Reading sample Romanov Gold

Lady Jane

Charlemagne Griffon, Charlie to his friends, was bored. He had read the paper, practised shooting with his new Gasser double action revolvers then cleaned his guns. The guns were the first to use the Robert Adams double action system. That meant that every pull of the trigger, rotated the next cartridge into line, cocked and released the hammer. Charlie’s problem was that he had nowhere, other than the shooting range in his basement, to use them.

His long-term girlfriend Samantha, was away with her father Seamus Quinlan, the head of the Irish gang that ran London from Whitechapel to the docks. They were visiting his cousin Feargal who ran the docks in Liverpool.

He contemplated taking a holiday. However, the thought of fishing or shooting deer didn’t appeal. Which couldn’t be said for his man Etherton who was currently dunking flies into a trout stream somewhere in Wiltshire in the hope of enticing a trout or two to impale itself on his hook.

He picked up the paper again and re-read an article on the missing British explorer Sir John Franklin. He had gone to the edge of the Arctic circle to search for a lost ship that was reputed to be carrying Russian gold. A damn silly chase as far as Charlie was concerned as he couldn’t see why a ship with a large quantity of the Tsar’s treasure would be navigating that far north in the first place and, as it was winter, it was a damn silly time to be searching for it as well.

A knock on the drawing room door and his maid, Sarah, came in with a tray of tea with his post.

“A pot of Earl Grey. Just like you like it,” she said with an east London accent. She was, in fact, the daughter of the local butcher and was filling in for Etherton while he was away. “You’ve ’ad a load of letters an’ all.”

He took the letters and let her pour the tea which he drank black with a slice of lemon which was considered exotic. The first three letters were regular bills from his tailor, Reddington’s Gunsmiths, and the council. The fourth was in a very good quality envelope and sealed with a wax seal which he didn’t recognise.

“Ooh, that looks posh,” she said.

Charlie ignored her and used a paper knife to split the seal. The paper inside was of equal quality and he unfolded the single sheet. It read:

 

Ye Gods! Charlie thought, even that is better than doing nothing. He went to his study and penned her a note. He stepped outside his house and grabbed the nearest street urchin.

“Take this to Lady Franklin at 110, the Mall. Return with her reply and you will earn a shilling,” he instructed the boy.

“Sure, Charlie,” the imp said and ran off, this wasn’t his first job for Charlie.

 

An hour later the boy was back. He handed Charlie a note and caught the proffered shilling Charlie tossed him in his grubby paw.

Charlie stepped out of his steam car and strode up the steps to the front door. It was trying to snow and the occasional flake drifted down to melt on the pavement. He opened the door and stepped inside to be greeted by a concierge who resided behind an oak counter.

“Good afternoon, Sir. Can I help you?”

Charlie handed over a visiting card.

“I have an appointment with Lady Jane.”

“Mr Griffon? You are expected. Come with me, Sir.”

He led Charlie into an elevator and slid the doors shut behind him. A lever controlled the ascent or descent and the concierge expertly took them to the third floor, stopping the car precisely level with the floor.

Lady Jane’s apartment covered the entire floor. The concierge knocked on the door, and when a maid answered, announced Charlie in a moderately loud voice.

The door opened to reveal a well-appointed living room that was comfortably furnished. Lady Jane stood in the centre waiting for him to present himself. Charlie assessed her in a glance. The far end of her forties, brown hair tied back in a French plait that hung almost to her waist, with a hint of grey creeping in at the sides, well dressed in a fashionable yet practical dress. A handsome woman by any standards.

She in turn evaluated the man who came through the door. Tall, broad-shouldered, slim waisted, handsome with the bearing of a soldier. Well dressed without being foppish. Confident and mannered.

Charlie bowed over the offered hand.

“I am delighted to meet you, Lady Jane.”

“Mr Griffon, thank you for seeing me so quickly. Please make yourself comfortable. Can I offer you refreshment? A glass of Madeira perhaps?”

