by Paton, Chris
“Playing hard tae get, eh?” Archie slapped me on the shoulder as he squeezed past me in the corridor. “Ah would nae worry. There's a loong way tae Germany, yet. Are you drinking that? Ahm dry as a goat's whiskers ah am.” Taking the mug of tea from my hand, Archie nodded once and continued along the corridor, the balsa steps creaking softly as he made his way onto the main deck. I followed, a sudden need for fresh air and a view of the horizon pressing a confusion of thoughts to the back of my mind.
The white beaches, low hills and turquoise waters around the Isle of Lewis calmed the churning in my stomach. I gripped the rail, filling my lungs with sea air as The Suilven Star circled above the town of Stornoway. Bleeding gas from the balloon, the airship drifted past the steamjammer moored in the bay before settling into a hover ten feet above the white sands. The crew bustled about the deck, skirting around me and making ready with lines and hammer-bruised mooring spikes. Archie was the first to whistle over the railing as he slid down a thick hawser rope onto the beach. Striding to a distance of twenty feet from the airship's hull, he placed the tip of his spike into the soft sand, battering a four foot length into the beach. He waited until his crew mates were finished doing the same on each side and at both ends of the airship. With a nod from Whistlefish, the men tied the lines tight around the spikes and The Suilven Star was secured.
“Time to see how your machine has fared during the crossing, Mr. Finsch,” Whistlefish took my shoulder as he guided me to the rope ladder dangling from the port side of the airship. “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” I started to climb down the ladder, looking up as Whistlefish called down to me.
“Schleiermacher and his goons will be here soon. I saw them row into town as we circled above them. You'll have a few minutes alone with your emissary before he has it crated up and squirreled away in the ship's hold. I suggest you make the most of what little time you have, Mr. Finsch.”
Pausing with one foot on the beach and the other on the last rung of the ladder, I looked up at Whistlefish. “What about Mrs. Whistlefish? Will I see her before we leave?”
“Oh, I am afraid not,” Whistlefish's eyes betrayed an otherwise brave smile. “This morning's air was more than a match for her lungs. She sends her regards and wanted me to tell you that she looks forward to seeing you again, and to remind you...” he paused to frown, “...that I am a very good friend to have. I am not entirely sure what she meant by that last remark, Mr. Finsch. But it would please me if you were to consider me your friend.”
“Yes,” I smiled. “I too am happy to call you friend, Captain.”
“Good,” Whistlefish smiled and tapped the railing with his fingers. “See to our emissary now, while I find your chaperone.”
Ducking around the rope ladder, I found Archie and three of Whistlefish's men lowering the emissary to the sand. I had almost forgotten how big the emissary was, and I took a moment to appreciate it's size and to search for obvious signs of damage beyond the blasted grill covering its face. The cradle of rope fell to the beach as the men untied the knots and I took a step closer to the emissary. I placed my palm on the thick brass plates covering its bulbous chest. The heat from the boiler warmed my fingers.
“It's still lit.” I turned to smile at Archie.
“Aye, there was no time tae put it oot, on the mountain.”
“Of course,” I moved to to the top of the emissary. Kneeling in front of the grill, I placed one hand on the sand and the other around the back of its head. A feint green light flickered in the depths of the brass helmet, blinking once and then again as I leaned in close.
“You'll need this, laddie.” I turned as Bhàtair approached, carrying the controller for the emissary in his hands. “For the moment, anyway,” Bhàtair's grey beard ruffled around his smile.
“Thank you.” I stood up to receive the controller, slipping into the leather harness and clipping the familiar wooden box into the metal attachment rings.
“Everything all right?” Bhàtair nodded at the emissary. “Nothing broken?”
“Only the faceplate. Although, I'll have to open it to get a look inside.”
“You can do that on the boat, I guess.”
“It will be done at the factory.” Bhàtair and I turned at the sound of Schleiermacher's voice as he approached, walking the length of the hull from the stern of the airship. Eight men trailed Wallendorf’s assistant, pulling a team of horses and a wooden cart. Schleiermacher stopped at the emissary's feet. “Can you make it stand, Karl? Can you get it onto the cart?”
