Dawn's Early Light

by Pip Ballantine

  Yes, this meeting was most unorthodox and highly unusual, but necessary.

  The young man entered the parlour, stopping abruptly at the wide archway. He swallowed as he adjusted his spectacles, taking in the sight of the Ministry director. All colour seemed to drain from him the longer he stood there. The master of the house seemed to take on the semblance of a ghost.

  I know, lad. I know, Sound lamented silently. Hardly what you expected.

  “Good evening, Basil,” his host finally managed. “Would you care for a scotch?”

  “I was about to suggest the same for you.”

  The man nodded, moving quickly to the decanters. “I would say yes, most assuredly, I need a drink.”

  Doctor Sound gave his host a wide berth as he fumbled with the decanter and glass. The glass was well over four fingers deep. He could hardly blame him.

  “My recommendation, Herbert,” Sound began, “is that you enjoy two of those four fingers and then stop there or plan to take the rest of that drink on the road.”

  Herbert took a deep swig of the amber drink and then gave a long exhale, his back still turned to Doctor Sound. “Am I going on holiday?”

  “In about—” Sound pulled out his pocket watch and then glanced out the window. His hired cab still waited for him. Passersby gave the hansom no notice or concern. “Ten minutes, yes.”

  Herbert took another drink. Perhaps it was a trick of gaslight, but when he turned back around, resigned, colour seemed to be returning to his skin. “It’s happening, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Is it as serious as you believed it would be?”

  That scotch was becoming more and more tempting. “It would seem to be far worse than I had anticipated.”

  “Than you anticipated?” Herbert gave a hard, dry laugh. “We know each other far too well, Basil, to believe this is guesswork on your part.”

  “But it is, Herbert. How many times do I need to stress that?” Sound retorted. “I have access to limited intelligence, and while I suspected there was a conspiracy afoot, I had no idea how high it reached.”

  Herbert set down the snifter and stroked his moustache. “So I am to leave the city?”

  “The country.”

  Herbert nodded. “How far up does this go?”

  “You must leave England. Tonight.” Sound walked over to the hatstand and retrieved his bowler. “I will arrange for you an invitation to a zoological expedition in Belize. The last airship should be departing in a matter of hours. The tickets will be waiting under your name.”

  Herbert chuckled. “A shame this could not have happened a year or two earlier. My latest book would have fitted this ruse quite well.”

  “I have no doubt.” Sound placed his bowler on his head and gave his waistcoat a slight tug. “Leave tonight. No exceptions.”

  “I will.”

  “Excellent.”

  Sound turned to see the maid frantically unlocking the door, but it was Herbert’s words that stopped him. “What about you, Basil? What will you do?”

  He turned back to the handsome Renaissance man and gave him a rakish wink. “Best you not ask too many questions.”

  “You know my nature, Basil,” he said with an impish smile.

  “All too well.” With a tip of his hat, Sound made for the now-open door. “Safe travels to you, Herbert.”

  Night had now claimed London completely. By now, he was certain Her Majesty either was about to receive or had received word that he had disappeared into a sweetshop mere blocks away from Buckingham Palace. The time for action was now upon him in full.

  “Miggins Antiquities, Industry Row,” he said to the driver.