The Hidden Man: A Phineas Starblower Adventure (Phineas Starblower Adventures) (40 page)

Fred Randal already had his map case open and was pouring over the best local map he had. “Not sure Captain, near as I can figure out its an administrative center near the waterfront. I dunno if we’ll have room for a ground landing given the Discretion's size.”

“Near the waterfront you say? Alright, take us out and over the river channel. If we don’t have room to land in the place they suggest, we’ll have to hover over the water. Let them know on the ground Mr.. Jones. I’m going to let
Mr.. Starblower
and his assistant know we’ve arrived.” Jerard concluded with a wink to the bridge in general.

Tash was adjusting Carstares’ jacket one more time as Gopal let Phillips into the lounge. “What news Captain?” She asked, barely looking up from her business.

“We’ve reached Aalborg and we are looking for the landing site. I trust the LensBaron will see us shortly thereafter.”

“Very good Captain Phillips” She commented distractedly as she manhandled Carstares around to face Jerard. “so.. what do you think of your employer now, Captain?” She said with a ghost of a smile.

Jerard looked the visibly uncomfortable Carstares over. The man had on an immaculate tweed jacket and finely tailored breeches of a strange pattern that was neither quite a Scottish Tartan nor was it a pinstripe. The brilliantly polished toes of some quality boots peeked from under the hem of the trousers. To top it all off Jerard noted how precariously the monocle hung from Carstares’ left eye.

“Very...impressive Madam...and Sir.” He managed trying not to show his amusement at Carstares’ discomfort. “Chin-up Colonel, think of Queen and Country!” he added trying to cheer the morose fellow up in his fancy dress.

“Yes thank you so very much Captain.” Carstares drawled in reply. “The tailoring is impeccable though hardly my style. It’s not the clothes however but the underhanded way I have to be wearing them that irks me Sir!”

“Remarkable, that's pretty much what D’Arcey and I were talking about earlier Sir. Warfare is one thing but trickery doesn’t sit easily in a warriors heart. Just recall the Germans started this dastardly business with subterfuge. Think of it as more poetic justice, turning their own means back on them.”

“A fair observation I suppose Captain.” Carstares conceded relaxing a little. “How long till we land?”

“Depends on whatever site Fred and William settle on. We should have the best part of half an hour at a minimum before setting down.”

“Then I suggest Mr.. Starblower we go over your public and private stories one more time. Thank you Captain” Tash interjected, dismissing Phillips in the process.

Jerard nearly objected to the peremptory manner of the woman but he recalled her strained look of a few hours ago and D’Arcey’s gentlemanly manner towards it. Not to be outdone by the Frenchman he merely bowed to her and left Carstares at her mercy once more.

When Phillips had closed the door Tash took a step back and rubbed her eyes. She had been fiddling with Starblower’s costume for the best part of two hours and her eyes were sore and her fingers ached. “So
Mister Starblower
tell me in your own words, why we have come to Aalborg - the public version.”

Carstares stiffened his spine and began to pace. “I am here to see the LensBaron Gyldenfeldt about the possibility of opening a factory here in Aalborg to expand the European side of my leather working business. I hear that the Danish military needs to re-fit some of its infantry uniforms and I wish to tender for the contract. Having a local factory will sidestep any objections that the military will be sending money out to a foreigner.”

“Good, but don’t use the word ‘foreigner’ we don't want to emphasize that, say something like: We have no desire to take money from the hardworking people of the town, instead we would give them good honest jobs!” She took a deep breath, “...and what exactly will you offer Gyldenfeldt for the privilege of setting up shop here?”

“His city will become our sole distribution center in the north of Europe, granting him a monopoly on our footwear and a large slice of influence over the leather goods manufactory in general.” Carstares grinned, “
That
will be very believable at the least! From what I have heard of the fellow he’s keen to gather all the influence he can.”

Tash nodded then resumed her coaching. “So, what is your opening line, to the Baron to gain information about the fellows that left the fishing boat,
Mr.. Starblower?”

