Moment of Truth (19 page)

Thus explaining the Gallian airship.
With some satisfaction, Aubrey ticked that item off his list of things to investigate. ‘Did your superior mention the nature of our mission?'

‘Mission?' Saltin looked perplexed. ‘I thought I was sent to watch over you while you studied at the university. Sir Darius's son deserves such assistance.'

‘Not exactly,' Aubrey said carefully. It appeared as if inter-governmental communications weren't all they should be – and it didn't bode well for coordination in future. ‘Our task here is war related.'

Saltin made a face. ‘The war. A farce. It should all be over in a few weeks.'

‘Really?' George leaned forward, neatly balancing half a hard-boiled egg on a slice of bread.

‘Holmland troops will march back and forward through the Low Countries, enough to show how brave and shiny they are, then they will go home and the negotiations will start.' Saltin waved a hand. ‘That is what people are saying. All will be calm by Christmas.'

He doesn't know about Dr Tremaine,
Aubrey thought. He took an olive from a jar that Caroline produced from the hamper. ‘Regardless, we have to find a property. A useful property to prepare as a base for some other operatives who will be here soon.'

Saltin thoughtfully munched on his ham and cheese concoction. ‘I've visited Divodorum many times. I know people who may be able to help.'

Conversation turned to more mundane matters while the picnic supplies diminished – the weather, the latest fashions, Major Saltin's plans for his moustache. The day was soft and warm, and for a moment Aubrey was able to forget the pressing of the war, with the laughter of nearby students adding to the drowsy comfort of the park. Without raising himself from his prone position, Aubrey could see rowing boats on the river, where couples drifted, absorbed in each other.

It was a way of life he could grow accustomed to. He brushed an ant off the rug. Caroline was telling Major Saltin about dances in Trinovant, while George gazed about the park and made desultory scrawls in a notebook.

After the picnic was packed up, Saltin walked with them toward the fortress, explaining that the area around it was the sort of light industrial district that might have something suitable. As they neared, a column of military lorries and wagons thundered over one of the medieval bridges, sending up dust that hung in the still, warm air. ‘We've been told to avoid the Holmland border when flying,' Saltin said while they waited for the dust to settle. ‘For the time being. It is a shame, for the Holmlanders are good men, fine pilots.'

‘You used to meet them?' Aubrey asked. His boots were filthy and he looked at them with dismay.

‘We would often moor at Stalsfrieden, just across the border, and talk about aeronautics.'

Interesting,
Aubrey thought. What had Saltin learned? He was no intelligence operative, but even casual conversation could throw up useful information. ‘When were you last there?'

‘A few weeks ago. Just before this silly war was declared.'

An unspoken conversation flitted between Aubrey, Caroline and George. Even though it consisted mostly of arch looks, raised eyebrows, meaningful nods and pursed lips, the meaning was clear, so Aubrey asked: ‘Did you happen to notice anything unusual in Stalsfrieden?'

‘Unusual? What do you mean?'

‘Did you notice any new buildings? Or unusual movements of heavy transport or the like?'

‘Ah, you are after intelligence about Holmland capabilities.' Saltin sighed. ‘I am still having trouble thinking that way.'

‘We have to,' Caroline pointed out. ‘Times have changed.'

‘And changed quickly.' Saltin straightened his cap. ‘Stalsfrieden always has heavy transport. It is a rail centre for north-west Holmland. I did not notice anything unusual.'

‘No new buildings?' George asked.

Saltin shrugged. ‘It is a busy place. Much building has been going on for years. Factories, warehouses. Some of the old mills are being turned to new uses. Even the von Grolman complex.' He stopped. ‘What did I say?'

It was Aubrey who first found his voice again. ‘Von Grolman. That would be Baron von Grolman, the Fisherberg industrialist?'

‘You know him? A good man. He hosts Gallian crews at his Stalsfrieden estate many times.' Saltin grinned. ‘He knows his wine, too. For a Holmlander.'

