Waging War

by April White

  Her eyes drifted up to mine, and after a moment they seemed to focus. “You’re immune?”

  “Apparently.” I smiled. “You don’t have to worry about the ring getting me, Mom. I’m fine.”

  Her eyes cleared even more, and Mr. Shaw took her hand. “We’re all here, Claire. Are you with us, or do you still feel as though you’re underwater?” He shot a quick glance at Jeeves, who nodded. Yes, he was still with us. My mom took a deep, shuddering breath and then looked around the room, focusing on each face as she went. “Where’s Logan?”

  A Voice from the Past

  Liz looked at my mom oddly. “Logan’s back at the flat. Why?”

  My mom seemed to try to concentrate. “I don’t know.”

  I didn’t like that, and neither did anyone else. “Think, Mom. Did Seth mention his name?” The thought that Slick might even think about Connor’s little brother made me nauseous.

  She finally shook her head. “It’s gone.” She looked at me with clear eyes. “I can’t remember.”

  “But you’re back, aren’t you?” I didn’t have to ask because I could see it in her eyes.

  She looked up at Mr. Shaw, and he squeezed her hand. “Yes, I think I am.”

  Liz turned to Jeeves and was about to speak, but he was already rising to his feet. “I’ll just go to the flat.” She gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you,” she whispered. Then she spoke to her brother. “That still took longer than I like, but at least we know how to break the ring’s effects.”

  Millicent shuddered. “It’s not an experience I wish on anyone, much less twice.” She focused on my mom. “Are you well, Claire?”

  “I don’t like the memory gaps, but yes, I am well, thank you.”

  I stood and addressed the room. “A couple of things came out of yesterday’s drama that we need to talk about.” I knew Jeeves would get the rundown from Liz later, and I figured we’d have to tell the Armans and Ms. Simpson too. But the group in the library was sort of the core of my adopted family, so I told them everything that Ringo, Archer, and I had been discussing about Tom and about the missing mixed-bloods.

  We all agreed that it was even more vital than ever that we find the mixed-bloods as soon as possible. No one trusted Seth Walters, and everyone assumed he’d be in stealth mode now that he’d been tagged as a person of interest by the police. That could work to our advantage because maybe he’d stay so low that he couldn’t do anything to the people he held captive. My mom and Mr. Shaw decided to bring Ms. Simpson up to speed so maybe they could all go to Ms. Rothchild and confront her about her brother-in-law.

  “Hey, speaking of Mongers at school, how come Raven usually goes by Walters and Patrick is always Rothchild? They’re full siblings, right?” I asked.

  My mom answered. “Monger leadership comes down the male line. As Raven’s father is a Walters, she uses his last name most of the time, but when Patrick was born, Markham Rothchild insisted he take his mother’s last name, probably because he intends to stay alive long enough to pass the leadership directly to his grandson.”

  Mr. Shaw spoke as if he suddenly remembered. “I do believe the Rothchild children have been withdrawn from St. Brigid’s.”

  Liz Edwards stared at her brother. “That’s odd. I would think the Mongers would want to keep all of their children in place at the school, if for no other reason than to gather information.”

  “You mean spies?” I asked. “But for what? It’s not like St. Brigid’s is a hotbed of political activity.”

  “For two reasons, Saira,” Archer said. I was startled he would weigh in on the turn this conversation had taken. “One, revolutions generally start with the young, educated people. If there were going to be a revolution in Descendant politics, one place to sow the seeds would be among the students of St. Brigid’s. And two, the power players of the current Descendant Council are all connected with the school. The Armans, your mum, Shaw, Ms. Rothchild, and even Miss Simpson – all have strong voices in the Council. Removing the young Rothchilds from St. Bridgid’s would indicate either fear or confidence on the part of the Mongers, and I, for one, would like to know why they did it.”

  “There’s a third reason it’s an odd choice to pull the Monger children,” my mom said.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “When the school was originally built, it was fortified with certain defenses. If one were serious about seizing power among Immortal Descendants, taking St. Brigid’s would be a logical step.”

