by Paton, Chris
“Everything is back to normal.” The compartment fell silent as Jacques shut off the winch. “Although, it will take some time to clean up the mess.” Luise and Hari followed him as he started walking toward the ladder. “The passengers are confined to their cabins while repairs are made on the dining deck.”
“And the girl?” Hari stepped over their lifeboat as it sagged its last breath on the grille walkway.
“She and her family are waiting on the bridge with the Captain. They are most anxious to meet you.” Jacques stopped by the ladder. “Although, still not quite as much as the Germans.”
Luise took a deep breath. She let go of Hari’s hand. “Take us to the bridge, Jacques. Let us get this over with.”
The burr of the propellers vibrated gently through the accommodation decks as the airship continued to rise through and above the clouds. Entering a stable stream of air, The Flying Scotsman levelled out, maintaining a uniform attitude giving crew a steady platform upon which to make repairs.
Hari paused in the middle of the dining room. His feet planted firmly upon the deck, he watched as the crew removed daggers of glass from the wooden sill. Boarding the window with thin planks of wood, the crew muffled the whistle of air with thick cloth tacked into the wood and the surrounding frame.
“The bridge is this way,” Jacques tapped Hari on the arm. “The Captain has arranged for you to meet the family without the Germans being present. Although, they will see you both later.”
“I thought you said the Captain was powerless to make decisions around the Germans? How did he arrange for a private meeting?” Hari took Luise’s hand as they walked beside Jacques.
“It seems even the Germans have a heart. They were moved by your rescue of the girl, and I believe your friend, Dieter, managed to convince them that you would have escaped by now if that was your intention.”
“Good old, Dieter,” Luise smiled.
“Yes,” Jacques agreed. “But Dieter is also confined to his cabin – for the remainder of the journey. They have even posted a guard outside.”
“A guard?” Luise paused outside the door to the bridge.
“The Germans might appreciate your rescue, Hari, but they did not take kindly to Dieter getting in their way when they first met you.”
“So Dieter is locked up...” Hari glanced at Luise.
“As will we be after we have met the Captain, I am sure.” Luise turned at the sound of men climbing the stairs behind them and stepping onto the wooden deck. She stared at the German soldiers as they took up position either side of the stairs.
“Come,” Jacques placed his hand on the door handle and turned it. “It is time to meet the Captain.”
҉
The gangplank leading to the embarkation deck of The Regal Giant was wet; the soles of Hannah’s new used boots slipped as she stepped onto the slick wooden surface. Hannah held onto the twisted rope handrails as she climbed, the newly-painted hull of the Roland & Percy steamjammer shearing steadily below her toward the surface of the water. Stopping to fasten the buttons of her corset jacket before stepping onto the deck, Hannah paused at the sight of a cable car clicking along a thick wire from the dock to the steamjammer’s upper decks. Two short men stared at Hannah from inside the car as they passed, the brims of their stovepipe hats snugged tightly above their brows.
“That would be Masters Roland and Percy,” The Regal Giant’s embarkation orderly indicated the cable car with a nod as he reached out to take Hannah’s hand. “No luggage, Miss?”
“What?” Hannah turned away from the carriage as it clicked out of view. “No,” she shook her head.
“That’s a little odd, is it not?” The orderly guided Hannah inside the steamjammer, gesturing toward a plush leather sofa to one side of the entrance. “If you’ll take a seat, miss. I’ll just check you in.”
Hannah sat down on the edge of the sofa. She stared at the grubby boots trailing river mud over the thick fibres of the red carpet. She brushed a large clump off the toe of her left boot, flicking the mud underneath the sofa. Straightening her back, Hannah wiped her fingers on the side of her culottes and stared at the orderly. The red sash around his waist caught her eye, obscuring, as it did, the long-barrelled flintlock pistol secured to his right thigh with an intricate web of leather straps and dark metal buckles. Hannah flicked her eyes away as he turned to face her.
“Well, if I hadn’t been warned you would be arriving a little later, Miss von Ense, I might have been tempted to refuse you permission to board.” The orderly rested his thumbs in the thick leather loops hanging at the front of his white cotton trousers. “Mr. Bremen...”
