Pax Britannia: Human Nature Read Online Free

densely-printed text, Gabriel homed in on one name, mentioned almost in passing as part of an article about the re-building of the Amaranth House at Kew Gardens, destroyed before it was even officially opened by a terrible fire. Half the page was covered by a photograph of the re-building work in progress, the original exotic glasshouse having been razed to the ground by the blazing inferno.
    The passage briefly mentioned that Ulysses Quicksilver had somehow been mixed up in the incident that had seen the glasshouse's destruction, the very morning of its intended opening, much to the chagrin of new Prime Minister Devlin Valentine, who was now focusing his energies on the Jupiter project and on building a better Londinium for all.
    "Page seven," Wraith chuckled to himself. "He won't like that. He won't like that at all." He turned the page.
    The first thing that caught his eye was the hideous photograph. At first he thought it was something from the Royal College of Surgeons Hall in Edinburgh; one of those inhuman aborted foetuses that morbidly curious pathologists seemed to delight in keeping around the place, preserving them in formaldehyde for posterity, as if it was Great Aunt Maud's ashes they were hanging onto so proudly.
    Then he looked more closely. The thing was humanoid, at least in part, but rather than being some partially-formed embryo it was in fact disfigured as a result of the chemical process that it had been subjected to, in a crude attempt to preserve the specimen.
    The photographic reproduction wasn't the best either. What Gabriel had at first taken to be a malformation of the legs, limbs joined where they shouldn't be (as in cases of sirenomelia), he now realised was actually a fish's tail, rapidly losing its scales it appeared, and any doubts he might have still harboured were dispelled as soon as he read the suitably sensationalist headline that accompanied the piece: 'Mermaid stolen from Museum'.
    Gabriel Wraith read on with interest, a wry smile spreading across his pinched lips.
    A minute later he picked up a small brass bell from its place on the desk, next to the reading lamp, and gave it a short sharp ring. Only a moment later, the doors to the room opened and Wraith's butler returned.
    "You rang, sir?"
    "I am needed elsewhere, Carstairs. I am needed most urgently. A crime has been committed and an incisive mind will be needed to unravel the mystery."
    "Very good, sir."
    Wraith examined the photograph of the mermaid in its formaldehyde-flooded glass jar one more time before placing the paper carefully back on the desk.
    "Fire up the Bentley, Carstairs. I cannot keep my public waiting. The game is afoot."

Chapter Two
     
    November in Mayfair
     
    "Page seven? Is that all? I risk life and limb for queen and country, again , and that's all I get? A passing comment on page seven?"
    Bartholomew Quicksilver looked up languidly from his breakfast plate and swallowed his mouthful of scrambled eggs.
    "But Ully, big brother, you don't really want the press making a big fuss about your night time exploits do you?"
    Ulysses Quicksilver fixed his younger sibling with an icy glare. Barty stabbed a piece of sausage on the tines of his fork and popped it in his mouth, giving Ulysses a broad grin. Ulysses' wintry expression melted a little.
    "Well, no," he blustered, "but a little recognition wouldn't go amiss. It's been two months. Two months , and still no word of thanks!"
    "From whom?" Barty asked distractedly eyeing what was left of his grilled tomato.
    "The Ministry, of course, brother dear. Do try to keep up!"
    "But I thought your contact at the Ministry was long gone," Barty managed through a mouthful of tomato.
    "Of course he is! But that doesn't mean that Department Q has up and left!"
    "Oh."
    "Oh? Is that all you can say."
    "Come on, Ulysses, you've hardly touched your breakfast, and it's one of Mrs Prufrock's finest."
    Ulysses eyed Barty, looking him up and down. "Yes, I can see how much you've been