The Black Crow Conspiracy Page 17

  The hiss of Monty’s voice in her ear jolted Penny from her preoccupation.

  “This is it.”

  Through an open doorway, she saw the pipe-packed space of the engine room, the rumble of the propeller shafts now turned to a roar. Steam rose from the maze of vibrating machinery, the continuously pumping rods throwing off a fine splatter of oil that clung to the uniforms of the two German sailors manning the huge brass wheels of the throttle station.

  Monty flattened himself to the wall outside.

  “What are we supposed to do?” he said, his voice barely audible above the noise. “Ask them nicely if they’ll turn back round?”

  Peering round the edge of the door, Penny assessed the situation. The two stocky sailors were facing away from them, their eyes fixed to the countless clocks and gauges that made sense of the engine’s guttural roar. The shrill ring of a bell cut through the tumult, turning the sailors’ attention towards the engine room telegraph, its brass arrow now pointing to half steam ahead. With a swab of a greasy cloth, the shorter of the two sailors turned the throttle wheel overhead, the answering thud of the piston rods telling him that the Hohenzollern would soon be picking up speed. Penelope bit her lip. If the river was fogbound, the Kaiser must be throwing all caution to the wind. She had to stop him somehow.

  Her gaze alighted on a coal-stained shovel resting just outside the doorway, left there by some weary stoker perhaps. Turning towards Monty, she cupped her hand to his ear so he could hear her over the roar.

  “We have to stop the ship.”

  “But the sailors…”

  Penelope reached for the shovel, pushing it into Monty’s protesting hands.

  “All we need to do is take them unawares,” she said. “A swift knock to the back of the head should put them out for the count. Then we can create the diversion we need to allow the royal family to escape.”

  Monty stared down at the shovel in dismay.

  “But I’m an actor, not a fighter!”

  Fixing Monty with a resolute stare, Penny searched for the words to give him the courage he needed.

  “Every man must fight for his country,” she told him. “And I’m sure King Edward will richly reward the man who almost single-handedly rescues his family and returns him to the throne.”

  At the prospect of this, Monty tightened his grip on the shovel.

  “We’ll have to be quick,” he hissed. “I do not fancy my chances against those fellows in any kind of a brawl.”

  Penny nodded. Gesturing for Monty to lead the way, the two of them crept into the engine room, the sound of their footsteps lost in the maelstrom of noise. The two sailors were oblivious to their presence as Monty skulked behind them, their attention held rapt by the readings from the engine’s gauges. But as he raised the shovel to strike the first blow, a reflection in the glass casing caused one of the sailors to turn in alarm.

  “Gott im Himmel!”

  As Monty struck, the sailor ducked under the blow, the blade of the shovel cracking against a brass gauge before falling to the floor with a clatter. Then the sailor was upon him, his hands reaching for Monty’s throat as he grappled him towards the huge engine block.

  Alerted by his crewmate, the second sailor grabbed hold of Penelope. She cried out in pain as his brutish grip crushed the bones in her wrists. Wreathed in a halo of steam, she saw his shocked gaze as he focused for the first time on her glowing green visage. Concentrating her mind, Penny felt her body vibrate in time with the atoms in his fingers as she slipped from his grasp like a ghost.

  The sailor stared back at her in horror, crossing himself as he uttered a single word like a curse.

  “Lorelei!”

  Penny stooped to retrieve the shovel.

  “No, it’s Penelope,” she replied, bringing the handle up sharply into his stomach. Then, as the winded sailor sank to his knees, she clonked the flat side of the shovel against his crown, knocking him out cold.

  Her own assailant dealt with, Penny turned to see Monty pinioned against the vast engine block. With a snarl, the burly sailor tightened his grip, twisting Monty’s face towards its hammering pistons. The actor’s cries were lost in a tumult of steam, the hissing steel threatening to shave off more than his beard. But before the sailor could push home his advantage, a look of stunned confusion spread across his face. Releasing his grip on Monty’s throat, he slowly slid to the floor. Penelope stood behind him with the shovel in her hand.

