Joe waved the smoke away as it drifted in front of his face. “What’s your business with him?”
“He’s my pa, I think.” Alice gave the same story she’d given Mike, which might or might not be true, depending on how events played out. “If you hear of him, maybe you could let them know at the mine, and they’ll get word to me.”
“Chummy with the Dunsmuirs, are you?” Bob asked. “Ain’t many can say that.”
“I’m chummy with friends of theirs,” Alice said cautiously. “Can’t have too many friends up in these parts, I’d think.”
“You’re right there.” Bob tossed his cigarillo to the gravel and ground it out with the heel of his boot.
“Well, it’s back to work for us.”
Alice could take a hint as well as the next person. “Nice talking to you.”
She moved off, and Jake followed her, his hands in his pants pockets, cool as you please. “Where is she?” Alice murmured out of the side of her mouth.
“Behind a bunch of crates near the
gangway. Any minute now …”
They got halfway across the field between the
cargo ship and
Lady Lucy
when they heard a shout. Turning, they saw Alan leading Lizzie by the hand as if she were four years old and they were learning to cross the street.
“Captain Chalmers, looks like you forgot something,” he called.
“Sorry, Alice,” Lizzie said in a breathless voice about five years younger than her normal one. “That ship is just so big I couldn’t resist seeing if it were as grand inside.”
“Lizzie, you rascal.” Alice shot an apologetic look at Alan. “I appreciate this, sir. She loves the
airships. I can’t keep her out of them.”
He laughed and handed Lizzie over. “She reminds me of my granddaughters back
home {izedth="2em">. Their mother can’t take ’em into the big houses with the laundry, without them running upstairs to see how the rich folks live.”
Alice laughed, as if she could see it. “
You sound like a Texican man. What part? I’m from down Resolution way, myself.”
“Santa Fe is
where I hang my—” He was cut off by a yell from his companions. “Nice talkin’ to you. Good-bye, Lizzie. Stay out of trouble, you hear?” He jogged back the way he had come.
“Alice, they—”
“Not yet, Lizzie. Wait until we’re back on the
Lass
, if you please.”
She hustled them aboard and made sure the
gondola hatch was good and shut.
“What’s the matter, Alice?” Lizzie wanted to know. “You’re awf’ly pale.”
Alice chewed the inside of her cheek. “Maybe I’m making a river out of a raindrop. Maybe it’s nothing that don’t happen all the time up here. But I’d sure like to know what Texican men are doing aboard a ship this far north in the Canadas.”
“I’ll tell you wot they’re doin’,” Lizzie said. “They’re tellin’ you fibs.”
Alice nodded at her to go on.
“Soon’s you were out o’ earshot the fat one said to that Bob, ‘Better send word someone’s askin’ about ’im’ and Bob says ‘Maybe she’s kin, maybe she’s not’ and then the one ’oo brought me over, ’e says, ‘We don’t owe
them dadburned toffs nothing but a distraction’ and then they saw me sneaking up the gangway an’ that were that. Wot’s
dadburned?”
Alice felt her stomach go cold, and goosebumps broke out on her arms.
“Summat you don’t need to say,” Jake informed her. “Sounds to me like they’re talking about someone ’oo’s actually ’ere. They know a man wi’ one blind eye.”
“It does, don’t it?”
Alice said slowly. “But send word to who? Him or someone else? Why make such a secret of telling me where he is? And what kind of distraction?”
“
And ’ere’s summat,” Lizzie said, digging in her pocket and removing a small piece of brass. “Look wot I found behind them crates, dadburn it.”
Jake cuffed her, but there was no energy in it.
He took the object and frowned. “This ’ere’s a bullet casing. Not a bitsy engine casing like wot got shot at the count, but look.” He held the object up to the light from the gondola’s viewing windows.
“M.A.M.W.”
“It must be an arms manufacturer, like Colt or Sharps,” Alice said. “But it doesn’t prove anything. Those bullets could be sold all over the territory.”
“P’raps.” Jake pocketed the casing. “T’Lady ought to know anyhow.”
Alice nodded slowly.
“And I’d give a lot to know what the ‘toffs’ {e /font>
“Just wait,” Jake told her. “Our Maggie won’t let us down.”
It did not take long to learn the lie of the land, but that did not ease Claire’s frustration in the least.
On closer inspection, what she had thought to be a town turned out to be a series of long sheds set into the ground, so that one had to descend a staircase in order to enter each one. The mess hall hunkered in the center, and arrayed in neat rows around it were housing for the miners, supply sheds, the mine offices, and management quarters, as well as what she was informed were wash houses, equipment sheds, and storage.
“There’s no shortage of water here, of course,” said the young engineer who had been seconded by Lady Dunsmuir to show Claire and Andrew around. “Those
larger buildings there contain great steam engines that produce heat and electricks for housing and offices.”
“But why is everything set into the ground?”
Andrew asked.
“Because of the storms and the cold, of course,” the young man said, as if this should have been obvious. “The ground may freeze as hard as iron, but at least it’s some protection from the gales from the north. If we didn’t build this way, homes and offices would be torn from their
foundations during the winter, and we’d arrive in the spring to nothing but debris. The Firstwater Mine is like an iceberg, you see—ninety percent underground—and that includes the settlement as well.”
