by Giles
“Hush, wait till we get out front.” Jon admonished the impatient lad and put his hand back on Hans’ shoulder.
They walked to the door giving a wave to the clerk who allowed them to go up the stairs. Once outside and away from the door Jon pulled three rigsdalers from his pocket and knelt down in front of Hans. “Here, thank you for your help today.”
Hans grabbed the money from Jon’s hand, drew back and socked him in the face as hard as he could.
“What the hell?” Jon said trying to get his balance and stand up.
“That’s for Fritzie, my brother's gonna be real mean when everyone finds out a fat man beat him up.” Hans turned and ran off down the street.
Jon swore again and fingered his eye. It was already beginning to swell. Five years ago he would have chased the little runt down and beat the tar out of him. Ah well, at least I got what I need, he thought.
The steward headed back towards the market looking for a hire conveyance, time to get back to the air ship and report. He had a lot of questions and no doubt the others would too. Like what German official had sent the LensBaron the tickets? And why the elaborate trip to the theater just now? Was the LensBaron just blowing smoke in the eyes of the theater people to justify their later arrival? Or was he pulling some strings that Jon could not see? Not to mention Gyldenfeldt made a big deal about Starblower being his guest. Did that have a double meaning? Jon shook his head, oh yes, time to get back...
“And there you have it.” Jon removed the damp towel from his swollen eye and looked forlornly at the once again empty scotch glass.
Tash had both hands pressed tightly over her mouth trying desperately to quell the giggles. She finally removed her right hand and placed it over her heart and moved the left to her brow, palm facing outward. "Oh Jon!" She said in mocking despair. "That poor innocent child! He might have been hurt!"
Without hesitation Jon threw the towel at Tash. Who neatly ducked and then dissolved into laughter.
Jerard added his own chuckle to the charming scene and fervently wished he could share that level of intimacy with this fascinating woman. But honestly he could not imagine himself tossing a wet towel into her face; it just wasn't proper. But, he reflected, it did look like fun.
Carstares cleared his throat in an effort to inject some real dignity into the situation. "Well done Mr. Howell, even if your methods are somewhat…unorthodox. And you have raised some good questions."
"Sir?" Howell replied.
"I am not sure that it's important to find out which German official sent Gyldenfeldt the invitation but I shall endeavor to find out tonight, just in case. The LensBaron's invitation was probably sent out a month ago, that's usually how these things work. As for his trip to the theater, I am guessing that he wanted to be sure he had seats for the performance. He did tell us that he gave his tickets to his nephew and the man is canny enough to know that no one would be expecting him tonight. This is obvious, of course; the evidence being the fact that his name did not appear on the theater's guest list." Carstares stopped speaking and looked into the faces of his audience. When no one commented he continued. "Besides we know he's going to cause trouble tonight. He was adamant about facing down his nephew and exposing the Germans."
“While what you say is true Colonel why would the LensBaron deliberately alert everyone, including his nephew, by making sure his name was on the guest list. What if this Reinhardt does not show up? Especially with Starblower in tow. I would think the fact that we were on to him would keep him away." Jerard interjected.
"You are assuming Captain that this Reinhardt knows that Starblower and company have been tracing his movements and personally trying to get Dr. Nordstrom back. Is anyone even aware that Mr. Starblower knows the Doctor? I certainly was not. Also it is not the habit of the Queen's Service to send civilians to do this kind of work. No…no I think the little scene at the theater was staged for the LensBaron's aggrandizement. The man does have a reputation for braggadocio as it were."
"But Colonel," Jerard said. "Did you not say yourself that it appeared that we were being lead around?"
"I did."
"But you don't think that any more?" Tash asked.
"Oh I still believe it madam. I just don't think it is the LensBaron Gyldenfeldt doing it. I think the good Baron might have just given us the jump we needed to get ahead in this sordid affair. I suspect that this nephew, Reinhardt, is just a pawn in this little German game. I also think someone might be setting up Reinhardt."
“But why?"
