Revenge of the Mad Scientist (Book One: Airship Adventure Chronicles) (2 page)

There was no sign of blood other than the trail made by Conrad. Relief enveloped her. Then she noticed a crumpled white handkerchief, half covered by a fallen jade vase. Her breath caught in her throat . She bent, picked it up, and peeled back the edges until a stickpin fell into her hand. It was a long golden pin with an ornately carved head embedded with a ruby. But more importantly, the linen handkerchief had a letter embroidered in one corner, a ‘T’. Her pulse quickened. She knew it belonged to her father, she had done the needlework herself.

###

Belle paced about the room of the Imperial Inspector, Sir George Lufton, fury battling with fear in her chest. How dare someone kidnap her father? The stiff taffeta of her ball gown's train swished as she moved back and forth across the floor.

She glanced at her mother. Thankfully, Lady Elizabeth Trunkett had calmed after her initial outburst of tears when told her husband had been kidnapped. The two guardsmen who accompanied Belle assured Lady Trunkett Sir Lufton was hot on the case. Once composed, she'd ordered her carriage and they came to Sir Lufton’s office looking for answers.

Her mother sat calmly in her rolling chair, a lace edged handkerchief clutched in one hand, face pale, but stoic beneath her brown curls and the bonnet atop them. Her frail figure shrunk into her pelisse of dark blue velvet. She eyed Sir Luftin expectantly as she pulled an elaborately embroidered shawl more closely over her wasted legs.

Belle knew a diplomat’s wife learned over the years to control her emotions and she admired her mother’s composure. Although it was sad her mother stopped attending parties since the accident that left both of her legs crippled, in this case it had allowed her to miss the horrifying scene in the ballroom tonight. For that, Belle was grateful.

“Why would Gandiss kidnap my father when it seemed they were on the verge of signing a treaty?” Belle asked for the third time. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

The inspector took a deep breath as he answered her for the third time. “As I said before, there are many factions in Gandiss. Perhaps one of them did not want the treaty signed. There’s no denying the dagger is unique to Gandiss with the handle made from the tooth of a snow tiger. You know no one outside Gandiss is allowed to own one legally.”

“That doesn’t mean one couldn’t be obtained
illegally
,” Belle snapped. How could he be such a complete idiot? And her father’s life rested on him. Anger rose ever higher, burning in her chest.

“Darling, please calm down,” Lady Elizabeth said, holding out a hand to her daughter. “I’m sure the inspector is doing everything he can to find out what happened to Sir John.”

“But what about this?” Belle pulled the handkerchief and stickpin from her reticule and held it up. “I found it on the floor with my father’s handkerchief. It could be a clue.”

The inspector raised his monocle and peered at the gold and ruby pin. “A decorative stickpin likely lost in the scuffle. It could have even belonged to your father. I’d hardly call that a clue when we have a snow tiger dagger sticking out of someone’s back.”

“Oh, it doesn’t belong to Sir John,” Lady Trunkett said. “I can assure you of that.”

“Then possibly it came from another guest.” Sir Luftin tucked his lips together. “In any event I can’t see how it’s a clue of some sort. Preposterous.”

Belle crossed her arms over her chest and flounced down in one of the inspector’s wing chairs. She clutched the handkerchief wrapped stickpin in one hand and glared at the condescending inspector, frustration and anger boiling within. She kept seeing the eyes of the ambassador before he was forced to leave. His gaze had sent a message asking her to trust him, suggesting Gandiss was not responsible. But how could she be sure? She wondered what would happen to the treaty now.

“Lady Trunkett, I assure you we will do everything within the Queen’s power to track these kidnappers and return your husband to you. Her majesty has given me broad authority in this matter.” The inspector bowed in front of Elizabeth with a pompous flourish.

“What about the treaty?” Belle asked. “Will the signing go forward tomorrow?”

He turned to her, his bushy gray eyebrows raised. “Her majesty will not sign the treaty under such circumstances. Surely you can understand that.”

“But isn’t that what the kidnappers want? Let’s be honest. This has to be an attempt to disrupt the treaty process.” Belle sat forward, frowning.

