The Hidden Man: A Phineas Starblower Adventure (Phineas Starblower Adventures)

This is a work of fiction. A fiction of an England how we would have secretly liked it to be as opposed to what it turned out in real life!

What if just a few things had been different? Different technologies discovered a bit earlier or made a bit better than they were? What would have happened? What impact would that have had upon the social and political climbate of the globe? How did they occur? Who made them, or made them better in this alternate timeline? All these things we asked ourselves as we sat down to make this novel, fantastic fiction is all well and good and very entertaining but not quite what we wanted here. We wanted at least to project and postulate a world that really might have been had folks figured out a few things a wee bit earlier than they did.

That quite naturally made us wonder about the balance of world power, if country-so-and-so could do this now how would they use it to further their place in the world society? This in turn lead to how would that affect the socio economic make up of that country? How then would the socio economic make up now affect individual companies and businesses? How then would those busineses affect the lives of those employed in them? In short we designed our world then thought back to the story of a few men and women in it.

I do not reccomend this!

It was glorious fun but
very
time consuming. The good thing is now we know our world future escapades in it should be a lot easier now as we "know how it works!"
This then is a story about how folks get treated, and the lengths they will go to to get what they want. A story of villany and unintentional High heroism. Of decite, and the turning of tables on the decitful with a vindictive cosmic Karma the final arbiter.

So crack on then and have a read, can you spot the Hidden Man?

Giles & Lori Othen

To Eric Emerson for without him this book would not exist.
His love, support and encouragement carried us through to the very end.

To Robert Zimmerman, Robert Aneraen Johnson and Raven Neeley, our beta readers.
Your willingness to devote your time and energy has left us awestruck and in your debt.
Without you guys this book would not be as good as it is!

“The colonel will see you now+.” The adjutant said as he opened the elaborate door.

The young captain straightened his uniform, not nervously as some might suppose, but fastidiously. He desired nothing more than to present himself as immaculately as possible before his superior officer.

Ignoring the functionary, the Captain swept into the room and ripped a smart salute to the Colonel who was just rising from behind the magnificently carved and painted desk.

“Reporting as ordered Colonel!”

“Ah agent Maquise, I was just re-reading the report on your excellent work at the International Competition in Lorrach the other month. Impressive work, the English were thoroughly embarrassed which put us in a much stronger diplomatic position with them. A shame about the civilian deaths however.”

“Fortunes of war Colonel, I expect those that died would have been happy to sacrifice for the “Fatherland” had they been given the opportunity.” The agent replied cynically.

“Indeed.” The Colonel acknowledged as he turned his back on him to retrieve a pair of brandy glasses from the sideboard. The old man took a moment to gaze out of the large window at the beautiful city below, it was dusk and the lights were just beginning to add to her sparkle. The Colonel smiled and half turned back to the waiting man. He held out one of the glasses to the Captain and raised his own. “A drink, to The City of Lights.”

'Maquise'
accepted the glass and raised it, “The City of Lights.” He took a sip of the fine Cognac, allowing it roll across his tongue before swallowing. At least the liquor was pleasing even if the toast was not.

“Now Captain Gaspe, let us get down to the reason you have been summoned.” The Colonel motioned to the chair across from his desk for the Captain and then resumed his seat behind the massive piece of furniture.

“We at High Command have another mission for one of your exceptional talents. Once again you will be put into the position to further embarrass the British and if you perform well may even gain us some valuable scientific espionage.”

The Captain’s eyes glinted at the prospect. “Excellent! How may I serve this time?”

“Are you familiar with a Dr. Everard Nordstrom, Captain?”

“The name is vaguely familiar Sir, but the details escape me.”

“Dr. Nordstrom is currently working in England on a refinement for the new petrol engines. We believe that his work will provide a much faster alternative to the steam pressure engines currently used in our airships. It is an advantage the
over mighty’
British must be denied.”

The Colonel set his drink down with a sharp rap and leaned forward as if imparting a great secret.

“Especially as it is rumored the research is an out growth of the theories of his Prussian father. Theories I might add that were propounded while Dr.
Emile
Nordstrom was still a resident and a citizen of Prussia.”

The Captain looked grave, this was important research and as an airship commander himself he could appreciate the thought of a faster more maneuverable craft. “So you wish for me to steal Dr. Nordstrom’s work my Colonel?” He queried, sipping at his drink to hide his distaste of becoming a common thief.

“No Captain, High Command is not interested in anything so pedestrian, this is a game of much higher stakes. We wish for you to go to England and return Dr. Nordstrom back to the Fatherland. Then, after all the world witnesses the good doctor’s little ‘defection’, you must bring him here for interrogation. Or at least ensure his research will not...continue.” The Colonel’s gray eyes flashed with a murderous light that could not be mistaken.

“I see…” The Captain replied and briefly pursed his lips in thought. “A swift and secret crossing of the channel would be the simplest way. However given the tensions between the Empire and the German states, to bring Dr. Nordstrom through France to Germany would be impractical. It is regaining the continent that will be a tricky proposition,” mused the Captain.

“Indeed, but we have every confidence in you
Major.
” The senior officer paused to ensure the newly made Major Gaspe understood him. “We are interested in results only, how you choose to accomplish them is entirely up to you.”

“I understand Colonel, it shall be my pleasure to…how do they say it? ‘Pull the wool over the eyes’ of the arrogant British.”

The Colonel raised his glass at the younger man’s fervor. “See that you do, war is brewing in Europe and above all we cannot have the British involved. A sound humiliation will reduce their stock among the continental powers.”

