Alien Devices: Tesla joins crew to prevent alien zombie apocalypse (The Secret War Book 2) (9 page)

Chapter 11

S
ir Richard Bardon, secret agent of Her
Majesty Victoria watched the steam car pull smoothly away.
The Wind Dancer
driver was good enough that he could both brake the car and keep the steam up
at the same time. Even Bardon's driver back in London wasn't that good; there
was always an uncomfortable surge when the damned thing started moving.  He
only hoped that Hunting Owl was as good as his driver.

He had his reservations about sending Tesla with them, but
needs must, as the old saying went. Hunting Owl was no fool, and knew that he
could ransom Tesla for many times whatever Bardon could offer him. It had been
the presence of Saira Brighton that had convinced Bardon to take the risk of
hiring the ship and crew.

His superiors might question how the presence of a member of
the most notorious assassin -cults of the East could be reassuring. Bardon knew
from experience that there was no room in the Naga code for double-dealing.
Once someone gave their word, they could be trusted. Nor would a Naga-born-and-raised
assassin follow anyone who did not keep their word. Bardon knew that Saira
would see to it that the deal was kept, including killing anyone who tried to
take advantage of an innocent. In this case, Tesla certainly was a babe in the
woods, given the political environment.

Bardon frowned. Ever since they had arrived in Hong Kong to
search for Tesla's friend, Lord Robert Hadley, he had gotten the sense that
something was terribly wrong in this city. There were undercurrents beneath the
undercurrents here. He thought he had deduced that the Russians were playing
games with destabilizing the colony. Then had come the hideous discovery in the
shack during Tesla's rescue. Bardon shook his head.

Monsters walking among them. Were they tools of the Russians?
Did they have their own agenda? Too many questions he mused. Questions he
needed to find the answers to.  

His first duty was to see his cranky friend to safety. Tesla
might resist the idea, but Bardon was clear on this point. Tesla's mind was
worth any sacrifice to keep him alive and free from the enemy, whoever they
might prove to be. Bardon knew that his friend's resistance was not false
modesty, but rather a rage against the cage of fate and choice. Bardon knew
that resistance. He'd felt it himself. But then, he'd made all his choices long
ago. Queen and Country, he thought.     

Taking his bearings, he pulled out a cloth face mask, which he
tied around his face as he walked. Many in Hong Kong wore them to filter out
the incredible stink of the nighttime fog. The odorous mixture of coal smoke
and night fog wasn't this bad even in London, where the cockney street Arabs
had started calling it “smog” for smelly fog, or 'cog' for coal fog. But then
with the Shield nearly always present in Hong Kong, the fumes rarely got
vented. Part of the price for security.

As a Queens Eye, Bardon knew how great the need for that
security was, especially here in China. It was surprisingly easy to build
modern weapons once you had the knowledge. Every thug and petty warlord in the
country was doing just that. He had seen a coil cannon being forged in a
blacksmith's shop fueled by yak dung, not so far from here.

He pulled the mask snugly across his face. While the straits of
Her Majesty's colony in Hong Kong might be dire, tonight they served him well,
giving him the means to conceal his identity. He turned down Cherry Blossom
Lane. 'Alley' would be a better name for it, he thought. He hadn't revealed how
he was going to get the Shield open to the others in the car, because he
honestly hadn't known at the time.

He'd considered using his Preemus identity to get the Shield
station manager to open a portal. That would have led to awkward questions,
which would have necessitated him killing the entire night watch to be sure
nothing was revealed. Not only was the idea messy and inelegant, but he
couldn't be sure of killing them all before one escaped.  Bardon hated loose
ends. Then he'd noted where the car was, and remembered what night it was. A
more elegant solution presented itself.

He stopped before a door set in the wall, and rapped the
prescribed number of knocks.  Above the door burned a red shaded gas lamp, the
time-honored sigil of all such establishments. A view slit in the door opened,
and after a moment's scrutiny, closed again. The door opened, and Bardon
stepped into a bare front room in which stood a tough looking Oriental man in
evening clothes. Bardon kept his face mask on. 

“I'm sorry Sir,” The man grumbled, “But this club is for
members only.” His voice trailed off as Bardon held up a hundred pound note
where he could see it.