  Liz looked worried. “It’s one thing to imagine the Mongers using their ring to control individuals, but quite another to think they would take the school.”

  My mom nodded. “If I hadn’t been victim to the Mongers’ power I would feel that way too.”

  Archer added, “There are too many things swirling around Seth Walters to ignore. Why does he want Saira to bring Tom to him? What is his plan with Tom, and with the ring? And then there are the mixed-blood Descendants. To take over forty people who have been hiding from the Council anyway appears to me as though someone is playing a very long game. Unfortunately, whatever the game is, they’re also playing it quite close to the chest.”

  “Do you think Raven knows anything?” I asked. “She and her uncle seem pretty tight, but she’s only eighteen.”

  “So are you,” said Connor, with a look on his face that screamed duh.

  “Good point.”

  Archer’s eyebrow went up with an I may have a plan expression. “Doesn’t she fence?”

  I shrugged. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “You’ve become quite accomplished with blades. Perhaps we should find out where she trains?”

  Connor piped up. “There’s a fencing gym in Brentwood the Rothchilds go to. Patrick was bragging about how many competitions Raven wins there.”

  I shook my head. “She’d never willingly talk to me.”

  Ringo spoke up. “I can get ‘er to talk.”

  All eyes turned to him, but it was me who spoke. “You’re going to take up fencing to meet Raven Walters? She’ll have a blade in her hand. It’s a little like learning to swim to get cozy with sharks.” I didn’t like it, but I didn’t know how to put the brakes on it either.

  Archer spoke to Ringo. “I can work with you on your skills tonight.”

  I looked around the room. “Does anyone not think it’s even a little dangerous for a guy from Victorian London to be trying to meet the granddaughter of the Monger Head? Why are you all okay with this?”

  Mr. Shaw sighed. “Information is everything. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Mongers it’s that he who holds the information holds the key to power. There’s too much we don’t know, and if there’s any information Raven Rothchild does have, Ringo is one of the few people in this world I’d expect to be able to get it.”

  Ringo rolled his eyes at me. He must have picked up the habit from Connor, and I was going to have to break him of it. “Ye think I can’t blend in with the bad element? Or maybe ye don’t trust my learnin’ of this time?”

  “Or how about I like you too much to send you into the viper pit?” I snarled back.

  He waggled his eyebrows at me. “Question is, who’s the viper?”

  The meeting broke up, and I hugged my mom good night before Mr. Shaw escorted her out. I didn’t miss his approving glance at my arm linked through Archer’s, and I hoped my teacher and I were okay again.

  Whatever it was that had prompted my mom to ask about Logan had put everyone on edge, especially since Logan was part daredevil, and therefore had a diminished self-preservation instinct. Something I’d been accused of on more than one occasion.

  Archer, Ringo, and I met in the great hall. Archer had gotten his fencing gear from the keep, where he stored his not-insignificant collection of weapons. He was still weaker than usual, so he demonstrated the proper fencing techniques, then had us square off against each other. Ringo was quicker than I was, but all the sword practice I’d gotten in over the summer showed, and I sur
prised him a couple of times with moves meant more for a longsword than a fencing foil.

  Archer stopped us. “Fencing came out of the gentlemen’s code of conduct from the eighteenth century as a way to settle a score. It’s much more about the gamesmanship of scoring against an opponent rather than drawing blood.”

  I snorted. “Sorry, I must’ve lost my copy of the gentleman’s handbook.”

  Ringo smirked. “Left it with mine, I’d guess.”

  Archer scowled to cover his own smile. “While I generally applaud your defensive instincts, you’ll need to shift your mindset from warrior to sportsman to compete with modern fencers. Fencing is not a martial art like the longsword is.”

  He stepped in to show Ringo some of the finer points of scoring against an opponent, and I took the chance to study Archer as he moved. He was undeniably graceful, but it was a prowling grace, underlined with pure strength. Even when he pulled his punches, he was still stronger than any of the rest of us. I made a mental note to ask Mr. Shaw about how the strength and speed enhancements that seemed to come with his porphyria mutation might be affected if he chose to go ahead with the cure. It was a line of thinking that made me mentally cringe, and I dove back into the physical business of fencing with Ringo.

