by Mark C. King
Interrupting his thoughts the stranger added, “Besides the obvious advantages, there is another group that would like very much for it to be false. Can you imagine what would happen to the Coal Union if this claim proved to be true? Some very powerful people would lose a lot of money, perhaps even lead to bankruptcy. This group has close ties with many in the government and may also be in the mix to get exclusive control of this item. You see Sigmund, this meeting may have profound repercussions. Again, if the fuel is real, it must be handled appropriately – not by the war faction and not by the Coal Union.”
“How do I know that what you are saying is true? Perhaps you want it for yourself, to get rich. Maybe you are part of the Coal Union or this war faction you are talking about…”
“I assure you, Sigmund, that my motives are pure and for the benefit of the empire. I am not part of the Coal Union and have no desire for war and loss of life. I cannot produce any evidence that can prove for or against anything I claim, not without revealing things that I cannot reveal. You will have to take my word as an Englishman.”
That wasn’t going to be enough, Sigmund thought. Still, trying to clear his head of the potential of all that was just said and focus back on the practical aspects of this visit. “What if I refuse, you will send me to jail?”
“That would be the beginning. But I’m not convinced that jail is enough of a motivation for you.” Sigmund looked at the dark stranger curiously. “So I will motivate you in an additional way. If you will not do it for yourself, and if you will not do it for the Empire, then do it for you sister, Alexis.”
Sigmund’s anger grew, but his countenance fell. This was the ultimate argument, one that he could not counter. He was bested. “The Empire is threating one of its own citizens? A woman, my sister?”
“It is regrettable, but yes. There are countless lives at stake, so the lives of one or two citizens do not tip the scales in their favor. We are talking about preventing war, Mr. Shaw. I will go to great lengths to achieve that.”
Sigmund stared at this dark stranger with utter contempt. He wanted to hit the man, to throw him out on the street. But the mention of his sister was more than he could surmount. A small part of him gave attention to the proposed payment after this meeting – perhaps it was a way to help Sarah, after all. A small ray of light in this otherwise dark cloud.
With a resigning sigh, Sigmund asked, “What do I need to know?”
6.
The rhythmic sounds of the train along the tracks made the already weary Doctor Erhard Koehler struggle to keep his eyes open. The scientist, along with his colleague, Doctor Alfred Steinhauser, sat across from each other as the English scenery rolled by in the muted light of a foggy morning.
They were less than an hour from London, their final destination. Koehler continued to fight to keep awake, clutching his travel case close to his chest – it had never left his or Steinhauser’s side the entire trip from Berlin. Koehler would have envied Steinhauser’s sleep more but it was clearly not a restful one. The seats were not comfortable and he kept waking up every few minutes.
Without warning Steinhauser sat upright and grimaced at the window next to him. He too was travel weary and anxious to be at a room with a decent bed. Koehler asked, “Are you second guessing our decision to not travel by Zeppelin?”
They had discussed the more comfortable Zeppelin ride versus a longer, more uncomfortable route by land, but had decided eventually on the safer choice. “I believe that our choice was the correct one. But this was, admittedly, a tiring journey. I hope you are not complaining! You are younger than me by more than ten years.”
Koehler smiled. “No, I’m not complaining. I agree that this was the correct, albeit uncomfortable, choice. But do you have any second thoughts as to what we are doing?”
“Ja, I have nothing but second thoughts. If we are found out we are as good as dead – perhaps worse. Our legacy, our names, our families would be ruined.”
“You worry about our names?” asked Koehler, a little surprised.
“Some. But the greater concern is the world. It sounds so pompous to talk in such great terms but I don’t believe that what we are doing is on any less of a scale. What we have created is wonderful but now feels like an apocalypse. I know of the good that can come of it but I can’t focus on anything but the bad. Are we wise to not simply destroy it?”
Koehler nodded, not in answer to the question, but in the sharing of it. This conversation had been had many times between them but it was good to hear it again as reassurance of his own doubts. He too felt the weight of their discovery. It would change everything. It could be terrible pain or a wonderful helper. It just needed the correct handling and introduction to society.
Koehler always knew that he would create wonderful things. As a child his father was a tinkerer, always fixing things for people. His mother spent much of her time writing wonderful stories of champions and princesses. There was never a dull moment at home, father and mother both were endlessly entertaining. This environment kept his mind creative, something that he carried with him through school and beyond.
His professors at school both admired him and were angered by him. His ideas were original, often brilliant, but also went against the established ideas. But despite the protests he received, he knew he was right.
After graduation he often gave presentations of his thoughts and theories to the scientific community, presentations that became quite popular for their originality. It was at one of these that he met Alfred Steinhauser.