“I wish to speak to Madame, please,” Bardon said in a muffled
voice. “Take me to a room with a working Aetherwave, and have her join me
there.” He snatched the bill away from the man's reach. “Alone,” he emphasized,
before letting him take the notes.  The door guard bowed wordlessly and pulled
a bell cord. A young woman dressed in a passable European nanny ensemble
appeared in the far doorway.

“Take him to the private parlor, and then notify Madame”.  The
guard spoke to the nanny in Cantonese, which Bardon understood quite well. “I
think we have a visiting noble here. He's already dropped fifty pounds.” The
man hid the true amount as a matter of self-interest.

Bardon followed his escort down a narrow hall to a very
European parlor. He looked around in distaste. You could find the same furnishings
in any middle class home from Ipswich to Blair Street. There was no hint of the
Orient in the room at all. At least there was an Aetherwave in a glass-fronted
cabinet. Doubtless it was locked.  He sat down on the overstuffed settee and
sighed.

While Hong Kong was a very open city in many respects, there
were some sexual tastes that a man in government service simply couldn't afford
to be linked to. He supposed that the furnishings were in keeping with serving
that clientele, invoking boyhood memories and all that. Still, he found the
room depressing. More and more he was seeing the worst of British bland taste
creep in everywhere he traveled. They were in the middle of one of the most
glorious cities in the Orient, and you would never know it. Where was the
romance, he thought in despair? Where was the adventure? 

Bardon snorted to himself. Was he really getting that maudlin? 
Seeing Saira Brighton really had stirred up old things. He had wistful thoughts
about the girl’s quite terrifying and exhilarating mother. He sighed. It was
time to get his head in the game, he thought with resignation.  For Queen and
Country.

The door opened, and in swept an older European woman in the
long dress of a schoolmarm, complete with ruler. That the dress was made of
shiny rubber indicated that the woman was probably not with St. Mary's Academy,
Bardon observed wryly.

His time with the Naga had taught him not to be judgmental
about how people reached sexual ecstasy. The Naga taught that there were 129
ways to obtain sexual bliss, and all could be a way to enlightenment.  What
bothered Bardon was his society's hypocrisy on the subject, and the need to
hide harmless activities in the shadows. He looked at the hard face of
'Madame'. He was also bothered by those who exploited the situation He judged
this woman to be one who did so.

The woman slapped her ruler against her other palm and glared
at him. “I am not in the habit of dealing with naughty boys in face masks,” She
proclaimed. “Take that off at once!”

“No,” Bardon replied, “I am not here for your services.” He
opened a wallet and began dropping hundred pound notes on the end table while
watching her face. He stopped at four. The average worker in Hong Kong earned
perhaps one pound in a year. He knew that he was tossing around what the
members of this sorry little establishment would consider a fortune. He was
counting on their greed as part of his plan.

“I want to see Sir Percy White,” Bardon ordered through his
mask. “I want him in this room. I also want the key to your Aetherwave.” The
woman froze for a moment, and then moved towards the money on the end table.
Bardon quickly place his hand over it.

“Aetherwave key,” he said calmly. Bardon watched greed and
wariness war across her face. It was a quick battle. The woman pulled out a key
on a chain from inside her bodice and held it out to him, wordlessly. As he
took the key, he removed his hand from the end table, leaving two of the
hundred notes on the table. 'Madame' snatched them up.

“You get the other two when Sir Percy is here,” Bardon said to
her frowning face.  

“Sir Percy is being entertained,” Madame explained, her eyes
never leaving the notes in Bardon's hand. “It is not our custom to interrupt
our patrons.”

“Here, in five minutes, appropriately dressed,” Bardon took the
bank notes between his two hands and snapped the paper once. Madame jerked her
head in agreement and exited the room as if pursued by the fiends of hell
itself.

When he had first assumed the role of Preemus, the governor’s
secretary, Bardon had made it his business to learn all he could of the various
officers of the colony, their positions, their uses, and their weaknesses.