“Herr Bremen,” Hannah looked up.
“Yes, that’s the one,” the orderly bent forward. “The gentlemen told me to look out for you. Said you might be feeling a little out of sorts.” He stepped back and eyed Hannah from the tips of her muddy boots to the last tangle of her dirty blonde hair. “Very out of sorts, he might have said.”
“Did he leave a message?” Hannah stood. She took a purposeful step forward, forcing the orderly back onto his heels.
“As a matter of fact...”
“Yes?” Hannah smoothed her hands over the tails of her corset jacket. She stared the orderly in the eye as she waited.
“He said, Miss von Ense, that you would find a change of clothing in your cabin, and that you should make yourself presentable for dinner at the Captain’s table.”
“He did?” Hannah frowned.
“Yes. He and the young lady on his arm were received by the Captain himself. Your Mr. Bremen certainly has some sway, and the funds to go with it, I should imagine. Now,” the orderly gestured along the corridor leading into the exquisitely decorated depths of The Regal Giant. “If you will follow me, miss.”
“Thank you,” Hannah held out her hand. “I think I can find my way from here.”
The orderly hesitated. “You know best, Miss,” he pulled the key from his pocket. “Cabin forty-four.”
Closing her fingers around the key, Hannah turned her back on the orderly and walked along the corridor in the direction he indicated.
“Dinner is at eight o’clock on the top deck,” he called after her.
Hannah waved at him without turning, the soft hush of her boots absorbed by the thick carpet as she approached her cabin. Slipping the key inside the lock, Hannah unlocked and opened the door. She paused at the sight of the emerald green evening dress draped over the mahogany chair by the writing bureau. A pair of black heels sat squarely in the middle of the desk’s writing surface. Hannah picked up the card left on top of the toes of her new shoes, the surface indented by the nib of the quill with the words, I hope you have had time to think. Do delight us with your presence at eight o’clock at the Captain’s table – Bremen.
Hannah crumpled the note in her palm, crossed the short distance from the writing bureau to the bed and flopped down onto the mattress. Pulling off her boots she tossed them into the corner of the cabin, the dull thud of them bouncing off the bulkhead almost masking the knock at the cabin door. Hannah let go of the note, letting it fall to the floor as she stood up and walked to the door.
“Yes?” Hannah opened the door just wide enough to peer out.
“Miss von Ense?”
“Yes.”
“Telegram.” Posting a beige envelope through the gap in the door, the young boy nodded once before turning and flapping down the corridor in shoes two sizes too big.
Opening the envelope with her thumbnail, Hannah closed the door with her heel before crossing to the bed. She smiled at the initials of the sender printed at the end of the telegram. “LW,” Hannah sighed. “I might have been mean to your daughter, Luther Wallendorf, before she was a demon,” she looked out of the round window sealed within a thick brass porthole. “But I hope you can help me, her, all of us,” Hannah lowered her voice to a whisper. “We are going to need it.”
Muffled shouts from the dockside pressed against the window as The Rega
l Giant whistled up a full head of steam as dirty Thames tugboats shunted the giant steamjammer away from the Northfleet docks and into the main channel leading out to the North Sea.
҉
Far above the Northfleet docks, on the deck of The Regal Giant, Blaidd slipped into the shadows as the steamjammer’s crew secured the cable car and released the wire. Pulling a flag from his back pocket, the foreman waved to the men on the dockside, grasping the rail as the wire snaked out of the crane hook and thrashed into the river.
Using the noise of the wire’s release as cover, Blaidd padded across the deck and inside the service door of the superstructure, dogging the door closed behind him. Blaidd shook the rain water from his sleeves, smoothing the thick black hairs on the backs of his hands on his brown leather cargo trousers. He wiped the wet hair from his forehead and smoothed his thick eyebrows, snorting quietly to clear his nose.
