The Hidden Man: A Phineas Starblower Adventure (Phineas Starblower Adventures) (3 page)

“I also contacted our agent, Carstares, in Edinburgh who left immediately for Glasgow to check out Miss Nordstrom’s account of the attempted burglary. He has, since then, been working with the Scottish authorities in sorting out this whole business with Erlich.

This morning I received a telegram from him stating that he believes, despite our best efforts, that the kidnappers have escaped to Norway. At about 7:00 am this morning, an unregistered boat picked up three passengers about two miles down the coast from Aberdeen. The witnessing fishermen were able to describe quite clearly Dr. Nordstrom and two other men, one was a blonde, whom we now have a rather accurate description of.”

“So, you’re telling me that they have succeeded in removing Dr. Nordstrom from this country?” Tash did not know whether to throttle the man or worse, burst into tears.

“Not exactly.”

“Not exactly? What is that supposed to mean?” Tash was openly gritting her teeth at this point, the cold hard stare had returned. Every man who ever had a mother recognized that look, it was the one that made you desire to be anywhere but here.

Mansfield swallowed but soldiered on. “Does not Mr. Phineas Starblower own one of only two private airships to be found in this country?”

“Yes.” Tash said hesitantly, she was not sure where this was going.

“Well Her Majesty has need of that ship. And I am here to formally request the use of Mr. Starblower’s airship,
The Soul of Discretion
. I believe she is currently birthed here in London on the Isle of Dogs?"

“That is correct Lord Mansfield, but I must warn you she experienced an accident a few days ago. We have been able to repair her for a flight to Scotland but she will need further repairs when we reach Beardmore’s factory in Glasgow.”

“I see,” said Mansfield. “And how long do you expect the repairs to take?”

“Oh surely not more than a day, Sir. Mr. Beardmore has been informed by telegraph that we are coming. He also has been apprised of the damages and has already assembled the means for her repairs.” Tash desperately wanted to add that she also had the power to be assured that the repairs only took a day but she bit down on her tongue instead.

Mansfield was thinking and obviously thinking hard. Tash could almost see the wheels turning and longed to ask what that was all about. He finally spoke up.

“Miss Smythe-Harris, will you be able to get word to Mr. Starblower tonight? I am thinking that if the ship were able to depart London early morning tomorrow then she could be in Scotland by tomorrow evening. The repairs could be started and hopefully completed quickly. I shall have Carstares meet the ship at Beardmore’s. I calculate if they take-off at dawn day after tomorrow, then Carstares will be able to beat that unregistered boat to Norway by a half of a day. He will be well situated to capture our kidnappers and get Dr. Nordstrom home.”

Tash nodded slowly. Although what she was thinking was that the man was playing fast-and-loose with Starblower & Co.’s equipment; she let him prattle on. She had already done the numbers in her head and figured the
Discretion
would arrive in Scotland by the afternoon and repairs could start then. In fact after reading the damage reports Tash felt confident that the repairs
could
be completed by late that evening, making a dawn departure the next day a viable option. But how did Mansfield know this?

“Excellent, I am glad you agree madam. I will have Carstares arrive as soon as possible so he can look over the ship before the take-off. I trust you will be going to the telegraph office as soon as I leave to inform Mr. Starblower of the events in motion?

Tash opened her mouth to state that she had in fact not agreed to anything but closed it quickly and gracefully inclined her head in assent. If the Discretion could catch Evy’s kiddnappers then there was really no question here. They
would
be taking off tomorrow morning.

Mansfield pulled a gold pocket watch out and flipped open the engraved cover. Peering at it a moment he seemed to make a decision. “Good, I will be off now as we both have quite a bit of work to do before we rest tonight. I expect, you will inform the captain and crew of the airship that they are to be placed at Mr. Carstares disposal for as long as he needs them? Good, good. I will also expect you in my office tomorrow morning after the ship has lifted off. I will need to give some details regarding the ship to agent Carstares so that he might further plan the rescue. Thank you very much Miss Smythe-Harris for you cooperation and please thank Mr. Starblower as well. I can assure you of Her Majesty’s gratitude.” Mansfield got to his feet and bowed. “I will see myself out Miss Smythe-Harris, good day.”