Sir Percy White was perfect for his needs tonight. As head of
Colonial Technology, both the Port Authority and Shield Management were within
his purview.  He was the one man who could order the Shield opened on his own
without additional bureaucratic nonsense. Even the Governor would have had to
go through Sir Percy. God bless British bureaucracy, he thought. Bardon didn't
have long to wait. Sir Percy stormed into the room in less than five minutes,
fully dressed in evening white tie, followed closely by Madame.

“See here sir!” White bellowed, “What is the meaning of this
outrage? A man has a right to privacy at his own club!” Bardon handed the two
bills to Madame who left without a word. Sir Percy's head swiveled around
trying to follow the exchange. Sir Percy was clearly not the sharpest pencil in
the box, Bardon observed.

As the door closed behind him, Sir Percy turned back to Bardon,
preparing to launch another tirade. Without a word, Bardon pulled down his
mask.

“Preemus?” Sir Percy gasped. “What the devil are you doing
here?” His face was growing redder as he spoke. Bardon imaged that it must be quite
embarrassing for the man at this moment.

“My name is not Preemus,” Bardon said coldly. He turned over
his lapel and activated his Eye badge. All the wind seemed to go from Sir Percy
at once as he stared at the glowing badge. The man sank into the chair across
from Bardon.

“My God, I knew it,” Sir Percy croaked. “I knew that you were
something other than a secretary. You've been investigating me. I am ruined,
aren't I?” He buried his face in his hands.

“That remains to be seen,” Bardon replied coolly. He didn't
bother to say that the Queen's Eyes would hardly be interested in his banal
sexual peccadilloes. “I require you to contact Port Authority and open a portal
in the Shield at the commercial tower district. I require it now!” Sir Percy
looked up at him.  Bardon pointed to the Aetherwave cabinet. “I assume that you
can do this?”

“Well, yes,” Sir Percy stammered, “But why?”

Bardon wordlessly tapped his badge with a finger in answer.
Bardon walked towards the cabinet.

“Yes, right,” the old man said. “That was stupid of me to ask
wasn't it?” Sir Percy lumbered up, and followed unsteadily to the cabinet,
which Bardon had unlocked.

Sir Percy pulled out a thin case and started fumbling through
the Farley crystals within it. Bardon knew that like most senior civil
servants, White would carry the Farley crystals that would allow him to
communicate securely over the Aetherwave with different people within his
department.  Bardon turned on the wave, and set it for a Farley transmission.
The crystal carousel popped up and Bardon turned aside for Sir Percy to enter
the crystal that would be a match to one in the set of a subordinate. 

“Sorry,” the man said, holding up a crystal between trembling
fingers. “Groves is much better at this sort of thing than I am.” Sir Percy
reached forward to insert the crystal, when Bardon stopped him with a hand on
the shoulder.

“Keep it simple,” the agent directed. “The portal must be open
for at least twenty minutes, clearance given to any ship that undocks. Do not
mention me at all.”

“Well, what reason do I give then?” White asked crossly.

“You don't need one. Are you the Director of Colony Technology
or not?” Bardon replied archly.

“Of course I am,” Sir Percy growled. “Still, there will be a
bloody lot of paperwork over this tomorrow.”

“You won't have to worry about that,” Bardon assured him.

“All very well for you to say,” Sir Percy set the crystal and
pushed buttons. The carousel lowered, whirling, and a small bell began chiming.
The wave was answered by the third chime. A tinny voice came from the speaker, “Port
Authority and Shield Control, Barnes speaking.” Sir Percy brought the speaking
horn up to his lips.

“Barnes!” Sir Percy bellowed. “This is White on a Farley
connection!”

“Director!” the voice replied surprised. After a pause the
voice spoke again, “Yes, I confirm that you are on a Farley connection.”

“Barnes,” Sir Percy bellowed into the horn. “I need you to open
the commercial tower portal for thirty minutes. Grant clearance to any ship
that undocks. I need you to do it now, if you please.”

“I'm sorry director, but I don't see that on my schedule,” the
voice replied nervously.

“Of course you don't, Barnes! “Sir Percy gave Bardon a sly
sideways glance. “This is a surprise evaluation test! Just do it, man!”

“Surprise test?” the voice hesitated before continuing, “Very
good Director. Per regulations, I must ask for your code to authorize the
operation sir.”