Aubrey bit down on this new item of information, already worth its place in a report. Caroline had known Baron von Grolman for some time as a wealthy friend of her mother. In fact, they'd been staying at his Fisherberg castle when Aubrey had uncovered the plot to replace Prince Albert with a golem. The baron's part in this was not apparent at first, but gradually, it and his association with Dr Tremaine had come to light. While not as prominent a public figure as the Chancellor and his generals, Baron von Grolman's huge fortune – and his desire for more – was a crucial factor in Holmland's warmongering.

‘This estate,' George said slowly. ‘Is this at the complex you mentioned?'

‘No, my friend. The estate is in the woods overlooking the city. Empty, it has been, for many years, until recently. It was a woollen mill, but when the wool trade left Stalsfrieden, it was worthless. It was vacant for years. The baron's father wanted to turn it into a pleasure park, for children, but he lost interest after some work was done.'

‘But the baron has opened it again?' Caroline asked.

‘As a factory. New buildings have been built, new fences, an electricity generating plant constructed. It is unmistakable. The two towers on the original building make it look like a castle.'

‘I'm sure it does,' Aubrey said. ‘And I'm sure we'd love to have a look at it.'

‘I would take you, if it were not for this war. Still, a few weeks and it will all be over.'

Aubrey – knowing Dr Tremaine's goal and his capabilities – wasn't sure at all, but he wasn't about to disabuse Major Saltin so abruptly.

Caroline took his arm. ‘Aubrey.'

He stopped and looked in the direction she was gesturing. A short street stretched off to the left, finishing in a dead end where it reached the river. On one side of the street was a series of warehouses. On the other was a row of two-storey buildings, shops selling hardware-related items, mostly, but right at the end was a long red-brick building with a yard attached and a river frontage. The shops were quiet and shut, and had been for some time, to judge from the boards over the doors and windows. The red brick building, too, looked unoccupied.

‘Saltin,' Aubrey said. ‘Do you know this place?'

Saltin squinted. ‘No, but I have a friend who might.'

The last occupants of the building had been brothers who had started an electroplating business, Saltin reported later that afternoon. A combination of filial mistrust and general business ineptitude meant that after outfitting the place as a workshop and office, it quickly went broke.

Saltin arranged an inspection. With the river frontage came a small private dock for barge delivery, which Aubrey took as a great bonus. George found a considerable basement, too, even if it was a little damp from the presence of the nearby river. Caroline reported good electricity and water supplies, as well as a useful flat roof with good access. With that, they were satisfied.

After a quick discussion with Saltin, Aubrey left the negotiation to him, suggesting a cover story of a brother who was going to set up business in Divodorum.

Aubrey explored the roof while Saltin was gone. With good field glasses, he was sure he'd have a commanding view of the countryside surrounding Divodorum. Even without them, he could see over the fortress and practice fields, the airfield, and – in the other direction – back toward the city, where the river and railway swept away to the south.

Caroline joined him. ‘It's perfect,' she murmured. A slight breeze came across the tarred roof and ruffled her hair. Aubrey was glad he was close to her, but saddened that he couldn't be closer. ‘I can set up our wireless telegraphy equipment and string an antenna across the roof.'

‘Won't that be a little prominent?' he asked.

‘I'll lay a horizontal field antenna from corner to corner. No-one will notice unless they come up here.' She peered to the north-east. ‘Holmland is just over there.'

‘Twenty miles to the border through hills and woods. Stalsfrieden is only a few miles from the other side.'

‘Can you sense anything?'

Aubrey shook his head. ‘That's not my forte, remote monitoring. I can't feel a thing at this distance.'

‘I can.' Caroline shuddered. ‘I can feel war.'

The rest of the week was given to the task of not drawing attention to themselves – while readying their newly leased base for the arrival of the magical surveillance team.

Aubrey was determined to prepare the facility perfectly, to show how well the neophyte team could perform its duties, and to have it ready well within the week allowed for the task.

Of course, what had seemed straightforward – if testing – in Albion, now looked rather more daunting. Aubrey frowned at the list he'd made, not quite sure where to start.

