Khronos (Hanover and Singh Book 3) (7 page)

“Please,” Aether gestured at the desk. “Sit. Stay here and I will explain.”

“The demons from the machine,” Hannah clutched the fist of her right hand to her chest.

“Yes,” Aether nodded. “You saw them. You saw
us
in the mill that night.” Hannah nodded, wrinkling the front of her jacket in deep channels as she pressed her fist harder against her chest, smothering the furious beat of her heart. “Khaos and I, we are from the passage of time – another dimension. We have been trapped in the passage for longer than we can remember, waiting for an opportunity to leave and to return,” Aether lifted his hand and stared at in the dim lamplight, “to a more corporeal existence.”

“And now?” Hannah turned at the sound of the hatch opening in the deck above her. Khaos dripped river water down the steps as she descended the stairs. Stopping behind Hannah, she placed wet hands on Hannah’s shoulders, her damp hair tumbling onto her face.

“And now, we mean to help our friends return as well.” Aether raised his eyebrows at Khaos. “That’s right, isn’t it?”

“There are more of you? More demons?” Hannah shuddered as Khaos traced a cold, wet finger down her cheek, tugging at Hannah’s bottom lip with her nail.

“Oh yes,” Khaos slid her finger into Hannah’s mouth, pressing it against her teeth. “Lots.”

҉

Hari slid down the table top, freefalling another table length before crashing into a cluster of passengers. Crawling over them, he apologised as he pressed his knees and elbows into the soft flesh beneath the passengers’ dinner jackets and voluminous skirts and dresses. Hari paused as a bespectacled man, his youthful cheeks flushed, gripped Hari’s arm.

“What do you think you are doing?”

“Your pardon,” Hari tried his most gracious smile. “I am trying to effect a rescue.” He pointed at the man and the girl quivering on the panes of glass beneath him.

The man peered through his spectacles, “You are crazy.”

“Truly,” Hari flashed a grin. He tugged his arm free of the man’s grip. “If you don’t mind?”

“No,” the man shook his head, wrapping his fingers around the table leg around which his party was clustered. “Good luck.”

“Yes,” Hari clambered over the last of the passengers. He paused at the stretch of unobstructed deck between him and the airship windows. “I will need it.”

“Hari. Over here.”

Scanning the deck, Hari smiled at Dieter waving to him from a line of chairs creaking as the airship listed further to starboard.

“Do you need a rope?”

“Yes,” Hari slipped as the passenger beneath him fidgeted. “Please,” Hari patted the woman’s shoulder, “try not to do that again. I will not be long.” The woman stared wide-eyed at Hari. “Everything will be all right.”

“Hari, the rope,” Dieter jabbed his arm at a length of thick hawser line dyed red to match the carpet in the VIP section of the dining deck, just behind Hari.

“How could I miss that?” Hari waved his thanks at Dieter, squirming over the woman’s body before leaping for the end of the rope.

Hari’s fingers grasped the knot securing the rope through the eyelet of the waist-high brass stand bolted to the floor, the last in a line of six. Dangling at the end of the rope, Hari scraped his sandals along the deck as he scrabbled for a firm footing.

The screech of splintering glass and the young girl’s scream turned the heads of everybody in the room. The burr of the propellers labouring through each revolution drummed through the airframe, vibrating through the deck, splintering the pane with a fissure running diagonally from one corner to the other.

Hari gripped the brass stand with his left hand. Wrenching a bight of rope through the eyelet, he wrapped it around the top of the stand with two half-hitches. Gripping the rope between the stands, Hari climbed up and away from the window. He stopped between the third and fourth stands to check on the girl. The fissure in the glass widened. Hari continued until he could grip the first of the six brass stands. Untying the knot, he pulled it through the eyelet, took a deep breath and leaped onto the deck, sliding on his backside to the right of the line of brass stands.