  “Thank God,” Monty gasped, rubbing his neck with trembling fingers. “I thought I was mincemeat.”

  As the actor pulled himself free, the shrill peal of the engine-room telegraph turned Penny’s gaze back to the throttle deck.

  “Quick,” she said, stepping towards the throttle station. “We have to stop the ship.” Penelope stared up at the controls: a dizzying array of gauges and dials, levers and wheels. “But how do we do it?”

  Monty joined her at the control panel, still breathing hard. “Well, we could put the engines hard astern,” he said, scratching his head thoughtfully. “But then we’d run the risk of the tide catching the ship and taking her sideways. I think a wiser course of action would be to turn the throttle wheel into reverse until the engines come to a halt.”

  Penny turned towards him in astonishment.

  “How on earth do you know all this?”

  A purple flush coloured Monty’s features as he reached up to grasp the huge throttle wheel.

  “I auditioned for the part of Captain Corcoran in a production of HMS Pinafore at the Lyceum back in ’98. My preparations for the role were meticulous.” A frown furrowed Monty’s brow as he strained to turn the polished brass wheel. “And yet I was still beaten to the part by that young upstart Seymour Hicks.”

  With a whine its handle slowly started to turn, the rise and fall of the pistons in the maze of machinery gradually slowing to a stately waltz. Leaning hard on the wheel, Monty let out a final grunt of effort, which was answered by a terminal hiss of steam escaping from the innards of the engine as it eventually came to a halt.

  For a moment, the ship creaked, the sound unnaturally loud now that the engine had been silenced; theirsmooth progress now replaced by a rolling wallow as the Hohenzollern started to drift with the tide. Then the deafening peal of the engine-room telegraph made Monty and Penny jump.

  “What do we do now?” Monty asked. The brass arrow was now pointing full steam ahead, the Kaiser not realising that his orders were falling on deaf ears.

  “They will come to find out what has happened to the engine,” Penny replied. “This will give the Queen and her family the diversion they need to escape to the lifeboats.”

  “And we will join them there too?” Monty asked with a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

  Penny shook her head.

  “Not yet,” she said, her pale-green eyes still shining even as the sheen of her skin lost its lustre. “If the King didn’t make it out of the Tower alive, then we are the only two people who can save the British Empire from the Kaiser’s clutches. We have to get to the bridge and find a way to stop him for good.”

  XVIII

  Penelope and Monty retraced their steps through the heart of the ship, scurrying past deserted staff cabins as they climbed the decks in search of the bridge. With every moment that passed, Penny could feel herself weakening, the strange fire from Röntgen’s rays threatening to consume her at last. She stumbled as she reached a final flight of stairs, the sign pointing upwards indicating that they had at last reached their goal: Kommandobrücke – the ship’s bridge.

  “Are you all right, Penelope?” Monty asked, stooping to her aid, but then the actor froze as he heard a clatter of boots from the deck above. With a trembling hand, Penny grabbed hold of Monty’s arm, glancing round their surroundings in search of a hiding place. The nearest door lay directly behind them, but as she turned to try the handle she discovered it was locked. The thunder of footsteps was now descending the stairs – a dozen or more men perhaps: in another seco
nd they would be discovered.

  Concentrating her mind, she pulled Monty close to her; the two of them slipped through the door like ghosts before the fire in her veins was finally extinguished. For a moment Penny stood there, her head spinning, as on the other side of the door the heavy tread of footsteps stomped past: the Kaiser’s men hurrying to discover what act of sabotage had brought the ship to a standstill.

  As Monty wheezed, Penny glanced around the room. They were standing in what looked like a sick bay. A row of empty cots separated by flimsy curtains filled most of the room, whilst a tall medicine cabinet was set on the facing wall. But Penelope’s eyes were drawn to the mirror fixed to the wall directly in front of her, a gasp escaping from her lips as she saw her own reflection.