“That would be wonderful. Now, how can I help you?”

“I suppose I should start at the beginning.”

Charlie smiled and was attentive.

“A year ago, a gang broke into the Tsar’s winter palace in St. Petersburg and stole a fortune in treasure including paintings by the old masters, gold silver and jewellery. They apparently escaped cross-country as it was summer and made their way to Archangel or Arkhangelsk as the Russians call it. That is a port on the White Sea.

Being hotly pursued by the Russian Army they took to ship and headed east to presumably get to America.”

“But they never arrived,” Charlie said.

“Quite. Winter arrived early and was unusually harsh. The white sea iced up in mid-September and is still frozen now.”

“Hmm. Last summer was a cool one. I can imagine the Arctic was even colder.”

“Precisely! The Tsar asked my husband to lead an expedition to find the ship and the treasure.”

“Why your husband?”

“Because he is very experienced in exploring the Arctic wastes and the Tsar wanted the theft to be kept quiet.”

“Understandable, it makes him look, at the least, careless.”

Charlie thought on the problem.

“Did your husband leave any hints as to where he thought they may be? The ice sheet is rather large.”

“He left me the journal that contains all his thoughts on the expedition. He would, every time he went away.”

She went to a table, brought back a leather-bound book and handed it to Charlie who opened it.

“I will have to study this in depth, may I take it with me?”

“You will take the commission?”

“I will if I think it possible, which I will not know until I have studied the journal.”

They sat and chatted until Charlie had finished his wine when he excused himself. He stopped off at a post office and sent a telegram to Etherton.

 

We have a job. Come back soonest,

was all it said.

Etherton was fishing in Wiltshire on the rivers Nadder and Wylye for brown and rainbow trout. He was staying at the Black Duck Inn in Tisbury and came back after a moderately successful day’s fishing to find the telegram waiting for him.

Bugger, they were just beginning to really bite, he thought but told the landlord he would be leaving in the morning. He would catch the 07:00 train to London from Tisbury railway station, but before he left he had one more night with Gloria. She was the barmaid, not related to the landlord (so safe for a jump), buxom and energetic in bed.

He was on the platform at 06:45 the next morning, bleary eyed and lacking sleep but content with his lot in life. Charlie said they had a job. Hopefully somewhere warm and tropical. He imagined steamy jungles with golden beaches alongside an aquamarine sea and Mayan treasure.

“Tickets please.” He woke up with a start. The conductor was standing over him with his hand held out. Etherton dug in his pocket and pulled out the ticket. Second class cost a shilling to London. First class was half a crown. Etherton was a man’s man and was happy with his place in life so second class was perfectly acceptable. He looked after and guided his man, got to practise his engineering, and could go fishing when they were at home. He had known Charlie for years, had been his batman in the army and had left with him when he was unjustly cashiered.

He dozed until the train chuffed into Waterloo Station. His fishing box and carpet bag were all the luggage he had, and both had shoulder straps that he had designed. The walk from the train to the line of steam cabs waiting outside was relatively short and he instructed a driver to take him to Whitechapel.

The house when the cab pulled up looked the same as it had when he left. He inspected the front steps. They were clean, which meant that Sarah had been doing her job. He wondered if he could persuade Charlie to take her on full time, that would give him more time to pursue his projects.

The front door was unlocked, but he checked that the security devices were disarmed before entering. Getting a bullet through the foot was not a good way to start the day. Sarah came out of the drawing room carrying a tea tray.

“He’s in there. Had his head in a book all yesterday and this morning.”

That didn’t sound like Charlie. He put his fishing box by the door to the cellar and carpet bag at the foot of the stairs before entering the drawing room.

Charlie didn’t look up as he entered just said, “What kept you?”

“Good morning, Sir, I hope you are feeling well this morning,” Etherton replied feeling a trifle put out.

“I’m fine. What do you know about travelling across snow?” Charlie said, completely missing the sarcasm. “In the Arctic.”