  When Ringo was pronounced reasonably proficient, Archer and I followed him upstairs to the east wing library he and Connor had turned into a game room for themselves. I hadn’t spent a lot of time in the east wing since I broke out of the guest bedroom Millicent had tried to lock me into, but I got the same bone-deep comfort from the books in that library as I had done when I first came to Elian Manor. I started poking around the contemporary books while Ringo and Archer got down to the online business of figuring out how to get Ringo into Raven’s fencing gym.

  Underground London caught my eye immediately, and I curled up on a sofa to flip through it. I had just gotten to a chapter about the ghost stations of the London Underground when Sanda knocked softly on the door before she entered the room.

  “Sir, there’s a telephone call for you. Mr. Singh, from the Tower.” She said.

  Archer looked up in surprise. As far as I knew, Archer hadn’t spoken to Ravindra Singh, my former boss at the Tower of London and his comrade in code-breaking during World War II, since before we went to France. He went to the extension on the desk and hit the speaker button.

  “Professor Singh, how can I help you?”

  Sanda backed out of the room and closed the door quietly behind her. Ringo and I listened silently as his clipped English voice echoed over the speaker. “Mr. Devereux, I’m very sorry for the late hour. I have an odd situation with which you may be able to assist me.”

  “I’ll do what I can, of course.”

  “Ah, excellent. I appreciate it very much. I say, did your grandfather happen to leave any papers with you from his time at Bletchley Park?”

  Archer’s eyes locked on mine as he spoke. “It’s possible, Professor. Could you perhaps be more specific?”

  Ravi paused for a long moment before he finally said, “I’d prefer to do so in person, if I may. Perhaps you could come to my office?”

  “I can be there in an hour. Would that suit you?”

  He sounded relieved. “Oh yes, that would suit me very well, thank you.”

  Archer looked concerned. “I’d like to bring Saira with me if that’s acceptable.”

  “Yes, of course. I trust both of your discretion in this rather … sensitive case. Thank you, Mr. Devereux. I’ll leave your names with the guards.”

  “Perhaps you’d rather leave Bishop Cleary’s name rather than our own?”

  Ravi sounded pleased. “Ah yes, a capital idea. Thank you, Mr. Devereux. Indeed, I’ll be expecting Mr. and Ms. Cleary to arrive in about an hour. Until then.”

  Archer hung up the phone and looked thoughtful. “That was odd. Documents from Bletchley? We were never allowed to leave the grounds with anything – no exceptions – and he knows that as well as I do.”

  “But do you have anything from your time there?” I asked.

  “Only memories.” I might have imagined something wistful-sounding in Archer’s voice, and I decided I’d very much like to know more about his time at England’s famous World War II code-breaking compound.

  Archer went off to put away the fencing gear, and Ringo and I continued on to the kitchen to grab whatever leftovers we could find from the formal dinner we’d skipped. The cook had left a pot of beef stew in the Aga cooker, so it was still warm. She didn’t like it when we avoided the dining room, and I was perfectly capable of preparing food for us, so it was her professional pride that finally drove her to leave us food. No one else was going to cook in her kitchen if she could help it.

  We talked about the mechanical and electronic things Ringo had been tinkering with, and the things he imagined he could make. He was fascinated by metals and loved the symmetry of electricity. The stories depicted in the video games he played with Connor were equally intriguing to him, and I could see I needed to introduce him to more of my favorite fantasy authors. He tended to spend all of his time with history books these days.

  “What do you know about Bletchley Park?” I asked him as we ate.

  Ringo shrugged. “What Archer’s told us, mostly. They only started writin’ about it in the 1970s after Bletchley was declassified. They were crackin’ German Enigma codes by ‘and until that Oxford guy … Turing, I think it was, and ‘is team built the bombe to do it for them. The code-breakin’ machine did in hours what it took the men months to do.”

