by Geonn Cannon
“That was remarkable,” Ivy said.
“It’s my gift. Adeline could see things as they would be, and I could connect disparate facts to see how things are. It takes me a while sometimes, but eventually I can see the entire picture as if it’s drawn on the wall in front of me.” She stood up. “We must find Miss Trafalgar and Lady Boone at once to tell them what we have learned.”
“We?” Ivy questioned.
Leola nodded. “I’m not certain how my gift works, but I know it works best when there is someone with me. Thank you for giving me a focal point for my mental wanderings.”
Ivy chuckled and stood up as well. “I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but ‘focal point’ is a new one. Considering my gift. Lead the way.”
Ivy wasn’t entirely certain about leaving their post outside of Quintel’s house, but if Leola was correct then it wouldn’t matter if they saw anyone or not.
#
Threnody let them into her lab, and Dorothy was intrigued by seeing the familiar space in a new light. Ordinarily she would have entered from the other side of the room, and now knowing what the rest of the house looked like, she had a new perspective on the cluttered lab. Threnody obviously spent the majority of her time here among her designs and devices. Considering what Dorothy now knew was concealed under the mask she felt sad about how Threnody had cut herself off from the rest of society. She swore that if she was still welcome in Threnody’s home after the current events were finished, she would endeavor to be more friend than client.
Threnody made her way through the maze of tables to a roll-top desk tucked into one corner. It stood at an angle that prevented it from being seen on the other side of the room, reaffirming Dorothy’s feeling of pulling back the curtain to see the workings of the performance. Threnody pushed up the desktop and shuffled around the papers within until she found what she was looking for. She turned back and held up a sheet of paper which had been folded into quarters.
“This is the letter I received from Felix Quintel. It lists the items he required but, as you can see, he gave no indication on whom they would be used. The same goes for all of my clientele. I make what you want and I don’t ask questions.”
Trafalgar took the paper and held it up for Dorothy to see the FQ brand on the front square. “It certainly seems as if it’s our man.”
Dorothy said, “How many devices did you make for him?”
“Seventeen.”
“There could still be some out there.”
Trafalgar nodded. “We’ll speak to Professor Tindall to see which devices have already been found. And he didn’t use one for me. A simple rifle. Nothing fancy... just a bullet in a head. As if we were an afterthought.” She grimaced.
“That’s not true and you know it. He sent Ivy after Abraham Strode. The man utilizes the resources he happens to have at hand. When people will do, he uses them. When a device is the most expedient way to attain his goals...” She ran her eyes down the list. “That doesn’t change the fact that there are a great many items out there either waiting to detonate... or we have several more bodies waiting to be found.” She brushed her thumb over the paper, then held it up to the meager light. “There’s some sort of watermark on the paper. I can’t quite make it out.”
Threnody went to her workbench and turned on one of the lights. Dorothy thanked her quietly and held the sheet of paper over the bulb.
“The Quintel crest, no doubt.”
“Not this time. It appears to be a creature of some sort. The head of a man, the body of a beast...”
Trafalgar said, “A lion?” She moved closer and Dorothy angled the paper so she could see. “The head of a man, the body of a beast, and a pair of great folded wings along its back.”
Dorothy squinted at the smeared and faded insignia. “How on earth can you make out such detail? The paper is old and faded.”
“Yes, but this is not.” She opened her coat to reveal an inside pocket with the same crest sewn into the material. The details were much easier to make out even with the embroidery, but it was undeniably the same as the watermark. “The creature is called a manticore. I read about it when I... inherited the coat. It’s an eater of men. A beast with the mind of a man, the body of a lion, and the teeth of a shark. I always knew it was the symbol of Solomon’s organization, but after the discovery of his portrait yesterday I can no longer deny that his organization is the same one which Quintel heads.”
Threnody said, “Solomon? Enoch Solomon?”
“I never knew his Christian name,” Trafalgar said. “A bald man with a British accent and vaguely saurian features. He... went missing twenty years ago.”
“Then I believe I know the man you’re speaking of. When he disappeared he was the highest ranking member of a sect dedicated to gaining power over the United Kingdom by any means necessary. I thought they vanished when he did, simply fading away without their leader to guide them.” She took the letter back and gazed at the watermark through her goggles. “But if this is their insignia then perhaps they were only hiding in the shadows, waiting to strike.”
“Does this sect have a name?”
“They call themselves the Watershed Society. They believe that can create a situation which will be the tipping point for the future of our world.”
Trafalgar said, “I saw the power they want to tap. It was something large enough to make the seas churn. If these men acquire that power for themselves, there will be no limit to what they can accomplish.”
Threnody said, “I wish I could tell you more about them. All I know is what I’ve gleaned over the years. My father refused to work for them. He saw them as elitist warmongers who only wanted to destroy and build a world of their design from the ashes. I’ve never knowingly worked for them before. I thought they were defunct.”
“They may have silenced themselves in order to prevent anyone from realizing what a threat they posed,” Dorothy said. “Do you have the envelope this came in?”