The moment the door closed firmly behind that overblown fool, Tash’s teacup smashed against it. She watched the dregs of the cup slide slowly down the door with a small regret that she could not have thrown the thing at his head. At no point did Tash agree to give over the Discretion to this Carstares. And did he actually command her to appear in his office tomorrow morning? Her Majesty’s gratitude be damned! She was going to get Evy back!

The furious woman waited patiently until she heard the front door close downstairs before she strode across the room, kicked the remains of the china cup out of the way, and flung open the door. “Gopal!” She shouted, “Please have the carriage brought ‘round!”

Jerard walked briskly through the pouring rain; his mood as black as the soot running down the factory walls. The rain invaded the collar of his outer coat and threatened to invade the sanctity of his oiled hat. Today as he walked by the factory he was not willing to take comfort in the thumping of its machinery nor was he willing to spend any more time in the cursed rain of the East End street.

Slamming open the swollen and battered door of The Broken Piston he made his entrance. The smells of the gin house assailed his nostrils and caused his lip to curl. But it was always this way and Jerard knew that soon he could drown out the smell and the filth and his bad mood by drinking the rock-gut brew this place was so famous for. He wove his way past the rickety long tables and sparsely spaced smoking gas lights to the corner farthest away from the bar. His boots alternately crunched and stuck to the wood plank floor and he wondered, not for the first time, if those woe-begotten boards had ever seen the likes of a mop. Well at least his regular table had been scrubbed or perhaps it was just one of the first ones cleaned for the night and thus the cleaning towels used by the staff were fresh? No matter he did not come here for tea and niceties.

“You’re early today Love.”

“What’s early Daisy? Is it ever too early to drown one’s sorrows? Has the keep not drawn the swill from the bottoms of his overflowing barrels? Nay my sweet sparrow we both know differently. Bring me three today, line them up like good little soldiers in front of me so that I may inspect the troops.” Jerard laughed, but it was not a pleasant sound and Daisy turned quickly to retrieve the man’s drink.

She returned with three filthy mugs filled halfway with gin and put them on the table. Jerard growled and leapt to his feet, sweeping his arm across the table knocking over the mugs.

“This is NOT a proper inspection!” He roared. “Look at my men! They are filthy and not brimming with enthusiasm! I hold you accountable Sergeant Daisy! Clean up this mess and muster these men properly!”

Daisy quickly gathered the mugs, ducking to avoid a possible blow. He’s turned into a right proper nutter, she thought. Wonder wot’s caused his nibs to go off?

Jerard wondered much the same thing as he watched the rotund bar maid’s hasty retreat. Come on old boy, he told himself. This is not the way a Gentleman conducts one’s self. Stay that anger! This is your last bastion and it just would not do to make enemies here. Inhaling deeply Jerard moved down to the other end of the table to avoid the dripping gin and offered Daisy a tentative smile as she approached with the three fresh (and remarkably clean) mugs brimming with gin.

“Madam, please forgive my outburst. The ghosts of my past have reared their ugly heads and I am ashamed to have vented them upon your lovely person. Can you forgive me sweet Daisy? Will you do me the honor of forgetting the past few minutes?”

Daisy blushed as she laid down the drink. “Aye Sir, that I can but the keep is no willing and says you must pay for the spilled gin.”

“It is of no consequence and I shall be glad to remit recompense.”

Daisy executed a rather clumsy curtsy in reply to Jerard and attempted a smile. Even though the barmaid had been somewhat mollified by the gent’s fancy words and sincere apology she hoped that “remit recompense” meant he was going to pay the keep. That was all she needed today was to have to deal with a surly boss as well as a nutter customer.

