Three days later, a frisky wind whipped across the Finley Moor airfield and in through the window of the Directorate motorcar. George, as driver, handed their credentials to the guard at the gatehouse and then turned to peer into the back seat. ‘The place has expanded, hasn’t it, old man?’
Aubrey was sitting with Caroline in the rear of the discreet and powerful vehicle, and had enjoyed the journey from the city immensely. Caroline’s closeness was always enjoyable, and the enthusiasm with which she pored over the maps and travel documents was infectious. She was wearing stylish travel clothes – maroon leather gloves, a long gaberdine coat, a neat suit, a felt beret – and she had trouble concealing her excitement now that the mission was underway. She did her best to hide it by adopting a pose of unruffled professionalism, but the grin that escaped when Aubrey questioned small matters in their orders showed how the excitement was bubbling in her.
Aubrey was the same. The weightiness when given the mission had fallen away and was replaced by relief at launching into action instead of merely waiting, stewing in uncertainty.
Caroline gazed through the motorcar window at the huge shapes serenely bobbing at their mooring mast. ‘It’s been an age since I’ve been on an airship. Father took us to the Americas on a lecture tour when I was small.’
‘These are all military craft,’ Aubrey said after scanning the scene through the window. Of course, he had to lean close to Caroline to do so, but he was just being helpful. The airships varied in shape and size, with the newest shining with bright aluminium skins. He wondered what other advances they had. ‘They won’t be as luxurious as your transcontinental dirigibles.’
‘That doesn’t matter,’ Caroline said without taking her eyes from the window. ‘Just to be flying again is enough.’
Their preparations for the mission had been a scramble. Together and apart, they were provisioned and briefed. Visits to the Quartermaster, the Magic Chandler and the Armourer had outfitted them with diverse and clever equipment. Aubrey was still having trouble finding the best position for his handgun. He currently wore it on his left side, under his armpit, as advised by the Armourer, but the bulk of the Symons service revolver made it uncomfortable. George and Caroline didn’t seem to have a problem. Caroline no doubt because she was accustomed to concealing firearms about her person, and George because he’d opted for the somewhat experimental Symons Self-Loader, a new pistol with a seven-round magazine, more compact than the bulky, but reliable, Mark IV revolver Aubrey was carrying.
Other equipment ranged from concealed compasses, hidden map containers, disguised code books and sundry items as requested by each of them. Aubrey had specifically asked for a magical suppression unit, having a conviction that such a thing could be handy, but the Magic Chandler – after consulting Commander Craddock – had declined the request. ‘Travel light and make do’ was the motto of the mission and the smallest suppression device was the size of a breadbox, despite some rapid advances in spellcraft and technology.
Aubrey took Caroline’s left hand. He did it without thinking, which was fortunate, for he wouldn’t have if he’d pondered the action. ‘That’s a new ring.’
‘It’s only taken you three days to notice,’ she said, but she didn’t pull her hand away.
Aubrey wanted to tell her that he sometimes became a little fuzzy about details of ornamentation or accessories when he looked at her because she captivated all his attention. It wasn’t a bad declaration, but he wondered if it sounded too much like flattery, or fulsomeness, and perhaps something more direct would be better, and as he did, the moment passed. He lapsed into floundering. ‘Well, it’s been busy, with one thing and another, and I’ve been trying to memorise our route and code details and–’
‘It’s from the Armourer.’
‘Not from Anderson and Sutch?’
‘The jeweller’s? No. Look closely.’
The ring was an oval black stone in a silver setting. The band was slender, and it looked good on Caroline, as most things tended to. It could have been gold, for instance, and it still would have ... He brought himself up short and peered closely. ‘It’s lovely. Jet?’
‘It’s enamelled metal. If I prise it up I have a length of very fine wire.’
‘Just in case you need to repair a piano?’
‘You’d be surprised at what use a length of wire can be put to. Have you heard of garrotting?’
Aubrey shuddered. ‘I hope it doesn’t come to that.’
‘So do I.’ She turned the stone ninety degrees. ‘And now it’s a handy small blade, for use in awkward situations.’
‘You’re not going to do someone much damage with that.’ The blade was the same width as the band, but only a fraction of an inch long.
‘It’s not for hand-to-hand combat, Aubrey.’
‘Then what’s it for?’
‘I’ll find a use for it.’
‘Clever gadget.’ Aubrey wondered if he’d been shortsighted in merely walking away with a compass inside a hollow heel of his shoe. He never thought he’d be accused of a lack of imagination, but he clearly had a few things to learn about this world of furtive armament. Caroline, on the other hand, had a natural bent for it.
After a formal visit to the base commander, George navigated between the enormous hangars, then crossed the vast open space where the dirigibles were moored. Ground crews were at work. Lorries raced between them and the support buildings, with repair materials, fuel or supplies.
They found their designated craft: the A 205. Aubrey was pleased. This was the latest in the Albion airship fleet, the most modern, the most advanced, and the most recently built. Great ropes had brought it close to the ground, but its bulk still blocked out the sun when they drew close. A uniformed, moustachioed figure stood, arms behind his back, at the open door to the control car suspended beneath the belly of the great ship. As they approached, the engines coughed. ‘Quickly now!’ he shouted, waving. ‘We’re casting off as soon as you’re aboard!’
As soon as they stepped inside he greeted them enthusiastically. ‘Lieutenant Davey! You made good time!’ Then, with much shouting and clattering, the gangplank was stowed, the hatch closed, and Lieutenant Davey barked into a speaking tube. Immediately, Aubrey felt a swooping lurch. Caroline clutched his shoulder, eyes bright, and she pointed through the glass observation ports as the airfield dropped away.
The great propellers stuttered, then wound up until they hummed, a blur to the eye. The airship rose speedily toward the clouds, its vertical ascent easily outpacing its lateral movement. As they climbed, the countryside rolled away in all directions. The flatness around Finley Moor became the river valley of the Harwell, then unfolded to become the greenness that lay between the river and the sprawling outskirts of Trinovant. It had taken an hour for George to drive the motorcar from the capital to the airfield, but it looked as if the airship could cross the same distance in minutes.
Except we’re going in the other direction, Aubrey thought and, as he did, the great craft did indeed lumber around, swinging its nose to the west. The engines’ howl rose in pitch and Aubrey guessed that they were working into a headwind.
‘I never get sick of it,’ Lieutenant Davey said, straightening from an observation port and dusting his hands together. He was grinning. ‘It’s like the world is being made afresh each time we fly.’ He grinned. ‘Come up to the bridge. Captain Bailey wants to discuss your mission.’
Aubrey and his friends followed as he hurried along corridors and stairways that would have been at home on an ocean liner. It was certainly a more comfortable way of flying than the noisy, cramped ornithopters, and undoubtedly safer than the new fixed-wing aircraft.