"Because Reinhardt has made several mistakes, it was too easy to trace his steps. Because there are two things that the Germans hate the most; the first is a traitor and the second is public embarrassment. If Reinhardt really is working for them they would accept his service but they would not trust him."
"I see." Tash replied. "And when his duplicity was exposed not only would Reinhardt be embarrassed but they would have an opportunity to embarrass his uncle."
"Precisely!"
"Maybe." Jerard said hesitantly. "But what if Gyldenfeldt and Reinhardt are working together and this is just another run-around?"
Tash slowly shook her head. "No, I don't think that. I spent several hours with the LensBaron this morning and…" Tash trailed off.
"And what? Good god, please don't say women's intuition!" Carstares said rudely.
"Well if she does Colonel you'd damned well better listen!” Mr. Howell forcefully interjected. “Uh, begging your pardon Miss Tash."
Tash smiled. "It's quite all right Mr. Howell. And Colonel, I suppose in a way, that was what I was going to say. During our negotiations there was a subtle shift in the LensBaron's attitude. I can exactly pinpoint the moment when he realized that I was serious in this business offer. Regardless of how the negotiations began the man became fiercely determined to carry out this deal. As of this point in time I can confidently say that the LensBaron Gyldenfeldt is firmly on our side."
"My apologies Miss Smythe-Harris." Carstares said sincerely and then he sighed. "I just hope you are correct."
6:00 p.m.
The Soul of Discretion
Copenhagen, Denmark
Jerard leaned over the wash bowl to get closer to the mirror. He stretched his neck up to get a better look under his chin. Trimming one’s own facial hair could be a challenge, especially if one was trying to look his very best for a certain lovely lady. Jerard smiled at his own vanity as he spotted a wild hair and clipped it off. Completely engrossed in his toilet he was startled when he heard a sharp rap at his cabin door. What the devil? he thought and moved to answer the summons.
“Begging your pardon Captain, may I have a word with you?”
“Why of course Mr. McPherson. And might I say Sir you are looking rather smart. Are you looking forward to this evening’s entertainment?”
“No Sir, I mean yes Sir. Well I...I’m not sure Sir, that’s why I’m here.”
Jerard raised an eyebrow, he was pretty sure he had never seen the calm, quiet McPherson so agitated. “Go on, Sir.”
“Don’t go tonight Sir, the Discretion needs you.”
“The Discretion needs me?” Jerard repeated lamely, he was really confused and somewhat flattered that Mac thought the ship could not do without him. “I shouldn’t worry Mr. McPherson, Mr. Nichols will be in charge while I am out. And I have complete confidence in him. Beside what is likely to happen? We are on the ground Sir.”
Mac straightened up and looked Jerard directly in the eye. “It is difficult to explain Sir, I would appreciate it if you would just trust me.”
“Of course I trust you Sir.” Jerard clapped the man on the shoulder and guided him to a chair. “You just have a case of nerves and here, I’ve got the cure. Come, sit, have a finger of scotch with me and all will be well.”
“No Sir, you don’t understand Sir.” Mac said as he stepped out from under the Captain’s hand and faced him again.
Jerard felt a slight fraying of his patience. “No Sir,
you don’t understand. We may well have an opportunity to finally get Dr. Nordstrom back tonight and I need to be there to assist.”
McPherson firmly shook his head no. “I’m sorry Captain but it is imperative that you remain here tonight. Something bad will happen if you are not here.”
“Nonsense!” Jerard huffed.
“Some say so Sir but the talent is real.”
“What talent?”
Mac sighed. “The most common name I hear for it is ‘weather witch’. I can always tell when a storm is coming Sir.”
Jerard cocked his head and stared hard at McPherson. By god, he thought, the man is completely serious! Jerard relaxed his posture slightly and wondered how he was going to deal with this one. Trying not to sigh, he asked, “So you believe you are prescient?”
“That’s as good a word as any Sir. All I can tell you is that you should be here tonight, it won’t head the storm off but...but...”
“Go on man! But what?”
McPherson took a deep breath, “It will save one of the crew Sir.”