The girl screamed a second time, the pane of glass splintering beneath her as Hari caught hold of the rope between the fifth and sixth stand. Penduluming around the last stand, Hari stared at the knot above him as the rope spewed out of each of the eyelets. Hari let the rope burn through his grip as he dived toward the young girl, grabbing a handful of her dress in his hand as the rope jerked, the knot cinching tight around the top of the brass stand.

“I’ve got you,” Hari strained at rope as the wind tugged at his clothes, whipping the girl’s hair and skirt as she screamed in the cold North Sea air outside the airship. Hari and the girl dropped half a foot more as the brass stand bent under the strain. With one hand clenched around the end of the rope and the other gripping the girl’s dress, Hari lifted his head to look the girl in the eyes. “I
have
got you,” he shouted into the wind. “I will not let go. Do you believe me?”

The girl nodded. “Yes,” she mouthed.

“Good,” Hari glanced back at the rope. “Now, a little luck, perhaps?”

The burr of the propeller bit into the wind as Hari and the girl twisted in the air, the whitecaps of the sea beneath them too far to survive the fall, too angry to ignore.

Chapter 5

Buckingham Palace

London, England

May, 1851

Storming past the guards at the door, Smith stumbled down the sandstone steps to the forecourt of the palace. He paced around the fountain, stopping to scowl and mutter in the direction of the palace, his words lost in the stream of water cascading from the mouths of stone horses locked in an eternal leap. The horses and their antics masked the piff of steam from the Admiral’s brass leg as he rounded the fountain, stopping Smith in the course of his third circuit.

“Are you going to pace around these horses all day, or will you listen to what I have to say?” Egmont shifted his weight onto his good leg.

“That depends on whether you have anything sensible to add to your earlier remarks,” Smith clenched his small fists at his sides. He cocked his head, peering at Egmont through the splashes of fountain water running down his spectacles. “You are looking flushed, Admiral. Did you demolish all of the Queen’s whisky?”

“Not nearly as much as I would like,” Egmont paused. “Major Noonan put a stop to my fourth. He said something along the lines of ‘a disgrace to the uniform’. That was when I left to come looking for you.” Smoothing the tails of his jacket, Egmont looked at Smith. “Are you ready to listen?”

“I am ready,” Smith turned his back to the fountain and gestured at a bench on the opposite side of the courtyard. “You may begin, Admiral.”

Egmont’s brass leg piffed as he walked alongside Smith. “You know how fond I am of Luise.”

“I thought I did.” The gravel crunched beneath Smith’s shoes as he slowed his pace, allowing Egmont to walk by his side.

“The royals have been sorely embarrassed by the name Hanover. They didn’t like the machinations and consolidation of the German Confederation.”

“I know all this, Admiral.”

“Of course you do. Just let me finish.” Egmont paused to sit on the bench. “You’re not sitting, Smith?”

“I prefer to stand for the moment.”

“Suit yourself.” Egmont patted his pockets.

“Looking for your pipe? You left it and your tobacco in
The Dog and Thistle
.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“We were
summoned
,” Smith removed his spectacles and wiped them on his sleeve. Holding them up for inspection, he slipped them back onto his nose. “It does not do to keep Her Majesty waiting.”

“No,” Egmont pressed his hands onto his thighs. “Jamie Hanover...”

“Luise’s brother.”

“Yes,” Egmont nodded. “I sent him to Afghanistan to look for Villeneuve’s secret weapon. I wasn’t sleeping, I needed answers.”

“For Trafalgar?”

“Yes,” Egmont paused at the opening of the gates. He waited until a troop of Royal Lifeguards had passed before continuing. “I saw an opportunity to discover answers and to get rid of one of the last two Hanovers on my list. All the others had been posted overseas...”

“The prominent ones?”

“Yes.”

“And the less so?”

“Drunken brawls, sickness and the like. Don’t look at me like that, Smith. I didn’t have them killed, although the poorhouses claimed a number of them.”

“And what of Luise and her brother?”

“They fell in-between. Not prominent, at least not yet. Jamie was a bit of a handful. Young. Headstrong. He liked the rum a little too much. Just like his father. When I despatched him to Afghanistan,” Egmont paused. “Well, I wasn’t sure he would return.”

