Revenge of the Brotherhood (Book 3 in the Tom & Laura Series) (12 page)

“Lieutenant Wright reporting for duty, sir.”

Dougal ignored her as there were no duties for her to perform.

“Can I learn how to steer the ship, sir?” Tom asked.

Dougal looked pleased, rather than displaying the annoyance that Tom had expected. “I think that would be a good idea. Stevens, step aside and let Lieutenant Carter take the wheel. Explain the controls to him.”

Tom felt a thrill of excitement as the navigator stepped away from the wheel and showed him the compass and explained the basics of steering.

“Perhaps Lieutenant Wright would like to learn how to operate the attitude and engine controls?” Dougal suggested.

“I certainly would, my lord.”

It was almost as if Dougal knew they were planning to steal the ship and had decided to help. He could hardly have been more cooperative.

Tom was given instructions on how to steer the ship out of the building and then to the west. It turned out that the attitude and engine controls were much more difficult to learn and when Antonia took charge of the controls the ship swayed up and down so much that Tom began to feel sick.

“It takes time before any change takes effect. Have you never steered a boat, Miss?” the man who had stepped away from the controls asked.

Antonia shook her head and accepted his help. With his hands over hers guiding them, she began to get a feel of the ship and how to counteract the effects of over-steering. As the ship settled to level flight she began to enjoy the experience.

“Tom, let Stevens take the wheel. I have something else I want you to try.”

Tom reluctantly let go of the wheel and followed Dougal off the bridge, patting Antonia on the shoulder as he walked past her.

Jeremiah French and three other men were waiting for them in the large room. Tom raised a hand in greeting and French nodded in reply.

“Going duck shooting, today.” French said, smiling.

“I’d like you to teach Tom how to use the Gatling Gun, Mr. French. I will take a turn on the other gun.”

French looked unhappy. “Perhaps when we’ve tested the guns, but this is their first firing.”

“First firing
in the air
, Mr. French. The guns have been extensively tested on the ground. I think Lieutenant Carter can handle it.”

“Yes, sir.” French lifted a hatch in the floor on the port side while one of the other men opened up the starboard hatch. Tom descended the ladder that led to the gun and gulped as he saw so much glass around him. It was like there was nothing beneath his feet and it was a long way down. He sat in the gunner’s seat as French came down to stand beside him.

“You have three controls, the elevation and training wheels to left and right and, of course, the trigger that fires the gun,” French explained. “I will guide the ammunition belt into the gun, though that is not strictly necessary since we developed the new guides. You can spin the gun around as many times as you like, but you can’t go lower than zero elevation or high enough to hit any part of the ship. Your seat is linked to the gun.”

“I just point the gun and fire it?”

“Well, we ain’t exactly certain about the pointing. If you fire from a steam engine you have to take account of the speed you’re moving and we think that’s true of firing from this ship.”

“I think I understand,” Tom said, though he was certain he did not.

“Try shooting at something,” French suggested. Tom wound the wheels and was shocked at how easy it was to swing the gun around. In fact, the main problem was stopping it spinning when he reached the target. Tom spun the other wheel and the world tilted. It was very disconcerting.

There was a tree to one side of the ship. Tom held the trigger down for a few seconds. The rattling sound was incredibly loud and for a moment he was back at Hobsgate, hearing a similar gun firing against the coach of the Prince of Wales. Back in the real world the gun’s bullets churned up dust forward of the tree. As French had suggested, the velocity of the ship had been added to the bullets and they missed the tree by more than a dozen feet.

“It is easier to fire straight ahead,” French shouted. There were both deafened by the firing and French’s voice sounded far away and tinny in Tom’s ears. Tom nodded and picked a tree in front of the ship. He was about to fire when he saw movement. Native children stood next to the tree.

“Why aren’t you firing?” French shouted.

“There are people down there.”

French peered forward. “They’re only Indians.”

Tom took his hands off the gun and well away from the trigger. Suddenly, firing the gun was no fun at all. The gun on the other side of the ship opened fire and for a second Tom thought it was firing at the children. He sighed with relief when he saw a bear over to the right of the tree fall to the ground.

Up on the bridge, Antonia sighed with relief that the children were safe and pulled the attitude control full forward sending the ship into a steep climb, making it very difficult for either gun to fire any more.

[Well done, Sister. I would not have thought of that.]

[Sometimes I hate the British Empire.]

[It is not only the Empire. It is the world.]

[Then I hate the world.]

[Amen, Sister, Amen.]

12.
              
Escape

“Your man has been through every single picture of MM3 agents and has failed to identify his assailant,” Baxter said with satisfaction.

“He never saw the assailant, only the man who set him up to be hit over the head,” Gareth Jones reminded him. It was not unusual for the Directors of MM1 and MM3 to get together, but that was to discuss joint strategies, not for one to be accusing the other of high treason.

