Revenge of the Mad Scientist (Book One: Airship Adventure Chronicles)

by Lara Nance

  Sir George ignored her and addressed himself to Lady Trunkett. “My dear Lady, I feel it would be best if you and Lady Arabella were to return home. It’s late and there is nothing you can do here. I will let you know as soon as any new leads develop, I assure you.”

  “Is there any evidence other than the knife?” Belle asked.

  The inspector hesitated, his gray moustache twitching. “Well, no, actually. Not at this time. Mr. Bellows can give no description except that there were two men who wore black with faces covered. But we hardly need any more. The trail leads directly to Gandiss, there can be no doubt about it. We would lose valuable time seeking obscure leads to other areas. I shall not put Sir John’s life in such danger.”

  “I’d like to speak to the Queen,” Belle said. She could trust Her Majesty not to jump to conclusions. If she could see her, she would tell her about the stickpin and urge her to start a more widespread investigation. Surely Her Majesty would understand that blaming Gandiss out of hand would only cause more political upheaval.

  “Her Majesty is in seclusion preparing for the State of the Empire address. She will see no one for the next three days.” He drew himself up and looked down his nose at her. “No one.”

  She cursed silently. Pompous fool. In three days her father could be dead. Belle stuffed the handkerchief back into her reticule. Somehow she knew her father had left the clue for her. She just had to figure out what it meant. The authorities all wanted the culprit to be Gandiss so they didn’t have to do any investigative work. Meanwhile her dear father had been brutally taken to places unknown.

  “Thank you, Sir George,” Lady Trunkett said extending a delicate hand for him to bow over. “We shall take your advice. Come Arabella.”

  Her mother activated her chair. Little puffs of steam popped from a pipe in the back and a whirring sound indicated its functional status. Elizabeth used a lever on the arm of the chair to send it into forward motion and control the direction. Belle followed as she rolled outside where her carriage had already been called for and stood waiting in the road. She glanced at Belle as she motioned for her servants to come and help her into the vehicle.

  “Are you going home tonight or would you care to come back with me?” Her mother offered a sad smile.

  Belle frowned, preoccupied with the mystery of the dagger and dissatisfied with the platitudes offered by Sir Luftin. She feared the investigation was headed in the wrong direction, but she couldn’t prove it. Time slipped away while her father’s life was in danger.

  “Mother, I need to go back to my house. I’ll come by tomorrow and see you.”

  “Very well. Try not to worry, dear. The queen is very attached to your father, and he is the Lord High Minister after all. She’ll leave no stone unturned in seeking his captors.” Her footman picked her up in his arms and placed her on the seat inside the coach. He closed the door and took the rolling chair to a special platform built on the back of the carriage. Her mother leaned out the window. Creases of concern marked her face in the yellow glow of the gas lit street.

  “Try not to be a nuisance to the authorities, Belle.” Her mother lessened the bite of her words with a sympathetic smile. “Get some sleep and we shall hope for good news in the morning.”

  Belle nodded and waved as the carriage headed down the street. She wrapped her arms around her chest hugging herself against the night chill. Or maybe it was the icy grip of despair. She didn't move until the clop, clop of the horses’ hooves had faded into the distance. Her mind reeled in indecision. Finally, she wheeled around and sent two piercing whistles into the night.

  Several minutes later, a whizz and pop heralded the approach of a pop-cab. In spite of its ridiculous appearance, like a miniature outhouse set atop a large tricycle, it would get her to her destination faster than walking or using one a horse-drawn carriage. Besides, the noise of the pop-cabs now taking over the streets easily startled the horses, making coach travel almost dangerous these days.

  “Evening, M’ Lady.” A scruffy, wiry man doffed his newsboy cap and gave her a deep bow. “What can I help you with tonight?”

  “Number twenty-nine, Pollberry Court, if you please,” she said in a precise tone, and picked up her heavy skirts as the little man opened the door of the cabin to allow her to enter. She stepped in and settled herself on the narrow seat.