“That it’s cold and miserable.”

“That aside, what’s the best way to do it?”

Etherton realised he was serious.

“How far do we have to go?”

“Probably a couple of hundred miles.”

“Airship and land crawler would be my choice. Dogs and a sled if a crawler was too heavy. How big is the team?”

“I haven’t decided yet. This isn’t archaeological, it’s a straight treasure and manhunt.”

Etherton sighed, at this rate he would be fed the mission piecemeal.

“Can we start again with you telling me what the hell we are supposed to be doing and why?”

“Oh sorry,” Charlie said and laid out the mission.

After he finished, Etherton decided they needed an operations room set up with a blackboard, a large pinboard, set on a pair of easels, along with sundry items of stationery. A large chart of the region of interest was pinned on the board.

“Right, now we are ready,” Etherton said, satisfied.

Sarah came in, “Lady Jane Franklin is here.”

Lady Jane followed her in and gave her cloak, hat and gloves to Sarah. She was expected as Charlie had messaged her.

“Lady Jane,” Charlie greeted her with a bow. “This is Etherton. Engineer, armourer, and man’s man.”

cSo nice to meet you,” she said. Etherton bowed.

“We were just starting the analysis of your husband’s expedition.” Charlie said, gesturing to the boards.

Lady Jane sat in one of his chairs that faced the boards and said, “Please, don’t let me stop you. Oh, and I found this. It’s a copy of the inventory of stolen items. I think John must have made it for safety’s sake.”

Charlie took the inventory and whistled as he scanned it. If this was sold, even to a fence at a big discount, someone would get rich. He picked up the journal which had a lot of paper markers inserted and opened it at the first one.

“Sir John says the thieves sailed east along the north coast of Russia. Far enough out to stay in international waters but close enough to make navigation simple. He thinks they were caught out by the early freeze and forced closer to Wrangel Island than they wanted to be. He calculated that they would have gotten to a point roughly fifty miles from the island when they got trapped in the ice. Their ship wasn't designed to survive the pressure the ice would put on it and be crushed sooner rather than later, forcing them to take to the ice sheet. He left for Alaska last year in June and took an airship to Point Hope from where he planned to start his expedition.”

Etherton put coloured pins in the map designating all the points of interest.

“How many men did he take?” he asked.

“Eight experienced men,” Lady Jane said.

“Soldiers?”

“Ahh, not all of them. As far as I can tell only three had any military experience, and that was in the Engineers,” Charlie said.

“Not a lot to confront a ship full of thieves,” Etherton said thoughtfully.

Lady Jane looked worried. "John would have chosen men with experience in travelling in the Arctic rather than fighters.”

“I can understand that with him being primarily an explorer and a Navy man in the past, but personally I would want plenty of fighting men with me on this type of expedition,” Charlie said.

Etherton brought them back to business, "How were they going to travel?”

“Dog sleds, he thought the ice was too thin for mechanised transport.”

“Why not continue by airship? Search from the air?”

“That wouldn't have occurred to him,” Lady Jane said. "He did not like flying and saw it as just a way to get from a to b.”

Charlie wrote on a slip of paper and pinned it to the board beside the map. It had the name 'Chuck Stager' written on it.

“He is our pilot,” Charlie explained.

“You have an airship?” Lady Jane said.

“He does, and we have him under retainer,” Etherton said. "How many men do the Russians think were in the thieves’ team?”

Charlie selected a different tab. "Hmm, they weren't sure but thought at least a dozen.”

Etherton blew out his cheeks. “We are going to need Stan and the boys.”

Charlie smiled and pinned another slip on the pinboard. Stan Billings, Sgt, retired, French Foreign Legion, lived in Cambridge with his wife Edwina who was a researcher at the University specialising in South American antiquities. His old squad were still together in civvy street and available for hire.

“Did he use any local guides?” Etherton said.

“He didn't plan to, according to the journal,"”Charlie replied.

