by Giles
After a moment the German picked up Randal’s box of parts and dumped them on the table. He began separating out what appeared to be duplicate parts into one pile and then assembled the first pile. As Jerard watched in fascination the internal workings of a clock seemed to form before his eyes. But as he looked closely he could see that there were extra things attached. He opened his mouth to say something but Fred Randal caught his eye and shook his head no.
When Von Ulric seemed satisfied with the tiny contraption he moved it to the side and repeated his actions on Jerard’s box of parts. While Jerard’s box did not hold as many little pieces it did not appear to have any duplicates. To his eye this clock looked more complete and did not have as many ‘extra’ things arranged around the sides. The Rittmeister sat very still and studied the two devices. A full minute passed before he picked out several pieces from the Discretion’s clock and fitted them into the one found on the Vickers.
“Oh!” Jerard exclaimed. “How can that be? How can the pieces from one clock fit into another?”
Von Ulric looked up at Jerard and grinned. “Ah, I see you know something about clocks, ja?”
“Well, I don’t.” Fred said. “Can one of you explain?”
“Clock making is an art form. Each piece is cut with precision to fit with another piece. The way the pieces are cut and fitted is like a signature for a clock maker because no two makers do things in the same way. That is why if a clock needs repair you have to take it to the one who made it.”
“Hm.” Replied Fred. “So what I see here is the same person made both of these clocks.”
“Precisely.” Von Ulric stated. “But there is more. Clock parts also differ from country to country. If Phillips here studied with an English clockmaker he would be able to put these pieces together like I did but it would have taken a great deal longer. This is not from an English clock maker.”
“Then who? Where?” Jerard was getting excited now.
“I did not know for sure until I saw the pieces from this vessel. But this...” Von Ulric picked up the largest gear. The one one he had removed from one clock and placed into the Vickers clock. “This is French, it is too big and the brass is rubbish. The French do not make good brass.”
“But how do you know for sure?” Fred asked.
Von Ulric chuckled. “I was not always Rittmeister of an airship. I used to make bombs.”
Jerard was stunned he could not believe that this man, who had been talking of honor, was in the past a saboteur. It was the lowest form deception he could think of.
“Do not look so shocked Phillips. I was what you would call an expert, not a saboteur, I mostly took apart other people’s bombs. It is how I know so much about clocks and detonation devices.”
Jerard nodded. He felt quite embarrassed that what he had been thinking had shown up so clearly on his face. “So you also believe that both of these contraptions were made by the same person?”
“Ja, I do. The clocks had different functions, this one...” Von Ulric pointed to the parts from the Vickers device. “...was attached to an explosive device. But the one from this ship, I am not so sure, I can say there was no bomb attached. I think maybe it was used to stop something or maybe open something at a certain time.”
Jerard sighed, Von Ulric had nailed it and confirmed the theory Jerard had put forth to Nichols several days ago. “I believe it opened a steam valve.”
Von Ulric nodded slowly. “Ja that would certainly be easy to do. Did you find a solid arm or heavy string?”
“Twine.”
“Well that’s just great!” Fred Randal said. “Don’t suppose you know who set this one up, do you Cap?”
“No.”
“We do have a frenchie on board...”
“That’s enough Fred, you’re out of line. But it couldn’t have been D'Arcey any way, he wasn’t here. He was hired just before I was to replace one of the injured crewmen.”
As if on cue the speaking grill blared out: “Mr. D'Arcey to the bridge, Second Engineer D'Arcey to the bridge please.”
Jerard nearly laughed as all of the Germans jumped to their feet, startled nearly out of their clothes. Each of them seemed to be reaching for weapons that weren’t present as they looked around with wide eyes.
“On my way Mr. Wallace.” Said the speaking grill.
“Mein Got!” Von Ulric uttered.
“I’m sorry about that gentlemen. I guess we here are all used to the speaking grills.
Von Ulric shook his head and laughed. “I think we need another round. And then Phillips you will show me this speaking grill, ja?”
