Amidst Dark Satanic Mills (Folkestone & Hand Interplanetary Steampunk Adventures Book 2)

by Ralph E. Vaughan

  He lies, Baron Bellaseus thought. He most certainly lies.

  “Very good, Tanaka,” the Baron said. “The Poulpe assignment, as it was originally detailed, is ended, but it continues as an action to protect MEDUSA and its goals.”

  “I am sorry, Barron, but I do not understand,” Tanaka said. “The British agents survived. They are denied the laboratory, but the information they stole surely cannot be retrieved.”

  “No, that has been forwarded to Earth,” the Baron agreed. “We are working to taint the information, to lessen its impact, but that is being executed at a much higher level. Your primary goal now is to exact revenge against the enemies of MEDUSA.”

  “Yes, but I do not quite see…”

  “Your first task is the assassination of Captain Folkestone and Sergeant Hand,” the Baron said.

  “Sir, that will draw undue attention to…”

  “Afterwards,” the Baron continued, “you will trace everyone on Mars who assisted Poulpe in his traitorous actions, determine how much they know about MEDUSA, and eliminate them.”

  “In my opinion, such a course of action…”

  “I did not request your opinion, Tanaka.”

  “Yes, Baron, but surely Lord Khallimar…”

  “Lord Khallimar is the Special Executive!” the Baron snapped with much more vehemence than he intended. He paused a moment to take a calming breath. “I control Operations. If I need his advice, I will ask him for it, personally.”

  “I intended no disrespect or insubordination,” Tanaka hastily explained. “I was merely concerned that such extreme actions might bring too much attention to us, hindering…”

  “If you cannot follow your orders, Tanaka, perhaps you should seek employment outside MEDUSA.”

  “No, sir, but the ramifications…”

  “I could arrange your return to Japan,” the Baron suggested.

  The Baron smiled as the silence lengthened.

  “Please accept my humble apologies, Baron Bellaseus,” Tanaka finally said across the aether. “My words were well intentioned but inappropriate. I have no desire to be remanded to Nippon. I enjoy my work in the Covert Branch, and have no wish to leave it.”

  “Then your only concern should be to follow orders.”

  “I will do as I am instructed.”

  “Quite satisfactory, Tanaka,” the Baron said. “Your expertise, skill and loyalty have made you one of the most valued agents in the Covert Branch. I probably should not tell you this, but you are being considered for promotion. This mission has not gone as planned, but completing this new phase of it successfully will show much to your favor. I have spoken on your behalf in the higher circles of MEDUSA. Now it is up to you. Do not let anything…or anyone cause you to fail. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes,” Tanaka responded eagerly. “Yes, Baron. Crystal clear. You may count on me, absolutely.”

  “Remember, Tanaka, MEDUSA is more important than any operative.”

  “I understand, perfectly.”

  “Good. Bring Zimmer in, then leave the room.”

  “Sir?”

  “You will explain the mission parameters to Zimmer, Tanaka,” the Baron said. “But I wish to speak to him about his performance. As a leader, you know such things are best expressed privately.”

  “Of course, Baron.”

  The Baron sipped another whiskey while he waited. Any doubt that Tanaka was Lord Khallimar’s man had vanished. He suspected now the hand of MEDUSA’s executive officer behind the difficulty they had encountered in tracking down Poulpe after he vanished. What had initially seemed like a series of unfortunate events and missteps by his agents now appeared to be merely the tip of a well-coordinated conspiracy. He chastised himself for not ferreting it out earlier, but it was easy to get caught up in the actions of the Game. However, when it came to playing the Game, compared to him, Lord Khallimar was but a child. The Special Executive no doubt thought he would benefit when MEDUSA’s greatest project came to fruition, but such would not come to pass. Baron Bellaseus had taken steps to ensure his own success long before Lord Khallimar grasped the possibilities of Poulpe’s work, and the scientist’s treasonous act had done nothing to deter the Baron’s ultimate goal.