Claire nibbled on the inside of her lip to stop herself from telling the young man he was boring her to tears, and could they return to the office where the meeting was, please?
“Lady.” Maggie tugged on her skirt. “Lady, I’ve got to—to—” She rounded her eyes in a wordless plea.
“Sir, thank you for a most informative tour,” Claire said at once. “But I am very much afraid
my ward and I must find a powder room posthaste.”
He blushed scarlet, and pointed. “L-lady Dunsmuir’s powder room is in that row there, third
stair from the end. I’ll take y—”
“I wonder if I might prevail upon you to tell me more of the engineering side of mining?” Andrew put in smoothly, taking his arm and walking on.
The young man looked over his shoulder in some distress, but Claire took care that he should see nothing but a lady hustling a child to the nearest facilities. “Well done, Maggie.”
“I weren’t fibbing. I’m fit to burst.”
They located the indicated door without difficulty, and found the tastefully appointed powder room empty. And what luck—somewhere in the neighborhood was where the meeting was to be held, if the gentlemen milling about in the square outside were any indication.
When
she and Maggie had completed their ablutions, Claire whispered, “We must find a way to hear what they’re saying. See if we might get into ~izedt">she an the ceiling.”
But
they could not. On one side, the single window was at ground level, the ceiling not much higher. Other than the door, there was no other exit.
Behind her, Maggie
opened the other lavatory stall, and drew in such a sharp breath that Claire turned. “Lady, look. This ent a loo at all.”
E
xpecting to see a sink or cleaning supplies, Claire was intrigued to see an empty cubicle, neatly paneled in wood. “I cannot imagine her ladyship ordering this for mere entertainment. Do you suppose it is something like the hidden closet you found at home?”
A few taps upon the panels revealed its dimensions, and it was only the work of a moment to spring the latch. A
set of steps descended even deeper into the ground. “Maggie, you are a treasure. Where do you suppose these go?”
“Dunno. Let’s find out.”
Cold air breathed up from the depths, and Claire was glad once more that they had both worn coats. The steps were clean and well kept, which meant this passage was not secret, and was even regularly used. A thin line of electricks glowed along the ceiling.
“Lady! A signpost.” Maggie squinted at it in the dimness and spelled out the words slowly. “Managing Director that way. Owner’s soo—syu—”
“Suite.” Claire turned to gaze down a second passage, equally gently lit.
“Supplies. Mess Hall.”
“Good heavens,” Claire said. “These are underground streets. That young man was not exaggerating. It is like the Tube in London, Maggie, so that people—or perhaps only the Dunsmuirs—do not need to venture aboveground in the cold.”
“I thought everyone left when it got cold.”
“But if a storm should strike early or late in the season, one must still come and go.”
“Which way, Lady?”
“The Managing Director’s office. I wonder where we shall come out?”
A short distance down the corridor, they found another set o
f stone steps. “Quietly, now.” At the top, she pressed the latch slowly, and pushed the door open a scant half inch. The two of them pressed one eye to the gap, one above and the other below.
In the time it had taken them to find the door, the men had gathered around a heavy mahogany table—the
Dunsmuirs, Count von Zeppelin, Captain Hollys, and the mine officers. And what she heard during the next half hour made her wish that her corset had not been secured so tightly, because she felt a distinct need to gasp for air.
Maggie sat on the steps after about ten minutes, and when that proved to be too cold, she got up and went exploring down the tunnel. Claire took this in at some level, but like the iceberg, ninety percent of her mind was taken up with understanding what was going on
around that table.
For the Dunsmuirs were not merely a wealthy couple who dabbled in natural resources in various locations about the world. No, they intended to change ied gert—and for the better, too, as far as Claire
could see.
“Why should all the commerce from Europe be funneled through New York?” the earl asked, indicating a huge map of the continent on one wall. “Any market needs competition to be viable, and since Charlottetown and the Maritime Territory
have so recently declared for the Canadas, it makes sense to locate the airfield, port, and seat of government there.”
“And Zeppelin ships shall be the first to enter the new port,” the count said with satisfaction. “It
will be profitable for all concerned when I do not have to pay the tariffs that New York extorts from me.”
“
But we must be cautious,” his first officer warned. “It seems the Texicans may have infiltrated as far into the Canadas as Edmonton. It is my belief that they are responsible for the events of last night, when
der Landgraf
was attacked.”
The count nodded. “They are foolish, then, if they believe a single bullet can derail the development of a country’s economy. Whether I had fallen or not, these plans will proceed.”
“We shall be returning to London immediately following our tour, then,” Lady Dunsmuir said. “I will meet with Her Majesty to inform her of these developments.”
“Do you fear reprisals, then, your ladyship?” the mine director asked.
“I fear they have already occurred,” she said bluntly. “With the sabotage here and the attempt on Count von Zeppelin’s life, we would be fools if we did not believe them related. The only thing we do not know is who is behind it.”