Alien Devices: Tesla joins crew to prevent alien zombie apocalypse (The Secret War Book 2)

by Raven Bond

  “We sense the same behind these black raiders that you seek, William Hunting Owl, a hidden power unknown to us. Whether they are the same power as Chang or not,” An Fong raised his shoulders, “that we do not know.”

  “Then when I find out, I'll let you know,” Will said simply.

  “These are grave and delicate matters for every one of us.” An Fong nodded as if he expected Wills' reply. He gestured with a hand and the bodyguard Guang leapt to his feet. “Guang will accompany you as you seek out the Jade Woman.”

  Will knew that An Fong's words were not a request.

  Chapter 4

  Hotel Farthingale, Hong Kong

  Abigail calmed her shaking hands by sheer force of will before entering the private dining room. Her emotions were still in a turmoil. While the strange woman's attack had been horrible enough, her own reaction shook her to the core. She had wanted to kill the evil smiling bitch, kill her horribly. She'd always been of a 'high temperament' as Mrs. M would put it, but this was something different.

  The fact that somehow Abigail had not killed made little difference to her; she had wanted to. She'd wanted to do such violence that her attacker expired painfully. She still did. What did that say about her, she thought to herself ruefully. Was she a Royal Scholar or a frustrated killer? More to the point, she thought with irritation, why hadn't she killed the snarling dolly mop? Abigail had checked the weapon as best she could. It seemed to be functional. She was certain that Saira would never have allowed a defective weapon into her hands in any case. How was it then that the deadly electric bolts had not killed the woman instantly?

  It was another issue that Abigail could not examine at the moment. She placed it in a corner of her mind with the other issues the attack raised, such as who, how, and why. Her mind was awhirl, and she could barely stop her hands from shaking. Abigail wanted nothing so much as to curl up around a bottle of brandy until the shaking stopped. However, that noisome secretary, Preemus, would become suspicious should she not join him. She could not risk official questions, not when she was here to meet her father. Besides he had promised to provide her with information about her father.

  She had attended to the cut on her cheek, hiding it as best she could with cosmetics. There was little choice but to re-don her travel dress; hairpins and hat hid a multitude of sins regarding her hair. She had also made sure that her pistol was secured to her thigh, and that it could be easily drawn through the slit in her skirts.

  Preemus stood as she entered the room. Taking a deep breath, she smiled at him. The man gave a courtly nod of his head in greeting.

  “Lady Abigail, thank you for joining me.” He gestured at the table covered with elegantly arranged food and bone china dishes. “As it is almost eleven, I took the liberty of ordering for us both. I hope there is something here that will appeal to you.”

  Abigail allowed him to hold the chair for her as she sat. She placed the map case on the floor between her feet, where she could reach it. After the attack, she didn't want it to leave it unguarded. To her surprise Preemus actually poured tea for her.

  “The Farthingale blends an excellent breakfast tea,” he was saying. “White?” he lifted a pitcher. She nodded. “By the way, is that a map case you have with you?” He asked, sitting down across from her.

  Abigail scented the array of savory food before her and suddenly realized that she was starving. As she reached for some toast from the rack, she gave the reply that she had come up with to explain the case. She absently buttered the toast, adding fragrant berry conserve.

  “Yes, or so I am told,” she said. “They are quite the fashion in London this season, much sturdier than a handbag.” She arranged some cold meats and tiny hot rolls on her plate. Her hands only shook slightly now.

  “Really?” Preemus remarked mildly. “I am afraid that I do not keep up with the latest fashions back home. Here,” he lifted a plate towards her. “You should try these, dim sum they are called.”

  She took one from the plate. “Yes I know, the cook on the Wind Dancer made something like these.”

  “Ah yes, the Wind Dancer.” Preemus said. He added selections to his own plate. After a few moments of quiet eating, he spoke again. “I am sure that there must be a fascinating story behind how a Royal Scholar came to arrive here on an infamous mercenary airship.” Abigail lowered her knife and fork. The dim sum was not nearly as good as Wu's.

