country,’ she said. ‘There’s gold and oil and iron under the mountains but that’s not all.
This an old country, really old, and there’s things under the ground that best not be disturbed.’
‘What sort of things?’ said India.
‘Living shadows – dark creatures that lived in this land before men,’ said Mrs Chang. ‘The ice people call them the Valleymen. Best you don’t ask no more. Just hope
you don’t find out for yourself, that’s all.’
Mrs Chang refused to be drawn further on the mysterious subject. She took India back down to the dining room and placed a steaming bowl of thick pea soup laced with salty cubes of ham in front
of her.
The dining room had thinned out now Calculus had been pacing the room awaiting India’s return and announced that he was going to go in search of Verity to tell her what had happened. India
had the impression he was feeling guilty about not having been there to protect her.
The hot food lifted her melancholy a little but she soon pushed the half-finished bowl of soup away and lay her head down on the table.
‘Not eatin’ that?’
She sat up suddenly. The man opposite was bristle-headed and powerfully built, with a thick neck and barrel-shaped body. He wore a maniacal grin as he pointed to India’s bowl.
India shrugged and he pulled the food eagerly to his side of the table. She watched in fascination as he shovelled steaming spoonfuls of thick, green paste into his mouth as though he had been
starved for a month. When the soup was finished he leaned back and let out an enormous belch.
‘Much obliged to you, miss,’ he said. ‘I hate to see good food go to waste. The name’s Bulldog, Captain Aggrovius Bulldog.’
‘Aggrovius?’
‘Yes, well, my old mum thought it sounded exotic. Most people call me Aggro, though. They say it suits me.’ He beamed and his eyes bulged like a wild man’s.
Despite her worries, India laughed. ‘I guess it does,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘I’m India. I guess my mum thought it was exotic too.’ His massive paw
enveloped hers. ‘What are you the captain
of
, exactly?’
‘Ah, well, that depends on who’s doing the asking.’ He looked over both shoulders in an exaggerated display of caution. ‘It wouldn’t do if I found myself talking to
someone from the Company, now would it?’
She assured him that she was not from the Trans-Siberian Company and he scrutinized her for a few moments before deciding to continue.
‘All right then,’ he said, pulling a pouch of tobacco from the folds of his jacket and rolling a thin cigarette. ‘A freelance prospector, is what I am. Captain, chief executive
and owner of
The Beautiful Game
, the finest rig in Siberia.’
Her eyes widened. ‘You’re a pirate rigger?’
‘Well now, that’s a word you don’t use in polite company,’ he said, looking shocked. ‘Anyway, it depends on whose point of view you take.’ He struck a match
and sucked the cigarette to life, enveloping the table in a cloud of blue smoke. ‘Now,’ he said, settling back into his chair, ‘them crooks that run Trans-Siberian is your real
pirates. Call it an honest business to sell a man a prospecting licence and then take half of what he finds? No, I’m a free rigger. I run my own crew and we keep what we find. That’s
the way nature intended it.’ He gave India another alarming grin. ‘It’s nice to hear a friendly accent. So what brings a fellow Londoner to Siberia?’
‘I came with Mrs Brown and her bodyguard,’ she said. ‘I wanted to see Siberia but I guess that’s not going to happen now.’
‘Ah, so you’re with the android,’ he said. ‘I’ve seen him about the place. He’s a fine piece of hardware, he is. You must be the young lady what ‘ad the
run-in with Sidney this afternoon.’
‘Good grief, does everyone in town know about that?’
‘Most people around here make it their business to know what Sid the Kid gets up to,’ he said, blowing a
This an old country, really old, and there’s things under the ground that best not be disturbed.’
‘What sort of things?’ said India.
‘Living shadows – dark creatures that lived in this land before men,’ said Mrs Chang. ‘The ice people call them the Valleymen. Best you don’t ask no more. Just hope
you don’t find out for yourself, that’s all.’
Mrs Chang refused to be drawn further on the mysterious subject. She took India back down to the dining room and placed a steaming bowl of thick pea soup laced with salty cubes of ham in front
of her.
The dining room had thinned out now Calculus had been pacing the room awaiting India’s return and announced that he was going to go in search of Verity to tell her what had happened. India
had the impression he was feeling guilty about not having been there to protect her.
The hot food lifted her melancholy a little but she soon pushed the half-finished bowl of soup away and lay her head down on the table.
‘Not eatin’ that?’
She sat up suddenly. The man opposite was bristle-headed and powerfully built, with a thick neck and barrel-shaped body. He wore a maniacal grin as he pointed to India’s bowl.
India shrugged and he pulled the food eagerly to his side of the table. She watched in fascination as he shovelled steaming spoonfuls of thick, green paste into his mouth as though he had been
starved for a month. When the soup was finished he leaned back and let out an enormous belch.
‘Much obliged to you, miss,’ he said. ‘I hate to see good food go to waste. The name’s Bulldog, Captain Aggrovius Bulldog.’
‘Aggrovius?’
‘Yes, well, my old mum thought it sounded exotic. Most people call me Aggro, though. They say it suits me.’ He beamed and his eyes bulged like a wild man’s.
Despite her worries, India laughed. ‘I guess it does,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘I’m India. I guess my mum thought it was exotic too.’ His massive paw
enveloped hers. ‘What are you the captain
of
, exactly?’
‘Ah, well, that depends on who’s doing the asking.’ He looked over both shoulders in an exaggerated display of caution. ‘It wouldn’t do if I found myself talking to
someone from the Company, now would it?’
She assured him that she was not from the Trans-Siberian Company and he scrutinized her for a few moments before deciding to continue.
‘All right then,’ he said, pulling a pouch of tobacco from the folds of his jacket and rolling a thin cigarette. ‘A freelance prospector, is what I am. Captain, chief executive
and owner of
The Beautiful Game
, the finest rig in Siberia.’
Her eyes widened. ‘You’re a pirate rigger?’
‘Well now, that’s a word you don’t use in polite company,’ he said, looking shocked. ‘Anyway, it depends on whose point of view you take.’ He struck a match
and sucked the cigarette to life, enveloping the table in a cloud of blue smoke. ‘Now,’ he said, settling back into his chair, ‘them crooks that run Trans-Siberian is your real
pirates. Call it an honest business to sell a man a prospecting licence and then take half of what he finds? No, I’m a free rigger. I run my own crew and we keep what we find. That’s
the way nature intended it.’ He gave India another alarming grin. ‘It’s nice to hear a friendly accent. So what brings a fellow Londoner to Siberia?’
‘I came with Mrs Brown and her bodyguard,’ she said. ‘I wanted to see Siberia but I guess that’s not going to happen now.’
‘Ah, so you’re with the android,’ he said. ‘I’ve seen him about the place. He’s a fine piece of hardware, he is. You must be the young lady what ‘ad the
run-in with Sidney this afternoon.’
‘Good grief, does everyone in town know about that?’
‘Most people around here make it their business to know what Sid the Kid gets up to,’ he said, blowing a
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