by Chris Paton
Luise laughed. “Perhaps from a distance. You have a big head, Hari Singh.”
“Truly,” Hari smiled. Tying the scarf in a thin knot he nodded at Luise. “Ready?”
“Yes.” Luise slipped the satchel over her shoulder and followed Hari as they weaved their way between the caravans and trailers, workbenches and pulleys littering the steamracers’ camp.
“Look there,” Luise pointed at the group of men inspecting the steamracers. Assistants held parasols above the men’s heads as they moved along the line. The men gave the blood red racer a cursory glance before moving on to a more thorough inspection of the next in line. “Did you see that?”
“What?” Hari leaned against the trunk of the tree behind which they hid.
“They practically ignored that red one. I bet that is Romney’s.” Luise tapped Hari on the chest. “Robshaw told you they were going to smuggle my machine out of London using a steamracer, yes?”
“He did.”
“Then that is the one.”
“Miss Luise,” Hari gripped Luise by the elbow as she started toward the line of steamracers. “You cannot remove it. They will notice it is gone, and we do not have a means of escape. Not yet.”
“I don’t intend to remove it, Hari.” Luise opened her satchel and removed the crab-shaped device. “I am going to add something to it.” Twisting the top of the device in her hand, Luise wound the drum through a series of clicks until the mechanism locked in place. Luise pulled the peak of her cap low and dipped her head.
The group of officials inspecting the racers grumbled at the rain and moved down the line. They began their inspection of the second to last steamracer as Luise reached the Wallendorf racer. Casting a quick glance at the steamracer, Luise spied the cylinder at the rear of the globus tank. Noticing the racing green steamracer in front of Romney’s had no such cylinder, Luise crouched in front of it and opened it. She smiled at the sight of the impediment machine. Screwing the countdown mechanism into the top of it, Luise lifted the locking pin into the start position and closed the lid of the cylinder, muffling the tiny whirring of metal clicking inside. She smiled and stepped away from the racer.
“Miss Hanover?”
Luise started as a small man took her by the arm and pulled her away from the racers.
“I did not think I would see you here. I thought I told Hari to take you far away?”
“Mr. Smith?” Luise whispered.
“Yes,” Smith walked faster, “although you would not think it to look at me.”
“Your clothes are...”
“Are appropriate to my disguise.” Smith lifted his head and winked at Luise. “And a little less appealing to the eye.”
“Or the nose.”
“Quite.” Smith stopped at the line of trees as Hari stepped out from behind the trunk of a large beech tree.
“Mr. Smith,” Hari dipped his head.
“Hello, Hari.” Smith let go of Luise’s arm. “What were you doing with the steamracer, Miss Hanover?”
“Do you remember the device I found back in the laboratory? Well, I just attached it my machine. The vertebrae should start to spin within the next half hour.”
“Initiating the shadow vortex?” Smith frowned.
“And slowing time. Although,” Luise paused. “I have never tried to start the device when moving. I don’t know quite what will happen.”
“But what is your intention, Miss Hanover?”
“The theory, Mr. Smith, is that the steamracer should phase into slow time and allow Hari and I to catch up with it somewhere along the circuit,” she grinned at Hari. “When we have found a suitable means of escape.”
“And how will you do that?”
“We will need a racer.” Luise turned to stare at the racers’ camp behind them. “Perhaps we will find more than clothes in the camp. Come on, Hari. We need to get into this race.”
“And I need to get back to my position. I have people positioned along the entire circuit. You will spot them easily, or smell them,” Smith shrugged.
“What about the men on horseback – the Hussars?”
“I don’t know about them; I have yet to see Reginald. But I can only assume that the Admiral’s meeting with the queen went well.” Smith turned at a cheer from the crowd. “Be quick now,” he shooed Hari and Luise toward the camp. “The race is about to begin.”
҉
Romney marched away from Robshaw and the other drivers toward the line of steamracers. Snatching the map from inside her jacket, she threw it to the ground. Tossing her fiery red hair over her shoulders, Romney pulled the goggles firmly onto her face and climbed into the cockpit of the steamracer. The blood red panels paled beneath the fury of her hair and the passion in her cheeks. Romney gripped the wheel.