Sir George ignored her and addressed himself to Lady Trunkett. “My dear Lady, I feel it would be best if you and Lady Arabella were to return home. It’s late and there is nothing you can do here. I will let you know as soon as any new leads develop, I assure you.”

“Is there any evidence other than the knife?” Belle asked.

The inspector hesitated, his gray moustache twitching. “Well, no, actually. Not at this time. Mr. Bellows can give no description except that there were two men who wore black with faces covered. But we hardly need any more. The trail leads directly to Gandiss, there can be no doubt about it. We would lose valuable time seeking obscure leads to other areas. I shall not put Sir John’s life in such danger.”

“I’d like to speak to the Queen,” Belle said. She could trust Her Majesty not to jump to conclusions. If she could see her, she would tell her about the stickpin and urge her to start a more widespread investigation. Surely Her Majesty would understand that blaming Gandiss out of hand would only cause more political upheaval.

“Her Majesty is in seclusion preparing for the State of the Empire address. She will see no one for the next three days.” He drew himself up and looked down his nose at her. “No one.”

She cursed silently. Pompous fool. In three days her father could be dead. Belle stuffed the handkerchief back into her reticule. Somehow she knew her father had left the clue for her. She just had to figure out what it meant. The authorities all wanted the culprit to be Gandiss so they didn’t have to do any investigative work. Meanwhile her dear father had been brutally taken to places unknown.

“Thank you, Sir George,” Lady Trunkett said extending a delicate hand for him to bow over. “We shall take your advice. Come Arabella.”

Her mother activated her chair. Little puffs of steam popped from a pipe in the back and a whirring sound indicated its functional status. Elizabeth used a lever on the arm of the chair to send it into forward motion and control the direction. Belle followed as she rolled outside where her carriage had already been called for and stood waiting in the road. She glanced at Belle as she motioned for her servants to come and help her into the vehicle.

“Are you going home tonight or would you care to come back with me?” Her mother offered a sad smile.

Belle frowned, preoccupied with the mystery of the dagger and dissatisfied with the platitudes offered by Sir Luftin. She feared the investigation was headed in the wrong direction, but she couldn’t prove it. Time slipped away while her father’s life was in danger.

“Mother, I need to go back to my house. I’ll come by tomorrow and see you.”

“Very well. Try not to worry, dear. The queen is very attached to your father, and he is the Lord High Minister after all. She’ll leave no stone unturned in seeking his captors.” Her footman picked her up in his arms and placed her on the seat inside the coach. He closed the door and took the rolling chair to a special platform built on the back of the carriage. Her mother leaned out the window. Creases of concern marked her face in the yellow glow of the gas lit street.

“Try not to be a nuisance to the authorities, Belle.” Her mother lessened the bite of her words with a sympathetic smile. “Get some sleep and we shall hope for good news in the morning.”

Belle nodded and waved as the carriage headed down the street. She wrapped her arms around her chest hugging herself against the night chill. Or maybe it was the icy grip of despair. She didn't move until the clop, clop of the horses’ hooves had faded into the distance. Her mind reeled in indecision. Finally, she wheeled around and sent two piercing whistles into the night.

Several minutes later, a whizz and pop heralded the approach of a pop-cab. In spite of its ridiculous appearance, like a miniature outhouse set atop a large tricycle, it would get her to her destination faster than walking or using one a horse-drawn carriage. Besides, the noise of the pop-cabs now taking over the streets easily startled the horses, making coach travel almost dangerous these days.

“Evening, M’ Lady.” A scruffy, wiry man doffed his newsboy cap and gave her a deep bow. “What can I help you with tonight?”

“Number twenty-nine, Pollberry Court, if you please,” she said in a precise tone, and picked up her heavy skirts as the little man opened the door of the cabin to allow her to enter. She stepped in and settled herself on the narrow seat.

“Hoo, hoo, Pollberry Court is it? A very lovely part of town.” The cabbie hopped up on the seat of his cycle and released the brake. “And what’s a swell like you doing out this late with no one to escort you?”

“That’s certainly none of your business,” Belle said through the small window cut into the cabin just behind the cabbie’s head. She took her folded fan and rapped sharply on the edge of the sill. “Now hurry along or I shall make sure your tip reflects the delay.”