“We will need one.”

“We can find one there.”

Etherton went to the blackboard and started writing.

“What's he doing?” Lady Jane whispered.

“Starting to list all the things we will need; he will fill the board by the time he is finished.”

“When did you realise that Sir John was missing?”

“Two months ago, he was due back to Point Hope and should have telegraphed me. I did not worry for the first month as he was probably out on the ice but once two months went by, I contacted the research station at Point Hope, they said he had not been seen for four months.”

“So, he was overdue?” Charlie said.

“That is what alerted me that something was wrong. He only carried rations for that long.”

“I see,” Etherton said and started working out how far the expedition could have travelled in that time.

“I have to go now," Lady Jane said. “I will return tomorrow.”

“No need for you to travel back and forth,” Charlie said.

“Oh, but there is. I am coming with you.”

Once they were alone Etherton drew a circle on the map with Point Hope in the middle. It encompassed Wrangel Island.

“That's five hundred miles. They should have been able to travel to the edge of that and back in two months, three at the most.”

Preparation

Telegrams were sent to Stan in Cambridge, the boys in Egypt, and to Chuck Stager the pilot/owner of the airship they held on retainer. Etherton continued writing his list and when not doing that disappeared down into the workshop/armoury/vault in the basement.

Charlie was given lists of things to procure that had him wandering around London and further afield. Their equipment room steadily filled up. Odd looking pieces of equipment started to come out of the workshop.

Stan arrived without Eddie. She had taken one look at the telegram, shuddered, and said, "You are on your own on this one, darling." The boys wrote to say they were on their way and that they had two new recruits. Eight men including Stan, that will work, Charlie smiled to himself.

Stan stood and looked at the boards.

"You know I hate the fucking cold," he said as he heard the door open.

"Do you really?" Lady Jane said with a hint of a smile.

"Oh shit, I mean, I apologise for my coarse language, Milady. I thought you was Charlie."

"You do not like the cold?"

"I spent most of my life in the South of France or the desert."

"Aah the Legion."

"Yes, Ma’am."

"And your men?"

"The same, Ma’am."

"Please call me Jane. I gather you are all experienced fighting men."

"We've all fought in Morocco and Algeria and have been with Charlie in a couple of expeditions where we have had the odd scrap."

"He has somewhat of a reputation. Is it true he was once in the Guards?"

"95th Rifles. Got thrown out for duelling someone with political connections."

"I presume he won."

"Of course, the Rupert he shot was a murdering officer and needed to be got out of the force."

"Murdering? He murdered his men?"

"Not exactly. You see there are two types of officer, the ones like Charlie who only get you killed if it can't be avoided and them, like the one he shot, who treat their men like…" he was looking for a word other than shit, "like animals and get them killed needlessly."

"I see and Charlie killed the man?"

"Oh no, just shot his arm off so he couldn't be a line officer anymore. Ticked off the idiot's father who was a major-general and got cashiered."

Charlie came in, arms full of clothing.

"Talking about me?"

"Yes, what a crap officer you were." Stan winked at Jane.

"Lovely. Jane these are the clothes you will have to wear once we get to Alaska. Once you have them on you will rarely take them off."

"Good grief, how many layers are there?"

"Let me see now," Charlie said. "Flannel long johns and vest next to the skin, to wick away sweat. Then under trousers of wool and reindeer skin over trousers. Silk under socks and woollen socks of which you will wear three pairs. Above you wear a string vest over the flannel and a woollen shirt over that followed by a heavy wool jumper and finally a reindeer coat with hood. The boots are made by the Innuits as are the reindeer trousers and jacket. You will have wolfskin gloves with silk inner gloves and finally a young reindeer skin hat."

"Good Lord! Will I be able to move?"

"I am assured it is all very flexible and only slightly restricts movement. Now you need to try it all on to make sure it fits correctly."

Jane looked abashed.