He and Alfred were so different but so perfect for each other. Alfred was all about the rules and procedures, where Koehler was about philosophy and expanding current norms. Within an hour of meeting, Alfred has offered him a job. It turned out that Alfred was wealthy and had his own lab. There, Koehler would be free to try out his ideas without being hindered by rigid company or school policies. The added benefit was that Steinhauser’s methods were so pure that they balanced his own sometimes lack of protocol.
It was through this combination of creative science that they discovered what was now secured in the case on his lap. Koehler looked back at his friend, bags under his eyes, hair somewhat disheveled and said, “We still have nearly an hour before arrival. Why don’t you try and get a little more sleep.”
* * *
Sigmund woke very late the next morning. At least he thought it was morning. A look at his pocket watch verified that is was indeed still the A.M. – barely. He had a restless night thinking about all that happened, turning over the information again and again in his mind. An empty jewelry box, a ruse, the dark stranger, and blackmail. But it all really came down to the same thing: do what he was told or his sister may be hurt. He had no options – maybe others would have called the bluff but he knew he couldn’t. Taking care of Alexis was his life.
The thoughts of providence that Jamison promoted had now turned to thoughts of fate – the dark relative of providence. Still, besides all of the intrigue, there was one positive – he may receive the needed funds for Sarah. To keep his mind focused, this thought, helping Sarah, was where he kept his attention.
Sigmund made his way to the stables for another day of work. The London sky was clear and beautiful once again with the good weather generally being reflected in people’s attitudes. Sigmund hardly noticed. His attitude was dictated by the dark stranger and his assignment.
Although getting a late start, his day proved busier than he expected. He couldn’t complain about the fares, but his mind was so preoccupied that he probably would have given people free rides if they hadn’t taken it upon themselves to pay him. He spent the first several hours just thinking about the ramifications of what was asked of him. Could the invention be real? Could he successfully pull this off? Will his sister get hurt because of him?
As the day went on, he felt he was at least making a little progress overcoming his own worried thoughts and turning his attention to the practical steps of the task before him. “Tw
o German scientists will be hosting the meeting at the Charlotte Street Hotel tomorrow night” – this is what the dark stranger had told him. But no room number was known, that was for Sigmund to find out.
The late afternoon sun was casting long shadows across the city. Sigmund would normally try to head back to Harry’s, unless he needed some extra money and took on the theatre crowd, but today he had another stop. A stop that could literally mean the life or death of his sister.
Charlotte Street was like so many other London streets, lined with multi-storied brick buildings, sidewalks, and street lamps. There was a decent amount of traffic, giving to the typical mixture of the clip-clop of horse drawn cabs, the chugging and smoke of their steam brethren, and plenty of people on foot .
Although Sigmund fretted for most of the day, he did spend some time developing an approach to the situation. First and foremost, he needed to gather information about the meeting site and formulate a detailed plan. For the first time that day he felt a little comfortable – doing reconnaissance was a familiar pastime. With so much out of his hands, it felt good to be doing something about the situation that was in his control.
The Charlotte Street Hotel itself was not unknown to Sigmund. In the course of taxiing people around he had visited nearly all of the London hotels, the nice ones and the not so much – at least it felt that way. This hotel was one of the nicer ones. A beautiful arch framed the entrance with its double doors and many paneled windows – a proud British flag watching over all. Stretching away from the entrance in both directions were street level paneled windows that ran the length of the building. The awnings over these windows, combined with the metal tables and chairs, gave the atmosphere of a Parisian café. The first floor ended with a ledge which lead to the rest of the stories, tan bricks with red accent bricks around the windows broke up the monotony of the building and gave it a distinguished look.
Sigmund had seen this building many times but one looks at a building differently when sizing up its strengths and weaknesses. The actual location of the meeting in this building would go a long way to determine the final outcome. Being that his sister’s wellbeing was involved, he had to be absolutely sure of success, which meant he needed much more information than he currently had.
Directing Ham to the side of the road, Sigmund stopped his carriage and gazed at the structure. Different ideas of approach swam through his mind, but without knowing the specific room, all these ideas were for nothing. ‘Scientists from Germany’ Sigmund thought to himself. Perhaps they needed a visit from a fellow countryman. Walking down the sidewalk past the tables and their occupants, drinking their tea and eating their scones, he entered the hotel. Walking up to the front desk, Sigmund, in his best German accent, said, “Herr desk clerk. I am Doctor Alfred Montross from Germany. I am here to meet my colleagues, Herr professors.”
The clerk, a middle aged man with a tightly trimmed mustache, said in a monotone voice, “As you wish doctor. You may head to your colleagues rooms.”
“Danke! I am afraid, Herr manager,” a little buttering up never hurt to grease the wheels, “my colleagues have not had a chance to forward me their room location. Perhaps you may provide this information?”
“Doctor Montross, I am sorry to say that is impossible, we have many guests and I am not aware of any professors or their current whereabouts.” inwardly, Sigmund felt panic. What if the scientists haven’t arrived yet? What if they had arrived but the clerk wasn’t the one who greeted them?
