Split Infinity

by Tony Rattigan

  ***

  Cobb woke several hours later. He groaned and then sat up painfully. I wish people would stop hitting me! he thought. He looked around, he was alone. As he walked slowly up the hill back to the cottage, he stopped outside and looked over the battlefield. It was empty; the antagonists had taken away their fallen comrades. He looked in the cottage just in case but it was as empty of people as the hills outside.

  He went down to the stream and dunked his head in the water to clear it. The horse had run away, probably frightened by the explosions. What was he going to do now? Cobb checked his watch, it was early afternoon. They had several hours head start on him and you could bet they weren’t on foot.

  He sat there for a while recovering his strength before setting off. If he remembered the map correctly, he had to head south to get to Fort Willem, but if he went off course, he could spend days wandering around the moors. He decided his best bet was to head east until he found the loch and then follow it to Fort Willem. It was not like he could miss the Loch, it was a bloody big thing. It was afternoon, so if he kept the sun at his back, he would be heading in roughly the right direction. He set off.

  ***

  Cobb checked his pocket watch. He had been walking for three hours and hadn’t made much progress. He was following the track that led from the cottage, presumably it went somewhere, and so he had stayed on it. Although it wound through the hills it still went in roughly the direction he wanted to go but progress was slow.

  He was getting tired and dispirited when he had an amazing piece of luck, he stepped in some horse shit!

  At first he cursed, then he realised it was fresh horse shit. He prayed silently for a break and carried on walking. The Gods must have been smiling on him for within half an hour he spotted a horse, their horse, from the cottage. It was standing by the edge of the track, eating grass. When it had bolted from the cottage it must have come across the track and being a domesticated animal, it was more used to tracks and roads than running wild across the moors. It had obviously followed the track out of habit.

  Cobb approached it cautiously, trying not to scare it, but if anything the horse seemed pleased to see him, allowing him to grab the reins without shying away. Cobb muttered a prayer of thanks to the Gods, to Magick, to science, to the Tooth Fairy, to animal husbandry and anything else that might have possibly had a bearing on it being there. He jumped up on the horse’s back and headed on down the track.

  An hour or so later he reached Loch Dupp. He turned onto the track leading away to the right, to the south. Despite having spent some time in the Mounted Division of Caledonia Yard he was not an expert rider and not having a saddle on the horse made it difficult to ride, so he had to keep it down to a trot. Progress was slow and Cobb rode for as long as he could until it was too dark to follow the track safely. He pulled the horse over and dismounted. Tying the horse securely to a tree, he lay down by the side of the road, pulled his overcoat tightly around him and fell asleep.

  Friends in High Places

  Cobb rode the horse into Fort Willem. It was a small town at the end of Loch Dupp with one big advantage … a railway station. He figured it was where Won Lungh would take Adele, it was closer than Inverdupp. Fort Willem was situated at the base of a mountain, the largest of the four great peaks of Caledonia: Ben Nevis, the others were Ben Dover, Ben Sherman and Ben Hur.

  It was still early morning; he had set off as soon as it was light enough to see the road. He rode through the town until he found the station. Tethering the horse at the horse trough, he went into the station to find the Station Master.

  He saw him standing at the end of the platform, sweeping it with a broom. Cobb strode up to him, ‘I’m Inspector Cobb of the Metropolitan Police, Caledonia Yard. Have you seen a large Cantonese man, accompanied by several other men and a young lady?’

  ‘Aye, that I have, the noo. Late yesterday afternoon it was. Poor wee lady was ill and had to be helped onto the train. They said she had ta be taken back to Londum to see a specialist, urgent like. That’s why her fatha’ sent the private train.’

  ‘Private train?’ asked Cobb, his heart sinking.

  ‘Aye. Most impressive. Jus’ the one carriage. That’ll be fast, that’ll be. Get her ta Londum in no time, so it will.’

  ‘When did the train leave?’

  ‘As soon as the poor lass got here, last night. Lucky an’ all they went when they did. Word came thru’ this mornin’ that Spean Bridge has collapsed. The rail spur that comes to Fort Willem runs over Spean Bridge, so that we’re cut off the noo.’