  “Infamous?” She asked. While the crew might be a bit roguish, she had not discovered anything illegal about their activities. “In what sense do you mean that, Mr. Preemus?”

  “Perhaps I should have said 'famous',” he replied with a shrug, still paying attention to his food. “There are not many mercenaries captained by a Redman in this part of the world, you know. Let alone one that rescued the Australian Southern Cross vessel from air raiders single-handedly.”

  “Indeed? I do not know many of their other exploits.” She replied steadily. The food was having a restorative effect. She no longer felt as shaken. She paused to sip some of the tea. Preemus had been right about it. It was bracing.

  “Ah, yes,” Preemus looked at her. “If I might inquire, how did you come to be on the ship if you know so little of them then?”

  Abigail began to tell him her story, being careful to make no mention of the matter that had brought both her father and her to China. The two of them had searched for the secret of the Invaders power generation for years, searching fruitlessly for an intact system. Now that he may have succeeded, it could be construed by some as a violation of the National Science Act for her father not to have reported the find to Her Majesty's government immediately. Therefore, she was not going to bring it to the attention of a Crown official now, particularly one she did not know.

  By the time she had finished telling him of her adventures, they had progressed from the savories to the sweets. Preemus poured more tea for them both, then settled back in his chair.

  “Shocking, Lady Abigail, most shocking,” he said with a small shake of his head. “May I express my admiration of your courage and fortitude, My lady.”

  “Thank you,” Abigail replied. “It is as nothing.” Not when compared to shooting a crazed assassin in your underwear, she thought. She had mentioned nothing of the attack; something told her not to. “If the crew of the Wind Dancer had not succored me, I shudder to contemplate my fate.”

  “Quite so,” Preemus agreed. “And so here you are.” He spread his hands.

  “And so here I am,” Abigail agreed. She sat her cup down, turning to face the man squarely. “While I do appreciate the meal, Mr. Preemus, you promised me information about my father that 'would be to my advantage' I believe you said.”

  “Ah yes,” Preemus sat his own cup down. “Do you know where your father currently is Lady Hadley?” Abigail raised an eyebrow at him.

  “I thought that was something you were going to tell me, Mr. Preemus,” she replied archly.

  “I am quite aware that you have been careful not to mention your reasons for being here in China Lady Abigail,” He smiled thinly as Abigail stiffened. He leaned towards her confidentially. “A friend of mine answered a call for help from Lord Robert recently. He was also secretive as to the reasons. Now both your father and my friend are not to be found. If you know where they are, I would advise you to tell me.” Preemus looked at her, his grey eyes now grown cold as chips of granite.

  “I know nothing of this 'friend' you mention,” Abigail replied with a frowned. “Nor do I know the whereabouts of my father.”

  “Do you not?” Preemus pressed. “No secret messages? No planned rendezvous? The time for games is past Lady Abigail. I believe that both my friend and your father may be in grave danger.”

  “I tell you I know nothing,” Abigail retorted angrily.

  They were interrupted by a soft knock on the dining room door. Abigail slid her hand towards her thigh, while noticing that Preemus' right hand moved to hover near the opening of his coat.

  �
��Yes, what is it?” Preemus called out crossly. The door opened to reveal the stalwart Charles, his oriental face carefully bland.

  “Please forgive the intrusion,” he said with a bow. “I have two . . . persons outside claiming that they have a trunk for Lady Hadley from the airship Wind Dancer. They insist that they must surrender it to her personally.” Abigail thought furiously for a moment. Perhaps Captain Will or Saira would be willing to help her. She certainly felt she needed help after the attack.

  “Very well, Charles,” she said calmly. “Please ask them to wait. I shall be there presently.” The man nodded, closing the door as he left. Abigail casually turned back to Preemus.

  “As I was about to say,” she pounced, “if I did know such things why should I tell you, Mr. Preemus? You claim that my father is in danger. How do I know that he is not in danger from you? Who are you, sir? And who is this mysterious 'friend'? And do not take me for a simpleton, and say that you are merely the Governors secretary. I doubt that the position requires you to go armed.” She glanced pointedly at his right hand. “I doubt it very much, sir.” Preemus moved his right hand away from his coat, looking momentarily chagrined.

