Khronos (Hanover and Singh Book 3) (13 page)

“Thank you, Admiral,” Smith patted Egmont’s arm as the crew scurried to organise the crates of supplies and luggage to make space for passengers in the elevator. “They seem to have gotten the message.”

“About time,” Egmont cast the rope to one side. “Now then,” he turned to Noonan. “What is the plan?”

“I have received word from the Welshman, Blaidd, that he is onboard the steamjammer and has made contact with the Germans.”

“Contact? Are we suddenly in league with the German Confederation?”

“It’s all right, Reginald,” Smith took a step toward the elevator. “Noonan has given his agent a task to occupy him, giving us a chance to catch up with Luise and Hari.”

“And you know where they are?”

“Onboard
The Flying Scotsman
. The result of a little seed-sowing back in your office. You do remember, Reginald?”

“Can’t say that I do.” Egmont followed Smith and Noonan into the elevator, pushing two of the four crewmen out to make room. The elevator creaked as the winch took in the slack and they started to move.

“They will be halfway across the North Sea by now,” Noonan repositioned the rifle case as it slipped toward the lip of the elevator floor. “Perhaps further.”

“Perhaps, Major,” Smith nodded. He turned to the young crewman standing by the side of the elevator’s emergency brake handle. “Could you tell Major Noonan a little about this airship, crewman?”

The crewman straightened. “This is
The Amphitrite
, sir. Named after a sea-goddess.”

“And has the Queen ever flown aboard
The Amphitrite
?” Smith continued.

“Not that I know of, sir. She’s right lively she is,” the crewman blushed. “I mean the airship, sir.”

“Of course you do,” Smith smiled. Would you go as far to say that she is a bit
too
lively, perhaps?”

“That’s right, sir,” the crewman grinned. “It would make her dogs right sick it would.”

Egmont chuckled. “I am beginning to like this ship.”

“
Airship
, Admiral,” Smith pulled the collars of his jacket up as the elevator neared the top of the derrick. “
The Amphitrite
has a reputation, not unlike her captain, for flying fast and furious with little regard for dignitaries or decorum. It might explain why these men were a little pompous on our arrival, gentlemen.”

Noonan slung the rifle case over his shoulder as the elevator grumbled to a stop. “What’s your name, crewman?” He pointed at the young man standing by the brake.

“Perkins, sir.”

“Well, Perkins. You can call me Major Noonan. You’ve met the Admiral, and this gentleman you have been chatting with is Mr. Smith. These are our bags, and you will see that all of them are delivered to our quarters.”

“Yes, Major Noonan,” Perkins let go of the brake and took a step toward the luggage. He reached for the rifle case on Noonan’s shoulder.

“Just the bags, Perkins.” Noonan stepped out onto the platform and peered over the edge at the tiny steamcarriage below. “I’m not great with heights,” he took a step back.

“Best keep your eyes closed when crossing the rope bridge then, Major.” Egmont grinned as he stumped past Noonan. Gripping the rope lines either side of the narrow wooden-slatted bridge, Egmont aimed the tip of his brass leg at the centre of the first slat.

“Everything all right, Reginald?” Smith placed his hand on Egmont’s shoulder.

“Perfectly all right, thank you, Smith.” He took a step forward. “Just enjoying the moment,” Holding his breath, Egmont took another step.

Tugging at the lines securing her to the mast,
The Amphitrite
quivered, its hull rippling with the last infusion of hydrogen as the crew topped off the reserves with a final blast of gas. Smith searched the sleek, black ribbed hull for the bridge, fixing his gaze on a small bubble of glass, brass and wood below the nose of the airship. The single, narrow deck for the crew, and what little cargo
The Amphitrite
could carry, stretched beneath the airship’s skin, ending in a tiny hatch to which the rope bridge was attached. Smith took a deep breath and followed the Admiral.

҉

Above the North Sea, nearing the coast of Denmark,
The Flying Scotsman
caught the dying rays of the sun on her stern as she wallowed in the softening winds creasing her skin with a gentle push from the west. Hari and Luise waited for Jacques to open the door to the bridge.