  Collapsed with the help of several sticks of dynamite, thought Cobb. ‘So there’s no way to get a train back to Londum?’ he asked with a groan.

  ‘No for a while.’

  Cobb sat on the bench and looked down at his muddy boots. What was he going to do now? He didn’t know where Quist was holed up. Cobb had been blindfolded when he’d been taken there and in a sealed carriage when they brought him back, so he didn’t have a clue where to begin looking for Adele. It would be days before a train could get through to Fort Willem and it would take him days to ride to the next town that the rail line stopped at.

  He guessed that when he got back to Londum he would have to follow the only lead he had, go to the doorman at the Rialto Theatre in Drury Lane, hit him very hard and keep hitting him until he gave up the next link in the chain that led back to Quist.

  If only he could get someone to watch Paddingworth Station for the arrival of the private train. He could contact the police but Quist had been correct when he’d said that some of the force was corrupt. If he involved the police, someone on Quist’s payroll would tip him off, Quist would go to ground and take Adele with him. Then he’d never find her. Suddenly it occurred to him, Thornton! ‘Quickly, where’s your telegraph office!’

  ‘Come with me,’ said the Station Master. They went into the telegraph office and Cobb wrote out a message on the yellow message pad. When he had finished he pushed the pad in front of the Station Master who was sitting patiently at the telegraph key.

  The man read it and then looked curiously at Cobb. ‘Police business, send it,’ growled Cobb. The railway man looked Cobb up and down, unshaven, crumpled clothing, muddy boots.

  ‘Ye did say you were the polis, did ye no?’

  ‘I’m, er … undercover.’

  ‘Is that bonnie lassie in trouble?’

  ‘Yes she is but not from me. I’m trying to save her.’

  The man turned to the telegraph and started sending the message. The message was addressed to Thornton’s shop. The telegraph people at Paddingworth Station could send a runner round to deliver it.

  THORNTON WELLS ANTIQUE BOOK SHOP TRENTON MEWS LONDUM

  PARCEL LOCATED BUT INTERCEPTED BY OPPOSITION STOP PRIVATE TRAIN ARRIVING PADDINGWORTH NEXT FEW DAYS STOP VITAL YOU ASCERTAIN FINAL DESTINATION OF OCCUPANTS STOP SITUATION SERIOUS MAY REQUIRE USE OF PENDANT STOP WILL RETURN TO LONDUM AS SOON AS POSSIBLE STOP PLEASE ACKNOWLEDGE STOP STAYING AT FORT WILLEM RAILWAY HOTEL STOP

  COBB

  Cobb told the man he would be over at the Railway Hotel when the answer came through. He thought it would take several hours for Thornton to receive the message and respond, so he booked himself a room, grabbed some food and had a bath. As he was drying himself, there was a knock on the door and an envelope was slid underneath. He picked it up and opened it. It was the reply to his cable.

  RUFUS COBB RAILWAY HOTEL FORT WILLEM CALEDONIA

  WATCH BEING KEPT ON PADDINGWORTH STOP REMAIN WHERE YOU ARE UNTIL CONTACTED STOP

  WELLS

  May the Gods bless you Thornton, thought Cobb. “A good man to have around in a tight spot.” they had said about him. They weren’t kidding. Remain where you are until contacted, the message said. Contacted? Contacted by whom? Cobb decided he was too tired to think about it now and climbed between the welcoming sheets of his bed.

  ***

  It was lunchtime of the next day. Cobb had finished his meal and
was having a drink at the bar. Suddenly, to his surprise, the door opened and two sailors walked in. They approached the bar and spoke to the barman, who nodded in Cobb’s direction.

  ‘Mr. Cobb?’

  ‘Yes, that’s me. Who are you?’

  ‘Would you come with us please sir, we have transport waiting for you.’

  ‘Transport to where?’

  ‘To Londum sir.’

  Cobb was stunned. Why not? he thought. He’d love to see them get a ship in here to pick him up. ‘Lead on sailor.’ This was going to be interesting, he thought.

  Cobb settled his bill, told the barman to keep the horse and then the three of them went outside and climbed into a horse and carriage they had obviously borrowed from someone. As they drove towards the edge of the town, Cobb saw over the house rooftops what seemed to be the sloping roof of a large warehouse that he hadn’t noticed when he rode into town, the day before.

