Read Online The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen by Kevin J. Anderson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kevin J. Anderson
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the conflicts of nations, you think we'll help you
start a war that will consume the planet?" Nemo said. His stern face could
barely contain the outpouring of disgust he felt for the suggestion.
"While you profit from your 'arms race'?" Quatermain added. "How noble."
The Fantoms' laugh was like breaking glass. "I cannot deny that fortunes are
made in war, gentlemen. Not the politicians or kings, not the hapless
fighters—it is the businessmen and visionaries who profit from such a situation.
Imagine the riches a world war will yield!"
Quatermain glanced up again at the odd young marksman, who seemed to be
anxiously trying to get his attention. The imposter gestured slightly with his
rifle barrel; from his own familiarity and expertise, Quatermain identified a
customized Winchester with exotic aiming sight, decorated barrel, and carved
stock.
Very interesting
. The mysterious young man seemed to be bidding
him to act when the time was right.
None of his companions had noticed the misfit henchman above. Quatermains'
mind raced, and he tried to stall for time. He stood up to the black-garbed
Fantom. "I have held the treasure of King Solomon in my hands, sir. It taught me
that happiness can't be found in mountains of gold, nor in visions of
power."
From across the library, Skinner cleared his throat nervously. "Aheh! I, on
the other hand, find gold to be a beautiful hue." He lifted his glass. "Like
this Scotch."
When Quatermains' glance flicked down at his Webley lying on the floor, the
Fantom noticed at once. "Remind me to play you at cards one day. Your face is
like an open book." With his polished shoe, he kicked the revolver far away. It
skittered and spun, coming to rest under the library ladders.
Impatient now, he squared his shoulders and raised his voice to address the
League. "So what's it to be? Does Quatermain speak for all of you?"
"Your evil is palpable, sir," Mina said. "Even a so-called 'dreg' such as
myself must maintain her standards. I have associated with vile men before,"—she
shot a quick glance at Dorian Gray, who had not even bothered to rise from his
chair at the fireplace—"but I do have certain standards."
"Personally, I don't care for guns in my home." Gray sounded bored again.
"And I don't recall extending an invitation to any of you."
"I, on the other hand, always side with superior force." The invisible man
stepped forward. His white face paint showed his grin. "Take me, Fantom. I'm
yours."
Nemo was at his side so fast that Skinner barely had time to take another
step. He placed a firm hand on the invisible man's shoulder, squeezing so hard
that the thief winced and squirmed. "Skinner is with me. And I am with
them."
The Fantom let out an exaggerated sigh. "Then I'm truly saddened. I had hoped
you would take advantage of an obvious opportunity." He lifted a black-gloved
hand. "Men!"
The marksmen aimed. With a loud click, the firing bolts of sophisticated
breech-loading rifles were drawn back.
Just then, with a fierce yell, the young imposter turned his modified
Winchester on his fellow marksmen. He blasted away, killing two of the
unsuspecting henchmen, then dove for shelter.
The Fantom wheeled, surprised.
Everything happened in an instant. All the members of the League had tensed,
looking for any last-chance opportunity, and they flew into action. Nemo and
Mina leaped for cover.
Quatermain launched himself at the nearest library ladder, grabbing the rungs
and running. He shoved it along its rail, smashing the marksmen's protruding
rifles aside as it went. Several weapons, wrenched free, tumbled to the library
floor.
The marksmen on the other side of the library did not hesitate to fire,
though. Gunshots blasted out like a dozen firing squads, and the air filled with
bullets. Dorian Grays paintings, lamps, and ornaments shredded or shattered.
With muffled thuds, dozens of books exploded; some tumbled off the shelves, as
if trying to
start a war that will consume the planet?" Nemo said. His stern face could
barely contain the outpouring of disgust he felt for the suggestion.
"While you profit from your 'arms race'?" Quatermain added. "How noble."
The Fantoms' laugh was like breaking glass. "I cannot deny that fortunes are
made in war, gentlemen. Not the politicians or kings, not the hapless
fighters—it is the businessmen and visionaries who profit from such a situation.
Imagine the riches a world war will yield!"
Quatermain glanced up again at the odd young marksman, who seemed to be
anxiously trying to get his attention. The imposter gestured slightly with his
rifle barrel; from his own familiarity and expertise, Quatermain identified a
customized Winchester with exotic aiming sight, decorated barrel, and carved
stock.
Very interesting
. The mysterious young man seemed to be bidding
him to act when the time was right.
None of his companions had noticed the misfit henchman above. Quatermains'
mind raced, and he tried to stall for time. He stood up to the black-garbed
Fantom. "I have held the treasure of King Solomon in my hands, sir. It taught me
that happiness can't be found in mountains of gold, nor in visions of
power."
From across the library, Skinner cleared his throat nervously. "Aheh! I, on
the other hand, find gold to be a beautiful hue." He lifted his glass. "Like
this Scotch."
When Quatermains' glance flicked down at his Webley lying on the floor, the
Fantom noticed at once. "Remind me to play you at cards one day. Your face is
like an open book." With his polished shoe, he kicked the revolver far away. It
skittered and spun, coming to rest under the library ladders.
Impatient now, he squared his shoulders and raised his voice to address the
League. "So what's it to be? Does Quatermain speak for all of you?"
"Your evil is palpable, sir," Mina said. "Even a so-called 'dreg' such as
myself must maintain her standards. I have associated with vile men before,"—she
shot a quick glance at Dorian Gray, who had not even bothered to rise from his
chair at the fireplace—"but I do have certain standards."
"Personally, I don't care for guns in my home." Gray sounded bored again.
"And I don't recall extending an invitation to any of you."
"I, on the other hand, always side with superior force." The invisible man
stepped forward. His white face paint showed his grin. "Take me, Fantom. I'm
yours."
Nemo was at his side so fast that Skinner barely had time to take another
step. He placed a firm hand on the invisible man's shoulder, squeezing so hard
that the thief winced and squirmed. "Skinner is with me. And I am with
them."
The Fantom let out an exaggerated sigh. "Then I'm truly saddened. I had hoped
you would take advantage of an obvious opportunity." He lifted a black-gloved
hand. "Men!"
The marksmen aimed. With a loud click, the firing bolts of sophisticated
breech-loading rifles were drawn back.
Just then, with a fierce yell, the young imposter turned his modified
Winchester on his fellow marksmen. He blasted away, killing two of the
unsuspecting henchmen, then dove for shelter.
The Fantom wheeled, surprised.
Everything happened in an instant. All the members of the League had tensed,
looking for any last-chance opportunity, and they flew into action. Nemo and
Mina leaped for cover.
Quatermain launched himself at the nearest library ladder, grabbing the rungs
and running. He shoved it along its rail, smashing the marksmen's protruding
rifles aside as it went. Several weapons, wrenched free, tumbled to the library
floor.
The marksmen on the other side of the library did not hesitate to fire,
though. Gunshots blasted out like a dozen firing squads, and the air filled with
bullets. Dorian Grays paintings, lamps, and ornaments shredded or shattered.
With muffled thuds, dozens of books exploded; some tumbled off the shelves, as
if trying to
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