"Sarah will help you and act as your lady’s maid. It must be a good fit but not too tight or too loose. Call me when you feel comfortable to have me present and I will check it."

"Mr Charlie, her Ladyship is ready for you to come up now," said a grinning Sarah.

Charlie went up to the bedroom and knocked on the door.

"Come in."

Jane stood in woollen trousers and shirt.

"I didn’t know whether to tuck the shirt in or not," she said.

"It has a squared-off bottom so it is not tucked in. They wear them a bit like a jacket. I need to check the layers. If I may?"

She nodded and held her arms up. Charlie unbuttoned the shirt and checked the two lower layers. "Just right, I'd say."

He looked up and saw the blush on her neck.

"I am sorry if it's embarrassing, but it could be the difference between life and death."

Jane said nothing and buttoned up her shirt.

"Now try the jacket and trousers."

He helped her into them and got her to move around.

"How do they feel?"

"Hot, and heavy but I would soon get used to the weight. It is all surprisingly comfortable."

"Excellent. Do you have a gun?"

"A gun? Why on earth would I have one of those?"

"Get your clothes back on and meet me in the drawing room."

Once Jane came down dressed normally, Charlie took her down to the armoury.

"Is that the door to a security vault?" she asked when they reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Yes, Etherton, and I have probably the biggest collection of guns in London, and we do not want them falling into the wrong hands when we are away. Not to mention its where money and ammunition is kept and, more importantly, its where Etherton does his inventing."

He led her through the huge, foot-thick door into a surprisingly well ventilated and brightly lit room. Two of the walls were covered in racks that held an astonishing variety of weapons. Swords, knives, pistols, rifles, spears, clubs and even knuckle dusters were neatly arranged. All were spotlessly maintained and looked ready for use.

Charlie stepped over to a rack where pistols were hung by their trigger guards, if they had them, or on dowels that the barrels were pushed onto. He selected three small revolvers and a double-barrelled derringer.

"Try these for size. It should feel comfortable in your hand and your finger should touch the trigger here." He pointed to just above the top knuckle on his index finger. She took each revolver in turn and held it before lifting it and aiming at a safe at the far end of the room.

"I like this one best," she said, picking up the second one.

It was a Smith and Wesson type 1, third issue, .22 calibre short-barrelled pistol. Nickel plated it was as pretty as it was deadly. It had only been manufactured in this form for a couple of years and was an extremely popular pistol in America. It could carry seven cartridges but as it was a single-action revolver, only six were ever loaded to give the hammer somewhere to rest safely.

"Let's see how you get on with it then."

Charlie showed her how to load it. He pivoted the barrel up and removed the cylinder, opened a box of brass cartridges and dropped one in each of six of the cylinders, replaced the cylinder in the frame and closed the barrel making sure it was locked in position.

He opened a door in the far wall of the vault and turned up a gas light. It was a range with paper targets set on a pulley system to take them down to predefined ranges of ten, twenty and thirty yards.

"It runs up to the property boundary at the back of the house," he explained as she peered down it. He sent a target down to the ten-yard mark.

"This is the furthest away you want to shoot anyone with that gun. It is a small calibre and in the Arctic, it won't have the penetrating power to go through all of the clothes. So, if you have to use it, aim for the face."

The target had a circle drawn on it at face height.

"You hold it like this, at arm’s length, focus on the front sight and put that in the centre of the target. Keep your finger to the side until you are ready to fire. Now pull back the hammer with your thumb."

The gun gave a double click and the cylinder turned the first loaded cartridge into line.

"Aim, now squeeze the trigger."

A hole appeared above the circle.

"You jerked the trigger and that threw off your aim. Try again."

Jane pulled back the hammer and aimed at the bottom half of the circle, her finger curled around the trigger and gently eased it back.

"Right in the middle, well done! Now you need to practise so you can do that every time; and quickly."

Jane found she enjoyed the practice, the gun soon felt natural in her hand, and she was hitting inside the circle at least nine times out of ten.