  “You might be surprised what is required of a secretary in a place such as Hong Kong, Lady Abigail,” Preemus retorted somewhat sharply. He leaned back comfortably.

  “You ask blunt questions My Lady, I shall be equally blunt,” he said shortly. “You are treading in deep waters here. Hong Kong is not Cambridge. While your tale reveals that you are a woman of extraordinary mettle, I submit that these matters are beyond you. There comes a time, Lady Abigail, when you must decide whom to trust. I ask you to trust me.” He said this last with a sincerity she almost believed.

  Abigail studied him. He was a striking man for his age, and was likely accustomed to women swooning at his lightest word. Her time among the crew of the Wind Dancer had taught her to look beyond mere words and appearances however. He had the air of a dangerous man. He also appeared to be practiced at subterfuge.

  The man she was talking to now acted nothing like the nebbish she'd met in the foyer. Which was the true man? She waited for him to answer her questions, saying nothing to him. When the silence began to stretch out, she grabbed the map case and moved to the window. Preemus rose to his feet as if to join her. He was the essence of all that she'd been taught to trust; handsome, mature, a man comfortable in his authority, and definitely British, Abigail thought.

  She realized however, that she did not trust him. His arrogant silence only confirmed her certainty. Instead, what came to her mind were the images of a dark-skinned man with long braids and an even darker-skinned woman, both dressed in the rag-tag clothes of air devils. Though she knew they would both laugh at her characterization of them, they were true. They, she knew, she could trust.

  “I see that you do take me for a simpleton,” she said to Preemus coldly. “You ask questions while answering none. You trick me here with promises of information, and then ask me to trust you. The last time I trusted an Englishman I awoke on a stinking slave vessel. I think not this time; thank you.”

  “Lady Abigail,” Preemus held out his hand towards her as if to beseech her.

  “What?” She snapped before he could continue his plea. “Will you now say that there are 'matters of which I have no knowledge'? That there are 'secrets that you may not speak' but if I will only place my trust in you all will be right by God and Queen?” She tossed her head at him. “Really sir, the ‘penny-dreadfuls’ could do better. If you are indeed a Queen's officer of some kind, you will either offer me what aid I require, or detain me now. Which is it to be, sir?” She saw his eyes flash with emotion, but he remained silent. Abigail waited for another response from him.

  “Neither?” She observed after a moments pause in which he did not reply. She tossed her head again.

  “I thought not,” Lady Hadley finished. “Good day to you, sir.”

  With that she strode from the room, back straight with a courage that she did not feel. She hoped that the men who'd brought her trunk could get her to the Wind Dancer. The man she’d just turned her back on was right in one regard; she was in very deep waters.

  Chapter 5

  Wind Dancer, Commercial Tower, Hong Kong

  William Hunting Owl noted with approval that Rogers had posted guards and that the passenger hatch closed as he started across the sky bridge towards Wind Dancer. While the ride back had been uneventful, he was extraordinarily unhappy about the need to leave Georgios and Tiku behind. The doctors had assured him that the wounded Greek would be able to travel later that day, but that they thought it wise for him to rest some first. Saira had wanted to remain behind with him, but Will had overruled it. If there was going to be more fighting, he would need Saira with him. Tiku had volunteered to stay instead. By the time they had walked across the docking bridge, the hatch was open with Lawrence Rogers standing in its shadow.

  “Welcome back, Captain,” his first officer greeted him. Will gave him a tired smile. Rogers stood aside to allow him to enter. As was usual, the First Officer and Saira, the Arms Master, merely exchanged silent nods.

  “Glad to be back,” Will responded. “How goes the ship?” As he started walking towards the bridge; Rogers fell in beside him.