“A fellow working in our Aberdeen warehouse absconded with some new designs that I had planned to show to the locals here in Aalborg. These designs and plans were to convince the city fathers to give me license to open a business here. I suspect he means to try and sell them to a rival and preempt my move to bring jobs to this part of Europe.”

“Good, Colonel, good, keep thinking of yourself as Starblower, I particularly like your use of ‘I’ and ‘my’. You have some talent for this Sir!”

“I studied drama briefly at Cambridge my dear Miss Smythe-Harris. Some things never fade entirely it seems.” The older man smiled and his face relaxed as he reminisced.

“There!” she cried “That's it! Hold that look Sir! Calm and satisfied with your achievements that's Mr.. Starblower’s trademark!”

“I shall be sure to remember it Ma’am.” He grinned taking the monocle from his eye and giving the lens an absent minded polish on his sleeve. “However, there is one thing that bothers me about this ‘story’ we are concocting for the LensBaron’s ears madam...”

“Really Colonel and what is that?” Tash stated non-noncommittally as she fiddled with his jacket one more time.

“Given the Baron’s Scandinavian supremacist leanings, I’d have thought he would be more interested in finding and dealing with this ‘entrepreneur’ offering plans to his local craftsmen. Instead of dealing with us, a foreign company, seeking a site upon his soil. He’ll talk to us then ignore us for this other fellow I feel, madam.”

“I see,” Tash conceded reluctantly. “So you’re saying that we are not actually giving him reason enough to help us find these fellows. What exactly do you want to concede of my employer's assets then to cement the deal
Colonel
Carstares?”

Carstares held up his hand and backed away a step to look the young woman in the eye. “I plan to concede nothing of yours madam. It just might be that the nationality of the supposed thief must need be introduced. That's all. The LensBaron still carries a tidy scar from a German saber from the First Danish-German war. I suspect it will fuel his distrust of our quarry and persuade him to help us recover these fictitious missing plans.”

Tash nodded sagely at the man’s point. Despite their initial encounter she was actually beginning to warm to the man. Very few men had been able to see past her sex and treat her with non-condescending respect. “Then we need to adjust our cover story but slightly. Instead of the thief planning to sell them to locals here in Aalborg we state that we believe he is passing through this port heading south to the German held portion of Southern Denmark instead.”

“A very nice touch madam. Schleswig-Holstein has been in German hands for some five years but I suspect a man of the Baron’s purported character would indeed still think of it as
Southern
Denmark. Bravo!”

Tash made a half courtesy to the gentlemen. Half mockingly but half in appreciation for the compliment. “You’re as ready as you can be Colonel. Let's get you to the bridge.”

The man sat hunched over the small desk in the corner of the room he had claimed as his office. The dull scratching of the quill on the paper could scarcely be heard above the fading howl of the wind, and his travel fatigue made writing all the more laborious. But if he didn’t make a fresh report soon his masters would be less than pleased with him. Finishing his own summation of their progress he sat back in the leather upholstered chair with a sigh, wishing he had some brandy. Once again, he read back at the most disquieting entry in his agent’s last message:

“...I shall be glad to finish this dishonorable business. The subterfuge begins to sit ill with me. If not for Phillips we likely would have drowned on the way!”

Drumming his fingers against his temple the man thought on what he had read. The words had been innocent enough but there was a disquieting trend to Jade's communiqués that had begun to concern him. A fact he had been careful to gloss over in his own report. Would that the Marshal had granted him a little more time to put his teams together. Jade had all the qualifications his mission required but he was still inexperienced in the ways of espionage. Now that the initial thrill of deceiving the British had worn a little thin; the man was allowing himself to get involved emotionally. Emotions were always a mistake in war, be it with words or deeds, he thought. Marshaling his thoughts he began to compose his reply:

Dear Jade,

Gold has agreed to ease our way still further, after I made the right donation, we shall now reunite in Copenhagen.

Like you, I would rather meet all my foes in open battle, however the British people deserve this lesson in humility. Let that comfort you Jade. We do what we must for our country and not out of personal rancor to the individuals we must deceive. Some may indeed have honor, but we must sublimate that to the greater good of the Empire and do our duty as soldiers.

