by Chris Paton
“Should I go first?” Luise moved to open the door.
“No,” Hari stepped past her. “If anything were to happen to you...”
“What?”
“Let’s just say your brother has changed since you last saw him. It is better that I do not bring him bad news.”
Yuu tapped the bokken on the floor.
“I am on my way,” Hari scowled at Yuu and stepped through the doorway. Luise recoiled at the crackle of lightning batons and the blister of green sparks that bit at the door frame as Hari shuddered to the ground.
Chapter 6
HM Prison, Coldbath Fields
London, England
May, 1851
Tumbling out of the steam carriage, Egmont cursed his brass leg as he staggered after Smith. Captain Willard strode beside the Admiral as Boyce, directing the few men under Willard’s command, organised a tight cordon around the body twitching upon the broad stone steps of the service door of the prison.
“Don’t harm the girl,” Egmont shouted as he neared the steps. “See to it, Captain.”
“Right away, sir,” Willard threw a half salute and charged up to his men.
Smith pushed through the cordon of sailors. Shoving at the prison guards gloating over their prize, he cleared a space around Hari. The wiry old man glanced up at the sky as the shadow of a hawk cut the air above the men’s heads. Kneeling, he pressed his palm upon Hari’s chest as the twitching subsided and Hari opened his eyes.
“Hello, Hari,” Smith pressed his palms together, pointed his thumbs toward his chest, and made a slight bow.
“Mr. Manningheim,” Hari blinked.
“Call me, Smith, Hari.”
“Mr. Smith,” Hari looked up as the men standing in a tight circle around him ducked beneath the powerful beat of wings. “Shahin,” Hari smiled.
“Hari?” Luise knelt beside the mystic and took his hand between her own.
“I am all right, Miss Luise,” Hari pushed himself into a sitting position.
“Easy now, lads,” Boyce placed his hands on the shoulders of a prison guard sergeant. “He will come quietly.”
“That’s not your call, mate,” the sergeant brushed Boyce’s hand from his shoulder.
“Maybe not,” Boyce agreed. “But my captain and the Admiral,” he waved his thumb toward Egmont as he reached the bottom step. “They might disagree with you there.”
“Everything all right, Boyce?” Egmont stepped between the wall of his men and stared at Hari sitting on the top step. “Is this Singh? The Nightjar?”
“It is,” Smith stood and clasped his hands behind his back.
“Doesn’t look like much,” Egmont frowned. “He’s the one you sent after young Jamie?”
“The very one.” The corner’s of Smith’s mouth twitched. “He’s a little out of his element. Aren’t you, Hari?”
“Well...”
“A little too far from the mountains?”
“Truly.”
“Admiral,” Luise let go of Hari and stood up. Brushing her skirt, she opened her mouth to speak.
“Hold that thought, Luise,” Egmont waved a finger in the air. “I wouldn’t want you to go off all half-cocked, again.”
“Again?” Luise stared at the Admiral.
Egmont nodded at the door to the prison.
“Ah, yes,” she blushed. “I can wait.”
“Good girl,” Egmont turned to address Captain Willard. “See if you can’t organise things here, Willard.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Get these fellows back to work and...” Egmont placed his hand on the captain’s shoulder.
“Sir?” Willard turned to look in the direction the Admiral was staring.
“Hari?” Smith pointed. “Who is that old man?”
Hari leaned to one side to look around the legs of the prison guards. “Who, sir? I don’t see anyone.”
“Come now, Hari,” Smith widened the gap and pointed at a small, barefoot man carrying a wooden sword scuttling past the steam carriage and out of the back gate of Coldbath Fields. “That man there.”
Hari pushed himself to his feet as more prison guards emerged from the guard station inside the gate. Batons drawn, they chased after the escaped convict. “That would be Yuu,” Hari smiled. “They won’t catch him.”
“Friend of yours?” Smith placed a steadying hand upon Hari’s arm as he swayed upon the steps.
“Truly,” Hari nodded.
“Watch out,” Boyce stepped in front of Smith as Shahin beat her way between the men and settled on Hari’s outstretched wrist.