The thump of Bremen’s cane vibrated through the bonnet as the German rolled the pommel all the way to the windshield. Reaching into the cockpit, Bremen pressed the crumpled map against Romney’s chest.
“You dropped something.” Bremen stared at Romney with his left eye.
Romney looked straight ahead. She reached for the throttle handle. The whistle of each steamracer merged into a blast of pent-up energy about to be unleashed.
“Stick to the plan, Romney. I would hate for anything to happen to you or your father.”
Romney flicked her eyes toward Bremen’s face and back to the Marshall as he sent a small boy into the middle of the road, the checked flag flapping in the light breeze.
“I know what I have to do.” Romney gripped the clutch lever on the gear shift and opened the throttle. Bremen took a step away from the racer as the boy lifted the flag.
“I’ll see you in Frankfurt,” Bremen leaned upon his cane.
Romney fixed her eyes upon the flag. She waited for the boy’s tell, that little gesture signalling the start of the race. As the boy flicked his eyes to the Race Marshall, Romney opened the throttle, slammed the racer into first gear and roared to the head of the pack.
Chapter 14
The Greater London Derby, Horse Guards Road
London, England
May, 1851
Romney crunched the steamracer from second through third and into the fourth and final gear. A flick of her eyes to the left revealed a flash of racing green as Robshaw pushed the nose of his steamracer parallel with Romney’s rear wheel. Gritting her teeth, she turned the steering wheel hard to the left, forcing Robshaw to back off. Glancing to her right, Romney watched as Lanteri slipped through the gap she created when jousting with Robshaw. Romney cursed.
The smoke and coal dust pluming from the back of the Italian’s steamracer smeared the pores of Romney’s skin, hiding her freckles beneath a grey film pitted with specks of mud thrown up from the racer’s wheels.
Romney pushed the nose of her steamracer within a foot of the Italian’s. Feinting to the left, she released the first cylinder of pellets into the steamracer’s furnace and steered the bloody nose down the right hand side of the Italian. The smoke pouring from Romney’s steamracer plumed a brilliant white as the fast-burning wood pellets kicked her into first place. Romney shook her fist at Lanteri, gripped the wheel and opened the throttle.
҉
“Not on your life,” Luise shoved Hari away from the cockpit of the steamracer. “You can’t drive, Hari. Just get it started.”
“I can do that.” Hari and Luise turned as a German mechanic stepped out of the caravan next to the racer. Hari’s fingers darted to the handle of his kukri. “There’s no need f-for that. I can help you. If you tell me why I should.”
“What is your name?” Luise stared at the German.
“My name is Dieter.” He gestured at the crowd of Germans moving supplies from the caravans to the trailers behind him. “I am not with them. Tell me why I should help you?”
Luise glanced at Hari. She climbed out of the cockpit and took a step closer to Dieter. Hari rested his hand on his kukri. “My name is Luise Hanover. They,” she pointed at the Germans, “too
k something from me. I need this steamracer to get it back.”
Dieter nodded. “That is f-fair. They also took something from me.” He pulled a pair of goggles from his back pocket. “Are you driving? You will need these.” Pushing the goggles into Luise’s hands, Dieter walked across to the steamracer. He opened the metal door to the furnace at the rear of the tank, lit a sawdust brick with a match from his pocket and closed the door. “It will take a moment.” Dieter gestured at the cockpit. “If-f you will climb in.”
“Miss Luise,” Hari placed a hand on Luise’s arm. “There is not enough room for two.” He pointed at the driver’s seat. “I will find alternative transport.”
“Hari,” Luise gripped Hari’s hand and pulled him closer. She smoothed Hari’s beard with her hand. “Never a dull moment,” the corners of Luise’s mouth dimpled into a broad smile.
“Truly.” Hari held Luise’s hand as she climbed into the cockpit.
“As soon as I move onto the track, they will know we are here.” Luise pointed at the scarf bound around Hari’s turban. “That looks ridiculous. Take it off. It has served its purpose.”
Hari reached up and tugged the scarf free of his turban. He tossed it onto the ground.
“Better,” Luise nodded. “Dieter,” she turned to the German, “is this the throttle?”