  “Zimmer speaking.”

  “You are alone?”

  “Yes, Baron Bellaseus,” Zimmer replied sotto voce.

  “The death of Professor Poulpe, the laboratory’s destruction, the loss of documents to the enemy—it is intolerable.”

  “Tanaka’s incompetence should not go unpunished,” Zimmer replied. “His actions are responsible for our failure.”

  “Poulpe’s murder?”

  “If Tanaka had not been absent, we could have controlled Poulpe,” Zimmer said. “Killing him at that moment would not have been a necessity. But had he escaped again, he would have gone into hiding and relocated his laboratory.”

  “Tanaka was not present when you killed Poulpe?”

  “No, Baron.” A pause, then: “If he said differently, he lied.”

  “That explains much,” the Baron said vaguely. “You stopped the Professor from taking further action against MEDUSA, but the laboratory was destroyed anyway. While the laboratory did not fall into the grasp of the enemy, information was still lost.”

  “Again, due to Tanaka’s incompetence,” Zimmer asserted. “We followed the British to the warehouse that hid the laboratory. I tried to assassinate both men, but Tanaka prevented me from doing so.”

  “He did?”

  “Physically.”

  “Had you killed the men as you planned, they would not have absconded with the documents,” the Baron mused. “The laboratory would be intact and in the possession of MEDUSA.”

  “I cannot say, Baron,” Zimmer replied. “Somehow, Tanaka set off a self-destruct device. Even had I killed the men, Tanaka’s incompetence might still have caused the explosion.”

  “I see what you mean.”

  “The mission would be better off without him,” Zimmer said. “I never wanted to work with him.”

  “That was not my decision.”

  “I did not mean to imply…”

  “MEDUSA is more important than any one operative, as are its operations,” the Baron said. “Do you understand?”

  “I…I think so, Baron.”

  “Had you taken extraordinary action at the time to ensure the success of the mission, I would have supported you.”

  “I did not think…” Zimmer’s voice trailed to silence, then he said: “I am sorry, Baron. At least my association with Tanaka is at an end, now that the mission is over.”

  “The mission is not over,” the Baron snapped.

  “Sir?”

  “Tanaka will give you the details, but I will tell you something, Zimmer, something highly confidential,” the Baron said. “Your expertise, skill and loyalty make you one of the most valued agents in the Covert Branch. I probably should not tell you this, but you are being considered for promotion. This mission has not gone as planned, but completing this new phase successfully will prove much in your favor. I have spoken for you in the higher circles of MEDUSA. Now it is up to you. Do not let anything…or anyone cause you to fail. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Absolutely clear, Baron,” Zimmer replied. “I will not fail.”

  “Most satisfactory, Zimmer. Out.”

  The Baron cut the connection and powered down the device. It was all coming together. There had been some kinks in his plan, but they were coming along nicely. Once the problem in Paris had been settled and the situation on Mars had blown up in Khallimar’s face, he could move on to the final phase.

  * * *

  “I know nothing of MEDUSA, except that it exists, which, in itself, is dangerous knowledge,” Marie Poulpe said. “It is because I fear for my life that I have traveled under the name of Devereaux. It was my mother’s maiden name. She died two years ago.”

  They sat at an isolated table from which they had a view of the river and could see for
many yards around. They sipped coffee.

  “I am sorry,” Ethan Slaughter murmured automatically.

  “It was an event that changed our lives and started my father’s slow descent into madness,” she explained. “I was sent to school in the Swiss Confederation, and I saw little of my father. He buried himself in his work. It was that work which brought him to the attention of MEDUSA, and it was the darkness that had blossomed in his soul that made him heed their call.”

  “What was his work?” Slaughter asked.

  Marie shook her head. “He never revealed the subject of his work, though, once, he mentioned that one day steam power would be as obsolete as stone and chisel, that all the planets of the Solar System would be as one.”

  “Nothing more?”