Your friend,

Marquise

Setting the quill down the agent known as Marquise shook his head. It might be that Jade was beginning to lose his nerve
.
He was an extremely competent officer however, his high mindedness was always a potential weak point in the grand plan to deceive British intelligence. Watching the last of the ink dry he clicked his teeth in frustration. How many times he wished he could have taken that aspect of the mission himself. But his skills were better served behind the scenes for now in the planning and orchestrating of the grand deception. “And had I done so Phillips would have seen through things in an instant!” He inadvertently exclaimed aloud.

“Sir!” His aide replied, leaping to his feet and coming to attention as if he had been summoned. He had nearly fallen asleep sitting in his chair in the corner waiting on his master's orders.

“No matter, a random thought Renaurd. I have a message I need to telegram to our mutual friend Jade.” He replied folding the now dry sheet of parchment and getting to his feet. He held out the paper to Renaurd.

“Is all well Sir?” The aide asked after noting the irritation still resting upon his superior officer’s brow. He gingerly accepted the folded paper.

“Well enough.” Marquis replied meeting his aide’s eye for the first time. “This ‘Carstares’ it seems is proving to be more intelligent than I first assumed. I think that we will have to intervene. It was not in the original plan to risk a meeting with any of the occupants of the Soul of Discretion. But now...now it has become clear to me that this Colonel Carstares must be thrown off of our scent,
permanently.
”

“Will you ask the LensBaron, I mean Gold, for another favor Sir?” The aide asked boldly. His superior rarely aired his plans aloud; perhaps at last he was becoming a worthy confidant to this master spy.

“No, I already owe our vainglorious ally too much as it is. I suspect Renaurd, that we will need the rifle, subtlety will have to wait on expediency here.”

“Open murder will arouse the authorities here in Copenhagen, Sir. Is there no other way?”

With his last question Renaurd had stepped just a hair too far for his commanders likes. “If another way presents itself I shall find it! But for now cease your questioning of my orders!” He thundered, slapping the man hard across the face.

Embarrassment warred with naked rage on Renaurd's face as he took a step back from the officer. His hand darted toward his saber's hilt for a moment; but catching himself he changed the motion into a salute. “Yes, Major Gaspe!”

Gaspe looked the man up and down noting with a degree of evil satisfaction how enraged the fellow was. Good, if he can be provoked then he is not yet ready for further trust, but perhaps that fire could be put to good use. “Tell me Renaurd how well do you use that saber?”

Nonplussed the younger man blinked twice then rallied and declared proudly. “I was regimental champion, Sir!”

“Excellent! Then you have solved my problem
. You
will challenge this middle aged English pig to an honor duel. The authorities will be slow indeed to interfere in a matter of honor.”

Renaurd still angry at his disrespectful treatment managed to smile savagely back at his superior. “It will be a pleasure Sir. And I suppose that during the duel I might slip and accidentally skewer this meddling British dog, yes?”

“Yes indeed, accidents will happen. You will do very well Renaurd, very well indeed. Now send my message to Jade. It seems that I now have some new details to consider.”

With another, more genuine, sharp salute Renaurd turned and left him to his plans.

Major Gaspe flipped open his half written report once more. This was a message he would have to send personally and not entrust to Renaurd. The fiery young officer was a shade too likely to open and read it right now. Besides it is always prudent in such games as this to remain two steps ahead of one's enemies and at least one step ahead of one's allies.

The telegraph office in Copenhagen was a bold affair of brass ornaments and dimly glowing electric lighting. Gaspe surmised they were trying to project the look of technical competence. However the slight flickering of the lamps indicated to him that the Danish scientists had not yet found a way to stabilize the current when their trans national telegraphy system was in operation. While no scientist per say the Major had long ago found it useful to stay abreast of the developments in the new frontiers of learning. Airship technology had piqued his interest first making his transference to the newly formed Air Surveillance Corps a natural career choice.

Waiting in the line for the next operator he cast his eyes about for anything new or unusual; a habit that had helped him escape detection many a time. No individuals seemed out of place to his practiced eye but a garish poster managed to attract his attention just as the telegraph operator waved him forward.