Morton's eyes went wide.
I did neglect to tell him what he was getting into.
Gardena turned to me and said, "What shall we do next?"
Why did she think I would know?
I shrugged. I was a Watcher for many years as a teenager in the Pot, although we never shot anyone. We only watched for those we might steal from and signaled to the ones lying in wait below. "If I planned to capture someone, I would place someone on each of the roofs around where the meeting is to be, with a pistol at least. Although if you think you might really want to shoot him, a rifle would be better. Then at least two armed men close to you in case the man does something upsetting."
Her brothers looked at each other, impressed.
Cesare said, "She's not going anywhere near that spot."
Quadrant-men were so predictable. "Then this is a perfectly safe place to wait. Although I fail to see why the man should come forth when he sees she's not there."
"Oh," Gardena said. "My maid is down there, dressed as me."
I gaped at her, appalled. "You would put a maid into such danger? For shame, Gardena!"
She frowned at me in puzzlement. "She's only a maid, Jacqui. And my brothers will be there."
I let out a breath, exasperated. These people didn't see servants as anything but disposable. "Then why are we here?"
Gardena seemed put out. "Why, in case I recognize the man, I can identify him." She opened a letter. "It says he will be, I quote: 'dark of skin, wearing brown, carrying a brown briefcase'. I'm to give him the money in exchange for the briefcase of information."
Morton chuckled. As usual, he wore brown, a medium chocolate brown, but he carried no briefcase, and no one would ever say he was dark of skin.
I peered over the edge into the busy Plaza; at least 500 men wore brown. "Well, that narrows it down."
Men wearing brown had become the bane of my life. I had been followed by men in brown for the whole month of January. Every man in the city seemed to be wearing that color this season. Few carried briefcases though, as it was a Saturday, and offices were closed.
Gardena peeked over and laughed.
Morton said, "How may I help?"
"I could use a man on the roof over there," Cesare pointed across the street. "Can you whistle?"
Morton grimaced. "Not well." He took a small mirror from his pocket. "Perhaps this will suffice?"
"Perfectly." The two men shook hands; Morton tipped his hat to us and left.
Her brothers conferred with each other, then Cesare remained with us, peering at the crowd on the Plaza, while the rest went downstairs. Two of them took positions near a woman dressed in one of Gardena's gowns carrying a large satchel and the other two went to separate roofs.
"I had the pleasure of meeting your son," I said to Cesare. "He's a beautiful child."
He frowned at me. "What?" Then he glanced at Gardena and back at me. "Oh. Yes. Thank you."
An odd reaction for a man whose child was just praised. But he did seem rather distracted. Gardena's face showed nothing.
"Oh, by the way," Cesare said to Gardena, "Master Clubb wrote me this morning. Your package is on its way."
Gardena and I both said, "Oh?"
He chuckled. "Indeed. Should be loaded into the cargo hold as we speak."
Already? "What's this, Dena? I thought it would take longer."
Gardena pulled me aside. "He doesn't know it's a person. Lance knows a person is going, but not who. You said you wanted it secret."
On a first name basis with Master Clubb already, are we? "Well, I did, but I thought they would need training or something. I wanted to say good-bye to my mother before she left."
She smiled. "I'm sure she'll write once she gets there."
I knew they were being smuggled out, but I never imagined this. How long would Ma be in there? Would she be safe?
The clock struck half past two, and I wished for some shade. Wearing a navy blue dress to a rooftop gathering was a mistake. "What time was this man supposed to arrive?"
"Shortly," Gardena said.
Cesare called out, "There he is!"
Two of Gardena's brothers held a dark-skinned man in brown who clutched a leather briefcase to his chest. The man's eyes were frightened, and his mouth moved rapidly.
"Let's go," Cesare said, so we hurried down the stairs.
The stocky young man wore a suit which was too large for him. From his face, so much like Ferti Hart's except a very dark brown, I saw that he had the same impediment. "The man said give it to her," he yelled, almost in tears. He appeared more upset by not being able to hand it to the maid than by the two men holding him.