  Again she shook her head. “Until six months ago, I lived in Zurich, where I was employed as a plan-maker.” Seeing a frown on Slaughter’s face, she explained: “It is very much like a technical assistant, I suppose. I take ideas and rough drafts and produce the plans by which machinists and craftsmen produce machines.”

  “I thought that was done by Analytical Machines.”

  Marie made a face reflecting disgust. “Machines can do many things, but they have yet to create one that can make the silk purse from the sow’s ear such as I am given by scientists and inventors. A Machine can make any kind of line imaginable, but first it must be told what to do. Only someone like me can write the codes that give the line function and purpose.”

  Slaughter nodded as if he understood, which he did not. “Do you know why your father vanished as he did?”

  “He did not tell me,” she replied. “But I received this letter.”

  Slaughter took from Marie the envelope she withdrew from her bag and read the message within. It was very short, just two lines. He looked it over, memorized it, then handed it back.

  “Do you know what he meant when he said your mother’s death was not an accident?”

  “No, M Slaughter,” she said. “We always thought it had been, my father and I. She was returning home from a visit with her family in Marseilles when a boiler on the airship Amitié éternelle exploded, killing all aboard.”

  “I remember the case,” Slaughter mused. “An accident, it was ruled…a defect in the metal due to fatigue. A tragic accident.”

  “A tragic accident,” Marie repeated. “And it was shortly after that ‘tragic accident,’ I learned later, that my father was approached by a representative of MEDUSA.”

  “You suspect, then…”

  “That my mother was murdered by agents of MEDUSA.”

  Slaughter slumped back in his chair and let a little puff of air whoosh out of his mouth as he considered the enormity of what the girl had said. Nearly a hundred people had died in the crash of the Amitié éternelle. Had they all died simply to make a grief-stricken man more amendable to recruitment by the criminal organization MEDUSA? It was a monstrous thought, and he told her so.

  “Monstrous?” she murmured. “Yes, it was. There are married people who often joke about the ‘better half,’ you understand what I mean? My mother was, quite literally, my father’s better half, that part of his life which kept him balanced, helped him see the light in the world when all around him seemed dark. I was his daughter, and he was fond of me, especially when I proved to have a technical turn of mind, but it was my mother he loved. He loved her more than anything, more than his work or life itself. With her gone, it seemed the darkness closed around him. I believe he packed me off to school to protect me from the shadows he felt gathering about himself, but also because I was a reminder of what had been taken from his life. When MEDUSA approached him, he did what he would not have done had my mother still been alive. He accepted their offer to fully fund him, allowing him to bury himself in his work, the only outlet he had for his grief.”

  “Did you know at the time about MEDUSA?”

  Marie shook her head. “There was very little contact between us then. I was not allowed home for holidays. It was a very lonely existence, which is, perhaps, why I threw myself as much into my studies as he did into his work. Now, there were two changes about that time which made me suspect some kind of alteration had occurred in Papa’s situation.”

  “And they were?” Slaughter prompted.

  “First, there were the fees for my school,” Marine explained. “My parents were not wealthy. While we never wanted for anything of a material nature, there was no excess. I attended a private school in Paris while my mother was alive, but fees were always difficult. My parents tried to hide the sacrifices they made, but I knew. When I was sent out of the country…” She paused. “…sent away so he would not have to look at me, the financial difficulties continued, but more so, due to the increased fees. After a few months, though, not only were all fees paid, including those in arrears, but I was sent an allowance. My status improved, the school now providing tutors and moving me out of the ‘poverty row’ dormitory into a private room, such as was enjoyed by the daughters of royalty and fortune. I tried to find out what had changed, but, as I said, there was little contact between us.”

  “What was the second thing?” Slaughter asked.