“Ja!” Jerard said and got to his feet, scooping up the bottle of schnapps.
As Jerard was pouring the last glass D'Arcey entered the room from the galley. He was walking fast, obviously in a hurry to answer Wallace’s summons. “Mr. D'Arcey!” Jerard called out.
D'Arcey jerked to a halt. “Ah Captain, here you are, I was just going to the...” He trailed off, as if in shock, his eyes were as wide as saucers.
“Mr. D'Arcey? Are you alright?”
“Oui Captain. I was...I was startled to find you here Sir. What may I do for you?”
“Oh it wasn’t me that called, it was Wallace on the bridge. I just wanted to tell you that when you were finished with Mr. Wallace to stop back here and meet some friends of mine.”
“Oui Captain, I shall return as soon as possible!”
“Go on then, see what Wallace wants.”
“Oui Captain!” D'Arcey nearly shouted and saluted Jerard. He turned on his heel and seem to run from the room.
“How odd.” Fred said softly, echoing Jerard’s thought.
“Shall we drink to the speaking grill?” Von Ulric quipped.
“How about to modern inventions?” Jerard replied and raised his glass.
Jules D'Arcey heard the toast being said behind him as he desperately tried to walk normally towards the bridge. His heart was pounding so hard that for the first time in his life he thought he might faint. Does nothing ever go as planned? He was supposed to be left as the senior officer on the ship and then the Captain had decided to stay back. And on top of that guards were posted! And now this! Three German officers blocking the exit. Oh but fate is cruel! It just had to be Von Ulric didn’t it, someone that might recognise him?
God would this ever be finished? He hadn’t slept since Stavanger, every time he lay down the faces of the people he had come to respect swam before his eyes. He felt like Judas betraying his friends for thirty pieces of silver. Deep breath, he told himself, stay calm.
D'Arcey reached the bridge anteroom to find Mr. Wallace lounging in the doorway. “How may I assist you Mr. Wallace?” He said, gratified that his voice sounded so calm and even.
“Guess you saw the Captain?”
“I did Sir, but he told me to carry on as it was you who summoned me.”
Wallace grinned. “Aye, ‘twas me Sir. Since the Cap is busy with his guests he told me to call you if I be needin’ anything. So I called.”
“Oui?” D'Arcey said, a little annoyed at the young Scotsman.
“It’s them again.” Wallace said and gestured with his head toward the open door of the anteroom.
D'Arcey turned and looked into the darkness outside. He could barely see three figures standing at the bottom of short ramp. “Who iz it?” He said, feigning confusion. He knew exactly who it was and he had been expecting them. He supposed it was a stroke of luck that Phillips was not standing here, either way their little fête for tonight was canceled.
“It’s those customs blokes again. I didn’t let ‘em aboard ship an’ I’m suggestin’ that you don’t either.”
“Agreed Monsieur Wallace. I will deal with zis.” D'Arcey straightened his jacket and marched out the door and down the ramp. He prayed he looked calmer than he felt.
A few feet from the ramp stood Jeremy Landover, his arms were crossed over his chest and he was looking particularly menacing. Although to D'Arcey’
s mind both of the twins nearly always had that look even when they smiled. His first thought upon meeting the pair was: predators. As he had come to know them a little better he had changed that word to ‘warriors’. The difference being that they would not eat you just because they could. D'Arcey drummed up a pleasant smile and nodded to Landover. “Thank you Sir. I will handle zis.”
Jeremy Landover nodded and took exactly two steps back. Go away! D'Arcey wanted to scream but didn’t instead he turned to study the other two men. He had been expecting Gaspe but not his ill fitting cheap suit and too large cap. He had to swallow hard to keep from laughing. The thin mustache that D'Arecy had always admired looked ludicrous with his commander’s disguise. D'Arcey had not met the other man but assumed this was Lieutenant Corbin. He was surprised that Corbin was taller than Gaspe but not surprised that he was not as handsome. In fact Monsieur Corbin somewhat resembled a blood hound with his droopy sad features and baggy clothes.