“Ja,” he leaned inside the cockpit. “Here is the gear shif-ft and that is the brake.”
Luise pressed her foot upon the brake pedal. “It is very stiff.”
“Ja,” Dieter smiled. “She never used it.”
“Who?”
“Romney Wallendorf. This is her old racer,” Dieter tapped a lever next to the throttle, “with a f-few improvements. This is an injector. I stole some pellets from Herr Bremen. It is f-fully f-fuelled.”
“Right.” Luise removed the cap from her head and positioned the goggles over her eyes. The exhaust valve whistled and a head of smoke puffed out of the smokestack at the rear of the steamracer.
“You are ready.” Dieter beckoned Hari closer. “We must push her out onto the road.”
“Of course.” Hari leaned close to Luise as he slid his fingers around the pushing handle. “How long before the machine starts to slow time?”
Luise rested her head against Hari’s turban. “Not long now.”
“You will be good, Miss Luise?” The wheels of the steamracer began to turn as they pushed. Dieter turned the steering wheel guiding the racer out of the camp and into the road.
“I will.” Her eyes creased into a wrinkle of mischief. “And if I can’t be good, Hari Singh?”
“Then you must be careful, Miss Luise.” Hari stopped pushing as Dieter rapped the bonnet with his knuckles. Hari looked up. He pointed at the crowd. “Do you see the Hussar in the crowd on the right?”
Luise turned to look in the direction Hari was pointing. “Yes.”
“His horse is nervous. It is fidgeting. I want you to drive very close and very fast past the crowd.”
“You mean to take the horse? Didn’t you just say the horse was nervous?”
“Yes,” Hari winked. “Miss Luise, there are many things I cannot do,” he tapped the steering wheel. “And there are other things I can do very well indeed.” Hari nodded at the German mechanic. “Thank you for your help, Dieter.”
“Ja, it is my pleasure.”
“Then I must be going.” Hari dipped his head and bowed to Luise. Removing the heavy jacket, Hari tossed it to the ground and jogged toward the crowd.
Luise wiped the goggles with the sleeve of her jacket and gripped the gear lever. Opening the throttle, she shifted into first gear, pointing the nose of the steamracer toward the crowd as Hari slipped behind it.
The crowd fled like sparrows from a hawk as Luise roared toward them. The Hussar cursed, calming his horse with claps upon its neck and soothing words whispered into its ear. Hari leaped up by the side of the Hussar, gripped the man by his sword belt and pulled himself up onto the horse’s back. The Hussar wobbled in the saddle. Hari pitched him onto the ground. The crowd scattered as the horse bucked and kicked. Gripping the reins, Hari held on as the horse galloped down the track in the wake of Luise’s steamracer.
҉
“Herr Bremen,” Hannah pushed through the umbrella crowd and pointed at the track. “Look. It is the Indian.” Bremen batted the umbrella from the hands of the spectator in front of him and stared. “What do you want me to do?”
Bremen held his breath, the knuckles of his good hand turning as white as the bandage on his left. “Nothing.” He scanned the crowd. At the sight of a Hussar trotting onto the track, Bremen pushed through the crowd and leaped over the flimsy wooden railing erected the previous night. Bremen ran over to the Hussar with Hannah right behind him.
“Stop there,” the Hussar commanded and drew his sword.
“Give me your horse,” Bremen gripped the reins.
“I am a Hussar in the service of...”
“Yes, I know.” Bremen dropped his cane and pulled a snublock pistol from his jacket pocket. Levelling the pistol at the Hussar’s chest, Bremen pulled the trigger. The man slumped in the saddle. Holding onto the reins, Bremen struggled to free the Hussar from the stirrups.
“Let me help you, Herr Bremen.” Hannah gripped the reins as Bremen removed the Hussar’s boots from the stirrup and toppled the man onto the ground.
“Help me up.” Bremen reached for the pommel on the saddle as Hannah lifted his right foot. Lifting his left leg over the back of the horse, Bremen settled into the saddle. “Wait for me at the dirigible.” Bremen kicked the horse with his heels and galloped down the race track.
