Heart of Gold

The tower dropped.

Amid a chorus of cries and gasps, Aubrey hissed, then spat out two stone-hard Chaldean syllables. The tower's plunge slowed, then stopped. It bobbed in place like a soap bubble.

'Is everyone all right?'

One by one, the passengers admitted they were unhurt. Aubrey rubbed his forehead and repeated the spell, with special emphasis on the elements that controlled the rate of descent. The tower slowed, then descended in a steadier fashion.

'George,' he barked. 'Open the door. Let me know how we're going.'

George wrenched the door open. 'Lots of trees, all round. Large pine tree right below us, old man, about ten feet. There's a bit of a space to the right.'

They were still drifting sideways, more slowly now that Aubrey was returning the tower's proper weight to it. He hoped it would be enough lateral movement to avoid the pine tree. He whispered a few more syllables and the tower inched lower, slowly settling. A woody crunching noise came from below their feet and the rich scent of pine wafted in. Monsieur Caron cried out as a large rock punched up through the floor, and then they were down.

George signed to Aubrey. 'That was close.'

'How close?'

George stood back from the door. The trunk of the pine tree was no more than a yard away.

'Good camouflage,' Aubrey said. 'Let's hope no-one saw us.'

He started for the door. 'Where are you going?' Monsieur Caron said. 'You have your letters. What more do you want?'

Aubrey smiled a lopsided smile. 'The Heart of Gold. Now, who wants to come and battle a band of fanatics for it?'

Twenty-

One

AUBREY LAY ON HIS BELLY AND PEERED AROUND THE corner of the shed, minimising his profile and his chances of being detected. Gravel bit into his chest, but he ignored the discomfort and scanned the site of most of the activity on the base: the largest hangar. Even though it was the early evening, hordes of workers streamed in and out of the facility.

Before leaving the tower, he'd had a moment of concern when Mrs Hepworth volunteered to come with them. It was only after Caroline had firm words with her that she relented and stayed with a relieved Monsieur Caron.

The shed they were using for concealment was an accommodation hut with wooden bunks and spartan furniture, but no tenants. Aubrey took note that it had room for twenty inhabitants.

Between them and the big hangar were twenty or thirty such huts constructed of corrugated iron. On the other side of the gravel road were similar structures, larger and with all the appearance of workshops or warehouses. Those closest to the hangar had open doors, and a constant flow of workers hauled heavy boxes and lengths of metal between these buildings and the hangar.

Two lorries pulled up in front of the hangar and discharged a dozen men each. The sound of heavy construction came from it: metallic screeches and the relentless pounding of heavy machinery.

Half a mile or more past the last hangar, a single airship was moored to its mast. More men were clustered around armed with rifles, and a lorry was beetling back across the tarmac.

Aubrey reached into his pocket.

'Opera glasses, Aubrey?' Caroline said.

He shrugged. 'Madame Calvert lent them to me. I applied a spell that uses the Law of Intensification to enhance their powers.' Aubrey didn't add that he hadn't been able to prevent a side-effect that meant that the glasses occasionally flashed images from operas that Madame Calvert had seen over the years. It was disconcerting when a large, mail-clad tenor suddenly appeared in his field of vision.

None of the men on the tarmac was wearing a uniform. They looked more like farm labourers than soldiers, but the way they carried their weapons was definitely military.

Slowly, he pulled his head back. 'Well?' George said.

'Plenty of activity all around. It looks as if the airship is nearly ready to fly to Chrétien.'

'How are we going to get the Heart of Gold back from them?' Caroline asked.

Excellent question, Aubrey thought. 'Subterfuge. We have to be clever rather than strong.'

'Would seem to be the best approach,' George said, 'a frontal assault being rather out of the question, with just the three of us.'

Aubrey had an idea. 'Caroline, didn't you say that Dr Romellier was working from here?'

She brightened. 'He was put here to advise on airship structures. He's stayed here since. Perhaps he likes the solitude.'

'Perhaps,' Aubrey said, but he wasn't convinced. The airfield was a busy place, and all the more so since the sabotage attack. Reconstruction, police, special investigators . . .No, St Martin airfield wouldn't be quiet at all. 'Why don't the Marchmainers move him out? He must be a nuisance.'

'I can't imagine that a bird man would be much trouble,' George said. 'Fussing about with feathers and beaks can't be too much of a nuisance.'

Aubrey was troubled by this, but he knew that while some knots untied when pulled, most only became knottier. He put it aside. 'He could help us, if we could find him.'

'Where would he be, then?' George asked. 'This is a big place.'

'Tell me, Caroline,' Aubrey said. 'Do you think a researcher like Dr Romellier would appreciate the sort of noise that's coming from the hangar over there?'

'Unlikely,' Caroline said. 'It would drive him to distraction.'

'So, if he had a choice, he'd find somewhere distant from actual construction work.'

'Back toward the main gate,' George suggested.

'But not too close. All the traffic goes through the gate. He'd find that irritating as well.'

Aubrey crawled to the rear corner of the hut. A lane of bare earth between the two rows of huts had become a de facto drain.

'This way,' he hissed to his friends. When they joined him, he paused. 'We know Dr Romellier was communicating with Monsieur Moir via pigeon, don't we?'

'That's what Monsieur Moir told me,' Caroline said.

'Then let's see which of these huts has a pigeon loft nearby.'

The three moved through the shadows, avoiding the drain. Despite the lack of rain, it was muddy and rank.

The pigeon loft they found was small, only large enough for half a dozen birds, and it was empty – but bowls of seeds and fresh water showed that it was still in use.

Aubrey moved to the hut nearest the loft, listening carefully. If anyone was inside, they were keeping very quiet. Then again, a research scientist immersed in his work would hardly make a din, he reasoned.

He beckoned to the others. They crouched at the side of the stairs.