by Giles
“Cheats never prosper, Sir. Cheats never prosper!” Jerard replied with what he intended as a friendly smile.
Instead of the expected return smile, D’Arcey’s face fell even further, if that were possible. The troubled Frenchman turned back to studying the Discretion's gauges. “Oui Captain you are likely correct.” He muttered as he tapped a stuck gauge on the status board.
Abandoning his attempt to cheer up the crew, Jerard got up and exited the bridge. Time to see how the newly minted Mr.. Starblower was getting accustomed to his role, he thought. Now that brought a small smile to his lips.
He found the Colonel standing in the passenger lounge being fussed over by Tash and Gopal. Evidently the task of turning a desk jockey of many years into the internationally renowned eccentric merchant-adventurer was proving a challenge for more than just Carstares.
“How's he doing?” Jerard whispered sotto vocce to Gopal. Across the room from them Tash was explaining something from a large ledger to the beleaguered man.
“Mr.. Carstares is trying hard Captain.” The manservant replied in a neutral tone. “I fear Tash may be driving him a trifle hard too soon. But I have confidence in them both.”
“Jolly good.”
“Can we help you with something Captain?” Tash’s voice brought them around to face the primly dressed woman.
“Just looking in on Mr.. Starblower here madam, and I thought to advise you we shall be over Aalborg in about thirty minutes.”
“Very good C’ptain Phillips.” Carstares said in a bright tone of voice. “Keep me informed when we are ready to land.”
“Yes Mr.. Starblower.” Phillips replied playing along with a mock serious half bow. He was rewarded with a dark look from Carstares that was entirely genuine.
“Please don’t do that Colonel you sound like a Mayfair dandy not our fearless Mr.. Starblower.” Tash remarked acidly, dragging him back to the task at hand.
Jerard beat a hasty retreat before Tash could assess his own performance. He wondered how the rest of the crew were adjusting to having their employer aboard at last. From now on there could be no more dowdy Robert Carstares aboard ship, only the dashing, dynamic and debonair Phineas Starblower. Jerard chuckled to himself.
***
Lance Nichols drummed his fingers on the arm rest of his command console in the Discretion's auxiliary bridge. He rarely got nervous during a flight but this trip had been a succession of frustrations and upsets thus far and it was just beginning to annoy him.
The jollop Tash had conjured up from the Starblower facility seemed to be doing a fair job on the hull patch. But just in case he had gotten Roger to stay up in the observation dome with orders to check it repeatedly for shearing or cracking as they hit cruise speed. Number two engine was bothering him still as well. It went against the grain to have one of the Discretion's main power plants running at less than full efficiency. He had a hunch that they were going to be needing all the speed the lady could grant in the course of this mission. He just knew it. Heh! You're sounding like McPherson now old man get a grip, he told himself as he stared out the view port at the rolling green fields below them.
A whistling pop startled him out of his introspection. Over by the auxiliary communications desk Leading Airshipman Adams was tuning the crystal radio and shaking his head. The headphones made him look like a over large chimp as he fiddled with the dials of the control.
“Problems Geoff?” Lance asked strolling over to the technician. Engrossed in his work Adams didn’t reply and instead jumped when Nichols gently touched his shoulder. As the man hastily took off the headset Nichols repeated his question.
“Not as such Sir, just a bit of signal noise on the line I can’t get rid of. Its not been quite right since the lightning belted us.”
“Something shorted out you think? Or about too? A surge like that could have done all sorts of stuff to the valve array I suppose.”
Adams sat back and relaxed a bit. “Not really as much as folks might suppose Sir, the hull sent the charge around and out of the ship. Now, the high voltage passing by might have left a bit of a charge in some of the ferrous systems. That could be what's causing the interference I think. Not actual damage to anything major.”
“Did the bridge unit do this at all?”
“No Sir, just this one here which is why I’m curious.”
An uncharitable thought crossed Nichol’s mind. “Do you recall right before we left London I had ordered the new lads to re-caulk the insulation under this desk Mr.. Adams? Did you check their work? I hate to sound accusing but are we sure they didn’t knock something while they worked do you think?”