I ran to them. "Let him give it to her."
The man handed the briefcase over to the maid, then blubbered, "Thank you pretty miss. He said give it to her and I would do good."
I peered at him. "You did do good. Tell me about the man."
"He was nice. He told me to give it to the lady. Only her."
Gardena's brothers stood around the open case, frowning. "What do you make of this?"
I turned to them. "What?"
Cesare held up an envelope. "It's addressed to you."
To me?
I told Morton, "Let him go. He's not your blackmailer."
Morton snorted, and one of Gardena's brothers laughed. For a moment, I hated them both.
"What's a blackmailer?" The man glanced from one of us to the other in bewilderment as a crowd of bystanders gathered.
"It's nothing," Morton said. "You did well. You can go home."
I stalked over to Cesare, furious at whoever used that man in this way, and snatched the letter from him. Inside the envelope was a photo of my lock-box with the jewels in it, and a note: "BOOM".
The whole world became silent.
Explosives. Timers. Clock parts. Anastasia thought her package was a clock ... because it was ticking.
I stared at Morton. "He's going to bomb the zeppelin."
The Train
"Who's going to bomb the zeppelin?" said Gardena.
The color drained from Morton's face. "Frank Pagliacci."
Gardena and her brothers said in unison, "Who's that?"
A group of police approached, Probationary Constable Hanger with them. "What is this disturbance?"
Morton took a step aside. "It's just a misunderstanding."
They didn't look convinced.
I turned to Cesare, suddenly grateful for my veil. "Do you have a way to contact the Clubbs directly?"
"We can send a messenger, but it's almost shift change. The traffic will be horrendous. It'll take an hour at least for a boy to get there, even if his carriage is waiting on the other side of the river."
I had been here too long; it was almost three. "In that time, everyone on the zeppelin may be dead."
Gardena and her brothers looked appalled. "What do we do?"
I turned away, trying to think.
I had an idea.
"The train! When does it leave?"
"Right now," a man said, passing by. He gestured with his chin. A tall plume of smoke spouted on the far end of the island.
"Where is the carriage?" I shouted. "We must get to the train!"
"This way," Cesare said, so we followed him.
I glanced back. The police were questioning the bystanders, all but PC Hanger. He called out, "Wait!"
I fled around the corner with the rest.
The driver, a dark-skinned man with white hair, was asleep. It took a moment to get him to understand what we wanted. "You want me to take you into Clubb quadrant uninvited?"
I grabbed his hand. "If we don't get word to the Clubbs, we might have a zeppelin full of dead people."
The driver stared at us in horror.
"The train slows to a crawl at the bridge, but we won't get there in time on this side," Morton said. "We have to catch it as it goes into Clubb proper."
PC Hanger and a few men came round the corner. "Wait!"
We climbed onto the carriage and started off, the police following far behind on foot. "Gardena, you and your brothers stop at the bridge," I said, "some on this side, the rest on the other side. Tell them someone plans to bomb the zeppelin. See if they can contact the Clubbs directly."
Gardena gave me a blank stare. "Directly? How?"
"The Clubbs have a device which can speak through wires. We stole it from them last year."
Her eyes went wide. "Ohhh."
I chuckled. "But don't tell Lance that."
Her brothers peered at me. Then they glanced at each other, faces thoughtful.
We got to the first guard post. "Hey," the guard said, as we went past those waiting in line, "You can't do that!"
Cesare and two more of Gardena's brothers got off and began speaking with the man, who shook his head. Cesare pointed at the other guard booth. "Go!"
The driver took off over the wide bridge, weaving around carriages trying to cross going both ways. Finally, we reached the other side, and Gardena's other brothers got off.
"Go with them," I told Gardena.
"But —"
"Tony will be upset enough with me for doing this. But if we were both hurt, it ... it would kill him."