Jerard did not know what to think. He hadn’t known McPherson long but he did know that Mac had been part of the Discretion’s crew from the very beginning. He also knew that the man came from a good family. But then again madness could strike any family no matter how noble the bloodlines. I’ll talk this over with Nichols he decided. “Alright Mr. McPherson, I shall consider what you have told me. Thank you.”
Mac breathed an audible sigh of relief. “Thank you Captain. I was afraid you would go anyway or even worse, think I had lost my mind.”
The relieved man was out the door before Jerard could make further comment. Which was annoying in the extreme as he had no intention of staying aboard ship this evening and he was about to tell McPherson so. Jerard moved to the speaking grill and toggled the switch, “Mr. Nichols to the captain’s cabin, Mr. Nichols.”
A moment later Nichols replied, “On my way Captain.”
Jerard picked up his clothing brush and began vigorously brushing his dress jacket. He fervently hoped Nichols could explain this bizarre event. The conversation with Mac had left Jerard feeling uncomfortable and even worse, he now felt uncertain. Relief flooded him when he finally heard the tap, tap on his door.
“Nichols! Good! I’m glad you’re here, come in Sir. Take a seat. I’ve just had a rather odd conversation and I need some clarification.”
“Of course Captain.” Nichols said curiously as he carefully closed the door and moved into the cabin.
“Look, McPherson was just here and he told me that I should not go tonight. He said the Discretion needed me. Have you any idea of what that might be about?”
Lance Nichols ran a finger across the back of one of the chairs and carefully avoided looking at Jerard. “Did he now? And did he say anything else?”
“Yes he did.” Jerard observed Lance’s odd behavior. “He said something about not stopping the storm but if I stayed here I would save a crew member. Why? What does that mean?”
Lance sighed and raised his head looking Jerard directly in the eye. “Then you’d better stay here Sir, Mac is never wrong.”
“Harrumph!” Jerard let loose an explosion of breath. “Not you too?”
Nichols shrugged. “All I can tell you is what I know and what I’ve seen. When Mac tells you something you can bet money on it. You’d better stay here tonight Captain.”
Jerard opened his mouth and then closed it again. He was not sure exactly how he felt about all this. His first reaction was annoyance but he could not ignore the profound sense of relief he was feeling. He found that he believed McPherson despite the fact that he did not believe in all this prescience nonsense.
“Fine.” Jerard finally said. “Then Sir you will have to go in my place.”
“Ah, hey, no Captain. The opera? Never fancied that kind of thing. We could send Collins.”
“Oh yes, First Officer Nichols, you’re going and that’s an order. So you’d better step lively and get that dress uniform on; you don’t want to keep Miss Smythe-Harris and Mr. Starblower waiting do you? And since you support this wild...whatever it is, I shall let you explain my absence to Miss Smythe-Harris as well.”
Nichols chuckled and then straightened up and offered a proper salute to Jerard. “Aye, aye Captain!” Nichols grinned again. “Oh and Captain, I will be happy to explain to Miss Smythe-Harris, I doubt she will even bat an eye. She, too, is aware of McPherson’s gift.”
Jerard watched the door close behind Nichols and wondered if everyone had gone mad. I suppose it is possible he thought and made a note to check the barometer on the bridge. He knew that certain low pressure cells could cause headache, maybe there was a similar correlation for insanity.
A short time later Jerard found himself watching the departing opera goers. He shouldn’t have been surprised that there were two coaches; especially when he thought about it. There were nine people to transport including Gopal and Marius.
Jerard chuckled and wondered if Gyldenfeldt had insisted that at least four ship’s officers attend because he wanted the manpower to get Nordstrom. Or if he was, in fact, putting together a rather impressive retinue. And it was impressive by anyone’s standards. While watching everyone Jerard had realized just how elegant the Discretion’s crew uniforms were. They held their own against Carstares’ top and tails and the LensBaron’s magnificent house attire, with its sash and flash. Even Gopal had donned formal wear. At least that is what Jerard thought. His turban tonight was ivory silk. His tunic and trousers were also of silk, the former was a rich saffron color, the latter ivory that matched the turban and sash.