"Not bad," Charlie said.

"Not bad? I thought I was doing pretty good."

Charlie pulled one of his new Gasser pistols from its holster under his arm, casually pointed at the target and fired six times. The individual shots made a single hole, one and a half inches in diameter in the centre of the circle.

"When you can do that, then you are getting good."

"Show off," Etherton muttered loud enough to make Jane laugh.

The boys arrived two weeks later having gotten a fast mail ship direct from Alexandria. The two new men were former Legionnaires who they had known in the past. One was a bruiser of a man, nicknamed Ox, he was six feet eight tall, weighed the best part of twenty stone mostly made up of solid rippling muscle. A former French-Canadian lumberjack, he was the muscle of the group. Ironically his real name was Adrian Petit.

The second newcomer couldn't be more different. Five feet six, bearded, with the most startling blue eyes. Lash was a Roma. A gypsy but God help you if you called him that as to him it was a base insult. He was a scout and reputed to be able to disappear into the landscape at will.

The rest of the boys were Oliver van Helden, South African sharpshooter, Henri Destry – French sharpshooter, Razor Delalio – Italian knife fighter, Tug Wilson – English 'acquisitions' specialist and Ham McDonald – Scottish explosives expert. All together a formidable force.

Lady Jane met them all and marvelled at the casual banter as well as the array of weapons on display. Charlie's house turned into an armed camp as supplies continued to be delivered day by day. Seamus and Samantha returned from Liverpool just before they were due to leave to go to Croydon. She appeared in the living room as they were getting the gear ready to load on to steam waggons that were due that afternoon.

"You're going somewhere?" she said, as she slipped her arms around his neck.

"We have a job," he replied and kissed her.

"Somewhere cold?" She glanced at the reindeer coats.

"The Arctic, or at least the ice fields."

"Oh. How long will you be away?"

"At least three months, if not longer."

Lady Jane chose that moment to walk in, "Hello," she said, "is this your fiancée?"

"That'll be the day," Samantha said, giving Charlie a look that spoke volumes.

"Lady Jane Franklin, allow me to introduce Samantha Quinlan," Charlie said, disengaging himself.

"Delighted to meet you." Jane smiled.

"Jane is our employer, we are looking for her husband."

"You lost him? That was careless," Samantha said. Charlie could sense Samantha's claws coming out.

"He has gone missing on an expedition," Charlie hurriedly explained, reading the warning signs.

Lady Jane looked upset at Samantha's comment and Samantha relented.

"I'm sorry, so I am," she said, her Dublin accent coming to the fore. She stepped forward and gave Jane a hug.

"I'm sure my Charlie will find him for you, and he has all the boyos here to help him. They can do anything you know."

A steam whistle sounded from the road.

"The waggons are here. Get the gear loaded."

"Chuck is waiting at Croydon with his airship. He will take us to Alaska via New York."

"New York? I haven't seen Auntie Connie for an age. Can I come with you as far as there?"

Charlie looked at Jane who said, "If there is room on the airship of course you can."

"You have exactly an hour and a half to pack," Charlie said, and Samantha rushed out.

"That young lady is completely in love with you," Lady Jane said as she watched her rush past the window.

"Hmm," Charlie said.

"Charlie is scared of committing," Stan said loudly as he passed carrying a crate.

"She won't wait forever you know," Jane said and bent to pick up one of the lighter packages.

Charlie felt a moment of panic, his instincts shouted loudly that he should run as fast and as far as possible. He took a deep breath and calmed himself. Why can I face a man with a sword or gun without fear but the thought of tying the knot scares me to death?

They drove to Croydon Aerodrome in convoy with Charlie's Bentley steam car at the front. His car was his pride and joy, the chassis was built by Bentley and had their six-cylinder (two triple expansion engines connected to a common crankshaft in a 45° V formation), gas-fired steam engine, one of the most efficient and powerful ever built. The coachwork was custom built to his (and Etherton's) specification by The Carlton Carriage Company in Wilsden. The car was set up in a two-plus-two configuration, with doors that opened towards the rear and front seats that tipped forward to enable rear passenger access.