“If I can make it stand, then I can walk it to the boat, Herr Schleiermacher.”
“No need for that,” Schleiermacher caught my eye for a moment before looking away. “I want it onboard before we attract too much attention.”
“Because a steamjammer and an airship are no but a common sight in Stornoway, eh?” Bhàtair shook his head and laughed.
Ignoring Bhátair, Schleiermacher reached inside his coat and withdrew a manilla envelope with the tips of his fingers. “I will forgive your jokes if you give this to your master.” Schleiermacher handed the envelope to Bhátair.
“Aye, all right.” He turned to me. “Just you remember what fair Abi told you, Master Finsch.” Brushing his fingers over my bandage, he patted my forearm. “Look after yourself, and your friend.”
“She is meant to look after me, Bhàtair.” I smiled.
“Aye, and if you still think that, then you have learned nothing lad. But it will come to you. I'm no worried about that.” Bhàtair nodded at Schleiermacher, turned and walked away.
“The emissary, Finsch,” Schleiermacher coughed. “We need to leave with the turning of the tide.”
“Just a moment, Herr Schleiermacher.” I opened the control box, removed the crank handle and charged the controls with a few rapid turns. The lodestone glowed as I returned the handle to the box.
“Everything all right, Karl?” Seffi ignored Schleiermacher as she padded across the sand to my side.
“What do you have there?” I nodded at the oilskin package beneath her arm.
“Beatrice called them pieces, but I think sandwiches are what I have here.” She flicked her eyes at Schleiermacher. “Come to reclaim your property?”
“That belongs to Herr Wallendorf,” Schleiermacher pointed at the emissary.
“And Karl and I?” Seffi lifted her chin and stared at Schleiermacher.
“Are still in Wallendorf's employ.”
“And still very much alive. Surprised?”
“Pleased, Seffi,” Schleiermacher’s eyes glistened in the growing light. “I am pleased you are alive.”
“Are you?” Seffi shrugged the knapsack she wore onto the ground. Opening it, she tucked Beatrice's package inside. “It's a long voyage, Karl. Plenty of time for Herr Schleiermacher to formulate a suitable apology.” She stood up, swung the knapsack onto her shoulder and set off down the beach in the direction of the town. Schleiermacher watched her leave.
Turning my attention to the emissary, I held the control levers between my fingertips and tweaked the emissary into life. With a growl of gears, the emissary flexed its fingers, pressed its thick brass knuckles into the sand and lifted its body onto its knees. No matter how concerned I might have been about Seffi, nothing could hide the smile on my face as the emissary stretched onto its feet, its head but a foot or so beneath the airship's hull as it straightened to its full height.
“'Tis a beast, tae be sure,” Archie whistled as he stepped around the emissary and stood by my side.
“Do you want one last dance, Archie?”
“No the now,” Archie took a step back. “Ah've things tae do. But you be looking after yourself, now. Do you hear?”
“Aye, I will.” Letting go of the controls I took Archie's hand. “Thank you, Archie.”
“My pleasure,” Archie shook my hand, squeezing it once before letting go. “Ah have tae go.”
“Yes,” I watched as Archie took one last look at the emissary. A
thin stream of sand trickled from the emissary's elbow as it lifted its hand to wave. Moving my hands quickly to the controls, I flicked my eyes at Schleiermacher, shaking my head in relief as Wallendorf's assistant turned away from the emissary to watch Archie leave.
“Enough games, Herr Finsch. It is time to get the emissary into the crate and out of sight.” Schleiermacher clicked his fingers at his men, walking away from me to organise them.
I took a step closer to the emissary. Leaning backwards, I looked up, searching for the feint green glow behind its busted faceplate.
“I have an idea, I know who you are,” I whispered. “But let's keep it between us for the moment.” The green light blinked twice before the emissary let its arm sink to its side. I twisted the control levers and marched the emissary out from beneath the hull of The Suilven Star, and towards the cart. A flicker of movement caught my eye, and I stopped to wave at a face smiling from behind the thick glass porthole of the Captain's cabin. From beneath a heavy wool shawl, Abigail Whistlefish waved back.