“Nevertheless, he has been unable to pick out this man and the only evidence you can offer is that the man claimed to be an MM3 agent. Anyone can claim to be an MM3 agent.”

“My man believed him and I trust his judgment. It was only when he decided to check out his permission at reception that he was attacked.”

“Gareth, old chap. You have not even managed to establish a motive for this incursion into Mercury House, let alone for anyone in MM3 to have reason to be there.”

Gareth Jones nodded his head. It was the lack of motive that stopped him going to Lord Palmerston and trying to get Baxter removed from his post. Despite extensive searches and questioning of the Telepaths, nothing could be found to be missing and no one had seen or spoken to the men who assaulted his guard. It remained a damnable mystery.

“I would like to question the children involved in the earlier incident. Perhaps they can shed light on the matter.”

Baxter laughed. “Interrogate away, Gareth. I would not dream of stopping you. But one thing is certain, your guard did not talk to a child and whoever struck him over the head was not a child, so I cannot help but think you are wasting your time.”

It was late afternoon before Laura and Daisy felt their wagon pull to a halt. They had been travelling across country for hours, probably going no faster than they could have walked. Walking would have been a lot more comfortable, but would have left them vulnerable to rifle fire and Captain Trentwood knew what would happen to him if the army’s Class A Spellbinder was killed. They soon found that even peeking through the canvas flaps was not permitted, though Laura used the tear in the canvas to look out onto boring forest. They had no food on their journey and Laura was feeling famished.

“I’ve changed my mind about not turning people into frogs,” Laura said as the women tried to find comfortable positions and stretch their legs.

“All people, or just one in particular?”

“Just Captain Trentwood. If I did, do you think the people of Brittany would eat him? I hear that is a common practice in France.”

“Eating is far too good a fate for that man,” Daisy opined.

“Too good for which man?” Captain Trentwood asked as he pulled aside the flaps.

“Do you suffer from bow legs?” Laura enquired in a solicitous tone. “It might have afflicted you very recently?”

Trentwood gave her one of his snarls and Daisy laughed. “I think he may be changing into a dog all on his own. He has no need of your Spellbinding.”

“Get out of the wagon. The General has need of your services.” Trentwood left them, leaving the flaps open.

“I think my back has frozen in place,” Daisy said as she hobbled to the back of the wagon.

“My legs have gone to sleep.” Laura found it difficult even to hobble.

Once on the ground, Daisy straightened her back with considerable difficulty. Despite it being mid-summer the ground was wet from recent rains. They were in the middle of a roadside camp on the top of a ridge. A large valley lay before them and at the best vantage point to view the valley soldiers had set up a table for the General to study his maps.

Corporal Wainwright appeared. “The General wants to see you soonest, Miss Young.”

The girls made their way to the table, avoiding the horse dung that littered the field.

“Ah, Miss Young and Agent Drew. I trust you had a good journey and are well rested.”

Laura narrowed her eyes at the General and gave him a look that would have frightened Tom had he been there to see it.

“We have been huddled in that wagon since the crack of dawn, having been denied breakfast, and no one has had the decency to offer us any form of sustenance.”

“That was very remiss of them. I shall have strong words with my men.”

“Not good enough, General. Nothing here happens without your authority and nothing magical will happen if I am not fed.”

The General’s affability did not change, but his eyes became hard. “You are under my command and you will do as I order you.”

“Do you understand Latin?” Daisy asked. The General looked puzzled by the question.

“Schoolboy level. I was never the best of pupils at Eton.”

“Spellbinder’s write binds in Latin. Laura could turn your entire command to bugs and crush you all underfoot if she chose. You give her the finest paper and ink for her to perform for you. Do you really think it wise to anger her at the same time?”

For a few seconds the General glared at Daisy. Then he smiled courteously before barking an order at Corporal Wainwright.

“Take these women to the mess tent and get them fed. I want them back here in one hour. Is that understood?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Then get on with it.”

Wainwright hurried the girls towards a big tent a couple of hundred yards away. “Never seen that before,” he muttered.

“What?” Daisy asked.

“A General browbeaten by a couple of girls. Begging your pardon, Misses.”

“Stay close to us and you will become used to it,” Laura told him smugly.

Alice and Tricky were wondering what they had done this time. They were outside the Headmaster’s office yet again and it was becoming tedious.

“I reckons Doctor Glyn gets bored in there. ’e ain’t got anythin’ better to do than ’as a go at us,” Tricky opined outside the door, as it turned out, somewhat too loudly.

“I heard that, David. Both of you come in at once.”

There was a man waiting with Dr Thomas they did not recognize.

“My name is Gareth Jones. I’m the Director of MM1 and I’ve come to talk to you about the incident at Mercury House the other day.”

“We weren’t even there,” Alice blurted out. Tricky gave her a look that could have fried an egg.

“’cause we was. Can’t deny it now when we told those other two MM1 gents as ’ow we was canoodling together.” Tricky didn’t dare wink at Alice, but he was staring at her while trying to mentally drill a warning into her mind.