“I hadn’t thought to check that Sir, I’ll get on to it. But I doubt there is anything they could have done that would cause a line-interference fault like this. Not by itself that is.”
“Let me know if you come up with anything Geoff. Just as long as you're sure the unit’s not going to fail on us anytime soon.” Wearily Nichols returned to his seat. Another thing to put on the repair schedule, he thought. We might as well just go right back to Beardmore’s and have a refit at this rate. For now he made a note of Adams' discovery and listed the faulty transceiver as ‘under repair’ in his day log.
“Uh, Mr.. Nichols, Sir?” Adams voice queried.
“Yes Geoff? What have you got.”
“I was going to try to send a test message out, just to listen to the line noise as it transmitted, but there’s something wrong here, I think you’d best see.”
Crossing rapidly back to the radio station Lance eyed the orderly console with a critical eye, nothing looked out of place at a glance. “What is it Mr. Adams?”
Leading Airshipman Adams opened the side of the Morse transmitter’s paper locker. The neat spool of inch wide paper was essentially a copy of whatever was transmitted through the station for log purposes. It all looked normal to Lance so he directed an annoyed glance at the man to make his point.
“Here Sir look at the paper.” The man offered. The edge of the paper was slightly ragged and torn off from the spool. “This unit has been used and the copy paper removed.”
“Since Annie made up that keyboard thing of his its been a long time since we needed this unit. Who knows when the paper was last changed.” Lance began annoyed at the triviality.
“With respect Sir, I know. I watched Beardmore’s men change out all the spools before we left Inchinnan. Who’s been here using the Morse unit since then? Not Annie for sure.”
“You're right Geoff! It does look like somebody’s been fiddling with this unit.” Lance Nichol’s face visibly paled at his next thought, D'Arcey was right! Somehow the villains must have gotten a man on the inside of his crew! If someone sent a message regarding the Discretion’s progress it would explain why they never caught up with the kidnappers at Stavanger.
“You alright sir?” Adams asked staring intently at Nichols.
“This is a puzzling development Mr.. Adams. I hope its just some tom-fool trying to send out messages to his lady friend but given the seriousness of our current voyage I doubt it.”
Nichols considered for a moment. Nobody was above suspicion in a crime he recalled, but some folks were certainly more likely than others as well. Adams here had not exactly been with the crew for long either... “Put it back as you found it Adams and say nothing for now lets watch and see if our message sender will try again.”
Adams looked a little uncomfortable at the pronouncement. But nodded and mumbled, “Very good Sir” by way of acknowledgment as he turned back to his work on the radio.
Nichols sat back down in his chair and considered. Fully a third of the ship's crew were new in one sense or another. Then there was that suspicion that there might even be a stowaway. The Captain had raised that idea twice before now. The first time in London when they were looking into the original accident, and again the other day. But such an individual could hardly have remained hidden during the intensive maintenance that they had undergone at Beardmore’s.
Good grief, Beardmore’s! Nearly the whole crew had been off the ship during that episode supposedly to get out of the way of the engineers. But if ever there was a time to smuggle somebody on board that would have been it. Or...or even last night when they left the remaining refueling work to the Norwegian field crew and staff of the Starblower research factory.
This was too much for him to deal with alone, the Captain and Miss Tash needed to be told. But, without any concrete evidence, this was just useless supposition on his part. Damn that Colonel Carstares and his speculation of a set up! Who was he supposed to trust with this information without looking like a fool if it turned out to be nothing? Making a decision he toggled the speaking grill's switch.
“Airshipman J. Landover to auxiliary control.” He declared.
A split second later the ex-gunnery Sargent's voice replied smartly through the brass speaking grill. “On my way Sah!”
The ex-soldier brothers had been with the Discretion as long as he, Daniel and Archie had. If there was some blaggard loose aboard this ship Lance knew who he wanted to deal with them...
***
“Aalborg 2 miles ahead Captain.” Fred Randal called out at last breaking the moody silence of the Bridge.