But the true jewel of the party had been Tash. The emerald green dress she wore was elegant and understated. He was amused by the clever way she had gathered a strip of the same cloth around her neck and held it in place with a diamond necklace. The effect had been stunning but not because of the diamonds even though they were probably worth more than his father’s entire estate. No it was definitely the bare shoulders and creamy expanse of decollete set between the dark green at her throat and the same dark green of her dress. He wondered if she realized the tantalizing effect she had achieved by trying to hide her wounded neck. “Hm...probably not.” He said out loud to the empty anteroom. And wished for the hundredth time that he was the one who would have her arm tonight.
Jerard stood for a few more minutes gazing out at the last of the day's light as the sun sunk below the horizon. The evening looked as though it was going to be a pleasant one with a cool breeze bringing in the soft scent of flowers. The morning’s fog had burned away mid-afternoon to reveal a clear sunny sky. A sky that was just now beginning to twinkle with stars. It was hard to believe in this peaceful fading of light that something sinister was supposed to happen. And there you have it, Jerard thought, it’s when things look the best that disaster always strikes. He sighed in resignation before turning to the bridge. Let’s double up on the watch tonight.
Jerard called an all-hands meeting on the bridge. He looked again at the duty roster in his hands for inspiration on what to tell his men; he knew he did not have to justify his orders. Extra duty was just that, extra duty, and nobody liked it but sometimes explanations made it easier. He watched his men as they filed in; he was mildly surprised that not one of them seemed curious about the meeting. This was the first all-hands he had ever called, what was going on?
“Thank you gentlemen for your prompt arrival. This evening we will be setting up a double watch, at least until Miss Smythe-Harris and the...uh, Mr. Starblower return. It is my hope that they will be arriving back with Dr. Nordstrom. If this is the case, it is possible they will wish to depart immediately and I want the ship to be ready. In a moment I will read out the roster for the next four hours. Each of you will be notified individually of any changes by me at the end of this first watch.
Mr. Vinetti, since it is imperative that we all remain vigilant I am assigning you to the galley. Please have on hand tea, some of your wond
erful Italian coffee and perhaps some broth. In about two hours time I wish the men served a light snack. Mr. Phelps and Mr. Tanner, you will be assisting Mr. Vinetti both in preparation and in the delivery of libations to the men. You two will also walk the passenger and public areas of the ship every hour.”
“Sir, if I might ask a question?” Tanner spoke up.
“Of course Sir.”
“What is it we’re looking for Captain?”
“That is a good question.” And the same thing I have been asking myself Phillips thought. “And the answer goes for everyone standing here. We are looking for anything odd, unusual or out of place. No matter how small or insignificant please report it to me or the closest superior officer. Who will then report to me. Understood?”
Jerard’s eyes scanned the crew. All were more or less nodding assent in his direction except for Airshipmen Adams and Collins. A significant look passed between the two before they offered their grim nods to the Captain.
“Escuzi Captain but I have prepared the hot drinks. The men, they could stop by the galley on their way out, yes?”
“Well done Mr. Vinetti. Gentlemen, you heard the man, if you wish to begin your watch with something hot please do so.” Jerard grinned at Paulo Vinetti and said, “Mac?”
“Si Captain.”
Jerard shook his head, he really hadn’t needed to ask, of course Mac would have spoken to Vinetti. The pair of them were thick as thieves despite the fact that they were such an odd pair, who would have thought a Scotsman and an Italian would be such good friends?
“Now to continue on, Mr. J. Landover, your watch station has not changed, you will remain on the exterior door. Mr. R. Landover you and Mr. Randal will be keeping watch from the observation deck up top. Roger , I am counting on you and Fred to make good use of that telescope for as long as the light lasts.”
Both Landovers and Fred came to attention and saluted Phillips. “Yes Sir!” They replied in unison.
Jerard returned the salute and went back to his list. “Mr. deReuter, you are assigned to your usual station in the gas bag chamber. Because of your injury Sir and because we are working in pairs whenever possible I am assigning Mr. Dortsman to you.”