“I’m afraid I don’t. But there was no further information on it. The envelope lacked a return address or any identifying marks.”
Perhaps to your eyes, Dorothy thought, but she left it unspoken. She scanned the list of items, along with the price the client was willing to pay for each one. At the bottom of the letter, she was instructed to send a note to a post office box. Threnody saw where she was looking and answered Dorothy’s question before she could pose it.
“I sent the letter, obviously. They told me a man would arrive to pick up the finished items on an arranged date. The man was of no consequence, an urchin paid to do some heavy lifting. I made no note of his features so I couldn’t hope to track him down again.”
“A shame,” Dorothy said. “Perhaps something can be gleaned from the letter itself, or the post office box. I may have Beatrice stake it out to see if it’s still in use by the Society.” She held up the letter again. “May I keep this? I’ll return it when this business is complete.”
“I don’t see any need to have it back.”
Dorothy nodded her thanks and placed the letter into her pocket. “I suppose there’s little else we can gain here. We should check in on Ivy and Leola, see if they’ve found anything. Threnody... thank you for your help. And I cannot apologize enough for...”
Threnody cut her off with a wave of her hand. “Please, I would prefer to forget it ever happened. And if I provided the Watershed Society with the means to kill my other clients, then I’m glad you burst in the way you did. Take them down and I will consider us square.”
Dorothy nodded and touched the brim of her hat. They left through the alley entrance so they wouldn’t violate Threnody’s refuge any more than they already had. When they reached the street Beatrice saw them and started the car to come pick them up. Dorothy put her glasses back on and looked at Trafalgar. When she became aware of the scrutiny she met Dorothy’s gaze.
“Will you be all right with this?” Dorothy asked. “These people have tried to kill you twice, by t
he looks of it.”
“I will be fine. They’ve tried to kill me twice, and they have failed. Now it is my turn.”
Dorothy grinned. “Jolly good point of view.” Beatrice stopped the car and Dorothy opened the door for her. When they were seated she told Beatrice to take them back to Threadneedle Street. She waited until they were underway before she spoke again. “We now know who we’re up against. I want to see if Des is waiting for me at home before we venture out to Kew Gardens. There’s a chance he’s heard of this Watershed Society. He may even know some members.”
“We also must be wary of further attempts on our lives. Seventeen devices does not necessarily mean there were seventeen victims.”
“A salient point,” Dorothy said. “He may have contingency plans for those who didn’t fall victim to yesterday’s attacks. We should warn the Keepings and Mr. Strode to be on their toes until this sordid business is finished.”
When they arrived they found Desmond’s car parked in front of the house, with Leola waiting on the front stoop. Beatrice let them out so they wouldn’t have to walk, then continued on to park the car where it wouldn’t be in the way. Ivy’s absence was disturbing to Dorothy, so she asked after the private consultant before Leola had even gotten to her feet.
“Her makeup was fading, so she asked Professor Tindall if she could wait inside. She didn’t want to upset any of the pedestrians.”
“Ah, I see. You would have been more than welcome to wait inside as well. You didn’t have to wait for an invitation.”
“Yes, I did,” Leola said. “Would’ve been rude not to.”
“Then by all means, let us all go inside. We have a great many revelations to share.”
“I may have a revelation of my own to provide,” Leola said. “Watching an empty house all night was just what I needed to put together a few pieces of this puzzle.”
Dorothy gestured at the front door. “Then by all means, lead the way.”
They entered and found Ivy waiting in the lounge. She had borrowed some makeup to freshen her disguise and was speaking with Desmond about her condition. When Dorothy, Trafalgar, and Leola joined them the conversation shifted to the newly-identified Watershed Society. Desmond affirmed he had heard the name whispered around campus from time to time, and he recognized the crest when Trafalgar showed the embroidery inside her coat. Leola put forth her theory that the house was being held in anticipation of Felix Quintel’s ascendance, which Trafalgar agreed with.
“They are looking for a leader. They want someone to serve. I foiled their attempts by stealing the stone away from them. I spit it into the Gulf of Aden and their de facto leader went into the water with it.”
Dorothy said, “So even if you are responsible for the Watershed Society getting this journal back, you are also responsible for crippling their efforts when you were just a child. I would say that more than makes up for the journal.”
Trafalgar met Dorothy’s eye and nodded quickly, thanking her for absolving her guilt. “But that is moot. They are obviously moving quickly now. I can only imagine that means they found the stone.”
“Or they know where they can find another,” Desmond offered.
“Yes,” Dorothy said. “They are eliminating anyone else who could take a commission. They want the field clear so they are the only option when they seek funding.”
Trafalgar said, “If there is another stone, they cannot be allowed to find it.”
“Definitely not,” Dorothy said. “But how can we prevent them? They have all the cards at the moment and we’re not even sitting at the table. We don’t know where the stone is, we don’t know who is involved in this society, and we have no way of getting any information without the society learning we’ve figured out as much as we have.”
Ivy said, “You could force their hand.”
Desmond said, “How so?”
