I ran into you. We left the building, met with Count Volger, and you asked me to tell you what motivated me to set the curtains aflame."

Alek frowned. He didn't see how explaining any of this was important now.

"Then the last of the guests and Eliot Vost came out of the villa." He continued.

"How much later did he leave the building? From the time we left the building to the time that he did. Estimate the time it took." Dr. Barlow ordered.

"Well," Alek thought, "I'd explained the entire situation to you, and we watched many of the guests come out, hoping to spot Deryn. I would say at least fifteen minutes passed before Mr. Vost exited. I returned his briefcase and we parted ways."

"Considering that the building was ablaze, doesn't fifteen minutes seem like a long, long time?" Dr. Barlow asked.

"Well, he was looking for Dr. Sullivan all throughout the building. He had to search every room," Alek replied.

Dr. Barlow raised her eyebrows. "According to your account, Sullivan was a mere few meters away from you both when the lights went out. Logically speaking, Vost could have reached Sullivan in a matter of seconds, long before you managed to set the place on fire."

"It was pitch dark, and crowded." Alek argued. "It was hard to go anywhere. And Sullivan had been surrounded by guests before the lights went out, so he'd have been particularly difficult to get to."

"Very well," Dr. Barlow asserted. "For argument's sake, let us say that Eliot Vost was unable to find his dear friend Dr. Sullivan before you began the fire. Isn't fifteen minutes too short of a time to search the entire building, especially a villa of that ridiculous size?"

"I…I suppose he could have been running, searching as quickly as he could. Especially since the place was on fire. It would make sense for Vost to have searched the place quickly." Alek concluded.

"Yes, of course you're correct." Dr. Barlow declared. "But wouldn't it be extremely difficult to search for someone in a fire? It would be extremely hot, not to mention the smoke everywhere. That fire might have been contained in the ballroom, but that smoke must have spread. Wouldn't it be difficult to run around looking for someone while you were breathing in such copious amounts of smoke?" She contended.

"I suppose you're correct," Alek agreed slowly.

"And yet, when he exited the building and came to meet with you, did you smell any smoke on him? Was he out of breath?" Dr. Barlow prodded.

"I can't be sure!" Alek cried. "There was smoke everywhere that night. Everything smelled like smoke. I started the fire, so I smelled like smoke."

"Smoke that thick and black also leaves residue." Dr. Barlow added. "Do you remember black spots on your own clothing after you left the building?" She asked.

"Yes, I do." Alek nodded. "My jacket was ruined by the smoke."

"Yet, when Mr. Vost exited the building, did you notice any residue on his clothing? In his fair hair?"

"I…I don't recall," Alek admitted. "It was dark out."

"Yes," Dr. Barlow agreed, "but even in the dark, you knew that your own jacket was ruined. And Vost was in that building, exposed to that smoke, far longer than you were. The black residue on his clothing would have been far more obvious. It would have been nearly impossible to miss."

"But I don't recall seeing any black on his clothing!" Alek repeated. "And why is this so important?"

"One more question, Alek. Did Vost seem out of breath to you?" Dr. Barlow asked.

"No, not that I remember." Alek answered. "Now please, why are these questions so important? I don't understand why going over that night's mishaps are significant now!""

"They are significant now because it was that very night that I began to suspect Eliot Vost was far more involved with this crime than he let on."

"What? You suspected him the first time you met him?" Alek was aghast. "Why?"

Her expression hardened. "As I have made clear in this conversation, there are a number of inconsistencies with what you said happened that night and what the evidence showed."

"But there are reasons for those inconsistencies. I told you, that night was complete madness!" Alek argued.

"As a scientist, I do not have the luxury of believing in coincidences." She elaborated. "Let me establish the facts that we know about that night. First, Eliot Vost was only a few meters away from Sullivan, and yet failed to save him. Next, he exited the building fifteen minutes after you. I distinctly remember that his clothing was clean. You recall that you did not notice any residue on his clothing either. He was not out of breath, despite his claim that he had run through a burning building and searched every single room in a mere fifteen minutes. Separately, these small inconsistencies mean nothing. Put them together, and they become highly improbable. Which means that it is extremely likely that at least one lie is involved."

"You think I lied?" Alek gasped, astonished.

"If that was the case, wouldn't I be holding you at gunpoint instead of Mr. Vost?" Dr. Barlow asked dryly. "I think he lied and I think you were gullible enough, or perhaps compassionate enough, to believe him."

"So what do you think happened that night, if Vost was lying?" Alek wondered.

"I cannot be certain," Dr. Barlow admitted, "but I have a hypothesis. I believe that Vost lied about not being able to find Sullivan. I believe that he found him right away, and told his partner that he was leading him to safety. Instead, he escorted Dr. Sullivan to a secluded area and delivered him straight into the kidnapper's clutches. Perhaps they had a conversation, or perhaps there was a scuffle, or perhaps it just took a while to convince Sullivan to come with him. By that time, the smoke had spread, so he hurried outside to find you in order to avoid suspicion."

"That is an outrageous accusation!" Vost finally snapped. "That is the most absurd-"

"Be silent." Dr. Barlow ordered, pressing the weapon harder against her captive's skull. "I'm not particularly fond of guns, and I would prefer not to use this. But if you open your mouth once more, I might lose my patience."

"I… but it doesn't make any sense!" Alek ranted. "If Vost was lying from the beginning, if he had been behind this scheme the entire time, why would he work with us to help find the person responsible?"

"Isn't that painfully obvious?" Dr. Barlow sighed. "You are far too trusting, Alek. Vost wanted to work with us so that we did not become suspicious of him. Who is the last person you would generally find guilty of a crime? The person who is trying their hardest to solve it."