She stared at me a long moment, eyes reddening, then kissed my cheek, dashing tears away as she climbed out of the carriage.
Gardena's brother, standing beside the guard, shook his head.
The constables far behind rode horseback through the packed bridge towards us. I shouted, "We have to hurry!"
Morton said, "Why do you care so much?"
"My mother's on that zeppelin."
He stared at me in shock, then stuck his head out of the window. "Go! We must catch that train!"
Taxi-carriage drivers shouted curses at us as we barreled along the long wide street, the horses' hooves ringing on the cobblestones. We turned left once we passed the Pot and raced towards the train tracks along the river. The guard lights flashed and a plume of smoke slowly approached. Our driver stopped, pulling his goggles up on his forehead as we climbed out.
Morton went to the driver. "Get your people. Tell them if they can contact the zeppelin to do so. We'll try to get there before it's too late."
"Bless you, sir" the driver said. "And you too, miss." He turned the carriage round as the train chugged into view.
We ran to the tracks, then towards the rear of the train. A passenger car passed, and a boxcar, then a railing appeared. Morton grabbed my hand as I leapt aboard to the sound of approaching hoof beats. Clinging to him, I glanced back. PC Hanger and several policemen shouted at us as we passed the waiting traffic. Three dismounted and chased us, trying to get on the train themselves. "We have trouble."
Morton laughed. "I should expect that when with you."
The constables pulled out pistols.
I moved out of their view. "We had best get inside."
Morton locked the door behind us. We were inside a cargo car full of boxes. We climbed over and around them, I a bit more slowly than he. "These skirts are most annoying at times like this."
Morton chuckled. "I daresay."
Shouts came from the other side of the door, and gunshots hitting the lock. We hurried to the next car.
This car was filled with baggage. I took a red and white patterned scarf tied to one of the bags and shoved it in my pocket. Morton stared at me but said nothing. We moved to a passenger compartment, full of people reading papers, smoking, and chatting. Morton locked the door, then we pushed past a waiter handing out drinks. We continued on to the next car, the police rattling on the far lock as we closed the door behind us. The waiter went to unlock the door for the constables.
"They're going to catch us soon," Morton said.
We entered a baggage car. The window on the far side of this car showed more people sitting. A black coat with red lining hung on a hook in the far corner. I grabbed it, then grabbed Morton by his coat and pulled him out of view.
He repositioned his Derby hat. "What in hell are you about?"
I ignored him, taking off my hat and scarf and tossing them aside. I pulled my hair loose, tying the red and white scarf around my hair in a quick tignon, then turned the coat inside out so the red lining showed. The door clanked as it opened far behind us. I put on the coat, shoved him into the corner, pulled his hat over his eyes, and threw my arms around his neck. "Kiss me."
His voice was husky. "With pleasure."
Footsteps approached, then stopped. Probationary Constable Hanger said, "Excuse me, sir. My apologies." The footsteps of the police moved on to the next car as our lips parted.
Morton's face was flushed, his pupils dilated. He took a deep breath and let it out. "Whoa."
"Don't get any ideas," I said. "It'll take them some time to get to the front of the train, but then they'll be back, searching everywhere, questioning everyone. We aren't done here yet."
He took his hat off and smoothed his hair.
I pulled off the patterned scarf and the coat, tossing them over a box as we pulled into a station. I searched for Gardena's hat and scarf, then put up my hair in a bun.
"Riverfront Station," a man's voice echoed from the car in front of us. "Riverfront Station. Continuing along the Promenade and to the Rim. Next stop, Bath."
I peered outside. A train sat on the other side of the tracks. The placard hanging from the roof said: Zeppelin Station. "We're on the wrong train." I picked up Gardena's hat, put it on, pulled down my veil, put her scarf around my neck, and went for the door. I glanced in the passenger compartment; the police were there. "Let's go."
We ran across to the other train and got in just as the train started up. Across the platform, I caught PC Hanger's eye and waved at him. The look of astonishment and anger on the man's face was priceless.