“He didn’t.”

“No,” Egmont looked down at his hands. He splayed his fingers and smoothed his hands up and down the rough fabric of his trousers. “No, he didn’t.”

“And Luise? What of her?”

“I have always had a fondness for Luise,” Egmont looked up. “I knew her mother, you see? Luise’s father was no good, and I cared for Mathilde. Perhaps a little too much.” Egmont reached down to fiddle with the dial on his brass leg.

“So you did nothing to remove Luise from the Queen’s list?”

“That’s right,” Egmont nodded. “And now it seems she would have been better off had I done so. Safer than having some wild Welsh dog on her heels.”

“Reginald,” Smith waited until Egmont was finished adjusting his leg. “We have known each other for a long time.”

“We have,” Egmont frowned. “I don’t like that look you are wearing, Smith.”

“I have an idea, Reginald, that you were more than
fond
of Mathilde, Luise’s mother...”

“Wait a minute, Smith,” Egmont jabbed his finger in the air between them.

Smith removed his glasses. Picking at a stubborn fleck of dirt, he cleaned them with his handkerchief. “Might I suggest an easier solution to satisfying the Queen’s interest in this matter?”

“Go on.”

“Why doesn’t Luise change her name to that of her father? Her
true
father.”

Egmont leaned forward. Wringing his hands, he turned to look at Smith. “Her
true
father?”

“Yes, Reginald.”

“How long have you known?”

“Known?” Smith smiled. “I still don’t
know
. But I confess to having speculated privately once in a while.” Looking past Egmont’s shoulders, Smith put on his glasses and studied the stone horses. “I am without children, but I met Hari when he was just a small boy, playing in the dirt outside of Ladakh, India.” Smith turned to Egmont. “I care for him in the same way you do for Luise.”

“No one must know, Smith.”

“Why? Her parents are dead. Her brother is lost?”

“Well,” Egmont sighed. “At least not yet. Let me think about it while we try and resolve this situation.”

“You can count on me, Reginald,” Smith patted the Admiral’s leg. “You know, there is still a chance we can get to Luise before Blaidd. He has yet to cross the channel.”

“What are you suggesting, Smith? I am getting a little long in the tooth for campaigning if that is what you are thinking?”

“It is, and you are not.” Smith paused. “We just have to arrange passage and follow the trail all the way to Luise. Her machine is of great professional interest, but I think we can agree that events have taken a more personal twist – for us and the Queen.”

“What trail?”

“Hari is travelling together with Luise, acting as her protector. He has, of late, been far from discreet. Whereas Hari might be an exceptional agent in the mountains, a scalpel if you like, I am afraid he is rather more of a blunt implement when operating in more civilised environments. I am sure word of Hari’s exploits will reach us in time. The Calcutta Bureau has quite an extensive network of informants in Europe as well as Asia. We will hear of them, I am sure.”

“And so will Blaidd.”

“That is an unfortunate truth.” Smith joined Egmont on the bench. “We can use some help. Noonan, for example.”

“What? Noonan? He has his nose so far up the Queen’s...”

“Admiral. She is still our regent.”

“Well, he has been nosing around the blue bloods for so long...”

“That they trust him without question.” Smith smiled. “He can be of great use to us, Admiral. Not to mention, he is a cracking shot with a carbine.”

“What do you propose?”

“You must convince the Queen that you are committed to seeing this business through to the end, and that Blaidd cannot be completely trusted. In order to confirm the removal of the very last Hanover, the Queen must agree that you need to be present.” Smith removed his watch from the pocket of his jacket. “Her Majesty will be taking her supper shortly. We will use that time to convince Noonan of our intentions, and have Her Majesty endorse our travel plans.” Smith shrugged. “In my business, I have found an official letter from the monarch to open many doors. We have no time to travel in the shadows. The Queen’s endorsement will speed us along the way, and make certain – interesting – forms of transport available.”