“Another friend, Hari?” Smith leaned forward to admire the hawk as she picked at Hari’s beard with her beak.
“Yes,” Hari smoothed a crooked finger over the hawk’s breast. Straightening his robes with his blistered right hand, Hari bowed to Smith. “Hari Singh, reporting for duty.”
“It has been a long time, Hari Singh,” Smith took Hari’s elbow and guided him between the sailors and prison guards toward the Admiral’s carriage. “Come, we have a lot to catch up on.”
“Luise,” Egmont offered his arm and Luise slipped her hand around it.
“Thank you, Admiral.”
“Gentlemen,” Egmont led Luise past the prison guards. “I think we’ve enjoyed Her Majesty’s hospitality quite enough for one day. I trust I won’t have to mention any of this to your superiors?”
“Well, sir...” the sergeant started.
“My thoughts exactly,” Egmont tapped Willard on the shoulder as he walked past him. “Smooth things over here, Captain. I will get a message to you later.”
“Yes, sir,” Willard bowed his head.
“Be prepared. We have a busy night ahead of us, I’ll wager.”
Luise smiled at the posse of guards as they wheezed through the prison gates empty-handed. She stepped up onto the running board of the steam carriage and squeezed onto the cushioned bench next to Hari and the hawk. Shahin fluttered her wings, the feathers brushing Luise’s face and shoulders as she sat down.
“She’s a bit feisty,” Luise leaned her head back against the carriage interior to escape Shahin’s flapping.
“Truly, Miss Luise,” Hari made an effort to calm the hawk. “She has been nothing but trouble.”
“What’s that, Hari?” Smith leaned forward from bench opposite. “Trouble, did you say?”
“Yes, sir.”
“There’ll be plenty more, Hari. Don’t you worry,” Smith nodded at Egmont as the Admiral entered the carriage. With a slap of his pudgy hand on the side of the carriage, Egmont signalled for the driver to leave. He closed the carriage window and leaned back on the bench.
As the carriage exited the back gate of the prison, a black-clad figure with a grey woollen cap ducked his head behind the small crowd of onlookers. The man waited until the carriage was clear of the gates before striding along the road in the direction of the Thames, pulling up his collar as it began to rain.
҉
Armbrüster tugged at the brim of his hat and leaned forward to release the rain pooling around the band. Digging his hands deep inside his coat, he fished a packet of thin black cigars and a box of matches from the pockets. He lit one and offered it to the man standing beside him.
“Dim diolch,” the man shook his head and continued to stare at the dimly-lit building on the opposite side of the street.
Armbrüster slipped the cigars and matches back inside his pocket and tugged the collar of his coat snugly around his neck.
“Herr?” Armbrüster puffed smoke around the butt of the cigar between his lips. “What is your name?”
The man turned to look at Armbrüster. He extended a firm hand with thick black hairs protruding from the skin below his knuckles. “Blaidd,” he nodded as he shook the German’s hand. Armbrüster moved to pull his hand free. Blaidd gripped it tighter. “Don’t forget, eh?”
“Jawol,” Armbrüster agreed. “I won’t forget.”
“Good,” Blaidd let go of Armbr�
�ster’s hand and continued his vigil. He pointed at the rusty sign swinging in the breeze blowing along the wet street. “Old Pye Polytechnic. Too cheap to mend the sign, eh?”
“Ja,” Armbrüster massaged his hand.
“You all right?” Blaidd tapped the German’s hand. “Did I hurt you?”
“Nein, nein,” Armbrüster shook his head.
“Yes, I did,” Blaidd cupped his hands to his grizzled cheeks. “What have I done, eh?”
“It is nothing.”
“No, no,” Blaidd grasped Armbrüster’s hand between his own. “Here?” he pressed each of the German’s knuckles between thick fingers and thumbs.
“Nein,” Armbrüster stiffened. The cigar fell from his lips, fizzling in a thin whisp of smoke in the puddle at his feet.
“Here, then?” Blaidd dipped his head to stare Armbrüster in the eyes. “It hurts, eh?”
“Ja,” Armbrüster stepped back. “Ja, it hurts.”