  Apart from her usual pale-green gaze, Penny’s face was drained of the luminescence that had once shone from her skin. The shining green glow was now replaced with a deathly pallor. Dark shadows lurked beneath her eyes as what felt like a deadweight hung heavy on her frame, the pained creaks of the ship as it drifted with the tide echoed by the ache in her bones.

  Half turning, she pressed her hands to the door. Penelope tried to focus her mind one last time, but felt only unyielding wood beneath her fingers. Amsel had said that the effects of Röntgen’s rays would pass. Now it looked as though all hope of raising the alarm was gone with them too.

  “The effects of Professor Röntgen’s rays have left me. We’re trapped,” she said, turning to Monty. “The only way we can get out of here is by breaking down this door.”

  Monty paled. “But if we do that then they will discover us for sure,” he said, the faint echo of footsteps still within earshot outside the door. “They will probably march us right up to the bridge and deliver us into the Kaiser’s hands.”

  At Monty’s reply, a glint of inspiration sparkled in Penny’s eyes.

  “Then that’s what we have to do,” she said. “Convince them to take us to the Kaiser himself. If we can reach the bridge, then maybe we can find a way to stop him at last.”

  “But how—”

  “You have already fooled the guards once, making them believe that you really are King Edward the Seventh. Now you have to do it again. Insist that you must speak to your nephew, the Kaiser, on a matter of the utmost importance. It is the only chance we have left – a performance to save the nation. The fate of the Empire itself rests upon your talents as an actor, Monty, and I do not think you will disappoint.”

  At Penelope’s glowing words of praise, a new light shone in Monty’s eyes. Throwing his shoulders back, he stared hard at his reflection in the mirror. Beneath the peak of a Field Marshal’s cap, his silver-streaked beard lent his features the likeness of King Edward, whilst the gold buttons and braid on his dress uniform glinted royally.

  Monty turned back towards Penny, his countenance set in an expression of stout determination.

  “I must admit, Penelope, that I had not imagined taking my final bow in front of an audience of Kaiser Bill and his ghostly crew, but I suppose it is not for any of us to choose the manner of our leaving the stage.”

  Penelope looked up at Monty, a stray tear glistening in the corner of her pale-green eyes.

  “This won’t be your final performance, Monty,” she said. “We will get out of this, I promise you.”

  “Come what come may,” he replied with a faint twinkle of the old Monty in his gaze. “Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.” With a gentle bow, the actor turned back to face the locked door. “Now, you had better step back, Penelope,” he said, raising his boot as he braced himself against the doorframe. “Once more unto the breach, dear friend, once more.”

  Kicking out with all the force he could muster, Monty sent the door flying open with a splintering crack. Straightening the buttons on his uniform as they strained to contain his ample frame, Monty held out his hand for Penelope and the two of them stepped out into the corridor as a band of imperial sailors bore down on them.

  Before any of the sailors even had the chance to speak, Monty turned towards them with a peremptory stare.

  “What is the meaning of this delay?” he barked. “Has my nephew forgotten how to pilot a ship? I certainly gave him enough lessons at Cowes in his youth.”

  The sailors stared at him dumbfounded, the groans of the Hohenzollern adding weight to Monty’s words as the ship drifted with the tide.

  “I demand to see the Kaiser,” he continued, his regal tone brooking no argument. “I must speak to him now before he imperils us all.”

  As the ordinary sailors exchanged anxious glances, their senior officer stepped to the fore. The single stripe on his sleeve revealed his lieutenant’s rank.

  “The Kaiser gave strict orders that you and your family were to be confined to your quarters for the duration of the voyage, Your Majesty.” The officer raised his voice above the creaks of the becalmed ship. “May I ask what you were doing in the sick bay?”

  “My daughter has been afflicted with a bout of seasickness,” Monty replied brusquely. “Thanks to my nephew’s bungling navigation. I was looking for a tonic to soothe her constitution, but your medical supplies seem to be sadly deficient. Now, take me to see the Kaiser without delay or do you wish to go down with the tide?”

  A flicker of uncertainty passed across the lieutenant’s features, but as the Hohenzollern let out another groan of protest, he quickly made up his mind.