Turning his palms upward, Blaidd traced the spirals burned into the skin with his index finger on first one, and then the other palm. A blue light gleamed briefly in his eyes. Blaidd moved quickly along the corridor, blurring past the paintings on the wall, speeding into the shadowy corners beyond the influence of the bulbs of sodium crystals burning in ornate iron fittings on the walls. He glided down the stairs and onto the lounge deck bustling with passengers decked out in their finest attire. Pausing on the bottom step, Blaidd rubbed his palms together, extinguishing his burst of speed. He strolled onto the deck, smiling at the passengers as he walked toward the quarter deck at the stern of the steamjammer, the light blue glow from his palms dissipating in the excitement of passengers exploring the decks.
Blaidd paused by a large porthole on the starboard side of the steamjammer. In the light streaming in through a break in the clouds, he unfolded a parched piece of paper. “Number forty-four, eh?” Crumpling the paper he slipped it into his pocket, located the entrance to the next stairwell and strode towards it.
A group of plump women in deep red dresses chattered slowly up the stairs. His hands clasped in front of him, Blaidd waited for them to pass. He smiled at the youngest and plumpest of the women causing her to skin to blush as vividly as her dress.
“Lovely day for a cruise, eh?” Blaidd touched two fingers to his forehead.
“Yes,” the young woman stuttered. “Quite lovely.”
“Perhaps we’ll be seeing each other later?” Blaidd called out as the women passed him. He flashed a crooked smile as the young woman shivered at the thought. Blaidd descended the stairs, missing every second step, his footfalls echoing around the veneered walls of the staircase.
The corridor of the upper accommodation deck was blocked by an orderly. Whipping the red sash away from the long-barrelled flintlock, the man gripped the handle. Blaidd held out his hands, palms facing the orderly, as he approached.
“I don’t recognise you,” the orderly tugged the pistol an inch out of the leather holster.
“And you don’t want to.” Blaidd closed the distance between them to three feet. He lowered his hands to his sides.
“Are you from Northfleet?”
“No,” Blaidd’s damp hair lifted from his forehead as he shook his head. “I am from the west.” He paused. “Wales?”
“Wales?” the orderly’s brow wrinkled as he relaxed his grip on the pistol handle.
“Abergavenny, actually. You’ve heard of it, eh?” Blaidd took a step closer.
“Can’t say that I have.”
“A pity. Such a nice place. Spread my ma’s ashes on Mynydd Pen-y-fâl, I did. Other folk call it the Sugar Loaf.”
“The Sugar Loaf?” The orderly shuffled a step back from Blaidd, stopping as his back bumped against the bulkhead.
“It’s a mountain,” Blaidd nodded. Flicking his left hand toward the orderly, he grasped the man’s hand gripping the pistol. Blaidd clenched his massive fist around the orderly’s hand. “Of course, there are bigger mountains round and about.” Blaidd smiled as the orderly whimpered. Grabbing the man by the throat with his right hand, he squeezed the orderly’s windpipe. “I don’t much mind how big a mountain is, it’s the air that matters. Fresh it should be. Something you can pull into your lungs.” Blaidd took a deep breath. He cocked his head to one side and stared at the orderly’s red face. Blaidd exhaled. “Wouldn’t you agree? Air should be fresh?” Blaidd let the orderly slide down the bulkhead as the man passed out. Removing the flintlock pistol from the holster, he tucked it into the back of his belt. Blaidd dragged the orderly to a tall equipment locker and stuffed him inside. Breaking the handle off the door, he tossed it into a waste container recessed in the wall and walked along the corridor.
The thick carpet swallowed Blaidd’s soft tread as he approached cabin number forty-four. Stopping to straighten his leather tunic, Blaidd made a fist and tapped his knuckles on the door. Steam from the bathroom drifted into the corridor as Hannah, her towel knotted beneath her arms, opened the door.
“Miss von Ense?” Blaidd thrust the toe of his boot between the door and the frame as Hannah opened it. “You remember me, eh?”
“Ja, I remember you.” Hannah’s fingers turned white as she gripped the edge of the door, bathwater beading on her flushed skin. “What do you want? Our contract has been fulfilled. You were well paid.”
“Ah, yes, I was at that. But now,” Blaidd gestured at his foot holding the door open. “I have a new master and a new mission. Perhaps you can let me in and we can discuss it.”
