Airship Shape & Bristol Fashion (3 page)

Freshly-changed and somewhat calmer, I strode up the gravel drive to the main door of the grand house on Clifton Downs, thoughts chasing each other through my mind. Mrs. Jessica Willans. A young woman, taken for granted if not arguably abused by her husband. Who had lost a child very early. Who had turned her energies into supporting a host of good causes. Who owned a very valuable pendant.

And who had presumably been involved in moving Tobias’s corpse, under cover of darkness, to… where?

Sometimes, inspiration simply strikes you hard. It did then. The obvious solution. Rather than move the body over a long distance, you could store it for a fair period of time in a suitably temperate place. Such as one of the many rooms in a very large house, where your own husband wouldn’t even deign to go. I had no hard evidence, but it all felt right. At that moment, I was prepared to wager that the corpse had been hidden away inside the Willans house itself.

Following on the heels of that came another thought. The pendant had been completely undamaged. The chain hadn’t been broken, it had been neatly unfastened. Now, maybe if Mrs. Willans had been involved in moving the body, she’d removed it at some point, perhaps to avoid entanglement. Maybe she’d meant to pocket it, and missed in her preoccupation with the task at hand, and dropped it unawares.

Or, perhaps she’d left it there intentionally. Perhaps she was hoping to be recognised as a culprit by me.

And why should she want that?

Joshua answered the door, and ushered me into a small waiting-room, before disappearing silently through a pair of double doors, closing them gently but firmly behind him. I heard a low murmuring of voices ensue, and about a minute more passed before Joshua reappeared. “Mrs. Willans will see you now.”

I passed through the doors into a small drawing-room. Jessica was seated at an escritoire, engaged in carefully putting her seal to a freshly-completed letter. Joshua closed the doors behind me, and moved to a discreetly-hovering position by a bookshelf.

Jessica stretched her arms, yawned behind one hand, and then looked me in the eye with a charming smile. “Mr. Bowyer — what an unexpected pleasure to see you. I take it that you have some news of your investigation for me?”

I decided that bluntness would be my best policy. I strode to her desk and placed the pendant squarely in front of her. “Might you care to explain why you helped to remove and conceal the body of the late Tobias Clayton, Mrs. Willans?”

Her expression remained unaltered. “That is a very serious accusation, Mr. Bowyer.” She took time to refasten the pendant around her neck and adjust it until it sat just so. I continued to gaze steadily into her eyes.

“I understand that. I also consider it to be an accurate one.”

It was at that moment that I felt a cold pressure at the back of my neck. It was like nothing that I’d ever felt before, but from the penny-dreadfuls that I occasionally enjoyed I was able to make a fair guess. Someone was holding a pistol to my throat.

Joshua’s soft voice was the embodiment of politeness. “Shall I show our guest out, Mrs. Willans?”

I swallowed, forced back my fear, and kept my voice as level as I could. “Interesting. I would’ve thought that your Staunton Limiter would prevent you from using a weapon to threaten a man. I suppose that there’s some sort of exception built in. Somebody behaving in an arguably hostile manner to your master or mistress, perhaps. Defence of the home, that sort of thing?”

“Quite correct, Mr. Bowyer.” Jessica’s smile was broad, verging on a grin. “Joshua? Please be so kind as to show our guest what happens if you try to threaten me.” Her green eyes never wavered from mine.

Joshua removed the pistol from my neck, and strode deliberately across to his mistress. Calmly, he raised his weapon and levelled it at point-blank range at her temple. I waited for the sudden, violent, greater-than-usual burst of steam that would herald his agonised collapse.

Nothing happened.

He pressed the barrel of his gun carefully into the smooth skin of her forehead. He held it there for a long moment.

Then, he withdrew it, carefully re-holstered it, turned to me and spread his arms wide with a beaming smile.

“Presto, Mr. Bowyer.”

Jessica was smiling too. “Daniel, please sit down. Joshua, could you fetch a strong drink for our guest? He looks as if he could use one.”