The body had a few, Etherton-designed, self-defence mechanisms which added a little weight, but it was still very quick. Charlie checked the rear-view mirror, another Etherton innovation, and saw he had crept out too far ahead of the wagons. He eased off on the foot-operated pressure valve to slow down a bit. The pedal was the right of three. The foot brake, which operated shoes that expanded to rub on a metal rim mounted on each wheel drum via a cable, was on the left and the clutch pedal was in the middle. He rested his left foot on the brake and lightly pressed it. They slowed five miles an hour and the waggons caught up.

Lady Jane and Samantha sat in the back, Etherton next to Charlie in the front. They were skirting Brixton heading due south down the trunk road to the south coast. Charlie would have enjoyed the trip a lot more if he had been able to open up the smooth, powerful engine. As it was, he had to make do with trundling along at forty miles an hour to stay with the waggons. There were no speed limits in England, rather the state of the road and proximity to houses were natural restrictors.

They were coming up to Thornton Heath when the loud blaring of a claxon came from behind. Charlie checked the mirror then operated a lever to extend a mirror on the door out so he could see back along the convoy. An Austin was making its way up the convoy one wagon at a time. Charlie decided it might be a threat. It was annoying as well.

"Stand to," he said to Etherton who responded by pulling a pair of Remington Navy revolvers from under his jacket.

"Trouble?" Samantha asked.

"Might be, might just be an asshole."

The Austin had gotten to the truck behind them and as soon as there was nothing coming towards them moved out to overtake, the claxon blaring. It only had a two-cylinder engine with a maximum speed of fifty miles an hour so needed a fair bit of road to make the pass.

Charlie slowed a little to let it by and he watched it pull out and creep up beside them. He looked at the driver. It was a young woman who was intent on the road ahead as her vehicle reached its maximum speed. She looked across at him and Charlie smiled. She glared back and continued past.

"How rude," Lady Jane said.

"In a hurry to get somewhere," Charlie said. Etherton relaxed and put the guns away.

They reached the aerodrome and were directed to a mooring away from the commercial traffic. There they found their airship, the Joanna, with Chuck standing at the bottom of the extended steps that came down from the gondola. Charlie pulled up and helped the ladies out. Etherton went to the boot and collected their rifle cases to take on board.

"Hello, Chuck, good weather, isn't it?" Charlie said.

"Hi, Charlie, definitely unseasonably calm." He looked at the wagons. "I hope all that is bulky rather than heavy."

"It is, at most, two tons of cargo including the lady's trunks."

Jane and Samantha approached carrying their vanity cases.

"Lady Jane, this is our captain, Chuck Steger. Chuck, Lady Jane is our employer on this mission. Samantha, you know of course."

Crew men and stevedores from the airport loaded the gear into the cargo hold and the luggage to be used on the flight into the cabin. All in all it took an hour or so and gave Charlie time to take his car to the carpark where it would stay under the watchful eye of the security guards. As he parked in his designated bay, he noticed the Austin that had been in such a hurry earlier. He walked over to it. The security guard came over.

"Nearly missed her flight, did that one. she was in a right state."

"She passed us the other side of Thornton Heath pushing that poor old thing to its limit."

"Must have been pushing it if she passed you, Mr Griffon."

"I was escorting the wagons with our gear. We were only doing forty. Did she make her flight?"

"Oh yes, with about five minutes to spare. On her way to New York now."

Charlie noted that. He had a clear recollection of her face and would be looking out for her as they would probably get there before the commercial airship.

When he got back to the dock, the walk was circuitous, all was loaded and they were ready to leave. A customs official stood waiting to sign the bill of lading and passenger manifests. Charlie tipped him generously and boarded. His preferred seat was reserved for him and the two, very pretty, stewardesses, served him a gin sling cocktail. He noticed that Lady Jane had a simple vermouth and Samantha was sipping a Negroni. The boys had beers or whiskey.