“Why?” Hannah moved her body and pressed her shoulder against the door.
“Come now, Miss,” Blaidd glanced up and down the corridor. “These things are best discussed in private.”
“I am not dressed for private discussions with...”
“The likes of me? Sure, sure. I understand.” Blaidd leaned closer. “But we have unfinished business, and perhaps,” he flicked his eyes over Hannah’s body, “we can be of service to one another.”
“Tell me what you want.”
“All right,” Blaidd straightened. “I want the scientist. Hanover.”
“Really?” Hannah relaxed her grip on the door. “What do you want with her?”
“That’s my business, eh?”
Hannah licked bathwater from her top lip. “And how do you think I can help?”
“You might know where she is.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I think you have influential friends, Miss von Ense. I think you can help me, eh?”
“Let’s say you’re right, and I can help you. What do I get out of it?”
“You know how I work. You know what I can do. I might be inclined to owe you a favour, eh?”
Hannah drummed her fingers on the door, beads of condensation beading beneath her grip. “How did you find me?”
“My new employer is most effective at tracking people within Britain.” Blaidd shrugged, “Less so on the continent. They have been following your master’s movements for some time. They believe you or he might know of the whereabouts of Miss Hanover.”
“You are working for the English?” Hannah laughed. “I thought you Welshmen had principals?”
Blaidd sighed. “I agree it is a little ironic.”
Hannah pressed her bare foot against the toe of Blaidd’s boot. “Be in the lounge by the dining room at eight o’clock.” She looked at his grubby tunic and rain-sodden shirt sleeves. “Find something to wear and be ready to assist me.”
“With what?” Blaidd removed his toe from the door.
“With whatever I ask.” Hannah gripped the door handle and slammed the door shut. The flame light from the sodium crystals burning to both sides of the cabin flickered across Blaidd’s scar-lined face as the bulkhead absorbed the shock of Hannah’s door closing.
“I say. You there,” a tall passenger stepped out from the adjacent cabin. “What’s all that noise?”
“Nothing, sir,” Blaidd spread his hands wide. “I apologise.”
“Well, no matter then,” the passenger recoiled from Blaidd�
��s dirty and dishevelled appearance.
“However,” Blaidd studied the passenger. “That is a very fine suit you are wearing, sir. Will you be dining with your wife this evening?” He took a step closer.
“My wife? Oh, no,” the passenger shook his head. “I am travelling alone.”
“Really?” Blaidd’s mouth stretched into a crooked smile. “That is interesting.”
Chapter 8
Arkhangelsk
Russian Empire
May, 1851
The last rays of the sun lit the tall lead-gilded windows of the Moryana Railroad Station with a burst of copper, red and gold. Stepan placed his hand on Lena’s shoulder, slowing the Cossack warrior to a slow walk as they ducked beneath the low brick wall and waited for the others to join them. Vladimir lugged the Puckle Gun over one shoulder, lowering it to the ground at Lena’s feet as he crouched by the captain.
Stepan nodded at the ground next to him. “Take a break. We are almost at the gate.”
Vladimir cast a glance over the wall at the station glowing in the sun before resting next to Stepan. “Are you sure, Kapitan? Sure you want to leave me to find Nikolas?”
“Da, I am sure,” Stepan nodded. “But not happy about it.” He paused as the two Cossack men accompanying Lena scuffed their boots in the dirt as they slid to a stop beneath the lip of the wall, dropping three small crates of ammunition at their feet. Stepan looked at Lena. “We are all here then.”
“You have a plan? Because I cannot drive a steam train.” Lena picked up a handful of pebbles from the ground.
“I hope to convince some of the engineers to come with us.”
“Convince?” Lena laughed, the pebbles rattled in the palm of her hand as she shook them. She tapped the barrel of the Puckle Gun. “I think we can convince them.”
“Bad choice of words,” Stepan wiped the dust from his hands. “Remember, Lena Timofeyevich, these men and women are from Arkhangelsk. They are our people.”
“Your people,” Lena jabbed the knuckle of her finger at Stepan’s chest. “My people are free, beyond the gates of the city.”