  “Hoo, hoo, Pollberry Court is it? A very lovely part of town.” The cabbie hopped up on the seat of his cycle and released the brake. “And what’s a swell like you doing out this late with no one to escort you?”

  “That’s certainly none of your business,” Belle said through the small window cut into the cabin just behind the cabbie’s head. She took her folded fan and rapped sharply on the edge of the sill. “Now hurry along or I shall make sure your tip reflects the delay.”

  The cabbie gave a whistle, raised an eyebrow, and pushed the other lever to the front as he started the forward motion by pressing the peddles with his feet for a good two or three spins. With a pop and a spurt of steam, the little vehicle lurched and then sped off down the street, the momentum throwing Belle back against her seat. She would certainly be happy when these pop-cab drivers learned better control over their gears.

  Fortunately, the cabbie had no further mishap and they pulled up before her home with a loud pop and a fizz of steam vapor in only ten minutes. She gave the cabbie some coins and then climbed the stone steps to the door of her townhouse.

  “Good God, Jasper. Are you still up?” she exclaimed as she opened the door and found her butler just inside, still dressed in his formal black butler suit with tails. “You know I don’t expect you to stay up when I go to a party.”

  She pulled off her gloves, annoyed at how her servants needlessly coddled her. She was the mistress of her own home, head of an international business and yet they still insisted on treating her like a young girl in pig-tails.

  “I’m sure My Lady is more than capable of handling her own affairs,” Jasper said stiffly as he helped her off with her pelisse, his thin face pinched in displeasure. “However, I hope you don’t expect me to live here, take your money, and not fulfill my duties. Such a course would certainly be quite repugnant to me.”

  Belle turned her head to hide her smile. When she had composed her features, she handed him her gloves and said, “Well, then since you’re up, I’d like a glass of sherry. Bring it into the library, if you please.”

  “Of course, My Lady. I also have a package for you. It came about half an hour ago.” He held out a small square shape that had been hastily wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.

  “At this time of night?” She looked at the hall clock. It was near three o’clock in the morning. It seemed like only a few minutes ago it had been ten at night with the ball just starting and her father disappearing, abruptly ending the festivities.

  She frowned and took the package, turning it over in her hands. Her name was printed on the front with a frank mark from the Royal Asburry Hotel.

  “Exactly my thought, My Lady. And if you had seen the young person who delivered it you would have been even more surprised.” He sniffed. “I don’t hold with foreigners, never did. Now that we have the new airship port, we have these strange individuals running all over the place in Aereopolis. Very improper.”

  “What?” Belle had been barely listening as she tried to remember why the name of that hotel struck a chord of memory. “What person?”

  “The young man, the messenger. He had on outlandish long black robes and a silly hat perched on top of his head. Nothing you would ever catch me wearing outside my bedroom I assure you.”

  She tore off the paper. It had to be from the ambassador. Now she remembered. Her father had told her yesterday that he had rooms at the Royal Asburry.

  Inside, she found a brass box with a round seal of carved jade on the top. She ran her fingers over the carvings in the stone and jumped when the seal depressed and the top of the box popped open. Inside rested a folded sheet of pape
r and a silver ring.

  She picked up the ring and examined it. A crest marked the surface—entwined figures of a tiger, a hawk and a snake—the imperial seal of Gandiss. There was a short message on the paper followed by a glob of red wax with an impression pressed into it. The design in the wax mirrored that of the ring. Curved elaborate writing covered the page.

  My dear Lady Arabella,

  I write to you in great haste, for I must leave your country at once. Someone has decided to intervene in the treaty between your country and mine and leave the impression that Gandiss is responsible for your father’s disappearance. I beg you to believe me when I say that nothing is further from mine or my country’s desire. I came to Urbannia fully committed to working out a fair and lasting peace with full support of my Raja.

  Unfortunately, other countries have become threatened by this alliance. I want to assure you that your father’s kidnapping was not at the instigation of Gandiss. You must look for the culprit in another area.

  I wish you the best of luck in locating your father. I send you my imperial seal ring in the event I may be of service to you in the future. You have only to present this ring to any agent of Gandiss and you can be assured of aid.