“Remember, the family will see you first, you can talk to the Captain after that.”

“And the Germans?” Hari gripped Luise’s hand.

“As agreed, they will wait for the Captain to release you,” Jacques smiled. “I told you they were impressed.”

“Truly,” Hari gestured at the door. “Shall we go in?”

Hari let go of Luise’s hand as the father of the girl extended his.

“Can’t thank you enough,” he pumped Hari’s hand. “My little girl...”

“Yes,” Hari smiled at the girl as she hid behind her father’s legs. Flicking his eyes to the man standing at the wheel of the airship, Hari caught his first glance of Cairn.

“We don’t know how to repay you,” the mother stepped forward and hugged Luise.

“No payment necessary,” Luise gasped for breath. Catching Hari’s eye, Luise’s brow wrinkled as she raised her eyebrows.

“Our little girl...” the father moved to hug Hari.

“Yes,” Cairn coughed from behind the oak wheel. “Yes, quite courageous.” Stepping around the helm, Cairn limped the short distance to the father. Placing his left hand on the man’s shoulder, he gently prised him away from Hari. “I am sure you will have opportunity to talk with Hari and his exquisite lady friend later in the voyage.” Cairn made a short bow to Luise. “Jacques, please escort our guests back to their cabin.”

“Yes, Captain,” Jacques led the family to the door, closing it gently as they exited the bridge.

“Now then,” Cairn gestured to the large oak table at the rear of the bridge. “Let us sit and get acquainted. Jacques seems rather impressed with you both,” Cairn limped behind Hari and Luise as they made their way to the table. “And I admit to being a little in awe myself.” He waited until Luise and Hari were seated before pulling out a chair and slumping into it. Cairn rearranged the folds of his loose-fitting shirt and tunic before continuing. “As you can see, I would not have been able to perform such a feat.”

“Captain, I...”

“It is all right, Hari Singh,” Cairn lifted his hand. “I am better acquainted with my own limitations than any man alive. However,” Cairn pointed at the leather harness attached to the airship’s wheel. “Sickness and handicaps often lead to innovation.” Smiling, Cairn brushed his long black hair from his eyes, revealing thin red scars blistering the corners of each of his green eyes. “That contraption allowed me to stay at the helm for the duration of the storm. I am just sorry I could not do more.”

“You saved the ship, the passengers and crew,” Luise leaned forward to touch Cairn’s hand, flinching as he pulled it out of her reach. “I am not sure what more you could have done.”

“Perhaps,” Cairn pushed at the rolls of charts on the table’s surface. “However, I feel obliged to offer you my services, and the services of my ship.” He gestured at the charts. “I will take you wherever you wish to go, if...”

“If?” Hari placed his palms on the table.

“If you will rid me of my German problem.” Cairn’s hair hid the scars around his eyes as he shook his head. “They do plague me so with their imperial demands and their orders. This is a passenger ship, a skycruiser. Not a ferry or a freighter. It is meant for cruising great distances, exploring the skies,” Cairn’s eyes reflected the last of the sun as it dipped below the horizon. “Get them off my ship and I will help you with your task. I assume you have one.”

“Yes,” Luise tugged her satchel into her lap. “A curious one at that.”

“Then let us eat, you can tell me all about it over a meal.” Cairn pulled a tiny bell from the pocket of his tunic, its shrill ring summoning an orderly from the door at the rear of the bridge.

“Yes, Captain,” Whyte paused at the sight of Hari and Luise. “What will it be?”

“A sky platter for our stowaways and a bowl of steamed punch. We have much to discuss.”

Chapter 9

The Regal Giant

The North Sea

May, 1851

Hannah clasped a fold of the emerald dress in her left hand as she slipped on the black heels. With a grim smile she twirled in front of the full-length mirror hanging on the bathroom door of her cabin. She let go of the dress and smoothed her hands over her ribs, following the black embroidered petals all the way to the satin bows just below her hips. Hannah’s cheeks dimpled as she twirled away from the mirror, crossing the floor to the bed. Pushing her fingers inside the pockets of her travel-stained corset jacket, Hannah retrieved the slim brass knuckles with the razor edges she had cut Romney’s arm with not so very long ago. She slipped the knuckles into the handbag that came with the dress.