The ship took off so smoothly they almost didn’t notice it. Chuck was at the controls along with a co-pilot and engineer. There was a second crew who were resting in the crew quarters behind the cockpit who would take over after ten hours flying time. There was also a night steward who was ready to get you anything while the others slept. All in all, it was a very well organised operation.

They got to their cruising height of two thousand feet and entered a thick layer of cloud. Rain spattered the windows of the gondola. It was a little bumpy and Lady Jane looked worried.

"Is that normal?" she said.

"It's nothing to worry about," Charlie said. "It's just slight turbulence."

Lunch was served: smoked salmon, ham, gala pie, fresh rolls, cheese and chutneys were laid out as a buffet for them to help themselves. A look from Charlie was enough for the boys to let the ladies serve themselves before they demolished it. Samantha sat beside Charlie on a settee.

"Do you think you can find him? He's been gone for months."

"He had rations for four months. If his ship was wrecked, he would have taken to the ice sheet. If he got into trouble because of the weather, he would have gone to ground. What I am concerned about is that a third party is involved, and he is being held captive."

"Why do you think someone else is involved?"

"Because whenever there is a lot of money involved it attracts opportunists like wasps to a jam pot."

The direct route to New York was impractical as the wind would be against them all the way across and they didn't have enough fuel. So they swung south to pick up the trade wind which would shoot them across to the Caribbean and then make their way up the American coast to New York. As Chuck explained, that was a lot more ground miles, but with a fifteen to thirty-mile-an-hour tailwind they could make eighty-five to one hundred miles an hour. Whatever, it would take around three days to make the trip.

The sleeping cabins were comfortable and there were enough that Charlie, Lady Jane and Samantha had their own and the boys doubled up in cabins with bunk beds. At breakfast, Chuck joined them and told them, "The good news is that the trade is blowing at twenty-five miles an hour which means we are making ninety-miles-an-hour ground speed without straining the engines.

Etherton, who was interested in all things steam, asked, "What’s the fuel saving from running them flat out?"

"About twenty percent, they are running at our absolute best cruising speed."

"Interesting. Have you run them in really cold conditions? Does that make a difference?"

"We have experienced fourteen Fahrenheit and saw that we use more fuel as the boiler room is not insulated. As the engines use a recirculating condenser for the used steam, we just have to be careful that it does not freeze up." Etherton understood. Water was heavy, so they did not want to carry more than they needed to. A condenser that recovered the exhausted steam and tuned it back to water was an essential part of the system. As the temperature dropped it became more efficient to a point. Beyond that point there was a danger it could freeze up. That would not only restrict or stop the recycled water but could damage the condenser to the point it was inoperable.

He pondered that problem. How could you keep the condenser at its optimum temperature? The condenser in an airship used cold air to condense the exhaust steam. In general, the colder the air the better, up to the point where it instantaneously froze the steam. The trick would be to keep the air passing through the condenser above that point. He took a piece of paper and started to draw.

They arrived in New York and landed at the aerodrome on Long Island. Everyone went ashore to a hotel for the night except Etherton who got together with the two engineers on the airship to discuss his modifications.

They went to Manhattan and stayed at the Algonquin, a luxury hotel in Times Square. They settled in: Charlie, Jane and Samantha dressed for dinner. The boys decided they would explore the underside of the city. Etherton arrived as they were leaving.

"Coming with us?" Stan said.

"No, I will eat something then go back to the airfield. I have some things to make," Etherton said and went to find Charlie.

He got to him just before he entered the dining room

"Charlie, we need to make some modifications to the condensers on the engines, so they won't freeze when we go north."

"How long will that take?"

"Two days at least. We should be able to leave first thing Thursday morning."

"I will let the others know. Don't forget to eat."

"I’ll get something in the bar then go back to the airfield."