“Good evening I am Second Engineer Jules D'Arcey. What may I do for you?”
“We are here to inspect the cargo...bays.”
“I do not understand. Your people were here earlier and we presented our documents. What is ze problem?"
“Your documents were not in order. We have questions. Are you the superior officer on board?”
“No.”
“No?” Major Gaspe said looking quite surprised. “But I have asked to speak to the officer in charge, what is his name please?”
It was the first time that D'Arcey had seen an expression on the man’s face that was not a smirk or sneer. D'Arcey felt more than heard Landover shifting behind him. He had to get this conversation over with and still pass on the information.
“His name iz Captain Jerard Phillips and he iz not to be disturbed. He iz currently entertaining guests. The customs officials should know his guest, Rittmeister Moritz Von Ulric. I believe he iz a rather famous Prussian Captain, oui? I do not think he will be pleased to discover ze Danish Customs Service harassing Captain Phillips.” D'Arcey had to admire the Major, the only surprise he showed this time was a slight widening of the eyes.
“I understand.” Gaspe said slowly and then the smirk returned to his face. “But, Mister D'Arcey be advised that I will return tomorrow morning at dawn to carry out this inspection. I expect you to have the cargo bays open and ready for my return.”
D’Arcey had to clench his hand at his side to keep from saluting, he knew an order when he heard one. “As you wish.” He replied as urbanely as he could.
As he watched the two men walk away and disappear into the dark a very bad feeling came over Jules. He thought Gaspe would have been angry at having his plans foiled. But he wasn’t, in fact he seemed rather unconcerned. And what did he mean he would return at dawn? What was going on? All of the crew and passengers would be present at that time of the day. Had Gaspe lost his mind?
D'Arcey sighed out loud and turned to look at Landover; the man stood as impassive as ever. “I shall inform the Captain.” He announced but all he received in reply was the barest hint of a shrug. So D'Arcey turned on his heel and went back into the ship. He now had to face introductions to the Prussians; hopefully that would not take too long.
He hoped that they would not recognize him from the International Competition just as Phillips had not. D'Arcey’s habit had always been to keep to himself. Besides the crew at that time were discouraged from mingling with the other competitors.
D'Arcey’s head filled with the awful memories of the competition as he made his way back to the crew lounge. They had not been doing well under the harsh command of Captain Gaspe but D'Arcey did not totally blame the man. It was supposed to be an honor to fly in the competition and the crew had been pulled from different airships all over the corps. None of them had ever flown together and none of them were familiar with Gaspe. To expect strangers to suddenly work together as a well oiled team was ridiculous!
7:00 p.m.
A Night at the Opera
Copenhagen, Denmark
Tash leaned forward slightly to get a last look at the Discretion as the carriage rolled away. Carstares nearly chuckled out loud at the forlorn look on the woman’s face. He still did not understand why the Captain had to remain behind and he was a little frustrated by the curt, “I’ll explain later” he had received in answer to his inquiry.
“Phineas, why is your Captain not joining us? I would have thought that his strong right arm would be needed tonight.”
“Indeed Bodil, indeed.” Carstares replied. “But he was needed on the ship and I believe you will find Mr. Nichols an able replacement.”
The LensBaron frowned and offered a curt nod, he was obviously not content with the answer. He cleared his throat into the awkward silence. “As we discussed I have my men already in place at the Det Kongelige Teater. Before I left my home I had not received word yet on whether or not they had found Dr. Nordstrom. If the description you gave me of the Doctor is accurate my men will find him. Once he is safe in our hands I will confront my nephew. Are you still certain that we do not call the local police?”
“Yes.” Carstares said emphatically.
The LensBaron narrowed his eyes and looked hard at Starblower/Carstares before bursting out in laughter. “Ah! I see now!” He chortled.
Neither Tash nor Carstares had to fake their startelement. It was Carstares who recovered first. “I say, what is it you see Sir?”