  As they reached the end of the road at the edge of town, the sailor drove around the houses and out into the open fields. Cobb’s jaw dropped in amazement. Ahead of him in the open field was what looked like a large, oval, grey … balloon. It was about a hundred and fifty feet long and shaped like a rugby ball. Underneath was what appeared to be some sort of cabin; he could see people moving around inside it. There were guy ropes from the cabin, the nose and the tail of the balloon, tied to stakes in the ground.

  The horse and carriage he was in came to a halt beside the balloon and the two sailors climbed out. Cobb did likewise. The bottom of the cabin beneath the balloon was about ten feet from the ground and there was a rope ladder leading up to an open doorway in the side. Cobb stared up, open mouthed at the huge contraption towering over him. Despite all logic, he couldn’t get over the feeling that at any moment the thing could come crashing down on his head.

  A head peered out of the doorway, ‘Mr. Cobb? Climb up the ladder please and we’ll be on our way.’ Cobb did as he was told. As he climbed the ladder he noticed an engraved brass sign that said “H. M. A. S. Pegasus”. When he reached the top of the ladder he grasped the handrails either side of the door and pulled himself inside. The man who had spoken to Cobb was waiting inside to greet him. He was about thirty or so and dressed in a naval uniform, as was the man who was at the helm.

  ‘Mr. Cobb, welcome to His Majesty’s Air Ship Pegasus. I’m Captain Richard Somersby, in command. Excuse me a moment would you?’ He leaned out of the open doorway and shouted to the two sailors that had brought Cobb to the landing site, to cast off the mooring lines. They did so and then one after the other, the men climbed up the rope ladder into the cabin, then pulled the ladder up after them. They slid the door shut and took up positions either side of the cabin. The walls of the cabin came to waist height, everything above that was glass up to the roof, affording good vision forwards and sideways.

  Cobb was totally bemused. He backed up cautiously until he was against the cabin wall. ‘What the hell’s going on?’ he asked.

  Captain Somersby held up his hand to indicate that Cobb should be patient. ‘Clear port and starboard?’ he asked.

  ‘Port clear!’

  ‘Starboard clear!’ responded the two sailors stationed either side of the cabin.

  ‘Okay helm, take her up. Level off at five hundred feet then head south 165 degrees, 15 knots,’ Somersby instructed the crewman at the large ships wheel.

  Cobb looked around him, it was like the bridge of a ship, and somewhere towards the back of the vehicle he could hear the rhythmic growl of a steam engine. Cobb watched fascinated as the airship slowly drifted forward and upward, heading away from Fort Willem.

  Once they had reached cruising height and speed Somersby came over to talk to Cobb. Cobb was so captivated by the view, it was a clear, sunny day and he could see for miles, that the captain had to tap him on the shoulder twice before he could get his attention.

  ‘Well Mr. Cobb, welcome aboard. I suppose you’re wondering what this is, well, all I can tell you is that this is an experimental, steam powered airship that the Royal Navy is developing. The first of its kind. We were conducting trials in the north of Caledonia when we received a coded telegraph message from the Admiralty, saying we were to proceed to Fort Willem immediately, pick up a certain Mr. Cobb at the railway hotel and proceed to Londum with all possible speed. We were also instructed to give you any and all possible assistance that you require. You certainly have friends in high places,’ he finished, with a smile.

  ‘Only you,’ said Cobb, looking down at the ground going by, hundreds of feet beneath them. This was obviously Thornton’s doing. Well, he obviously knew the right strings to pull.

  ‘What are you? Some kind of government agent?’ asked the captain.

  ‘No … I’m just a private detective.’

  ‘Must be a really big case. Lost dog, is it?’ he said with a grin.

  ‘Er, kind of.’

  ‘Come this way,’ said the captain. ‘Let me give you the guided tour. This is the bridge. Follow me. Helm, you have the conn!’ he said, giving control of the ship to the helmsman. He led the way through the door at the back of the bridge. They were in a little tiny galley with barely enough room for a man holding a plate to turn round. This opened into the engine room.