Calming himself down, Sigmund decided to increase the pressure a little. Putting a look of intense concern on his face he said in a downcast voice, “This is most unfortunate. One of the professors, you see, is very sick. He needs a special medicine,” Sigmund patted his empty breast pocket, “else he may, given his the extreme acuteness of his present condition, expire.”
Fighting to control his own amazement, and not wanting to draw the attention of any guests, the clerk leaned forward and said in an excited whisper, “Expire?”
Nodding his head gravely, “Ja.”
“Perhaps you could give me your colleagues name and I can check the register?”
“Of course. His name is Professor Heinsteisman.” Sigmund wondered where that name came from – but it sounded German enough. He watched closely as the hotel clerk ran his finger along the register book looking over the names. Sigmund didn’t know when the scientists would have checked in so he didn’t stop the clerk from going back page after page. Two names had looked promising to Sigmund, a ‘Steinhauser’ and a ‘Faust’ – room twenty-one and forty-five respectively.
After several pages, probably a month’s worth of guests, the clerk looked up and said, “Doctor, I can find no record of a ‘Heinsteisman’ having checked in to the hotel in the past several weeks. Perhaps he is checked in under his associates name?”
“That is possible. Is there a ‘Faust’ that is checked in.”
A look of excitement came over the clerk’s face that quickly turned to disappointment, “Ah, yes, there is a ‘Faust’ checked in. But he is a regular visitor of our hotel – he enjoys the British summers here. I can assure you that he is travelling alone and is not the ‘Faust’ you are hoping to find.”
Sigmund patted his breast pocket again, indicating the phantom medicine, and said, “Herr manager, your help has been appreciated. Rest assured that if something bad happens to the professor, you are not to feel at fault. Auf wiedersehen.” Quickly turning around, Sigmund walked out of the hotel with the desk clerk just staring blankly in his wake.
Now what? There is a better than fair chance that room twenty-one, Steinhauser, is the location of the meeting – but how to be sure? Simply walking up and knocking on the room would be a nice idea, but Sigmund didn’t want to show his face in the hotel lobby again, not at least until there is a changing of the front desk shift. Despite thinking up some elaborate schemes to get around the desk clerk, diversions and such, Sigmund decided to stay with a simple plan – wait until the clerk leaves. Why overthink it?
Time for a bite of supper then – for Sigmund figured on returning no earlier than 8:00 pm. Surely a new shift will have started by then.
Later that night, as the hansom approached the Charlotte Street Hotel, Sigmund looked at his watch, 8:15. He took in his surroundings from the passenger section, having left his own hansom and horse back at the stables with Harry – for he couldn’t keep Ham going all night.
The fog was back in force and the dampness once again brought a muted sheen to everything. Some people were walking about the sidewalks, lone men walking briskly, couples strolling along arm in arm. The road itself was not too busy, an occasional vehicle, horse and steam, but far less than the busier parts of the day. The hotel itself was lit up brightly, light pouring out of its many windows onto the sidewalk outside. This light was accompanied by the brightness of two electric street lamps stationed outside the front of the hotel. Sigmund was not sure of his plan yet for the following night but he already knew that illumination was his enemy.
Leaving the cab behind him with no instructions for the cabbie to stay, Sigmund checked his watch, put it back in his pocket, then crossed the street and approached the front door. To his right and left were many patrons still enjoying the outside tables with their tea and coffees. Before entering, Sigmund casually spied through the windows towards the front desk and saw, to his relief, that there was a different clerk on duty. He entered the front door with a purpose, as if he belonged there, and made his way up the stairs to the second floor. He quickly located room twenty-one, the room for Steinhauser, and after looking up and down the carpeted hallway to make sure it was clear of people, leaned his ear to the door to listen. There was a conversation going on inside but it wasn’t spoken very loudly. Still, Sigmund was fairly sure it was in German, which he did not understand a word. However, it confirmed two things, Germans and at least two people. The dark stranger had mentioned ‘scientists’, plural – this gave Sigmund a little more confidence.
Knock knock. Nothing. Knock knock KNOCK!
The door opened a crack and a voice said quietly but sternly, “What do you want?”
“German? I love Germans!” slurred Sigmund in his best drunk impersonation. “You have something that will change the world” Sigmund paused, “if you brought it with you.”
The eyes of the occupant of room twenty-one took on a very surprised, even worried look. “What do you mean?”
“Why, beer of course! I love German beer! Did you bring some with you?”
“No!” the German responded loudly but not without a little relief in his voice. “Now please leave.”
“But, hic, you haven’t sent Monty out yet,” Sigmund continued, weaving in his stance and over gesticulating. “He told me to meet him here.”
“I do not know anyone by that name, you have the wrong room.”
“No, sir! Room twelve is what he told me,” and pointing at the numbers on the door said, “see… a one and a two – twelve.”