Hannah’s dress shushed as she crossed to the cabin door, opened it and stepped out into the corridor. She waited for an elderly couple to pass, smiling as they commented on her dress, before locking the cabin door and pushing the key into the pocket on the outside of the handbag. Hannah followed the couple to the grand staircase leading up to the lounge and dining area two decks above her cabin. She paused at the landing of the first deck as Blaidd slipped away from the wall and joined her.

“Miss von Ense,” Blaidd parted his lips in a crooked grin. “You look pretty.”

“We were not supposed to meet,” Hannah paused. “Where did you get that suit?”

Blaidd took a step back from Hannah. Smoothing his hand over the leather tunic, he fiddled with the small leather pockets suspended over the grey plaid trousers with buckles attached to the leather. Blaidd tugged at the white cuffs at the end of his shirtsleeves with thick hairy fingers. “It will do, eh?”

“It will do. But remember, you are to observe only. Be close enough to hear, but not so close you may be recognised.”

“You will not notice me, Miss von Ense.”

“
Ja
,” Hannah continued up the staircase. “I know. That is why we hired you then.”

“And now?” Blaidd lifted his foot to climb the staircase. He stopped as Hannah pressed her palm onto his chest.

“We will see. I am not your employer. We are...”

“Partners?” Blaidd suggested. He placed his right foot on the bottom step and rested his hands on his thigh. “Are we not?”

“For as long as we are helpful to one another, and not a moment longer.” Hannah’s lips curled over her teeth. “I don’t like you, Blaidd. Although our methods are not dissimilar.”

“You don’t have to like me, Miss von Ense.” Blaidd leaned closer. “But I advise you not to make an enemy of me, eh? I don’t need payment to hold a grudge.”

“Agreed,” Hannah turned away from Blaidd. “Keep your distance and your eyes open,” she called over her shoulder. “I will let you know if I need your assistance.”

“Always a pleasure,” Blaidd tapped two fingers to his forehead. He waited as Hannah climbed the stairs and disappeared from view. Running his hands over the oil paintings hanging from the bulkhead, Blaidd followed, sauntering among the passengers as they waited in the chandeliered lounge to be seated.

҉

Stepan slipped away from the carriage as the German riflemen prodded the barrels of their Polyphase rifles into Vladimir’s chest. The Poruchik groaned as they dragged him to his feet and marched him to the carriage they had converted to a guardroom.

Watching from behind the dusty iron wheels of a locomotive, Stepan hid in the shadows, the steady thud of the
Drakon
spewing eleven shots per cylinder at the emissary clanking toward its position. A quick glance at the guard carriage urged Stepan to move as the three riflemen chained Vladimir to the carriage wheels and split up to search the area. Stepan used the cover of the locomotive to dart across the gap to the station entrance. Clambering up and onto the platform, he ducked behind a trolley of left luggage as he scanned the station interior.

The splinter of glass from a window on the opposite platform caught Stepan’s attention. Sliding around the leather trunks and hat boxes, he moved to a better position to observe the platform opposite and the railroad tracks beneath him.

On the opposite platform, crawling through the shards of broken glass sticking out of the wooden window frame, Lena Timofeyevich cursed as she dropped to the platform floor. Scooting back to the wall, she ducked beneath the frame, wincing as she moved a bloody hand to open a leather pouch on the bandolier buckled across her chest. Clumps of dirt and grey dust coated her shoulder length black hair, lining the creases in her sheepskin tunic.

Stepan watched as Lena tamped a musket ball into each of the pistol’s barrels, tugging the cap off a small horn of powder with her teeth. Lena paused before priming the pan of the flintlock pistol, catching Stepan’s eye as he waved to her from the other side of the station. Lena finished priming the pistol, capped the horn, securing it behind a leather loop on the bandolier before waving back at Stepan.