A small pair of spring-loaded, very sharp blades had been arranged either side of a wire which ran between the top compartment and the bottom. The clockwork mechanism was attached to these blades. When it unwound, it released the tension on the blades and they snapped shut, severing the wire. A crucial wire, Aubrey had no doubt.
It was simple, it was ingenious, it was nearly foolproof.
But all it needed was for the wire to be reconnected for the suppressor to work again.
Feverishly, Aubrey tore away the clockwork mechanism and flung it to the ground. He dragged his new watch out of his pocket and yanked. The chain tore away the button and it dangled, loose. The Brayshire Ruby winked at him.
He spared an instant to regret his actions, then he went ahead. He tugged, the chain parted. He slipped the watch into his pocket and caught the chain before it fell.
With quick, precise movements, he bent the remains of the wires and linked them with the gold chain.
Heart pounding, he swivelled in time to see Dr Tremaine block a lightning-fast blow from Caroline.
He was grinning, fiercely. 'Good!' he shouted. 'But this is better!'
He twisted, moving both forearms against each other, catching Caroline's fist in mid-strike. She was flung aside as if she was a doll. The wall was too close. Before she had time to cry out, she crashed into it.
Dr Tremaine turned, panting, and faced Aubrey. 'Ah, the child wonder! You're still here?'
'Where else would I be?' George was slumped on the floor near Tremaine. Aubrey was relieved to see that he was still breathing, even though his eyes were closed.
Where was that pry bar?
'And that's the pity of it.' Dr Tremaine's dark eyes glittered. 'You should leave well enough alone, Fitzwilliam. Stay out of things that don't concern you. Adopt a quiet, contemplative life. It's the only way to ensure your integrity, shall we say?'
Aubrey blinked. While Dr Tremaine had been talking, he'd made his way halfway across the vault, weaving in and out of the stacks of gold. Aubrey hadn't even noticed.
'If you're talking about my condition, I've made some significant improvements there. It's no longer an issue.'
'I'm sure you've done what you can. But death magic is a perilous area to work in for the uninitiated. And leaving yourself unprotected, as you did, is a difficult mistake to remedy. Adopting the life of a recluse is best for you, you know that. No strain, no excitement. You should be able to live out a relatively normal span, if a boring one.'
Aubrey was strangely heartened by Dr Tremaine's advice. It showed that despite his powers, he didn't know everything. If he thinks I'd be happy mouldering away, living as a hermit, he's insane. 'Excellent advice,' he said to Dr Tremaine, who had sidled his way to within a few yards. 'After I make sure you're safely imprisoned, I'll think about it.'
Dr Tremaine shook his head. 'You disappoint me, like everyone else.' He sighed and let his hands drop to his sides. 'Despite that, I will try to make this as painless as possible. Which is an interesting point in itself, as no-one has ever come back to report on the pain levels of this particular method of demise.'
Aubrey backed against a stack of gold. Dr Tremaine barked a spell – a long, convoluted series of expressions that Aubrey recognised as Akkadian. It ended with a flourish – not a cryptic one, but a defiantly Tremaine-esque finial that stamped the ego of the originator on the spell.
Nothing happened.
Aubrey took great delight in the expression on the magician's face. Disbelief, astonishment and fury warred for possession, with the result that the great ex-Sorcerer Royal stood looking as if he'd been struck between the eyes with a cricket ball. He actually rocked on his feet, then his eyes narrowed and he snarled. 'The magic suppressors.'
Aubrey shrugged and scrabbled behind his back. 'Good machinery. It was a shame to see them sitting idle.'
'So I am left to my own resources.' Dr Tremaine flexed his shoulders and strode towards Aubrey. 'I don't imagine this is going to be much of a problem. More painful for you, I'm afraid, but you've brought it upon yourself.'
Heart pounding, Aubrey lifted the gold bar he'd separated from the stack behind him. Crying out with the effort, he heaved it at the charging figure of Dr Tremaine.
With a sickening crack, it took him flush on the chest. Dr Tremaine grunted and fell sideways. He sprawled across the nearest stack of gold where he clung, one-handed. ' That, Fitzwilliam,' he gasped, 'was uncalled for.'
'Uncalled for?' Aubrey picked up another gold bar. 'You were going to kill me!' 'For the greater good.' Dr Tremaine groaned. 'For the greater good.' He closed his eyes and rested his head on the bullion.
'For the greater good? Whose greater good?'
Dr Tremaine opened eyes that were full of contempt. 'Mine, of course, you idiot.'
He struggled upright, using the stack of bullion for support. His right arm was held tightly against his side, but now he had a revolver in his left.
Aubrey couldn't help it. Part of his brain noted that it was a Symons service revolver, the Mark V model, not the more common Mark IV, and that it had been well used. It was large: a . 450 calibre. It was more than enough to punch a hole right through him from this distance.
'I always have backup.' Tremaine's voice was hoarse and he had blood at the corner of his mouth. He winced as he breathed. Aubrey hoped he'd cracked a rib. 'Noisy, messy, but it should do the trick.'
Tremaine coughed and grimaced. As a distraction, Aubrey decided it was as good as it was going to get. He flung himself sideways behind the nearest stack of bullion. The revolver roared. The air was instantly full of cordite smoke and the enclosed space of the vault echoed with disapproval.
Aubrey crawled as fast as he could through the aisles made by the stacks of bullion, his back itching as he imagined Dr Tremaine rounding the corner. He went left, then right, then the revolver fired again, but it was followed by bellowing and a string of quick, heartfelt curses.
Aubrey risked a quick head bob. Dr Tremaine was standing in the middle of the stacks of gold. He was trying to complete the difficult task of clamping one arm to his side while using it to cradle his other wrist. The revolver was nowhere to be seen, but the handy pry bar was. Spinning on top of the bullion, it was the object of Dr Tremaine's wrath.
'Call it an unimaginative throw, Tremaine,' George cried. 'I think it worked well enough.' Then he hefted a bar of gold and heaved it at the wounded magician.
Dr Tremaine ducked and let out an almost animal growl. He glanced at George, then at Aubrey, then at the gold. He glowered, bared his teeth, then, with an enormous effort, he used his damaged hand to extract a glass globe from the inner pocket of his coat. It was the size of an orange, but something green inside it swirled ominously.
'Look out!' Aubrey shouted, but Dr Tremaine dismissed him with a snarl. He hurled the globe to the floor and immediately the vault was full of dense, white smoke.
'Stop him!' Aubrey called. 'The door!' He choked, then coughed, and groped for clearer air. The smoke was thick, and stung his eyes. He knew he wouldn't be able to see if an elephant happened to choose that moment to stroll though the Vault Room. He took a step, but collided painfully with a chest of sovereigns.