Chapter 4
Schleiermacher quarantined the emissary in the deepest hold of the steamjammer, and confined Seffi and I to our own individual quarters. The journey from Stornoway to Hamburg was as uneventful as it was long. I spent a long time pondering over the thimblestone, but try as I might, I could not fill the stone again since Seffi had emptied it back in cabin aboard The Suilven Star.
I missed the airship and the crew during the voyage to Germany. There were times when I even missed Beatrice's tea, although I would never have admitted it. As the ship came in to dock in Hamburg, I munched on a leftover sandwich and contemplated what I would say at the debrief Schleiermacher had hinted I should prepare for, right before he locked my cabin door, over twenty-four hours previously.
The squeal of huge rubber fenders rubbing against the ship's hull almost hid the snick of the lock opening in my door. The door creaked open and Seffi stepped into the cabin, her long legs hidden beneath supple leather trousers tucked into the collars of calf-high boots.
“Did you sleep?” She crossed the short space between the door and the bunk and sat down next to me. “I didn't sleep. I'm too mad to sleep, Karl.”
“You don't look mad,” I tucked the thimblestone into my pocket.
“No? That's a shame. I want them to know how I feel at being betrayed, just by looking at me.” Seffi laughed, the tips of her hair scratching at the shoulders of her jacket. “Come on. We are boarding a train for Frankfurt.”
“Where is Schleiermacher?” I grabbed my knapsack and called after Seffi as she stepped into the corridor.
“He's supervising the loading of the emissary. It's all typically secretive.”
“That was your job, Seffi. To keep it secret.”
“Yes,” she nodded. “Funny how being shot at in the name of secrets changes your perspective on things. Speaking of which...” she stopped and took hold of my arm. “How is it?”
“It's fine.” I peered at Seffi in the gloom of the sodium lamps flickering in the corridor.
“What is it, Karl?”
“You,” I tugged my knapsack higher onto my shoulder. “You've changed since Scotland. You're more relaxed.”
“More relaxed?” Seffi's eyebrow arched above her right eye.
“Yes,” I nodded. “I like it. You don't frighten me half as much as you used to.”
“That's great, Karl.” I winced as Seffi thumped me on the shoulder. “Good to know.”
Falling into step behind her, I followed Seffi in silence as we walked the length of the corridor, descended two decks to the gangplank, and walked onto the Hamburg docks. The derricks creaked and swung above us as the stevedores unloaded the steamjammer. Seffi gripped my arm as a flatbed steamcarriage shunted past us. She pointed at the railroad tracks beginning at the far end of the dock.
“That's ours. You can just see the emissary being loaded into the last car.”
“Yes.” I looked past the train bound for Hamburg and stared at a larger train, a massive iron beast with an angry livery of navy and red casting its shadow on the men loading the emissary. “Where is that train going, I wonder?”
“The big one?” Seffi began walking towards the tracks. I hurried after her. “That is The Voskhod, from Arkangelsk in the north of Russia. The Russians build to intimidate.”
“They certainly do.” I was silent all the way to the train, nodding briefly at Schleiermacher as he showed us to our car.
“Sit here, Herr Finsch,” Schleiermacher gestured at a cushioned bench on one side of a broad table. “Seffi should sit by your side, and I will call for coffee. Or would you prefer tea?”
The feint trace of a smile Schleiermacher exchanged with Seffi suggested she had already told him something of our adventures in Scotland. I looked at Seffi and she nodded.
“It's okay, Karl. While you were in your cabin, Schleiermacher and I talked.” She leaned back on the bench. “We have reached an understanding, and I am now a free agent, free to work for whoever I choose.”
“And me?” I looked from Schleiermacher to Seffi and back again, lurching forwards on the bench as the train began its journey to Frankfurt. “Seffi is my chaperone. I don't think I can...”
“Relax, Herr Finsch. Drink some coffee,” Schleiermacher waited as a young man served coffee and pastries. “I will explain everything.”
I sighed as the waiter left, curling my hands around the cup of coffee as Seffi picked at a glazed bun. The Voskhod retreated into the distance as the Wallendorf train pulled out of the docks, steaming past the fields and small farming villages surrounding the city of Hamburg.