The cabbie gave a whistle, raised an eyebrow, and pushed the other lever to the front as he started the forward motion by pressing the peddles with his feet for a good two or three spins. With a pop and a spurt of steam, the little vehicle lurched and then sped off down the street, the momentum throwing Belle back against her seat. She would certainly be happy when these pop-cab drivers learned better control over their gears.

Fortunately, the cabbie had no further mishap and they pulled up before her home with a loud pop and a fizz of steam vapor in only ten minutes. She gave the cabbie some coins and then climbed the stone steps to the door of her townhouse.

“Good God, Jasper. Are you still up?” she exclaimed as she opened the door and found her butler just inside, still dressed in his formal black butler suit with tails. “You know I don’t expect you to stay up when I go to a party.”

She pulled off her gloves, annoyed at how her servants needlessly coddled her. She was the mistress of her own home, head of an international business and yet they still insisted on treating her like a young girl in pig-tails.

“I’m sure My Lady is more than capable of handling her own affairs,” Jasper said stiffly as he helped her off with her pelisse, his thin face pinched in displeasure. “However, I hope you don’t expect me to live here, take your money, and not fulfill my duties. Such a course would certainly be quite repugnant to me.”

Belle turned her head to hide her smile. When she had composed her features, she handed him her gloves and said, “Well, then since you’re up, I’d like a glass of sherry. Bring it into the library, if you please.”

“Of course, My Lady. I also have a package for you. It came about half an hour ago.” He held out a small square shape that had been hastily wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.

“At this time of night?” She looked at the hall clock. It was near three o’clock in the morning. It seemed like only a few minutes ago it had been ten at night with the ball just starting and her father disappearing, abruptly ending the festivities.

She frowned and took the package, turning it over in her hands. Her name was printed on the front with a frank mark from the Royal Asburry Hotel.

“Exactly my thought, My Lady. And if you had seen the young person who delivered it you would have been even more surprised.” He sniffed. “I don’t hold with foreigners, never did. Now that we have the new airship port, we have these strange individuals running all over the place in Aereopolis. Very improper.”

“What?” Belle had been barely listening as she tried to remember why the name of that hotel struck a chord of memory. “What person?”

“The young man, the messenger. He had on outlandish long black robes and a silly hat perched on top of his head. Nothing you would ever catch me wearing outside my bedroom I assure you.”

She tore off the paper. It had to be from the ambassador. Now she remembered. Her father had told her yesterday that he had rooms at the Royal Asburry.

Inside, she found a brass box with a round seal of carved jade on the top. She ran her fingers over the carvings in the stone and jumped when the seal depressed and the top of the box popped open. Inside rested a folded sheet of paper and a silver ring.

She picked up the ring and examined it. A crest marked the surface—entwined figures of a tiger, a hawk and a snake—the imperial seal of Gandiss. There was a short message on the paper followed by a glob of red wax with an impression pressed into it. The design in the wax mirrored that of the ring. Curved elaborate writing covered the page.

My dear Lady Arabella,

I write to you in great haste, for I must leave your country at once. Someone has decided to intervene in the treaty between your country and mine and leave the impression that Gandiss is responsible for your father’s disappearance. I beg you to believe me when I say that nothing is further from mine or my country’s desire. I came to Urbannia fully committed to working out a fair and lasting peace with full support of my Raja.

Unfortunately, other countries have become threatened by this alliance. I want to assure you that your father’s kidnapping was not at the instigation of Gandiss. You must look for the culprit in another area.

I wish you the best of luck in locating your father. I send you my imperial seal ring in the event I may be of service to you in the future. You have only to present this ring to any agent of Gandiss and you can be assured of aid.

I leave with the dawn to return home. My sources indicate there is danger for me to stay here with the present unrest. I hope you will find your father soon and end the hostility that threatens to dissolve us into a world war.

Your servant,

Lord Ismatan

Just as she suspected, there were powerful forces at play here. Politics and popular opinion would lead the investigators to suspect Gandiss. Meanwhile her father was likely on his way someplace else. Unless she could find him and expose the truth, there was no telling how far they were from a world conflagration. Too many countries already stood on the brink of war. She slipped the heavy silver ring on her forefinger.