“Very good Mr.. Randal.” Phillips began, easing himself in his chair at the news. It would be good to stretch one’s legs again soon at the very least. “Mr.. Jones what are the odds there is a working radio receiver in such a place? Can we arrive with the Barony pre-warned to receive their illustrious visitor you think?”
“I can but try on the more common channels Sir. I speak very little Danish mind you.” Jones replied.
“Not a problem Sir, either they can receive us or not; if so, the chance of an English speaker being available will be high. Make the call Mr.. Jones we want to make a dramatic impression.”
Jones picked up his microphone and thought for a moment. “Barony of Aalborg, this is the airship Soul of Discretion. Requesting directions to land in your fair city. Mr.. Phineas Starblower is here to see the Baron. Over...”
The radio speaker grill remained silent for a long moment so Jones repeated his hail... still without response. “Looks like we’re out of luck Captain. I can have a go in what Danish I can remember, but I’ll have to make it simpler.”
“Try it again Sir.” Jerard commanded “I think we’re due some luck.”
But before Mr.. Jones could toggle the switch on the microphone the radio came to life. “... of -Discretion. This – is - Aalborg. Apologies - my - assistant - knows - small - English. Can - you - repeat - request. Slowly - please?”
Jones smiled to Phillips and repeated: “Barony of Aalborg, this is the Soul of Discretion requesting directions to land in your fair city. Mr. Phineas Starblower is here to see the Baron. Over..”
“Mr. - Phineas -Starblower? I - have - not - you - on - my - schedule - Sir - Can....” the voice fell silent mid sentence.
Mr.. Jones looked at Jerard and shrugged.
Then a moment later: “Mr. - Starblower? Please - land - on - the - west - field - of - Aalborghus - Slot - ground - crew - will - await - you. Welcome - to - the - Barony - of - Aalborg.”
“Told you we were due some luck!” Phillips cried clapping his hands. “Any idea where this Aalborghus Slot lies Fred?” he added.
Fred Randal already had his map case open and was pouring over the best local map he had. “Not sure Captain, near as I can figure out its an administrative center near the waterfront. I dunno if we’ll have room for a ground landing given the Discretion's size.”
“Near the waterfront you say? Alright, take us out and over the river channel. If we don’t have room to land in the place they suggest, we’ll have to hover over the water. Let them know on the ground Mr.. Jones. I’m going to let Mr.. Starblower and his assistant know we’ve arrived.” Jerard concluded with a wink to the bridge in general.
Tash was adjusting Carstares’ jacket one more time as Gopal let Phillips into the lounge. “What news Captain?” She asked, barely looking up from her business.
“We’ve reached Aalborg and we are looking for the landing site. I trust the LensBaron will see us shortly thereafter.”
“Very good Captain Phillips” She commented distractedly as she manhandled Carstares around to face Jerard. “so.. what do you think of your employer now, Captain?” She said with a ghost of a smile.
Jerard looked the visibly uncomfortable Carstares over. The man had on an immaculate tweed jacket and finely tailored breeches of a strange pattern that was neither quite a Scottish Tartan nor was it a pinstripe. The brilliantly polished toes of some quality boots peeked from under the hem of the trousers. To top it all off Jerard noted how precariously the monocle hung from Carstares’ left eye.
“Very...impressive Madam...and Sir.” He managed trying not to show his amusement at Carstares’ discomfort. “Chin-up Colonel, think of Queen and Country!” he added trying to cheer the morose fellow up in his fancy dress.
“Yes thank you so very much Captain.” Carstares drawled in reply. “The tailoring is impeccable though hardly my style. It’s not the clothes however but the underhanded way I have to be wearing them that irks me Sir!”
“Remarkable, that's pretty much what D’Arcey and I were talking about earlier Sir. Warfare is one thing but trickery doesn’t sit easily in a warriors heart. Just recall the Germans started this dastardly business with subterfuge. Think of it as more poetic justice, turning their own means back on them.”
“A fair observation I suppose Captain.” Carstares conceded relaxing a little. “How long till we land?”
