by Peter Oxley
“With all due respect, sir,” said Lieutenant Pearce. “You’re going to need all the help you can get. My men and I are ready to help, and can be trusted.”
“With all due respect,” Maxwell snapped back. “I thought I could trust Dr. Forsyth.”
“He has a point,” I said. “Andras managed to corrupt the scientists, and I would wager that the generals were similarly corrupted.”
“I know for a fact that they were,” said Lieutenant Pearce. “All the top brass started acting strangely a few weeks ago.”
“And you are incorruptible?” said Maxwell.
“I’m only human, like you lot,” he said. “But there are only two people I answer to: Queen and country. I don’t see some demon being either of them.”
I looked at the others. “What do you think?” I asked.
“For what it’s worth,” said Kate. “Without these boys, I don’t think we’ll get too far. We’re up against at least a small army, maybe even the whole army. Don’t think we can be too picky.”
“Gus?” Maxwell asked me.
I sighed. “My instincts say we should trust him. For now, at least.”
Maxwell looked me in the eye for a few long seconds and then nodded. “Very well. Firstly, we need to go back to your lodgings. I have an invention there which will greatly aid us.” He turned to Kate. “We will get to use your machine after all.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Do you recall a while ago when I said that the Aetheric Sensor was displaying anomalous readings?” In response to my blank expression Maxwell elaborated: “It was suggesting there was demonic activity nearby, when we could not find any such source.”
“Vaguely,” I said. “You and N’yotsu suspected it was broken or oversensitive, or some such.”
“Indeed. However, Andras’s revelations—that N’yotsu is simply an aspect of the demon’s person—made me reconsider.”
“Of course,” I said. “It was not broken at all. The sensor was picking up N’yotsu!”
“That is correct. I have reconfigured the Aetheric Sensor to increase its range. That way, we will be able to use it as a form of demonic compass and follow it all the way to N’yotsu.”
“And,” said Kate with a grin, “I think you’ll like this one a lot more than the others. Let’s just say I had a bit of involvement in the design...”
* * *
Kate was right. Whereas all of Maxwell’s previous devices had embodied the virtues of functionality to a fault, resulting in objects which had no aesthetic merit whatsoever, this one was decidedly... different.
“Words fail me,” I said, turning the object round in my hands. “It is beautiful.”
“Told you,” grinned Kate.
The device really was a work of art, a circular piece of iron which was large enough to sit comfortably in the palm of my hand but not so small that it required too much clasping of the fingers to grip it. It was decorated at regular intervals with a circular, swirling pattern, almost Celtic in appearance. Within this base sat a dial which had clearly been taken from a fine compass, of the type one would see on the bridge of the best quality pleasure yacht. The hand, which at that moment pointed to the south-east, was composed entirely of a light blue gemstone—opal, I surmised from the colour.
“Surely you did not create this from scratch,” I said.
“Kate took me on a tour of the local pawn shops and antiquities dealers,” said Maxwell.
“What is that?” I asked, as Maxwell lifted something else from a nearby crate. After the visual triumph of the compact, elegant device in my hands, this latest creation was a spectacular return to form. The closest approximation I could make was that it resembled a box, although that was to demean the simplicity and form of boxes everywhere. Tubes, cables and valves protruded from every surface, a tangled web of nonsense which seemed to serve no purpose but to offend the eye.
“The rest of the Aetheric Sensor,” said Maxwell, attaching one of the many trailing tubes to the device in my hands.
I looked at Kate, who shrugged. “I tried my best,” she said. “At least the dial’s pretty...”
* * *
After activating the machine, Maxwell spent a good hour or so adjusting various dials and jotting down an extraordinary number of readings, immersing himself in a long list of incomprehensible calculations. It was a welcome distraction when Lieutenant Pearce returned from visiting his barracks with two of his fellow soldiers, intensely agitated and lacking their red jackets.
“What news?” I asked.
“I am afraid it is as bad as we feared,” he said. “We are all officially fugitives—including me and my men. The generals have put out the word that we tried to sabotage an official operation.”
“How did you get out of the barracks?” asked Kate.
“We never went in. An old friend of mine spied us on the way and tipped us off, said he didn’t think it sounded right, us being criminals and all. There’s some comfort: not everyone is on the demon’s side.”
“Only the really important, powerful ones,” said Kate.
We both looked at her but, before we could retort, Maxwell burst out of the room where he had been working. “I know where N’yotsu is,” he said, face flushed with triumph.
“Great,” I said. “Where?”
“Scotland. Near Loch Lomond, to be precise.” He looked from one to the other of us, clearly confused as to why we did not share his elation.
“Max,” I said softly. “Do you have any idea how far away that is? It could take us the best part of a week to get there, and without access to any form of official transport, having to keep out of the way of the authorities, why, we’d need...” I trailed off as an ingenious but extremely unwelcome thought came to my mind. I dismissed it, hoping that another, better solution would present itself; unfortunately that was not to be.
“What?” asked Kate.
“I have an idea,” I said reluctantly. “A way that we could get up there and back quickly, and without setting the authorities on notice.” All I had to do was swallow my pride and relive one of the bitterest moments of my life.