  I leave with the dawn to return home. My sources indicate there is danger for me to stay here with the present unrest. I hope you will find your father soon and end the hostility that threatens to dissolve us into a world war.

  Your servant,

  Lord Ismatan

  Just as she suspected, there were powerful forces at play here. Politics and popular opinion would lead the investigators to suspect Gandiss. Meanwhile her father was likely on his way someplace else. Unless she could find him and expose the truth, there was no telling how far they were from a world conflagration. Too many countries already stood on the brink of war. She slipped the heavy silver ring on her forefinger.

  She walked down the hall and went through the doors into the library, an intimate wood paneled room lined with bookshelves filled with every size and topic of tome for which one could ever hope. Lingering embers in the fireplace cast only a dim light about the room. She paused on the doorway, one hand still on the handle of the door and a tender smile curled her lips as she observed the only occupant.

  Benji lay stretched out on the brown leather sofa, fast asleep with three books tented across his abdomen and legs. His shirt was rolled up at the sleeves and his cravat askew. At least he'd removed his shoes.

  She crossed the room and rescued the precariously tilted books from his body and laid them on the side table. He snorted in his sleep and rolled over on his side. She put a hand on his forehead, brushing back the unruly brown curls falling over one eye. At her touch, his eyelids fluttered and then went wide.

  “B,B, Belle,” he said as he struggled to a sitting position.

  “There, there, Benji. Sorry to wake you,” she murmured as she lit one of the table lamps and turned up the wick. Then she lowered herself into a wing chair beside him, put up a hand to remove the pins from her auburn hair, and let the long strands spill down upon her shoulders. With both hands she ran fingers across her scalp and sighed at the release of tension.

  “What t, t, time is it?” He pulled out his pocket watch and flipped it open. “Zounds, Belle, i, i, it’s bloody three a.m.”

  “I know. I’ve had a very disturbing evening, Benji,” she said.

  He tugged fingers through his tousled hair and then rubbed his eyelids. “What happened?”

  “My father was kidnapped.”

  “What?” he exclaimed. “Sir John?”

  “Right in the middle of the ball. Someone came in through a window in a side room off the ballroom. Father'd been meeting with his assistant there. They attacked and then carried him back out the window. Conrad was stabbed in the process—ghastly proceedings.”

  “Bloody hell.” Benji blinked several times. “Did C, C, Conrad survive?”

  “Yes, thank God. But he was stabbed with a snow tiger tooth dagger so everyone is keen to blame Gandiss without further evidence. There will be no treaty as a result. The whole affair is a disaster for Urbannia.”

  The library doors opened and Jasper entered bearing a tray holding a decanter of sherry and two small stemmed glasses. “I took the liberty of bringing a glass for the young master as well.”

  “Brilliant, Jasper,” Benji said. “You’re t, t, top of the trees.”

  The butler made a ritual of pouring two glasses full of the golden liquid and then handed one to Arabella and then Benji. “So happy to have your approval, Master Benjamin.”

  Benji let out a snort of laughter.

  “Might I ask if My Lady would like something to eat as well?” The tall spare man raised one eyebrow.

  “No, no, Jasper, please, I beg you, go to bed. I shan’t want anything else tonight.” Belle waved him away. “I’ll just have a nightcap with Benji and then I’m off to bed myself.”

  Jasper gave her a dignified bow. “Very well, My Lady.” He placed another log on the fire, turned on his heel and marched out of the room, closing the doors soundlessly behind him.

  “How does he do th, th, that?” Benji said, watching the butler’s silent exit. “Sneaks up on me all the time.”

  “Don’t worry about that. We have to figure out what happened to my father.” She filled him in on the evening’s proceedings. “It just doesn’t add up. I have to tell you, my brief interaction with the ambassador left me quite impressed with him.”

  Benji rubbed his hands together and frowned as he considered the situation. “If the weapon came from Gandiss, why are you s, s, so sure it wasn’t them?”

  “Oh!” She jumped up, put a hand in her purse and withdrew the handkerchief. “I forgot to tell you about this. I found it on the floor in the room from which Father was taken. I’m positive he left it as a clue but I’m not sure what it means.”