  “As far as I knew, my father was a government scientist, but his sudden surfeit of money argued against it,” she replied. “I still had friends in Paris, and that was how I discovered he had all but quit his post. Then he vanished entirely, I received the note I showed you, and I left to look for him.” She paused. “And that was when I came across the first indications of MEDUSA. As rumors became whispers, I began traveling under an alias.” She sighed. “And it was also then that I began to fear the worst for my father.”

  He patted he soft hand, then quickly drew back, though she did not. “How did you learn of your father’s death?”

  “Since I never spent any money sent me, and the school was forced to return excess funds when I left to seek employment, I had a considerable amount of money at my disposal,” she explained. “I bought information.” Her eyes glinted like hard blue marbles. “People are more than ready to help you when you have money. It was through one of those sources that I learned he was on Mars, and through another he was dead. Then I heard about you.”

  He nodded. “Do you know how your father died?”

  “No,” she answered. “Will you tell me?” When he did not immediately reply, she said: “If it is a matter of money, I can…”

  He cut her off with a quick and dismissive gesture of his hand. For an instant, he felt white-hot anger toward this young girl. How could she think he would not help her simply because it was the decent thing to do? In an instant, however, his fury shifted to all the people who had in the past several months taken advantage of her desperation. Then he turned his rage upon himself. Since meeting her, what kindness had he offered beyond muttering an expression of condolence? If she thought him no different than the others she had encountered in her quest, whose fault was that but his own?

  Slaughter looked to the girl, saw she was cringing slightly from the expression on his face. He composed himself, but she was slow in her recovery.

  “I beg your pardon, Mlle Poulpe…Marie,” he said softly. He reached into the inside pocket of his coat and retrieved the report he had received from Mars, but made sure the litho stayed where it was. “Perhaps you should read this, if you feel able. It is the report of your father’s death in Syrtis Major.”

  She reached for the folded parchment, tried to take it, but he held on. “No, I would rather know,” she assured him. “It cannot say anything worse than what I have fashioned in my mind since I was told of his death.” She forced a smile. “Please. I will be all right.”

  He released the parchment, watched her face carefully as she unfolded it and started to read. The language of the report was, he knew, dry and straightforward, the personal act of murder reduced to an impersonal account of discoveries and events, clues and suppositions, the arid tone of all police reports, no matter what the planet. Her hands trembled s
lightly, but the moisture that appeared in her eyes did not become tears. She looked away, and Slaughter knew she did not see the river before them, nor the towers or airship-filled skies of Paris. Finally she refolded the parchment along its creases and returned it to Slaughter.

  “Thank you, Chief Inspector Slaughter,” she murmured, still not looking at him.

  “I am very sorry.”

  She turned to him. “Are you really? You never knew my father and you did not know me till this morning, and that was under less that salubrious circumstances.”

  “All true, Marie,” Slaughter admitted. “But I know what it is to lose a loved one. People tell you, you will get over it, but the truth is you never really do. The memory ages, it becomes softer, but it never vanishes, and though the ache may become duller with the passage of time, it aches nonetheless.”

  “But, as far as you and your masters know, my father was just a criminal,” she said, “who died because of his own lawless actions. I believe the English call it ‘death by misadventure,’ do they not?”

  “No, we call it murder, and we will find out who did it, whether it was committed by someone connected with this MEDUSA group or someone else,” he promised her.

  She smiled at his earnest tone. “You must do as you are told. When your masters learn of MEDUSA, what will they care about the death of Professor Jean Louis Poulpe?”

  “It does not matter what they care,” Slaughter replied, locking her gaze with his own. “I care. I will find his murderer.”

  “But he died on Mars.”

  “When the tapestry of a man’s life is destroyed, loose threads go everywhere, despite the best efforts of the godless.” He smiled. “He lived and worked here. Those threads might connect up. If they do, I will follow them wither they go.”

  “I do not understand why you are helping me, but I very much appreciate it.” Then she uttered a small sigh. “I am not even sure why I am looking for those…loose threads, as you say. As I said, he was always distant to me, except for a natural fondness.”

  “He loved you.”

  “How can you be sure?”