“Oh, I thought… I just deny everything like, it’s in mi nature.” Alice tried to cover her mistake as best she could. She saw Tricky’s fingers convulsing and had a suspicion he was imagining her neck between them.

“Quite, quite,” Jones said, as if he had noticed nothing. He had a Welsh accent that reminded Tricky of Lucy. “Perhaps you could tell me again what you told my men?”

Some minutes later Tricky and Alice finished the tale much as they had told it to the other agents. Tricky was feeling pleased because Alice had not made any further mistakes.

“I understand you have a friend who is at death’s door?” Jones asked. “Dr Thomas told me you had many adventures together, leading up to the unfortunate accident in which Alastair McBride was killed.”

“That were no accident. Laura sorted ’im out an’ no mistake. Ebb saved her life later and Tom ’ealed ’im. That’s why we want Tom back,” Alice said. Tricky avoided groaning only with the greatest of efforts. He wondered what it was about girls and gossip, they did not seem to be able to keep anything secret.

“Lieutenant Carter is in America,” Dr. Thomas said quickly. “I have already explained to the children that he could not possibly return in time.”

“You are acquaintances of Sir Ernest Trelawney, are you not?” Jones asked, ignoring Dr. Thomas completely. “He is a great man.”

“’es all right,” Tricky conceded cautiously, “for an adult.”

“Have you seen him recently?”

“Nah, what would I be doing with a toff like ’im?”

“His aide, Arnold Tompkins, came to visit you the other day,” Dr. Thomas put in. “He asked my permission.”

Jones looked up. “What day would that be?”

“That would have been Monday morning,” Dr. Thomas said after a moment’s thought.

Jones turned back to Tricky and Alice and there seemed to be a gleam of excitement in his eye.

“And what does the name Andrea Wright mean to you?”

The General smiled when the girls returned to his table fifty five minutes later. Wainwright saluted and stood at a distance out of hearing, but kept his rifle at the ready.

“I trust you are now in better sorts, ladies, as we have a war to win on behalf of the British Empire.”

“What is it that you want of me this time, General? It is getting late in the day and I thought armies rarely fought at night.”

The General pointed down into the valley. There was a huddle of houses in the distance. “I want you to immobilize the people in that village the way you did the town yesterday. We have reason to believe it is occupied by insurrectionists. At night will be acceptable, provided you do your work first.”

Laura stood her ground. “And will you guarantee that nobody I affect will be hurt by your troops?”

The General stood straighter. “On my word as a gentleman. We will only take prisoners if it is clear they were fighting against us and all others will go free with not a hair disturbed on their heads. We are not barbarians in the British Army.”

Laura looked at Daisy and she nodded as if she believed what the General said was true. She had to protect Laura at any cost.

“Very well, General. Give me the tools of my trade. But I warn you, if I ever find out you have lied to me, there will be consequences.”

Tom and Antonia could barely contain their excitement that evening. Franz Baum was persuaded to get out his squeezebox and they sang along to the English tunes he knew. Antonia sang a couple of songs she knew that raised Dougal’s eyebrows to new heights, as her taste in songs tended towards the vulgar.

“You seem in a very good mood tonight,” he said.

Antonia, who had been dancing with Tom as well as singing stepped over to Dougal and stroked his cheek. “Is my mood not to my lordship’s taste?”

“Oh, I like it. I was just wondering what brought it on.”

“A telepath is like a caged bird, but even a bird can dream of freedom and flying through the night.”

Tom thought that might be getting a little too near the truth and interrupted.

“Flying in the Hubris does have that effect on people. It did on me too.”

“If such ships become part of our army or navy, then it is highly likely that Telepaths will ride in them,” Dougal added. “Think of the advantage an aerial view of a battlefield could give an army.”

“It is always about destruction, isn’t it, Lord McBride? We cannot fly just for the fun of it?”

“I was hoping that we could use such ships in place of ships of the sea or trains,” Baum added. “I am sure the rich would pay much to travel serenely above the landscape rather than on a train.”

“Indeed,” Dougal said, “but it is easier to get money from the military to establish these airships than it is from civilian sources.”

“’Twas ever thus,” French quoted to everyone’s surprise.

Laura woke to the sound of excited male laughter. She and Daisy were sleeping in the wagon and some of the soldiers were using it as a convenient wall to lean against as they prepared to light their pipes.

“Better than shooting fish in a barrel, easier too.”

“Safer. The Bretons are able warriors when they can hold a rifle or a pike,” an older voice said dryly. “Before the Spellbinder turned up, I was sure this was going to be a tough campaign.”

“Not now it ain’t. Just walk in an’ skewer the bastards. The General’s wrong about the boys though, that ain’t right.”

“He was getting a kicking back home. Someone in Parliament called him out as useless. Needs as fast a victory as he can get and he doesn’t care how many get killed as long as they’s Bretons.”