“And the esteemed Dr Nordstrom’s research will only aid our own war efforts,” the Major concluded. His agile mind already considering his options, and slowly a plan took shape. “I have heard of a man in England that might be persuaded to assist us in this my Colonel. A little money in the right pocket and... I think I have a solution to the English supremacy upon the Ocean.”

“Very good. I shall leave you to it and I expect a report of your plans on my desk first thing in the morning.” The Colonel rose, summarily dismissing him.

The soft knock on the door brought Tash out of the reports and ledgers and back into her comfortably furnished study. She blinked several times and rubbed her eyes trying to engage her long range focus. It seemed a full minute before she was able to discern the mahogany linen fold paneling and ornate brass handles of the large double doors. I’ve been reading too long she realized. A thought confirmed by the loud growl of her stomach. Her manservant, trusted friend and former nursemaid softly entered and closed the door firmly behind.

“Mem-sahib? I am sorry to disturb you but...”

“Mem-sahib? Oh dear god Gopal, this must be dreadfully important if you have reverted to Mem-sahib.” Tash sighed loudly and teasingly said, “I suppose this means that you are not here with my tea?” She waved him forward still blinking her eyes; his soft slippers not making a sound as he glided across the huge subtly patterned oriental carpet.

“Well madam, there
is
a gentleman here to see Phineas Starblower. And his arrival
did
interrupt the preparation of your tea; shall I send him away…?”

Tash laughed. “No, no dear one, as ever, my work interrupts my work. I suppose you told him Phineas was trekking the Jostedalsbreen glacier in Norway?”

“Of course Mem-shaib.” Gopal executed one of his elegant half bows. “However this individual is insistent on seeing
someone
as his business is urgent.”

“Isn’t it always Gopal?” Tash sighed again. “He probably just wants to deliver another invitation to Starblower. What’s his name?” Tash picked up her fancy new ‘fountain pen’ to jot down the name, she was awful at remembering names.

“Yes, madam, it is the usual perception that one’s own business is always much more important than that of others. However, the
gentleman
would not give
me
his name.”

Uh, oh Tash thought, this one has done a royal job of insulting Gopal, how curious. “All right show him in I suppose and bring up the tea if you would, please. I could use a bit of a break right now. Although having tea with this person was not exactly what I originally had in mind.” Tash frowned and looked woefully at Gopal.

“Right away Mem-sahib.” Gopal said, face carefully blank. But Tash caught a flash of amusement as he turned to admit their ‘important’ visitor.

Tash stood and stretched her back a moment. She had been sitting and reviewing the latest accident reports from the London factory and they were troubling to say the least. That, combined with the obvious sabotage to the airship, was adding up to something that could be quite unpleasant. Although she was not certain that the two were related. Oh damn this interruption she thought
,
it would have been so much better to relax over tea and discuss her thoughts with Gopal. Ah well… The door opened again and Tash turned displaying her best secretary’s smile.

“Thank you for seeing me Mr. Smythe-Harris, I have an urgent request from….you…you are not
Mr.
Smythe-Harris!” The man stood blustering, his face red, he was obviously caught off guard. Tash suspected that this was a rare occasion for this graying, short and somewhat tubby individual.

“No.” Tash said, drawing herself up to her full five feet and six inches of height and folded her hands primly at her waist. “I am
Miss
Smythe-Harris, personal secretary to Mr. Phineas Starblower.” Tash did not bother to keep the irritation out of her voice. “How may I assist you Sir?”

“I…uh…pardon me madam.” The man executed a rather comical bow; made more so by his belly getting in the way.

“Certainly, Mr…?” Tash let the question hang in the air, she was beginning to enjoy this little encounter. It was always good to get the upper hand right in the beginning. She allowed him a polite smile and a raised eyebrow.

“Oh! Forgive me madam. My manners seem to have…well, never mind…I am Mansfield. Lord William Mansfield, KG.”

A point for a nice recovery Tash thought, I wonder what a Knight of the Garter would want with Starblower? “What a pleasure to meet you M’lord Mansfield!” Tash moved gracefully toward the man, her hand extended in greeting. This was always the best part as ‘gentlemen’ never knew whether or not to shake it or kiss it. Tash never curtsied in meetings like this because that was what they expected of a woman. And the unexpected should be the only thing one ever expects from Theodosia Amelia Smythe-Harris, T.A.S.H. to her friends.

Mansfield awkwardly took Tash’s hand and gave it a perfunctory pump before dropping it quickly and making a great show of drawing himself up and looking important. It was all Tash could do to keep up the façade of polite interest and not fall ungraciously to the floor in a fit of laughter. “Will you have a seat Lord Mansfield? My manservant is bringing tea.”

Mansfield ignored Tash’s gesture toward the silk upholstered settee and chairs comfortably arranged in front of the long windows. “It is of the utmost import that I reach Mr. Starblower immediately.” Mansfield insisted.

“And I am sure that Gopal informed you that Mr. Starblower was currently trekking a rather large glacier in Norway. He is testing out a new boot you see. Originally the Duke of Wellington had our London factory craft a custom order. The result was so good that we have created several test pairs of these boots. They are not only sturdy and comfortable but somewhat waterproof. Mr. Starblower felt that a thorough test would be necessary before we sold these “Wellington boots” to the public. I am afraid that at the moment Mr. Starblower is quite unreachable. Is there some way that
I
may be of service to you Sir?”