Schleiermacher sipped at his coffee and began. “Seffi and I have gone over the events in Scotland. I have enough information to prepare my report for Herr Bremen at the ministry, and I have submitted my recommendations regarding field trials for future emissaries.”
“Future emissaries?” I glanced at Seffi. “What about this one?”
“Direktor Wallendorf and I have a different assignment for this particular emissary, if you are interested, Herr Finsch?”
“Interested? Am I no longer bound to Wallendorf Industries?”
Schleiermacher took a deep breath. He poured more coffee into his cup. Setting the coffee pot on the table, he rested his hands in his lap. “I am sorry, Karl. I put you and Seffi in an unnecessarily dangerous position...”
“You sent us to our deaths,” Seffi placed her half-eaten bun on the plate and selected another. “We agreed that that detail should be included in both your apology and your report.”
“Yes”, Schleiermacher nodded. “That is correct. I sent you to your deaths, and for that, I apologise.”
I shook my head. “I feel as though I am several steps behind both of you. What exactly are we discussing, beyond your apology, Herr Schleiermacher?”
“We are discussing your release from the employ of Wallendorf Industries.” Schleiermacher waited. “If that is your wish?”
Placing my palms on the table, I opened my mouth to speak.
“Think carefully, Karl,” Seffi cautioned. “This is our way out.”
“I know,” I paused for a moment. “But my work with the emissary is just beginning.” The thought of leaving the emissary behind, on the brink of my discovery of the Şteamƙin, just when it was starting to get interesting, was furthest from what I wished. I looked at Schleiermacher. “What are my options?”
“Well,” he paused, turning the cup of coffee on the saucer. “I do have an assignment I would like you both to consider.”
“Both of us?” I brightened.
“Yes,” Schleiermacher glanced at Seffi. “During our discussion aboard the steamjammer, when we had reached certain agreements, Seffi indicated that she would remain your chaperone whatever you agreed to do.”
“You should know, Karl, Schleiermacher has agreed to a generous monthly stipend for the rest of our lives, with no obligations or clauses.”
“Yes,” Schleiermacher picked
up his cup. “Seffi was quite adamant about that.”
Taking my hand, Seffi continued as Schleiermacher took a sip of coffee. “We needn't work again, Karl. Think about that.”
I thought about Seffi's hand on mine, her skin brushing mine. It was quite enough to think about, but as the German countryside sped past us, the thought of the emissary grew in my mind.
“What is the assignment?” I looked at Seffi as she withdrew her hand, leaned back on the bench and pursed her lips. “I just want to know,” I explained.
“Count Tiberiu Cojocaru,” Schleiermacher placed his cup on the saucer, “is a personal acquaintance of Direktor Wallendorf. He has a castle deep in the Bucegi Mountains of Transylvania. A castle he shared with the Countess Ionela and their daughter, Isabella, before they died under mysterious circumstances that is.”
“A Transylvanian Count?” I frowned. “What is his interest in the emissary?”
“None,” Schleiermacher shrugged. “Not yet. Your assignment would be to nurture that interest. Introduce the emissary to the Count and negotiate on behalf of Wallendorf Industries for a potential contract. Nothing more.”
“A sales pitch?” I laughed. “I am not a salesman.”
“And yet, you have charmed the entire Inverkirkaig staff with your emissary waltz. Think what you could do in front of an audience unused to such technology, and,” Schleiermacher smiled, “with a much deeper treasure chest.”
“Abigail Whistlefish said it was her husband that inspired the initial designs for the emissary, and that is what caused him to be banished to Scotland.”
“For which he was well-compensated.” Schleiermacher tapped the table with his finger. “We did not send you to Scotland with a view to selling emissaries to Horatio Whistlefish.”
“No,” I leaned forwards. “You sent us there to die.”
In the silence that descended upon the table, the scrape of the pastry plate across the surface as Seffi pulled it towards her broke the tension.
“I can see you are very fond of Herr Whistlefish,” Schleiermacher nodded. “I apologise for my conduct.”