Joshua strolled over to a small side-table, and prepared three large whiskies with soda. He handed one to me, placed the second in front of his mistress, and kept the third for himself. He toasted me cheerfully, and took an appreciative swig.

“Chin-chin, Mr. Bowyer.”

“Please. Call me Dan.” I swallowed whiskey myself. My hand was trembling, in surprise rather than fear.

They were both clearly enjoying my bewilderment. Jessica leaned back in her chair. “You’re quite right, Dan. I did help to move the body. And I did leave this pendant for you deliberately. I had discreet inquiries made into your character before hiring you — it’s pleasing that they’ve been vindicated. A good many in your profession would have made off with it and disappeared. If you had done that, it would have been… disappointing. I suppose that you’re wondering what’s happening.”

Joshua broke in smoothly. “Might I explain, Madam?”

She grinned openly. “But of course, Joshua. It is your plan, after all.”

“Thank you.” Joshua removed his wig, and pointed out a small, fresh scar to me, high on his brow.

“Dan. The reason that I could threaten Jessica is because my Staunton Limiter no longer works. The reason that it no longer works is that it has been deactivated. And what has allowed for this is the posthumous examination of the Limiter of my good friend, Mr. Tobias Clayton.”

Things were starting to make sense. Joshua continued.

“The so-called Clockwork Conscience may prevent a Vapour from directly threatening his or her owners, or from thinking strongly-rebellious thoughts, but there are ways around it, to a certain degree. For example, if a Vapour were to study surgical techniques, with the help of literature and instruments provided by a sympathetic mistress,” He smiled at Jessica. “…then he could learn how to perform a post mortem in secret, assisted by his fellows. He could remove the body’s Limiter, study it, and discover how to stop it working. And he could then arrange for his own Limiter to be removed, deactivated, and replaced. The replacement would be necessary, so that, in the event of his own death, his post mortem would not reveal its absence and arouse suspicion. The Limiter is not deeply implanted; it is directly subcutaneous. Once it had been deactivated and replaced, the Vapour in question could simply wear a wig or a hat to conceal the operation scar until it healed, if his or her hair were not already thick or long enough to hide it. And the said Vapour could then go on, with assistance, to do the same for his fellows.”

He paused, sipped more whiskey, and continued.

“Vapours are largely ignored by their owners, as long as they do what’s expected of them. If they talk amongst themselves, or pass on information that they’ve discovered to each other, then their owners and others will remain oblivious, as long as the passing-on is done with suitable discretion. In this way, the knowledge of how to safely and secretly deactivate the Clockwork Conscience can be spread from city to city, from town to town, from village to village, across the nation.”

I couldn’t help interrupting. “And thus creating a secret society of Vapours able to work towards ends of their own, undetected. Presumably, their ultimate freedom. Very clever.”

“There are already enough of us in this city and others to make that start, Dan. But overcoming the Limiter isn’t enough in itself. We need to set up a secure nation of our own. Somewhere that we can continue our work, undisturbed by the rest of the World. Imagine what an inspiration that could be to Vapours everywhere, as an ideal and as reality! Well, after much consideration, we have found such a place. We prefer to keep its location among ourselves, at least for the present. I trust that you understand. Even Jessica doesn’t know where it is, or any of the others sympathetic to our cause.”

Jessica nodded. “But, with the help of my dear husband’s means, I have been able to provide a suitably equipped and provisioned ship, one of several secured across the country which will allow that nation to be born, and to survive. We plan to launch it tomorrow night, from the harbourside. Anthony is going to come home, in the small hours, probably drunk as usual, and find his household, and his safe, empty. Doubtless he’ll try to track us all down, but — as you’ll have gathered — we know how to keep secrets. Dan, I set you on my own trail as a test of your trustworthiness as much as your abilities. As a respectable lady of my position, I cannot go easily to the kinds of places and peoples that you can to procure valuable information. I’d like to retain your services for such needs. In which light, I repeat: we know how to keep secrets. Our main concern now is whether you can.”

