Read The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen for Free Online Page B

modern
age. I am pleased to count you among them."
    "It's like a shrine," the adventurer said, not liking the idea. He looked up
at a portrait of swarthy Richard Burton dressed as an Arab. "How very
curious."
    "In its main exhibit halls and here in the private chambers, this museum is
full of the curious." M looked over Quatermain's shoulder, suddenly smiling as
another man entered. "And the extraordinary. Allan Quatermain, please meet
Captain Nemo."
    Quatermain turned to see a thin and shadowy man quietly closing the door. He
moved with the silent grace of a cat, and his face wore the hard expression of
an age-wearied man, though he looked to be only about fifty years old. Nemo was
very distinguished in a blue uniform that combined elements of naval captain and
Indian nabob, with a sash tied at his waist. His skin was dark tan, and his full
dark beard extended to his heart. The blue turban on his head further marked his
Indian heritage.
    "I know of Mr. Quatermain," Nemo said, without giving further details. His
voice was deep and smooth, like cool molasses.
    "And I know of you, Captain," Quatermain countered. "Rumor has it that you
are a pirate."
    Nemo turned a set of black eyes on him. He crossed his arms over his
uniformed chest. "I'd prefer a less provocative title."
    "I'm sure you would."
    M watched the two men, bemused, as if he saw visible lines of tension in the
air. He smiled.
    "From one such as you, certainly, who stands as a symbol of the British
Empires domination of foreign lands—" Nemo began.
    "I am neither a symbol, nor a slaver," Quatermain interrupted. His nostrils
flared. He himself had seen the excesses of colonial oppression, downtrodden
natives, cultures and societies railroaded into conformity "for their own good"
by the White Man's Burden.
    Nemo noted his reaction with approval and reconsidered his initial
assessment. "Perhaps I have made a premature assumption. I have sufficient
enemies in the world. I do not need to make more."
    Quatermain backed off and turned his attention to another portrait. "I'm
rather surprised, Nemo—knowing your history—that you agreed to this enterprise.
You struck me as being an… independent sort."
    "Independence? Yes. I seek my peoples release from the British Empire."
    From his overstuffed chair, M explained, "In return for Captain Nemo's aid,
we'll open a dialogue with the Indian government."
    "That is reason enough, I suppose," Quatermain said.
    "
One
reason," corrected Nemo.
    "And the other?" Quatermain asked.
    "Is my concern." Nemo stood rigid, clearly not intending to volunteer any
further information.
    M stubbed out his cigarette in a terracotta ashtray. "Gentlemen, shall we get
started?" He tossed a large manila folder in front of Quatermain. It slid across
the polished table, and the adventurer picked it up, flipping through the
papers. Inside were pictures and dossiers of three people.
    "What did Reed tell you, Mr. Quatermain? How much do you know?"
    "He spoke of unrest." The old hunter paced back and forth beneath the
impressive portraits of his League predecessors as he perused the dossiers. "I
recommended laudanum."
    M folded his bony, long-fingered hands together. "This trouble can't be
medicated, I'm afraid. Nations are striking at nations. England is on the brink
of declaring war against the Kaiser. Germany has vowed revenge against the
British Empire. France, Italy, Belgium, they all have swords drawn and armies
rallied. The slightest spark will set them off. It will be like a street brawl
on a global scale."
    The dossier held intelligence illustrations of heavily armored land
ironclads, streamlined cannons, rocket launchers, and countless other machines
of war. Quatermain flipped through the pictures, his frown deepening.
    M explained. "Many of the recent attacks were marked by the use of highly
advanced weaponry, amazing technological breakthroughs that have caused
unprecedented destruction. Each country