First was a program of making vital purchases. With some misgivings, Aubrey agreed to separating for this. He had doubts about George's managing with his notorious lack of Gallian, but he was convinced by Caroline, who pointed out that a useful team must have members who were able to operate independently.

While these transactions were taking place, they also had to secure the base, making sure that no unwanted visitors could interrupt their delicate work. He sighed. Then there was constructing the area for the remote sensing operatives. It had to be shielded from stray magic, as much as possible, as well as more ordinary distractions like noise, or light, or just about anything, really. Much of this was uncomplicated carpentry, turning part of the basement into a detached area where the remote sensers could concentrate in isolation. Another part of the basement had to be set up as a general workshop. George was a dab hand at that sort of thing, and part of his purchasing responsibility was timber and tools.

The remote sensers were bringing some shielding devices with them, but Aubrey had a notion or two that he wanted to try. He'd managed to bring a few key components, but he'd have to cobble together the rest from what he could turn up in Divodorum.

The plans and blueprints Aubrey had for these machines were cunningly concealed in the maps in the rear of a Green Guide tourist book. Harmless to look at, just the sort of thing a visitor to the city would be expected to have, the pages had been magically treated using a selective application of the Law of Affinity. With the correct activating words, parts of the maps would fade – or disappear entirely. The remaining lines and text showed the plan needed to construct the shielding device. Another uttering of the activating words would restore the map to its innocent original state.

All that was left was to find and purchase the necessary components.

Or the components to the components,
Aubrey thought as he locked the front door of the factory.

Wandering into a shop and asking for a dozen harmonic valves was likely to cause gossip, even if he could find a place that sold such esoteric items. No, he had to construct many of the components from scratch and apply the needed spells in the correct sequence while he was doing so.

The market was Aubrey's first port of call. The Divodorum town square was bustling and crowded, noisy and colourful as stallholders hawked their wares while shoppers scrutinised and occasionally bought them.

Aubrey found a row of stalls offering a surprising array of technical items amid the plumbing necessities and ironmongery. He bought copper wire, insulating material, some small vials of mercury and as much bell metal as he could find. The stall owner was keen to assist Aubrey, and packaged everything in good brown paper, where appropriate, and stowed the rest in a hessian bag. Aubrey swung the bag over his shoulder, gazed at the vigorous commerce of the market, and took stock.

He assumed that uniforms weren't uncommon in Divodorum, given the vicinity of the fortress, but he wondered if the town had seen as many soldiers and airmen as were currently present. Twice on his way to the market he'd had to wait while columns of troops marched through the streets, accompanied by rumbling lorries laden with artillery and – just as importantly – provisions. The amount of provisioning gave Aubrey pause. It showed that someone somewhere was thinking ahead, either to enormous numbers of troops, or to a time when provisions may not be so easily obtained.

Neither option was reassuring.

When Aubrey returned to the factory, Caroline hadn't returned but George was in the yard, unloading a wagon.

‘Flour, George?' he said as he approached his friend. He carefully put his bag on a rack just inside the large double doors. ‘Butter? Cabbages?'

‘Just the ticket,' George said and with a grunt he heaved a crate off the back of the wagon. ‘Don't stand back, old man, lend a hand. I have to get this wagon back in an hour.'

‘Vinegar, George? And what's that? Olive oil?'

‘Just being efficient, old man. We're likely to be holed up here for some time, correct?'

‘That's one possibility.'

‘So I thought that meals might be a problem.'

‘Or we could go hungry.'

George looked as if he'd suggested painting themselves blue and dancing through the streets as a way of remaining clandestine. ‘Go hungry? Have you had a blow on the head or something? Go hungry? Can't have that.'

‘So I see.'

‘The factory has a kitchen – I'm sure you hardly noticed – and I've purchased some basic cooking equipment, some wood for the stove and now, the food.'

Aubrey thought of the lorries taking provisions to the fortress. ‘You know, George, I think this may be a very good idea. You'll do the cooking?'

‘Of course, old man. Ah, here's Caroline!'

Caroline glided toward them on her bicycle, the front basket of which was stacked so high that Aubrey was worried about her being able to see. He caught the handlebars as she came to a halt. ‘Thank you, Aubrey. Can you take that topmost box before it falls?'