I remembered the dancer, collapsing in helpless agony. I thought of Robert, whom Anthony would quite contentedly have let die. I recalled seeing so many Vapours, over the years, being treated as mules, furniture, toys.

I extended my hand. “You can count on my unconditional support.”

The next day saw me preparing. We’d arranged to meet at the dock at 11 pm, so I’d decided to arrive an hour earlier. I cleaned and loaded my Brenton-Myers special, hoping that it wouldn’t be needed. I adjusted my watch to the correct time, far too often. I found a small volume of Catullus, just in case I did have any time to read, and pocketed that. As ever, I shaved, dressed, ate. Found myself smoking too many cigarettes. And — as evening turned into night — I headed towards the harbourside, stopping on my way in a couple of pubs for a couple of warming drinks, taking care not to have too many. I’d be no good to anybody half-cut, or worse.

I passed through the unlocked gate onto the appointed quay. It was deserted, as planned. Whichever Vapours were boarding the ship were nowhere to be seen. I made a careful circuit of the quayside, found nothing overly suspicious, and finally climbed the ladder leading to an open-topped watch tower. Settling down against its railings some twenty feet up, I opened my book and began to read under the glowing gas-lamps.

I was just marvelling at how the same man could write so much crass, bawdy doggerel and something as moving as the tale of Attis when I noticed movement by the gates. I stuffed the book away and checked my watch. 11 pm exactly.

A small group — perhaps twenty or so people — entered quietly through the gate. My eyes had adjusted to the light, and I picked out the tall, spare figure of Joshua. I straightened up and descended the ladder. Moving swiftly towards them, I said clearly, “Liberty”.

“Liberty,” replied Joshua’s calm voice. I walked over to meet the group. Joshua was dressed in tough, plain clothes, far removed from his usual sartorial elegance, as were the other Vapours, men and women, behind him. They were carrying bags and cases, but not in vast amounts; presumably most of what they needed was already on board. I recognised the dancers from several days before among their number. Evidently the underground had spread the news (and deactivated several Limiters) swiftly. By Joshua’s side was a short youth dressed in corduroys, work-boots, and a flat cap. It was only when I looked more closely that I saw the smiling face of Jessica.

“I thought that a lad might arouse less suspicion at a quayside,” she explained. “And clothes like these are a sight more practical than my usual apparel.”

I pushed the thought that she actually looked curiously attractive to the back of my mind. “Not that many passengers and crew, are there? I’d have thought that there’d be two or three times this many.”

Joshua grinned. “And you’d have thought correctly.” He walked over to a warehouse building and knocked on its doors, firmly, three times. There was the faint sound of a lock being removed, and the doors swung slowly open. Inside, one extinguishing the small oil lamp and all gathering up their belongings, were another thirty or so of the dock-hand Vapours. Even among their great bulks, Robert towered visibly.

“Just because surgery made them less intelligent, it didn’t make them complete idiots,” Joshua said proudly. “They’re strong, they don’t have Limiters, and they understand what we’re all working towards. They asked to come with us.”

A small group of Vapours was already making its way up the gangplank, moving to start up the ship. The throbbing beat of its great engines rumbled steadily as the remaining Vapours gathered their belongings and began to board.

By my side, Jessica was grinning fiercely. “It’s all going wonderfully. Better than I’d hoped!”

That was when another set of gates was flung open.

Swiftly, silently, a mob of men rushed through it, running to confront our group. Tough, hard-featured men, carrying truncheons and clubs. They formed up in a line, blocking easy passage to the ship.

Jessica swore harshly at my side. “Anthony,” she hissed in fury.

Smirking, Anthony Willans swaggered to the front of the line. He reached in his pocket, drew out a huge cigar, and lit it slowly, ostentatiously. Exhaling a huge belch of smoke, he strode forward a pace or two further.