  “Very well, Your Majesty,” he said, gesturing towards the flight of stairs in front of them. “I will escort you both to the bridge.”

  Behind the collar of her robe, Penelope allowed herself a faint smile. So far Monty’s performance as the King had been a theatrical tour de force. Now the fate of them all rested on her finding a coup de théâtre that could bring the Kaiser’s plot to an end. She crossed her fingers as they climbed the steps to the bridge. It was time to make a final stand against this silent invasion.

  XXIX

  The bridge lay in darkness but the frantic sound of barked commands cut through the gloom. Shadowy figures scurried between the ship’s telegraphs, ringing down orders to an engine room that no longer responded. Through the windows that spanned the deck Penelope could glimpse a veil of scattering fog. Faint lights on the shoreline seemed to loom perilously close, the Hohenzollern listing slightly as it drifted with the tide.

  She strained her eyes to make sense of the scene, the dim light cast from a compass binnacle revealing the figure of a man at the helm of the bridge. As he turned his gaze from starboard to port, Penny saw this was the Kaiser, now resplendent in the uniform of a British Admiral of the Fleet. The Emperor’s face was a mask of barely suppressed fury, his right hand gripping the wheel as he struggled to keep the ship from floundering.

  Behind Monty and Penelope, the nervous cough of the lieutenant drew the Kaiser’s gaze in their direction.

  “What are you doing here, Uncle?” he snarled, addressing the question to Monty alone. “You are meant to be confined to quarters with the rest of your inconvenient brood!”

  “I – I – I thought you could do with some fresh sailing lessons,” Monty began, the faltering quaver in his words betraying his nerves. “Since you seem to be incapable of navigating our safe passage on this voyage.”

  In the darkness of the bridge the actor’s features were hidden beneath the shade of his peaked cap, but as Monty spoke, the expression on the Kaiser’s face changed to one of bewildered rage. He stepped away from the ship’s wheel with a snarl, the ship lurching as he lunged towards Monty.

  Losing her balance, Penny was thrown forwards, crashing into the teak housing of the fore bridge. Dazed, she slumped to the floor as the Kaiser grabbed hold of Monty’s throat.

  “Montgomery Flinch,” he roared as the shadows fell from Monty’s face. “Where is my uncle? Where is the King?”

  The two men clung to each other as the ship reeled towards the shore, the lookout on the foredeck shouting out an oath of warning. On the bridge, one of the sailors dive
d to take the helm again, pulling hard on the ship’s wheel as the Hohenzollern skirted the Isle of Dogs.

  Monty’s eyes bulged as the Kaiser squeezed hard.

  “How dare you!” he snarled. “This is my ship. This will soon be my country to rule over too and yet still you persist with your meddling.”

  Spittle flecked the Kaiser’s pomaded moustache as he tightened his grip. Penny saw Monty’s eyes roll back in his head, the Emperor’s rage choking him to within seconds of his life. As the sailors advanced towards her, she looked up at the forest of instruments arrayed on the fore bridge controls. There were countless dials and switches, gauges and buttons, their purpose known only to the most practised of mariners. Time was running out. No chances left now to raise the alarm.

  Then she saw it, a single word printed beneath a dangling lanyard: NEBELHORN – the ship’s horn.

  Reaching up, Penny grabbed hold of the lanyard. Pulling hard on this, the ship’s horn responded with a prolonged blast. The advancing sailors covered their ears as its deafening bellow sounded across the Thames. A noise loud enough to wake the city itself: the universal signal for a ship in distress.

  Releasing his grip on Monty’s neck, the Kaiser strode towards Penelope. With a swipe of his right arm, he knocked her off her feet. The ship’s horn finally silenced as she crashed against the bridge.

  “You English are mad – mad as March hares,” the Kaiser hissed, turning towards Penny with murder in his eyes. “To send a mere girl to fight for your country. Once you had splendid troops, officers and men. Where are they now?” Fixing her with a venomous glare, his hand reached for the hilt of his sword. “I only trust you will die as bravely as any soldier.”