“Depends on whatever site Fred and William settle on. We should have the best part of half an hour at a minimum before setting down.”
“Then I suggest Mr.. Starblower we go over your public and private stories one more time. Thank you Captain” Tash interjected, dismissing Phillips in the process.
Jerard nearly objected to the peremptory manner of the woman but he recalled her strained look of a few hours ago and D’Arcey’s gentlemanly manner towards it. Not to be outdone by the Frenchman he merely bowed to her and left Carstares at her mercy once more.
When Phillips had closed the door Tash took a step back and rubbed her eyes. She had been fiddling with Starblower’s costume for the best part of two hours and her eyes were sore and her fingers ached. “So Mister Starblower tell me in your own words, why we have come to Aalborg - the public version.”
Carstares stiffened his spine and began to pace. “I am here to see the LensBaron Gyldenfeldt about the possibility of opening a factory here in Aalborg to expand the European side of my leather working business. I hear that the Danish military needs to re-fit some of its infantry uniforms and I wish to tender for the contract. Having a local factory will sidestep any objections that the military will be sending money out to a foreigner.”
“Good, but don’t use the word ‘foreigner’ we don't want to emphasize that, say something like: We have no desire to take money from the hardworking people of the town, instead we would give them good honest jobs!” She took a deep breath, “...and what exactly will you offer Gyldenfeldt for the privilege of setting up shop here?”
“His city will become our sole distribution center in the north of Europe, granting him a monopoly on our footwear and a large slice of influence over the leather goods manufactory in general.” Carstares grinned, “That will be very believable at the least! From what I have heard of the fellow he’s keen to gather all the influence he can.”
Tash nodded then resumed her coaching. “So, what is your opening line, to the Baron to gain information about the fellows that left the fishing boat, Mr.. Starblower?”
“A fellow working in our Aberdeen warehouse absconded with some new designs that I had planned to show to the locals here in Aalborg. These designs and plans were to convince the city fathers to give me license to open a business here. I suspect he means to try and sell them to a rival and preempt my move to bring jobs t
o this part of Europe.”
“Good, Colonel, good, keep thinking of yourself as Starblower, I particularly like your use of ‘I’ and ‘my’. You have some talent for this Sir!”
“I studied drama briefly at Cambridge my dear Miss Smythe-Harris. Some things never fade entirely it seems.” The older man smiled and his face relaxed as he reminisced.
“There!” she cried “That's it! Hold that look Sir! Calm and satisfied with your achievements that's Mr.. Starblower’s trademark!”
“I shall be sure to remember it Ma’am.” He grinned taking the monocle from his eye and giving the lens an absent minded polish on his sleeve. “However, there is one thing that bothers me about this ‘story’ we are concocting for the LensBaron’s ears madam...”
“Really Colonel and what is that?” Tash stated non-noncommittally as she fiddled with his jacket one more time.
“Given the Baron’s Scandinavian supremacist leanings, I’d have thought he would be more interested in finding and dealing with this ‘entrepreneur’ offering plans to his local craftsmen. Instead of dealing with us, a foreign company, seeking a site upon his soil. He’ll talk to us then ignore us for this other fellow I feel, madam.”
“I see,” Tash conceded reluctantly. “So you’re saying that we are not actually giving him reason enough to help us find these fellows. What exactly do you want to concede of my employer's assets then to cement the deal Colonel Carstares?”
Carstares held up his hand and backed away a step to look the young woman in the eye. “I plan to concede nothing of yours madam. It just might be that the nationality of the supposed thief must need be introduced. That's all. The LensBaron still carries a tidy scar from a German saber from the First Danish-German war. I suspect it will fuel his distrust of our quarry and persuade him to help us recover these fictitious missing plans.”
Tash nodded sagely at the man’s point. Despite their initial encounter she was actually beginning to warm to the man. Very few men had been able to see past her sex and treat her with non-condescending respect. “Then we need to adjust our cover story but slightly. Instead of the thief planning to sell them to locals here in Aalborg we state that we believe he is passing through this port heading south to the German held portion of Southern Denmark instead.”