  There was a clean, sparkling steam engine there, being tended by two brawny sailors. ‘This is the Chief Engineer and his assistant; his assistant is also the cook as well as an engineer. He does the cooking on the firebox of the engine, clever, eh?’ The cook/engineer was standing up to his knees in a trapdoor in the floor. ‘The entire lower level of the gondola is filled with coal, that’s what the bit suspended under the airship is called, “the gondola”.

  ‘What keeps the whole thing up?’ asked Cobb.

  ‘Helium,’ replied Somersby, ‘it’s a lighter than air gas. The balloon section is filled with it. The steam engine drives propellers on either side of the gondola and they provide forward propulsion and directional control. Come on.’ He led the way through the door at the rear of the engine room into a short corridor. There was a tiny latrine on one side, a locker on the other and yet another door.

  This led into the rear of the gondola, which was another room with glass windows, but this one had three bunks, two of which were occupied. Two sailors lay there, talking. They sat up when Cobb and Captain Somersby walked in but he told them to relax and introduced Cobb. ‘As you can see, a crew of eight but then the gondola is only forty-five feet long. The bunks can be folded away and this cabin used as an observation platform.’

  Cobb looked around the small cabin. Around the walls were what looked like sawn-off drainpipes with tail fins attached. They were stood on end, pointed nose down and held in place by large clamps. ‘Are those bombs?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. Part of the trials we were conducting but don’t worry, they’re not armed. Think of it!’ said Somersby with enthusiasm, ‘aerial bombardment. Even the most skilled gunnery can sometimes be a hit and miss affair over long distances. Think of the advantages of being able to float over your target, out of range of his guns and simply drop the bombs onto your enemy! Eventually we’ll have fleets of these airships, bigger ones than this of course, able to transport large amounts of troops quickly to trouble spots anywhere in the world. Think of the superiority it will give us in any war. Britonnia will rule the clouds as well as the waves.’

  Cobb had to admit, it was pretty impressive. It was a technological marvel.

  Somersby led the way back to the bridge, asking the cook to rustle up a cup of tea, on the way.

  ‘So Mr. Cobb, how may we help you? According to my orders, we are at your disposal.’

  ‘Well for the moment, all I need is to get back to Londum as fast as possible. How long do you think that will take?’

  ‘Well we were due to put the Pegasus through her speed trials soon anyway, so we might as well do it now. I reckon with a couple of stops for fuel, we can have you in Londum by tomorrow night.’

  ‘You’re going to
travel through the night? How?’

  ‘We navigate by compass and we’ll take readings from the stars to double check our position. It’s quite all right, you know, I don’t think we’ll run into anyone up here, do you?’

  ***

  Cobb spent the rest of the day gazing out of the windows at the panoramic views and trying not to be in anyone’s way, as the Pegasus headed south. The crew changed over from time to time but Cobb could not tear himself away from the window. The cook gave him a meal when he fed the rest of the crew. It was a rather good corned beef hash, given the circumstances that he had to cook it under. When it got dark, the captain offered him one of the bunks, which Cobb gratefully accepted.

  ***

  When Cobb woke up at daybreak, he washed in the small basin in the latrine and then made his way up to the bridge.

  ‘Morning Mr. Cobb,’ Captain Somersby greeted him as he entered the bridge, ‘Cookie has made fresh coffee if you’d like some.’

  Cobb helped himself to a cup of coffee from the pot and a few slices of bread and jam. ‘We’re making good time. We’ll reach Sheffleton by lunchtime, there are plenty of steel mills there with tons of coal, so we can refuel,’ the captain informed him.

  ‘Any news?’

  ‘No. We checked at our last stop. While you were asleep we pulled in at a railway yard and filled up. We’re following the railway lines and so we use their telegraph wires to send and receive messages, but there was nothing of any importance.’

  The rest of the morning passed quietly. Cobb stood in the corner of the bridge watching the countryside slip by beneath them, alone with his thoughts. Apart from when the cook brought him some breakfast, the crew of the Pegasus left him alone, busy with their own tasks.

  Finally around lunchtime of that day, they spotted the tall smokestacks of the steel mills; belching out thick black smoke into the clear, blue sky. Captain Somersby ordered the helmsman to descend to two hundred feet and they drifted over the town, until they found a good supply of coal in one of the steel mills for which Sheffleton was famous.