Jerard watched her go still feeling the shame of the way he had treated her. It was not her fault that he woke up this morning. His pleasant dreams of being back aboard his command ship and flying the skies had given way to the rapping of the cold rain on the grimy window of his room in the boarding house. The bleak little space reminded him that the man he once was had gone and in its place stood a pathetic coward with no place to go and no means to get there. Jerard felt the anger rise again and did not stop it. He knew that it was easier to bear than his feelings of loss and failure. He reached out and grabbed the full mug of gin and raised it into the air as if to toast. But no toast would come to his lips as he recognized his only desire was to drown in the harsh liquid…and to forget. In moments the mug was emptied and the second was traveling to the angry man’s lips, the fingers of his left hand wrapped securely around the third in order to speed it along the same journey.

The gin burned down his throat and landed like a two-hundred pound bomb into his stomach. Jerard imagined that the destruction to his stomach would have been as complete as the destruction perpetrated to the little German town of Rührberg on that horrible day. Destruction and death
he
was held responsible for; the destruction and death of not only of innocent people but of his entire career. He could not keep the memory at bay...

It was an absolutely beautiful day. The skies were as clear as the bells of Westminster Abbey and Jerard was heady with excitement as he and his crew headed toward the final phase of the competition. Thus far this little show had been a feather in the cap of every Englishman and Jerard stood proud at the helm his beloved airship, showing off the superior knowledge and courage of the Royal Army Flying Corps.

The morning’s demonstrations had been difficult especially with the upper atmospheric headwinds. But Jerard and his crew had pulled together and brought the old girl through the proscribed maneuvers. Unlike the unfortunate French who found themselves suspended in the forest canopy below. Jerard had to remind himself not to gloat especially when he bothered to remember that it had taken the use of every skill and every intuition he and his crew had possessed just to keep their lady aloft.

Their hosts, the Germans had performed well also but at the last minute had opted not to brave the headwinds. Jerard was a little disappointed because he would have liked to see what the German captain would have done with the tricky winds. Instead the man had taken the safe route and lost his country valuable points in the competition. When the two ships had landed, the German airship captain had greeted Jerard with a hearty handshake and feral grin, saying: “Congratulations Herr Phillips, you are either the best pilot I have ever seen or you are completely insane.”

Jerard stood smiling on the deck of his airship a few hours later and thought about the German
captain and wondered if the man had ever heard the phrase, “It is only mad dogs and Englishmen who go out in the midday sun.” Until this day Jerard himself had never really understood its meaning. Chuckling softly to himself he called down to the engine room to begin the descent toward the bombing range. He then called the ready to the bombardier who replied “on your mark Captain!” the bombardiers’ laughter echoed Jerard’s own. He and his crew had practiced this low-level maneuver many times since learning that their ship was selected to carry the pride of the Empire into this international competition. They could now hit a target dead on the mark in any weather and at anytime. Their experience with the odd air currents of the morning had caused some concern but Jerard and Fred, his navigator, had worked out the suitable course they now took.

The airship dropped through the layer of shearing winds perfectly as planned. In a laughing voice, Fred had only called a minor course correction to bring the lady to her target. Jerard felt the swell of pride as the crew held steady for the drop.

“
Target in sight captain.” Frederick Randal called from the navigator’s station, “bear two degrees east to maintain target.”

Jerard opened his mouth to reply when he felt a great thud. “What the…? Bombardier!” He shouted into the tube. “Bombardier! Reply! Engineer! Get down there! Confirm bomb doors open!”

“
Confirmed captain.” The bombardier replied through the tube. “The bomb doors are open and the bombs are away.”

“
What? No! Come about! Engine Room! Come about!” Turning to the navigator, Jerard shouted “God Randal! What did we hit? Were we close enough to the target?”

Fred Randal swallowed and raised haunted eyes to his senior officer. The sounds of the two hundred and fifty pound bombs, all eight of them could be heard exploding below them. The ship had completed its turn and Jerard could now see great billows of smoke and bits of buildings that had been blown beyond the centers of the explosions.

“
I believe that was Rührberg Sir,” Randal said quietly into the shocked silence of the bridge….

“Sir? Sir? You a'right?” Daisy’s course voice intruded on Jerard’s bitter memory.

“I am fine.” Jerard replied wearily. “Bring me three more, dear girl, for the ghosts are not satisfied and I will not grant them any more of my soul today.”