  “Ravi and I worked on a machine called Colossus, which had been designed by Tommy Flowers to do the same thing, except on the Lorenz cipher rather than Enigma,” Archer said as he entered the kitchen. He sat down beside me and inhaled deeply. “Ah, beef stew with mushrooms, sage, and wine.”

  “Want some?” I teased, expecting him to shudder. Instead, he looked away from my bowl to Ringo, who was just beginning to speak. It was an odd reaction and left me a little unsettled.

  “What’s the difference between Enigma and Lorenz?” said Ringo.

  “The Enigma machine was an electro-magnetic encryption machine used by the Germans. It was based in the Morse code, 26-character alphabet. It had five to eight rotors, with the army and air force using five, and the navy using six, seven, or eight.” Archer had put on his teaching voice, which always reminded me of happy times in Ringo’s flat before Archer had been infected by Wilder.

  “More rotors equals better security?” I asked.

  Archer nodded. “But Enigma had a fundamental flaw – a letter could never be encoded as itself, which is ultimately how it was broken. The Lorenz machine was commissioned for German high command and used the International Teleprinter Code, in which each letter of the alphabet is represented by a series of five electrical impulses. It also utilized twelve rotors and was only finally broken when a German message of four thousand characters was sent twice without changing the settings. We didn’t capture an actual Lorenz machine until after the war, whereas the Poles had captured Enigma before the war began.”

  Ringo was captivated. “They built a decodin’ machine based on encodin’ theory? That’s fantastic!”

  Archer enjoyed his enthusiasm. “Yes. They used the encryption theory of Lorenz to design the decryption machine, called Tunney. But in order to decode any message, they first had to determine the day’s settings, which was why my machine, Colossus, was built. It could read paper tape at five thousand characters a second, and the wheels that turned the paper went thirty miles an hour. It was a practical electronic digital processing machine. I understand they’ve rebuilt one from some old plans and some old memories. It’s at the museum of computing at the Bletchley Park complex. I haven’t been, of course, but it’s an hour by train. You could go explore.”

  Ringo grinned. “You know I will.”

  Archer checked the slim gold watch I’d given him. “We should go.”

  I stood up and cleared our bowls. “Lo
ndon Bridge, or closer?”

  “He’s left names at the front gate, so we should use it. London Bridge is close enough. It’ll be good to run.” Archer said.

  Ringo pushed me out of the way at the sink. “I’ll wash. Ye two go. But come find me when ye’re back. I’ll be in the lab tinkerin’ with machines.” He grinned at us, and I blew him a kiss as we left the kitchen.

  Old Secrets

  We were both dressed for free running in dark clothes and good boots, and it had been too long since I’d run through London just for the joy of running. I was so tempted to scale an outer wall of the Tower of London complex where I’d worked for a month, but Archer was right, we were expected at the front gate.

  A few minutes later we were sitting across from Ravi in his office. He must have been past ninety now, and was physically frail, but as mentally sharp as they come. A copy of the Armada Portrait hung above his desk, and I gave Elizabeth Tudor a nod of greeting. Her famous six-strand black pearls were currently on display in the Jewel House at the Tower and had already drawn thousands of visitors. My hand went absently to the black pearl pendant Elizabeth had given me which lay hidden under my t-shirt. It had been joined tonight by Millicent’s emerald, and I thought I was in danger of looking lumpy in ways that had nothing to do with my negligibly-endowed chest.

  Ravi had hugged me and told me he still hoped I’d come back to work with him at the Tower. I assured him it was my dream job, and as soon as I finished school, I’d come begging for work.

  Then he finally got down to the business he had summoned Archer about. “As you know, your grandfather and I worked together in H Block maintaining the two Mark I Colossus machines that were housed there. The Wrens essentially ran the machines, but we both had engineering backgrounds and were trained by Max Neumann to make repairs.”

  “Wrens, as in birds?” I asked.

  Ravi smiled. “Wrens were the nickname given the Women’s Royal Navy Service, into the service of which so many of England’s brightest young women were pressed. The Wrens who operated Colossus were chosen as much for their height as for their intelligence, as the machines were very tall and complex. You, my dear, would have made a spectacular Wren.”