Ivy shrugged. “You don’t know where the stone is, but you are confident it’s out there somewhere. I would be willing to bet all these murders on a single day means the society is ready to move. They will most likely try to clean up their loose ends...” She nodded at Trafalgar and Boone, “...and then they will head out to retrieve their prize. They’ve waited twenty years, so I imagine they will be very eager to get underway. They may already be gone.”
Trafalgar shook her head. “They would need to gather the backers before they left, and they couldn’t have done that in one day. If only we could force their hand, trick them into revealing themselves.”
Dorothy said, “We could go after the stone ourselves.”
“We haven’t the slightest idea where to even begin looking,” Desmond said.
“No,” Dorothy said, “but the Society won’t know that. By now they only know the bare facts. Trafalgar and I survived their attempt on our lives, and we spent the rest of the afternoon saving their other attempted victims. They’ll know Trafalgar and I were inside Quintel’s home. If we were to make a mad dash to the Rookery, board an airship, and set out for the Continent, they’ll assume we have connected all the dots rather than just a handful.”
Beatrice said, “Minty. We could use her airship.”
“Mm-hmm,” Dorothy said. “We have her take us out and we wait at the mouth of the Thames. Des, you could stay behind and see if anyone leaves in pursuit of us.”
Ivy said, “It would increase the odds if you had a stowaway aboard their ship. One they’ll never see coming.”
Trafalgar said, “How will you know which ship is theirs?”
Dorothy said, “They would be the ones rushing to depart at once. They’ll be in a hurry to stay one step ahead of us. It would be dangerous.”
“Call it penance for nearly killing Mr. Strode.”
Desmond said, “If Miss Sever can tell me which ship is theirs, I can wire you when they’ve taken off in pursuit.”
Dorothy and Trafalgar looked at each other, and Dorothy shrugged. “It’s worth a shot. And it would be a far sight better than just sitting here waiting for them to take another shot at us.”
Trafalgar sighed. “I suppose that is true. And if they don’t take the bait we can simply turn the ship around and return home.” She stood up. “Leola and I shall return home to pack. We should be ready by... shall we say one? Will that give you enough time to arrange for transportation?”
Dorothy grinned. “Oh, plenty of time. I already have a ship to take us wherever we want to go.”
Chapter Eleven
The Rookery was a clutch of airship hangars joined together as a single entity along the banks of the Thames. It had replaced the rickety Battersea Bridge, one of the last remaining wooden bridges in London, and its bloated flotilla served to ferry people back and forth from one side of the river to the other. Amid the small airships used for commuting, a handful of larger craft were available to hire for longer trips.
The most majestic ship in the fleet, the Skylarker, was often docked outside of the Rookery where it could be seen for miles. When the sun was out the light would glint across the gridwork of its rigid structure to make the entire thing seem as if it was aglow from within. It was nine hundred feet from nose to rudder, with a top speed of ninety miles per hour. The gondola, an elongated hexagon, held up to seventy passengers but its captain rarely took more than twenty at a time.
The captain was Araminta Crook, a British Indian who stood just a hair above five feet, and perhaps an inch or two more with her boots on. She had been an engineer before she was a captain, serving about the Skylarker during the War. They were part of the infamous Bumblebee Squadron, England’s first line of defense against the enemy. In the first year of service, they took heavy fire during one assault, and the entire flight crew was either incapacitated or killed. Minty gathered her engineers and took over command. She kept the line intact, helped force the Germans into retreat, and received a promotion as soon as the ship limped back home for repairs. The ship was officially hers, and she spent the next three years of fighting as its captain.
After the war she to have the ship outfitted for commercial use. She much preferred the quiet life, and she appreciated the opportunity to see England’s coast and northern France without worrying over enemy attacks. It was a peaceful way to see the world, flying above it in an airship, and she was grateful for the opportunity.
She was in her cabin, folded into her bunk with an open book propped against her thighs, listening to the creak and groan as her ship pulled against its mooring. The ship wanted to be out, wanted to skim through the clouds, and she couldn’t blame it. With the recent peace they were free to take any commission they wanted. The alternate side of that freedom was that very few people felt the wanderlust which kept her in business. Even those who might want to travel were still pinching pennies.
There was a knock on her door and she closed the book on her finger. “Enter.”
Bodhi, her first mate, opened the door and leaned in. As if her thoughts had been heard by the goddesses, he said, “Captain Crook, a potential passenger would like to have a word with you.”
Araminta marked her page and stood up. She stretched her arms out to the side and then over her head, standing on her toes before bending forward with her fingers pointed. Her joints popped and creaked from being pent up so long, and she smiled when she straightened up.
“I assume the passengers have already spoken to Meera about the fees?”
“About that,” Bodhi said. “The passenger claimed special circumstances. Said you would know what it meant.”
“Special...” Araminta’s expression became serious. “Lady Boone. Is it Lady Boone?”
Bodhi nodded. “Yes. She has--”
Araminta cut him off with a wave of her hand. “She doesn’t pay. Not a dime. Tell Ravi to set up the master suite. How many in her party?”