  Benji took the piece of cloth with the stick pin and his youthful face screwed up in concentration as he examined it, then he bolted to his feet “D, d, dash it all, Belle. Do you know what this is?”

  She shook her head and her heart raced at his tone.

  “It’s a ceremonial j, j, jewel given to the Sarcs of Carabarras.”

  Her eyes widened. She’d heard of the secret group of assassins but didn’t know any more than the general public. She hoped her adopted boy genius had more details. “You’d better explain.”

  “The Sarcs are t, t, taken as children and trained within the secret organization. When they finish their t, t, training, they’re given a task to fulfill. Usually that means k, k, killing someone. If they're successful, they’re given the t, t, title of Sarc and one of these.” He held up the gold and ruby pin. “They wear it on the inside of their c, c, cloaks and never take it off until they die.”

  “Or until it falls out of their cloak while they’re kidnapping someone…or…that someone steals it as a clue.” Belle hadn’t really examined it, so she reached out and took it from him. She turned the pin around seeing it in a new light. The golden head resembled some type of flower and the large ruby was planted in the middle of the blossom. She looked up at Benji.

  “It’s a l, l, lotus,” he said. “A death lotus—only grows in the d, d, desert of Carabarras. The Sarcs boil it and make a p, p, poison for their knives and arrows. It’s incredibly d, d, deadly. The tiniest drop will kill a man instantly.”

  “Benji, what are the chances someone could have one of these and not be a Sarc?” She held up the long pin between her fingers. As she twisted it around, the gold and ruby cast a deadly glitter in the candlelit room.

  “N, n, none. Nearly impossible. If someone got hold of one, they w, w, would be hunted down and killed. The j, j, jewel is sacred to the Sarc.”

  Belle sat back in her chair. “Then how difficult would it be to obtain a snow tiger dagger?”

  “They c, c, can be bought on the black market for a few thousand silver bills by anyone with enough m, m, money.”

  She k
new what that meant. The lead to Gandiss had to be a false trail. She was sure of it now. The real trail pointed to Carabarras and her father had left his clue to lead her to him, knowing she would recognize the handkerchief. She was convinced he had taken the pin from the person who attacked him and in the scuffle the man didn’t miss it. Benji rocked back and forth on his toes in eagerness.

  “Benji I have to go after him. I have to find my father. The authorities are off on a wild goose chase and I can’t get to Her Majesty to explain for three days. Time is running out. By the time I get in to see the queen and convince her of the truth, the trail will be cold.”

  Benji straightened his collar and cravat. “Then we have no t, t, time to lose.”

  Belle stood. “Benji, I can’t take you with me. It wouldn’t be fair to put you in danger. Besides, I’m not really your legal guardian.”

  “Blast it all, Belle. I’m seventeen. In a y, y, year I won’t even need a guardian.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Besides, you c, c, care more about me than my bloody family ever did. You’re going to need my help and I won’t let you g, g, go without me.”

  “No need to curse, Benji.” She eyed the stubborn tilt of his chin and the mulish look about his eyes and knew he was right. His fountain of knowledge would be indispensable on this trip. Look how much he had already helped. It might have taken her days to figure out the meaning behind that stickpin. She also knew he would stow away or even follow her if need be. So she might as well keep him with her where she could watch out for him.

  She sighed. “Very well. Pack your bags and call us a hack. We’re going to Carabarras.”

  He let out a whoop and ran out the door while she sat down at the writing desk to compose a letter to her mother that would make some semblance of sense. If Lady Trunkett could get to the queen and convince her of the truth, then maybe Urbannia would turn their resources in the proper direction and avert a war over this incident.

  Chapter 2

  Belle changed from her ball gown into an olive green, twill, split skirt she wore when riding, topped with a white ruffled blouse and a gold brocade corset. She pulled on a matching jacket, and slipped the letter from the ambassador along with his ring and the stickpin into one of its many buckled pockets. Then she pulled on her lace-up walking boots and grabbed a heavy fur lined cape from her closet.