Episode 148: Sometimes Life Throws You a Curve
Mosley stood for a moment, relishing their expressions of dismay.
Then he glanced at his pocket watch. "I must be going," he observed
lightly. "I have business to attend to back in England. Iíll leave you
in my nephewís capable hands."
The baronet swept out of the hold like a man departing a ball.
Outside, the engines of his yacht thundered to life. Blacker waited until
the sound had faded into the night, then gestured with his pistol.
Obediently, the prisoners followed the guards.
MacKiernan glared at Miss Perkins as he passed, but she wouldnít meet his
gaze. No wonder, he thought, the fhealltůir.
"Why have you thrown in with this lot?" he asked Blacker. "Theyíre traitors
to our government."
The renegade lieutenant gave a derisive snort. "You think government is the
solution. We know that government is the problem. Asquith and his
successors betrayed our nation by accepting the Peace. We will sweep these
Appeasers? thought MacKiernan.
The guards marched them to the forecastle and locked them in a storeroom.
This must once have been a paint locker, for its floor was covered with
circles of color where buckets had rested. Helga picked up an old brush,
hefted it as if evaluating its suitability as a weapon, then shrugged and
cast it aside.
Abercrombie made his way over to where MacKiernan was standing.
"I ken how ye must feel," he said sympathetically.
"Ye cannae trust the lassies. With some exceptions," he added when he
noticed Helgaís expression.
"Thatís all water over the dam," sighed MacKiernan. "Now we need a way
"Is no problem!" said Helga cheerfully. "We wait until they make the
mistake. Then we having fun!"
MacKiernan marveled at the womanís optimism. Was this what the Vikings
were like? he wondered. I can see why people feared them.
They were awoken the next morning by the thrum of the shipís engine.
the door swung open to reveal a
man who might almost have been a butler, from some culture that armed its
domestic servants with large-caliber revolvers. "If youíll come this way,"
he said politely.
They emerged from the forecastle to find the Predpriyatie making
her way the toward middle of the bay. To the north, Rabaul was visible
beyond the curve of Taruvur. Several airships were moored at the station.
MacKiernan gazed at them hopefully, but none rose to their rescue. The only
shipping in sight was an aged collier plodding south. An Australian flag
drooped limply from the vesselís stern.
The speedboat and its cradle now rested on deck, surrounded by several
Englishmen and Russians. MacKiernan recognized Blacker, Miss Perkins, and
an elderly gentleman he assumed was Grand Duke Mikhailovich. Blacker was
engaged in conversation with Miss Perkins.
"Have we heard from Leese?" they heard him ask.
"He sent word that he may be detained," she replied. "He suggested we
precede without him."
She looked away as the prisoners approached. Blacker turned to face them.
"You admire our little vessel?" he said. "Itís an automatic motorboat --
one of Fullerís more inspired creations.
A special clockwork mechanism steers it along a predetermined course.
Itís started by an electrical impulse from this control stand."
MacKiernan wasn't entirely sure why anyone would trust one of Fuller's
machines. The man's record was not one of unqualifed success. "Where is
the gentleman?" he asked. "I donít see him here today."
The lieutenant coughed discreetly. "Mister Fuller will not be with us
this morning. He is in disgrace after that incident with the
"And what do you intend to do with his 'automatic motorboat'?"
Blackerís smile was a bit too smug to conform to Royal Navy
specifications. "Iím sure youíve guessed," he replied, stepping aside to
reveal the object behind him.
MacKiernan had never seen the original Device, but he recognized the
speedboatís cargo from Captain Everettís description. A dull cylinder of
some unfamiliar metal sat at one end of a short track. At the other end, a
conical slug of similar material was fitted to a stubby mortar that would
fire it into the cylinder with considerable force. The thing seemed quite
innocuous, but he knew, all too well, what it could do.
"You built two of them," he said in dismay.
"It seemed a reasonable precaution," said the Grand Duke.
"Surely you donít mean to use that thing against Rabaul!" MacKiernan
The Russian seemed surprised by his objection. "Why not? It will be a blow
against the Germans, it will demonstrate our strength, and it will rally
people to our cause." He called up to the bridge. "Captain Tserkov, let
In the wheelhouse, an officer gave a command. Below them, the engine fell
silent, leaving the freighter rolling gently in the Pacific swell.
"Mister Becket, Mister Sokolov you may arm the device."
Two men standing next to the speedboat turned a pair of switches, then
stepped back with some alacrity. The Grand Duke nodded to the derrick
Gears whined, slings grew taught, then the speedboat was swinging over the
MacKiernan remembered Ujelang.
He imagined that terrible light blossoming over Rabaul, searing flesh from
bones. He glanced at Miss Perkins, but she hung her head as if unwilling to
meet his gaze.
"Gospodin," said a crewman, gesturing toward the harbor, where a
sleek motor patrol boat had come into view. MacKiernan recognized one of the
Imperial Navyís new Schnellboots. The Grand Duke studied it with a
"They are not looking for this vessel," he announced. "And even if they
were, it is too late for them to stop us."
The speedboat settled into water. A crewmen unhooked the slings and the hoist
lifted clear. Blacker turned to his control stand.
"Sir!" cried one of his men, pointing toward the east. "An airship!"
MacKiernan looked up to see a vessel approaching out of morning sun. His
heart leapt as he recognized familiar lines. "Itís the
To the north, the patrol boat had turned to speed in their direction, spray
flying from her bow. To the south, the collier had raised the Red Ensign and
was moving to block their escape. The Irishman turned to face his captors.
"The game is over," he announced. "Give yourselves up."
"Never!" cried Blacker. Before anyone could react, he thumbed a button on
the control stand. Relays clicked, motors whined, and the speedboat was
racing away, trailing a roostertail of spray behind it.
MacKiernan watched in horror as the craft streaked toward Rabaul.
Even if they recognized their danger, there was no way the Germans could
possibly intercept it. A puff of white rose from the vesselís stern.
Apparently a steam line had burst, disabling one of its engines, for now it
was veering to starboard. Blacker stared, incredulous, as it swung in a
wide circle back toward the waiting freighter.
"Fuller!" he screamed. "You imbecile!"
The craft pulled alongside as clockwork shut down its remaining motor.
In the Device, a timer would be counting down to zero. MacKiernan and
Abercrombie braced themselves for annihilation. There was a muffled bang,
followed by a klunk.
The two airmen exchanged glances.
"Guid laird!" said Abercrombie. "It was a dud!"
Helga had taken advantage of their captors' astonishment to recover her axe
from the hands of a nerveless guard. She smiled.
"Now we having the fun."
The patrol boat lay to the north, guns pointed at the Predpriyatie.
Above them, the Flying Cloud was maintaining station, cannon at
ready. But the fascists and White Russians seemed cowed by their misfortune.
They lined up meekly to pile their weapons at Helgaís feet.
MacKiernan expected a prize crew to descend by Transporter, but instead, the
collier lay alongside. A gangway swung across and Captain Michaelson stepped
aboard. He glanced at the startled airmen, then nodded to his secretary.
"Is this the lot?" he asked.
"Mister Fuller and the Grand Duchess remain unaccounted for," she replied,
"but I believe this is the rest of the bag."
"Good work, Miss Perkins."
Blacker stared at her. "You were working for the Admiralty all along? You
betrayed us, after what the Germans did to London during the War?"
Miss Perkins turned to face him. "Of course, cousin." There was steel in
her voice. "Did you think Iíd let you destroy these people in revenge?"
Next week: Picking Up the Peace...
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