‘Successful shopping?'

‘It's a good start, and I happened to find out something very interesting. Two Holmland agents have been arrested.'

A chill. ‘Any details?'

‘They were both long-time residents of Divodorum. They had wireless equipment in their houses.'

Aubrey held Caroline's parcel in his fingertips, balanced. Long-time residents meant that Holmland security had been active for some time preparing for war.

It was a reminder, even though none was needed, of the seriousness of their position.

Seven days of hard work resulted in a secret Albion security base that Aubrey was confident would be suitable for even the pickiest of remote sensers.

He stood in front of the factory in the late afternoon sun, hands on hips. He wiped the sweat away from his forehead and appraised their work objectively.

It was good.
And,
he thought,
with a little more work, it could operate even if Divodorum were overrun by the Holmlanders.

While this wasn't the primary function of such a base, Aubrey knew that such a thing was in the minds of the top brass in Albion – small bands of independent operatives, working behind the lines to make life hard for Holmland occupiers. It would be a dangerous, tense life, and Aubrey hoped it would never come to that – but he couldn't deny that such a challenge appealed.

Caroline's wireless post was secured behind a false wall on the ground floor. The remote sensing facility was in the basement, where George had constructed bunks as well as the monitoring and recording booths, right near Aubrey's tiny encoding office, where he'd work with the compact ciphering machine. The armoury, double-locked and bolted, was set into the floor of Aubrey's office, a masterpiece of George's joinery work.

Sleeping quarters took up the end of the basement away from the remote sensing area. Side by side, divided by neat walls George had erected, each small, private area was spartan, just big enough for a small pallet, with a curtain to screen the straw mattress from the main basement area.

George had also managed some clever electricity theft, organising a hidden connection from a power company cable that ran along the river bank. It meant that if the worst came to the worst, the factory could be boarded up and would give every appearance of being another abandoned building in an area full of vacant premises.

At the moment, it wasn't necessary to be so clandestine. The factory looked just as it was – a facility being renovated, getting ready for new use.

The makeshift shielding was also operating well. The devices Aubrey had sweated over were located precisely about the building. From a distance, he hoped, no magician would notice anything untoward about the factory. Aubrey had tested it, and not a trace of magic leaked through the walls.

That evening, Major Saltin joined them for supper and informed them that his status had changed. ‘I am now in charge of the ground crew here at Divodorum,' he announced over a hearty chicken and red wine casserole. ‘I will continue to be your liaison.'

‘How long?' Aubrey asked.

‘Won't you miss flying?' Caroline asked.

Major Saltin shrugged. ‘Months, my orders said. It will be a trial, being so earthbound.' He speared a potato. ‘But not if the food is always this good. My compliments to the chef.'

‘I'm glad you liked it,' George said, ‘since it was your chicken. Where did you get it?'

‘Friends.' Major Saltin beamed. ‘I have many friends.'

Caroline touched her lips with a napkin. ‘I should be able to send a message tonight. If you're ready, Aubrey.'

‘What time tonight?'

‘After midnight. Transmission is easier once the sun has gone down.'

‘I'll be ready,' he said, thinking of what he still had to do. ‘George, can you lend me a hand?'

‘A hand? Of course.'

‘I can lend hands as well,' Major Saltin said, ‘but do not look to me for any magical assistance.'

‘If you're happy to, Saltin,' Aubrey said. ‘I'd appreciate it.'

Saltin took off his jacket, hung it over the back of the chair, and rolled up his sleeves. ‘Where do we start?'

Midnight had well and truly rolled past by the time Aubrey, George and Saltin finished the final touches on the remote sensing facility. The smell of sawdust tickled Aubrey's nose, mingling with the slightly oily sensation that came from the shielding magic he'd employed on the devices – something he could only feel because he was inside their range of effect. The devices themselves were installed inside large mantel clocks he'd found at a second-hand shop. All four were different, and it had made his work fiendishly difficult, but – at least at first glance – the clocks looked nothing more suspicious than slightly old-fashioned timepieces.