҉
Racing into a crowd-free stretch of the race circuit, Robshaw opened the injector cylinder as Romney and Lanteri fought for pole position. Entering the lazy bend halfway into the first lap, Robshaw opened the throttle and steamed past Lanteri. Drawing parallel with Romney, their racers but a few feet apart, Robshaw shouted above the whistling engines, “You are supposed to lose, Romney.”
Romney flicked her eyes at Robshaw and reached for the injector handle. As she pulled she felt the rear of the steamracer drift. Twisting in her seat, Romney watched as a luminous funnel began to spin on a horizontal axis around the globus tank. The funnel pitched into a vertical trajectory, increasing the diameter of spin to envelop the entire globus tank, the seat back and then the cockpit of Romney’s steamracer. Romney opened her mouth to scream as two luminescent heads appeared over the lip of the funnel and crawled down the outside toward her.
Robshaw raced into the lead, leading the pack of steamracers as Lanteri slipped past Romney’s racer, challenging him for first place. The remainder of the racers steamed past Romney as she slewed into the side of the circuit and crashed into a tree.
Crawling along the back of the racer, the female demon twisted around Romney, straddling the bonnet in front of her. Romney’s mouth froze, her lips caught in a slow exclamation, her words slowed beyond hearing. The racing goggles hanging around her neck, she gripped the steering wheel. The demon flicked her eyes at her mate and drifted closer to Romney, settling upon her lap in the close confines of the cockpit. Dissolving into tendrils of blue matter, the demon drifted into Romney’s body through her nose, her mouth, eyes and the very pores of her skin. The female was absorbed into Romney’s body, disappearing completely as Luise steamed around the corner. Dirt sprayed from the wheels as Luise slowed the steamracer to a gradual stop, drifting toward the shadow vortex spinning around the Wallendorf racer.
҉
Hari slowed the horse to a stop as he approached Luise. Sliding out of the saddle, he walked the short distance to where Luise waited, her fingers in her ears, just outside the perimeter of the vortex. Hari pressed his palms over his ears and stood beside her.
Luise pointed at the male demon with her elbow. She shouted, “It’s the same demon as last time. I think the female is inside Romney. Look how she can move inside the shadow vortex. She is not slowed at all.”
“They don’t like that,” she shouted. Hari covered his ears with his hands.
Hari turned at the vibration of hooves in the ground. Stepping in front of Luise, Hari let go of his ears and drew the kukri from its scabbard. He pointed it at Bremen as the German dismounted and walked toward them.
“I don’t want you, Hari Singh. I don’t even want her,” Bremen pointed at Luise. “But I do want them.” Bremen walked to the point of Hari’s blade until the tip pressed against his sternum. He peered around Hari at the demon. “Magnificent. And Romney, such a change.”
The wail of the vortex dropped a pitch as the male demon smiled and beckoned Bremen to come closer. Luise removed her hands from her ears as Bremen stepped around Hari’s blade.
“No,” Luise reached for Bremen’s arm. “Don’t go near them.” Bremen brushed her away and continued walking all the way to the perimeter of the vortex. As the funnel continued to spin around the Wallendorf racer, the male demon placed his palms against the transparent wall. “No,” Luise took a step forward. Hari gripped her jacket and pulled her to a stop.
The male demon mimicked Bremen’s movements on the outside of the vortex. He smiled. Bremen took a step closer. Perched on top of the globus tank, Romney pulled off her goggles and freed her hair. The fiery strands billowed in the vacuum of the slow vortex. She licked her top lip with the tip of her tongue. Bremen walked to the very edge of the perimeter, placed his palms against those of the male demon’s and slipped inside the vortex.
Slipping off the tank, Romney embraced Bremen from behind, wrapping her arms across his chest, clasping her hands over his sternum as the male demon whisped into the same blue tendrils that had invaded Romney’s body. When Bremen’s body had completely absorbed the male demon, he turned within Romney’s embrace, gripped the back of her neck with one powerful hand and kissed her fully on the mouth. Romney ran her hands through Bremen’s thinning hair, tugged at his ears and kissed his eyes, nose, his cheeks. She peeled the bandages from his face and hand. Bremen’s skin healed, glowing a pale blue as the vortex diminished.