“That you are, how do you say...pulling wool over someone’s eyes. I am wondering if your government even knows that Dr. Nordstrom is missing? Could it be that the great industrialist is taking the law into his own hands? Oh, ho, ho,” the LensBaron laughed again. “This is lækker!”
“Lækker?” Carstares said popping in his monocle and looking at the LensBaron.
“Yes, lækker, it means delicious or delightful to one’s palate and I assure you this is completely to my taste. It is unfortunate that sometimes those of us in our station must step in and take care of things. Things that would otherwise find our governments drowning in paperwork, thus rendering them powerless to act.”
“Yes well...” Carstares began a trifle acidly.
“Oh! My Lord!” Tash exclaimed quickly; she had to take control of this situation. “You cut to the heart of the matter. We are here because Dr. Nordstrom is a dear friend to my family, his daughter and I were practically raised together. The authorities are aware that he is “missing” but have not admitted that he has been kidnapped. I begged Mr. Starblower to get involved and I am afraid he is here as a personal favor to me.” Tash bowed her head and called up a few tears and then raised her face to Carstares. “I’m so sorry Sir, I never thought it would go this far!”
Carstares was taken aback when Tash put her head on his shoulder and sobbed into his jacket. He put an awkward arm around her and then began patting her shoulder. “There, there.” He muttered. The Colonel did not have to fake the fact that he had no idea what to do next; he never could deal with women crying. And damned if she were not crying real tears!
It seemed the LensBaron was having the same reaction; he shifted in his seat and looked as distressed as Tash did. The man leaned forward and awkwardly patted Tash’s knee. “Please madam, I did not mean to upset you. I promise you, we will get your friend back tonight.”
Tash sat up and raised her tear stained face to the LensBaron, she gave him such a look of hope that Carstares found himself making the same vow. Tash bowed her head again and rummaged around in her reticule; bringing forth a delicate lace handkerchief. She dabbed at her eyes and managed a quite pretty blush. “Please, please forgive me. I am not prone to this type of behavior and I am quite embarrassed.”
The LensBaron cleared his throat and adopted a formal tone. “I wish to apologize madam and sincerely ask your forgiveness. You should not be embarrassed to reveal the truth of any matter nor should you be embarrassed to display passion and emotion. I find myself uniquely honored to have made your acquaintance.” The LensBaron paused
as if making a decision.
“The past week has proven to be one the most interesting weeks of my life. I have made several grave errors through ignorance but I have also met two people who have shown me that honor and loyalty are not dead in our modern world. Phineas, Miss Smythe-Harris, please accept my hand of friendship.”
Tash smiled and took the LensBaron’s offered hand. “I will Sir but only if you call me Tash. And only if I might visit you after this affair is sorted.”
Gyldenfeldt’s somber look dissolved into a rather boyish grin. Tash was certain it was the first real smile she had seen from the man. He gave her hand a vigorous pump and then released it to offer it to Carstares/Starblower. The Colonel hesitated for the briefest moment before taking the offered hand and shaking it with equal vigor.
“Thank you.” The LensBaron Gyldenfeldt of Denmark said humbly before taking on a very business like tone. “Now, I have six men searching and watching the Teater. Three are inside as workmen and three are watching the public areas and the outside. My two footmen along with the drivers, Marius and your serving man should have no troubles questioning and mixing with the other servitors to get information. Our Teater always provides refreshment and waiting areas for the staff of the attending Teater patrons. It will be up to the three of us and your men Starblower to do what we can ‘above stairs’, as they say.”
“Excellent!” Carstares exclaimed. “This is a bit more than I expected Bodil.”
A slightly pained expression crossed the LensBaron’s face before it resumed its normal bland mein. It was so fast that Tash almost missed it.
“Well the truth is I may have made a mistake. On my way to my residence I stopped at the Teater. I made it quite plain that I would be attending tonight and that you would be my guest. In fact I insisted that our names be added to the official published guest list.”
“Why would that be a mistake LensBaron?” Tash inquired softly.
“Because that villain Reinhardt may not show up. I fear we were lured here to the opera as a possible distraction.”