...

August 4, 1915
Unknown Location

Deryn should not have been particularly surprised that she had just been shot. After all, she had been shamelessly provoking a mentally unstable criminal. Getting shot was only to be expected. But somehow, she was utterly shocked that he had actually barking shot her.

She was more than just shocked. She was furious, but also terrified. She somehow felt calm and completely out of control all at once. She wasn't trembling. She wasn't screaming out in pain or collapsing to the floor in anguish or clutching the wound. In fact, she had no idea where the wound even was. Deryn felt nothing at all, just the blood boiling in her veins, pumping through her so fast it seemed like it was washing away all the pain she should have been experiencing. Her mind was whirling, scrambling, thinking everything at once, but her body felt strangely normal.

So she ignored her mind, and, like flicking off a switch, she decided that for the next few moments, she would not allow herself to be bothered by such minor trivialities as gunshot wounds.

Damian was saying something- he had to be, his mouth was moving and she could hear his voice but somehow she couldn't comprehend what he was saying. All she understood was that he looked particularly pleased with himself, and, because of this, he was vulnerable. He had lowered his gun so that it pointed straight at the floor.

Without hesitation, she marched forward, eyes locked on the weapon, and by the time Damian realized what was happening, just as the surprise registered on his face and he reacted by beginning to raise his weapon, it was too late. Deryn stepped to the side, avoiding his revolver completely, and snatched the weapon from his weak grip almost effortlessly. Without a second glance she tossed it aside and, gritting her teeth, she mercilessly brought her knee up hard between Damian's legs.

He howled like a beaten dog and bent over clutching himself. Deryn did not waste a second. She grabbed a fistful of hair from the back of his head and smashed her knee into his face. Once. Twice. Three times. Four. Finally, he retaliated, grabbing hold of her leg and yanking it to the side just before she could knee him again.

Deryn lost her balance and fell backwards. Her back slammed against the old desk in the middle of the room, which was so old and rotten that it gave way and practically disentegrated beneath her weight. The wood on either side of her body made it impossible for her to use her arms to break her fall, so when Deryn landed, her head cracked against the floor.

Blisters, Deryn thought, she was bleeding quite a lot from just falling on a desk.

No, you dumkopf, the rational side of her corrected, that blood is from your bullet wound.

And in that single moment, the pain that she had refused to feel returned.

Everything around her blurred in response to it. She forgot about the fight that she had been in the middle of, and she forgot Damian, and his gun, and where she was and why she was here. Her chest burned with pain, just between her right breast and shoulder. She wanted to press her hand against it, to make the bleeding stop, but her body refused to move. There was a sharp bang- another gunshot? It jarred Deryn into clarity.

A face loomed above hers. It was a blur, unrecognizable.

"Alek," Deryn croaked, hope rising within her.

"I am afraid not," said Chester Sullivan. His face jerked away from hers and blurred out of focus. "Take one step and I will shoot you!" He shouted. "That first shot was a warning. The second won't be."

He took the gun while we were fighting and is threatening Damian, Deryn realized.

"I'm going to help you," Sullivan warned, looking down at Deryn. "It will hurt but please bear it. We need to leave this place at once and get you to a doctor."

"But you are a doctor," Deryn mumbled dreamily.

"Not the sort that you need right now," Sullivan sighed.

"I can get up by myself," Deryn protested, leaning forward. Instantly she was overwhelmed by sharp pain and exhaled sharply.

"No you cannot," Sullivan observed flatly. "We do not have the luxury of time. I do not believe that your life is in terrible danger, since the bullet avoided vital organs, but this will get worse with time."

"I was just fine a moment ago!" Deryn protested.

"That was because of adrenaline. And because you were too stubborn to let that man get away with shooting you without hitting him in the face at least once." Sullivan quipped. Without allowing her another moment to complain, he slid an arm beneath her and lifted her.

Deryn bit her lip to avoid crying out in pain but she could not suppress a moan. "That was pure dead horrible," she choked, clutching her wound. Even though she was leaning on Sullivan, at least she was on her own two feet again.

"I apologize." Sullivan replied. "Put your arm over my shoulder. You're taller than I am, so you can lean on me for support." Deryn nodded and did as she was told. She was surprised, however, when Sullivan offered her the gun. "I must admit I am a terrible shot. You need to stay conscious so you can shoot him if necessary."

Deryn nodded and gripped the gun tightly, pointing it forward at Damian. His nose was clearly broken, and his face was bloody, but he was still grinning like the maniac he was.

"Stay in front of us," Sullivan ordered sharply. "And lead us out of this hellhole."

"Do you honestly think that I would be threatened by the likes of you?" Damian sneered. "A fat, clumsy scientist and a wounded girl?"

Deryn bared her teeth in a grimace. "I would like nothing more than to shoot you right now," she said through clenched teeth, "so that is exactly what I'm going to do."

She aimed the gun at his right arm and pulled the trigger. She missed. She shot again.

This time, the bullet still grazed his arm.

Damian screamed out with rage and began to advance towards them, but stopped when he saw that Deryn was pointing the weapon right between his eyes. "The next one will hurt a lot more," she warned. "Blisters! I'm in such a terrible mood that I may even shoot you by accident if I sneeze!"

Sullivan nodded. "Turn around and lead us out of here," he demanded. "Put your hands in the air so that we can see them. If you move them, she will shoot you. If you start to run, she will shoot you. If you say anything, she'll shoot you. Do anything other than what I tell you to, and she will shoot you."

With a snarl, Damian turned around and raised his hands.

"Now walk." Deryn snapped. "We are leaving."