Blaidd released the German’s hands and pushed him away with a grin. “Piss off, Kaiser. I work alone. Ja?”
“Herr Bremen insists,” Armbrüster shuffled his feet an arm’s length from Blaidd.
“As do I,” Blaidd stepped forward. “You want me to insist some more?”
“Nein,” Armbrüster stepped back.
“Then wait in the carriage, eh?” Blaidd waved his fingers at the steam carriage parked at the end of the cobbled street. “I told you I work alone.”
“You know what you are looking for?” Armbrüster called over his shoulder as he retreated toward the carriage. Blaidd ignored him.
The rain plastered the black hairs on the back of Blaidd’s hands as he spread them before him. Turning his palms, Blaidd’s lips curled as he traced the azure blue spiral tattooed on his left palm anticlockwise with the middle finger of his right hand. Repeating the action with the spiral burned into his right palm, Blaidd hid the sudden blue glow inside clenched fists and crossed the street.
Stopping beneath the sign swinging above him, Blaidd reached up and wrenched it free of the rusted links of chain tethering it to the wooden walls of the polytechnic. He held the sign in one hand and traced the letters with the other.
“Old Pye Polytechnic,” he whispered. “Department of Chronology.” Blaidd bent down and leaned the sign against the base of the building. The rain trickled off the roof and pattered upon the embossed lettering. Casting a glance at Bremen’s steam carriage, Blaidd picked up the sign and swung it through the ground floor window. He smiled at the crash of glass. Blaidd tugged at the cuff of his sleeve and brushed aside the crystal shards with his fist. Gripping the wooden sill, he crawled inside.
҉
The Admiral’s steam carriage jostled over the cobblestones, splashing pedestrians with London sludge as they bustled along the side of the road. Egmont opened the window and sniffed at the coal dust smogging the air. Smith waved his hand in front of his nose, leaned forward and slid the window shut.
“You don’t like London air, Smith?” Egmont leaned back on the bench and grinned at Luise.
“I don’t like London,” Smith pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his nose. “Will we be arriving soon?”
“Soon,” Egmont tapped the window with his fingers. “This is the largest poorhouse in London. Almsbury Heights,” Egmont let his hand slide down the window and into his lap. “Terrible state of affairs. Dishonourable at best.”
“And yet, it suits our purpose, Egmont. Do remember that. We’ll just have to switch our focus to the Germans.”
“And what purpose might that be, Mr. Smith?” Luise stared over the head of Shahin as the hawk picked at her skirt with its claws.
“I think it best we wait until we are inside before we discuss matters further.” Smith tapped Hari’s knee with a bony fist. “But before we do that, Hari and I need to catch up.”
“Truly,” Hari held out his finger. He smiled at Smith as Shahin nibbled at his knuckle.
The steam carriage slowed at the gates to Almsbury Heights. Sailors in shore uniform stepped up onto the carriage’s running boards. Unfolding large, black umbrellas, they opened the doors. Smith stepped out followed by Hari and Shahin.
“Wait a moment, Luise,” Egmont placed his hand on Luise’s arm. “I’d like a quick word before we go inside.”
“Of course,” Luise sat down.
“Just a moment, lads,” Egmont waited until the sailors had closed the doors. The carriage rocked gently as the men stepped down onto the street. Luise watched as Smith led Hari though the gates and into a side door tucked into the grey brick walls of the poorhouse.
“Admiral?” Luise clasped her hands in her lap.
“What were you thinking, Luise? Going to see a complete stranger in a prison?”
“Hari?”
“Yes, who the bugger else?” Egmont fidgeted for a more comfortable position on the wooden bench. “You told me you were going straight home.”
“And I was, but then I was given a message.”
“From this man Singh?”
“Yes,” Luise pulled the locket out from beneath her blouse. “He gave me this.” Opening the locket, she turned it toward the Admiral.
“She always was a striking woman,” Egmont smiled. “You and Jamie both have...”
“Our mother’s eyes?” Luise turned the locket in the light.”
“Yes,” Egmont sighed. “Did Singh give you that?”
“Yes, and Jamie gave it to him.” Luise traced the picture of her mother with her fingers, closed the locket and slipped it back inside her blouse.