  “The ship stands well,” Rogers reported. “There's been no sign of trouble here. After your Aetherwave, I thought it wise to place the ship on hostile-landing stations. Lift gas and water are replenished. We could grab sky in ten minutes if needed.” He paused as they walked. Giorgios and Tiku?” Will asked.

  “Doctors say Giorgios will likely live, but needs to sit for a spell,” Will replied. “We will want to send a party to return with them later today. The rest can wait until my day cabin.” Rogers nodded, and cleared his throat.

  “About that. . . Lady Hadley has returned to the ship,” Rogers said. “She has an interesting story that I believe you will want to hear. I put her in your day cabin.” Will gave Rogers a searching look.

  “A 'story' eh? It must be a damned good one.” They reached the next deck and walked towards the bridge hatchway which was also flanked by armed crewmen.

  “Oh, it is,” Rogers assured him. “I believe that it concerns an old friend of Them.” Will swore under his breath at Rogers' use of their private code word for the black raiders.

  “Well,” Will observed, “This day keeps getting more interesting.”

  “Who is the new addition?” Rogers nodded his head towards Guang who was following along beside Saira.

  “Name is Guang. He's An Fong’s man,” Will replied. “We appear to have a new ally in old Fong. There's a story there too.”

  “Does 'ally' mean he joins us in the debrief too?” Rogers inquired. Will frowned at this question as they entered the bridge.

  “Don't see as how I can keep him out of it,” the Captain answered.

  “Wonderful,” Rogers observed dryly. “The day does continue to improve.” Yoshi turned at their entrance from where he stood near the chart table.

  “Captain on the bridge!” he sang out. This was followed by a chorus of voices giving greetings.

  “Belay that, Yoshi,” Will said. “You have the bridge. Maintain hostile-landing stations. We will be in my day cabin.” He grinned around the bridge and gave a wave of his hand, “Good to see you all too. Carry on.”

  Entering his cabin, he saw Abigail seated across the desk from his chair, nursing a cup of tea. She looked as if she'd been through hell. She sprang up upon seeing him. Part of him was glad at the way her face lit up, but fair greetings would have to wait, he decided.

  “Lady Hadley,” he said before she could speak. “I'm glad to see you. Please sit down everybody.” He suited words to action, and slumped into the wicker chair behind his desk. While the others were finding their seats, he continued to speak to Abigail. “Rogers here is saying that you have a story to tell. If he is right, I think that it has bearing on our current business. If you would not mind telling it to u
s all I would appreciate it. I think that you know everyone except our new ally here.” He saw Abigail compose herself as she sat down again. Picking up her tea cup she spoke to him over the rim.

  “Captain Hunting Owl,” she replied, looking at Guang cautiously. “I am not sure what your current 'business' is. I am here to ask for your aid on a matter regarding my father. Frankly, I am not sure who else to trust.” She searched Will's face for what else to say. Will returned her regard, his face softening in sympathy.

  “Abigail,” he said soothingly. “If we can help you, we will do our best. I cannot promise more than that until I know more.” He saw the gratitude in her eyes. Hunting Owl then swung around to look at Guang.

  “Guang,” he said bluntly. “Your boss set you on us. You can stay if you can promise that you'll only report to An Fong whatever bears on our mutual goals. Everything else you hear and see is private. Everything. You can't promise that, you wait outside.” Guang looked at him in surprise.

  “You would trust my word on this?” He asked incredulously.

  “Until I have reason not to, yep,” Will looked him straight in the eyes. “And you don't ever want to give me a reason not to, believe me on that.” Guang met his eyes steadily.

  “Yes, I can see that,” Guang replied. He spoke thoughtfully. “I owe An Fong a great debt, and will not be silent on anything that may harm him or his House. Beyond that, I will swear to keep silent on other matters. But you must trust my judgment on this, or I will leave.”

  Saira gave Will her hand sign that Guang was telling the truth, not that Will needed it in this case. He wasn't a bad judge of people himself; he could tell that Guang was sincere. He inclined his head towards Guang.

  “I can accept that oath,” Hunting Owl allowed. Guang bowed with his hands clasped in front of him.