"Won't they stop the train?" Morton said.
How did he not know that? "They can't. It's on a timer. They only stop if someone's injured. The conductor must do that." I leaned back. "We can only hope we get there on time."
Morton picked up an afternoon newspaper from the seat next to him. The headline read: GEM PRICES FALL 2%. He turned the page to the crossword puzzle and took out a gold fountain pen.
Completing a crossword puzzle at a time like this?
The whistle blew as the train gathered speed. I peered out over the wheat fields, recalling the last time I visited the zeppelin station. A vast half-cylinder of stained glass set into beams of wood and steel ... it was the most glorious sight.
Dirigibles of all kinds entered and left Bridges by way of the Aperture, each majestic, each beautiful. The people on the train would be horrified if they knew a madman planned to destroy one of those treasures along with everyone aboard it.
The timing of this meeting with Gardena's blackmailer was too convenient. But Gardena and her brothers had knowledge of neither the bomb nor of Frank Pagliacci. Was the blackmail just another distraction?
This thought gave me pause. Would Jack Diamond blackmail his own sister? Or did he unwittingly reveal some information to Frank — or whoever directed them?
How did any of them know Gardena would come to me for help, or ask me to accompany her?
Trey Louis said Anastasia and Frank worked together. Anastasia's letter said she helped him. Did Frank use Anastasia as they used Mr. Durak?
This bomb could be a way for Frank and Jack — or more likely, the man who directed them — to silence her as he did the stable-man. As he tried to silence Morton.
Whoever this man was, his decisions chilled me.
The station came into view to our right, sun glistening on its surface. Several airships rose from the station. The Aperture, high in the dome, opened as we watched.
The Aperture was a truly monstrous mechanism, large enough that several massive dirigibles could pass one another with plenty of room to spare.
The gigantic brass plates gleamed as they moved. The Kerrs built that. Yet tonight, the quadrants will cheer their downfall.
"Magnificent," Morton said. "I never tire of watching it."
The train took the last turn into the station, which was full of people coming and going. Tourists here for the Celebration on their way to their hotels. Quadrant-folk intending to stay for the event tonight. Workers changing shift.
Morton said, "Where to?"
"Gate 19," I said.
Morton surveyed the approaching platform with dismay. "How are we going to get through that crowd?"
I remembered Tony's little sister Katherine, and let my hair fall loose. I took a decorative hair-comb from my handbag and pulled my hair away from my face, securing it with the comb. Then I tucked up the top of my skirts up under my corset, so my petticoats showed around my ankles. Morton watched me with amusement. "What are you now?"
"Get up," I said. I picked up Gardena's hat with one hand and took Morton's hand in the other, leading him off the train into the masses of people buzzing about the station. Yellow roses lined the entrance, and I picked one, tucking it into my comb. I grabbed his hand and pitched my voice high as a young girl, shouting loud enough for the whole station to hear. "Hurry, Daddy! Hurry! We're going to miss the zeppelin!"
Morton laughed as we ran.
The Zeppelin
We pushed past hordes of people up stairs and through golden stained-glass corridors to a great arching hall of stained glass. Morton hurried to a man in uniform and handed over his newspaper. "Which way to gate 19?"
"Over there," the man pointed to the far corner.
"You must stop that zeppelin," Morton said.
The man chuckled. "Be hard to do, sir," he pointed. Eighty yards away, the door to the outside was being shut. "If you hurry, they might let you on."
To our dismay, hundreds of people lay before us. But we ran through them, pushing people aside, straining to get to the zeppelin before it rose. Finally, we got to the counter. "You must stop the zeppelin," I panted.
The woman smiled. "I'm sorry. Once it's taken off," she pointed at the top of the enormous structure rising through the air, "we can't call them back." She glanced at Morton. "I can book you and your daughter another flight. Where were you bound?"
I turned away. Roy expressly forbade me to come here. If I revealed who I was, I was dead.
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