Chapter 33
The severity of the situation and the urgency of our mission required us to travel through the night, wearily trying to ignore our own diminishing reserves of energy. As dawn broke over us, we approached the most unprepossessing sight: a seemingly derelict farm building around which crowded a ramshackle collection of outbuildings and barns, like poor children clustered round a dying mother.
“This is it,” I said, gesturing at the frankly disappointing sight before us. In particular, my eye was drawn to one long barn which cosmetically looked more distressed than the others, yet was still standing; almost as though someone wanted it to appear irrelevant and not worthy of further inspection. I allowed myself a wry smile in spite of my inner turmoil, for subtlety had never been Freddie’s strong point.
“Are you sure?” asked Maxwell, frowning with a disappointment which we all felt.
“Positive,” I replied.
“Don’t look very lived in,” said Kate.
“Au contraire,” I said. “I believe it is actually lived in rather well.” I took a deep breath, fighting against the urge to turn and run away. I cupped my hands to my mouth and shouted: “Freddie!”
My voice echoed around the yard, stirring up little more than a few stray cats, their heads popping up to investigate this rude disturbance before prancing away into the overgrown vegetation.
“Freddie!”
This time there was movement from within the farmhouse, a stirring at one of the windows. A hand pulled aside the rough blanket which was acting as a curtain, followed by the barrel of a rifle and a squinting, scowling face. “Who is it?” came the voice from within. “I warn you, I’m armed and in no mood for trouble.”
I sighed and removed my hat, raising my hands above my head as I stepped forward. I was acutely aware of the rifle pointed at me, and my initial boldness was
replaced by anxious unease; the man on the other end of that weapon had promised to kill me if he ever saw me again.
Just as I was about to turn and run, laughter erupted from the window. “Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in! Augustus Potts, as I live and breathe! Do not tell me you have only just managed to crawl back from Jaipur?”
I ignored the jibe. “I have come to ask for your assistance. Will you come down and talk to me?”
“That depends,” Freddie called back, “on what your friends there plan to do with me if I were to go down there. The lack of uniforms does not fool me; I would recognise British infantrymen anywhere. So what is this? Finally come to make me atone for my sins, boys?”
“We are not looking for trouble, or to apprehend you,” I replied. “We just want to talk. You have my word.”
This prompted another round of uproarious laughter, followed by a bout of coughing. “Your word? That’s a good one! Is that the same word you gave me when you swore to follow my orders? To obey my every word? Just before you walked out on me?”
That was the final straw. “Walked out on you?” I shouted, lowering my hands and clenching them into fists. “You left me, in the middle of nowhere, after... after...” Years of bottled-up rage overflowed into tongue-tied apoplexy as I sought in vain for a coherent and intelligent response before surrendering to my emotions. “I loved her, you bastard! I loved her and you took her from me!”
I could almost hear those stood behind me holding their breaths, wondering if my outburst had scuppered what little chance we had of brokering a deal with this rogue. For a moment, I almost believed the worst myself but then Freddie lowered his rifle. “That is more like it,” he bellowed gleefully. “That’s the old Gus we all know and love—I knew you were still in there somewhere! Wait there, I shall be down directly.”
I exhaled and unclenched my fists, noting that my whole body was quivering with rage. I heard Kate call my name and ask if I was all right, before being hushed by Maxwell. He had witnessed enough of my outbursts over the years to know that I needed space before I would welcome an approach.
I watched the building intently, fixing it with a glare which near on made my eyes ache. Finally, the door opened and out stepped Freddie, still recognisable as the rogue I had flown with all those years ago, but now showing every one of his advanced years. I stared, disbelieving, at this old man who wore the face of one whom I had always regarded to be invincible; whereas once he had moved with a lithe swiftness, like a tiger perpetually on the verge of striking, now he hobbled and shuffled. My heart sank as I felt our one chance of swift passage north evaporate before me.
“What is this?” he said, reading the look on my face. “Pity? From you? I will take many gifts from old friends, but not that.”
I swallowed and fought to regain my simmering anger. “Is that what we are, then? Friends.”
“We could be enemies if you prefer, although you know full well what happens to them.” He pulled himself straight, unbending his back, and there before me was a stronger hint of the man I once knew, the old defiant glint in his eye and the savage half-smile on those thin lips.
I shrugged. “I have not come to dwell on past disputes. As I said, we need your help.”
“Ah, yes, this ‘we’ again. Is it a royal ‘we’? I think not. Are you going to introduce me to your friends?”
I sucked at my teeth and then nodded and turned, leading him toward the group which had been watching our exchange intently.
“This is my brother, Maxwell. And our friend, Kate, and our... Lieutenant Pearce. Max, Kate, Lieutenant—this is Freddie.” I sighed and corrected myself. “Lord Frederick McNaughton.”
The men nodded and shook hands politely, Maxwell with the cold aloofness he accorded for any whom he knew I had a quarrel with. Lieutenant Pearce, though, greeted the man like a hero from his favourite book. “I have heard so much of your exploits,” he said. “I did not truly believe that it was you we were going to meet.”