“And that was enough for you to go charging off into Coldbath Fields?”
“It was more than you could give me,” Luise clenched her small fists.
“Damn it, Luise,” Egmont thumped his fist on the wooden bench. “I told you to keep a low profile.”
“Actually, Admiral, you told me very little. You and that strange old man.”
“Smith?” Egmont shook his head and laughed. “Smith is probably giving Hari the same speech right now.”
“And what speech is that?”
“Keeping a low profile. Keeping quiet. Not getting noticed. Singh seems to have forgotten all about that.”
“He said Jamie sent him to look out for me.”
“Really?” Egmont raised an eyebrow. “Jamie sent him?”
“Yes.”
“So your brother is alive?” Egmont frowned.
“Yes,” Luise hesitated. “At least I think so. We have not had time to talk, Mr Singh and I.”
“Too busy effecting a jailbreak?”
Luise smiled. “Something like that.” She leaned forward and put her hand on Egmont’s knee. “You don’t think I planned that, do you?”
“Luise, dear,” Egmont patted her hand. “No, I don’t think you planned that. But neither do I think you should have gone there.”
“Admiral,” Luise pulled her hand from his grasp. “What would you have done?”
Egmont sucked at his teeth. He opened his mouth to speak.
“Hah,” Luise pointed at him “You would have done exactly as I did.”
“That is not the issue, Luise...”
“Don’t deny it.” Luise fell silent and looked out of the window. A flicker of movement caught her eye and she watched as Shahin took off from Hari’s arm and circled the steam carriage. “They are coming back.”
“That was quick,” Egmont leaned forward. He reached forward and opened the door. “We were just on our way inside.”
“No time for that,” Smith pushed his way inside the steam carriage. “One of your men brought in one of the poorhouse workers. She gave her report...”
“And?” Egmont leaned back as Hari entered the carriage.
“Miss Hanover,” Smith tapped a finger upon his lips. “This machine of yours.”
“Prototype,” Luise nodded.
“Yes, a prototype. Is it finished? Does it work?”
“I wouldn’t say it is finished...”
<
br /> “But does it work?” Smith pinched his bottom lip between his finger and thumb.
“Yes,” Luise glanced at Egmont. “Just like I described it to you.”
Smith fell back against the backboard with a thump. “They know about it.” He turned to Egmont. “They are after it.”
“Who?” Luise flapped her hands as Shahin flew into the carriage. “Who is after what?”
“Your machine, Miss Luise,” Hari calmed Shahin as the hawk settled on his forearm. “Jamie mentioned you had made some kind of scientific breakthrough.”
“Jamie?” Luise fidgeted in her seat. “What has Jamie got to do with this?”
“Nothing,” Smith spread his hands in front of Luise. “Absolutely nothing. But the same men who Jamie and Hari met in the mountains...”
“Want my invention?”
“Yes,” Smith glanced at Egmont. “How fast can we get to Miss Hanover’s laboratory?”
Pushing past Egmont’s knees, Luise stood up, pulled down the window and leaned out into the rain. “Driver?”
“Yes, Miss?”
“27 Old Pye Street. As fast as you can,” Luise ducked back inside the carriage. Falling onto the bench as the driver crunched the carriage into first gear, she stared at the three men. “What?”
“Nothing, Miss Luise,” Hari’s eyes widened in the half-gloom of the carriage. “Only...”
“Only?”
“Your determination inspires me,” Hari bowed his head. “You have your brother’s spirit, and more besides.”
The carriage bumped along the cobbles, the steam engine whistling as it gained speed and the driver pressed on toward Old Pye Polytechnic.
҉
Blaidd climbed through the broken window and kicked at the shards of glass scattered on the floorboards beneath the sill. Removing his hat, he ran a hairy hand through his thick, matted hair. Blaidd set his hat on top of a conical glass flask and picked his way around the laboratory.
Twice, he stopped and tugged heavy drawers onto the floor and sorted through the broken contents. Blaidd sneered as a broken glass stirring stick broke the skin of his little finger. He tossed the broken stirrer over his shoulder.