Freddie glared at him. “Young man, have I really slipped so far from the danger list as to warrant the respect of Her Majesty’s finest? Time was, my name inspired fear and loathing. Such happy days...” He turned to Kate and kissed the back of her hand. “Madame, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Tell me, how did one as beautiful as you come to be with these ne’er-do-wells?”
To my surprise, Kate blushed. “Are you really Lord McNaughton? The adventurer and explorer?”
“The very same, my dear. Maybe you could help an old man to a seat and tell me all about your woes.”
I stepped in front of them before Kate could acquiesce. “Now is not the time for all of that,” I said. “I suspect that you are not half as infirm as you would have us believe, and we have pressing matters to discuss. You can flirt later.”
He scowled at me. “Now I remember why I threw you off The Old Lady. I have not missed being scolded for every minor transgression. You would have made a fine fishwife, have I ever told you that?”
“Plenty of times,” I said, grinning in spite of myself. “Will you listen to what we have to say, or not?”
“Very well,” he said, perching on the edge of an upturned cart. “Speak.”
“I wanted to call in a favour,” I said.
“Another one?” he grinned. “I am sure you have used them all up by now. And before you say anything, India does not count as putting me in your debt; you annoyed me.”
“Nice try, but by my count there are still a dozen favours that you owe me. That incident over the Americas counts for at least four all by itself.”
He laughed that booming guffaw which never failed but to make me smile, regardless of the situation. “I grant that you may have a point, depending on what you say next.”
“We have need of passage to the north and I was wondering if The Old Lady was still in service.”
“That depends,” he said, that old twinkle in his eye returning. “On where exactly you wish to go and why.”
“It is a long story,” I said.
“I have nothing else to do,” he said, leaning back and folding his arms.
Maxwell shot me a look, as if to say “Can we trust him?” His concerns reflected mine, but we were in an extremely weak position and any support—however disreputable—was better than none. I nodded and then turned back to my one-time friend. “You had better make yourself comfortable then,” I said.
* * *
“Is that it?” asked Kate, the disgust clear in her voice.
“She most certainly is,” said Freddie. “Is she not beautiful?”
“I am sure she was, once,” Kate shot back.
Freddie gave her a hurt look. “This magnificent machine has taken me round the world and back more times than I care to remember. She is without a doubt the fastest and most manoeuvrable vessel of her type.”
“How old is she?” asked Maxwell.
“Oh I don’t know… thirty, forty years? She was pretty lived-in when I acquired her. But these things are like fine wines; they improve with age.”
He stared at the airship with the eyes of a star-struck lover, a perspective that the rest of us could not share. After the many months I had spent in her company, I had a large degree of affection for the dirigible that we had referred to as The Old Lady, but even so I struggled to muster up the same level of unconditional infatuation that Freddie felt for his ship. She towered above us, her envelope now almost completely inflated with hydrogen. Everything about her screamed age, her skin marbled by a thousand scars and scratches which told of countless scrapes and encounters. A battered gondola sat beneath the massive egg-shaped envelope, like a squat blue hen giving birth in reverse. It had taken us, aided by the entire company of soldiers, a good thirty minutes to pull the machine out of the long, large barn which I had spied on our approach. As I had suspected, the distressed nature of its exterior was a bit too obvious, and it housed the most important item for miles around: The Old Lady.
“Fascina
ting,” said Maxwell, examining the engines. “The nacelles look American but the propeller design appears more German.”
“That is correct. I have adapted and amended over the years, mostly through necessity. Seems to work pretty well, all things considered.”
“I can make it work even better, if you would permit me to have a tinker.”
“Show me.” The pair of them buried their heads in the engines, leaving Kate and I to watch on in bemused silence.
“Are you all right?” Kate asked me after a minute.
“Hmm? Yes, why would I not be?” I tried to affect an air of nonchalance; ineffectually, as it transpired.
“You should know by now that I’m not going to be put off by silly words,” she said. “There’s something between you two, something neither of you will talk about. What is it?”
I sighed and rubbed my head, fighting the urge to speak, for to do so was to bring back to the fore memories which were too painful to relate. Much better to do what I always did, and push them down into the deepest reaches of my soul.
I felt her eyes on me, those deep blue eyes so often full of defiant humour, at that moment burrowing into me with pained concern. She raised her eyebrows. “I’m not going to just give in; you should know that by now.”
I grinned but, before I could reply, we were disturbed by a shout from behind us. We turned to see Lieutenant Pearce running toward us. “Get that thing in the air,” he shouted. “We have company!”
I looked past him to see his men forming up in a defensive line, rifles at the ready. In the distance we could see fifty, maybe a hundred, soldiers thundering in our direction. It was too far away to be certain, but I fancied that I could make out the stiff corpse-like forms of the clockwork men amongst their number. “Max, Freddie!” I shouted.
Their heads emerged from the engine housing, irritation at being disturbed swiftly followed by anxious action. Freddie slammed the hatch shut, bolted round to the entry hatch and scrambled up the ladder, suddenly showing all the litheness of the younger man I had once known. His head reappeared from within, hanging upside down, hair trailing beneath him. “Get in—I’m taking her up,” he called.