Behemoth (34 page)

Dylan perched on one arm of the chair, looking dizzy and astonished.

“Pardon me, your princeliness, but this is all a bit much. First you tell me about her …” The boy waved in the direction of Lilit’s room. “And now
this
!”

“I’m sorry. I never wanted to lie to you, Dylan. But I learned about this letter the same night I met you. It’s still quite strange for me.”

“It’s pure dead strange for me, too!” Dylan said, standing up again and pacing across the room. “Ending a whole barking war with a bit of paper, even if it
is
a fancy scroll. Who would believe it’s
real?
?”

Alek nodded. He’d felt the same way when Volger had shown him the letter. It seemed too small an object to change so much. But here in Istanbul, Alek had begun to understand what the scroll really meant. The
Leviathan
had been brought to that mountaintop, and then here. It was up to him, Aleksandar of Hohenberg, to end the war that his parents’ death had started.

“Volger says the pope himself will vouch for me, as long as I keep this letter secret until my granduncle passes away. The emperor turned eighty-four last week. He could die any day.”

“Blisters. No wonder the Germans want to catch you so badly!”

“True enough. It has made things dangerous.” Alek looked at the scroll case. “But that’s why we had to come back here. And why I’m willing to trade my father’s gold to
make the Committee’s revolution work. What we do here can change
everything
.”

Dylan stopped pacing in the middle of the room, his fists clenched, as if struggling with some secret of his own.

“Thank you for trusting me, Alek.” The boy looked at the floor. “I haven’t always trusted you. Not with everything.”

Alek pulled himself up from the chair and walked closer, resting his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “You know you can, Dylan.”

“Aye, I suppose. And there’s something I should tell you. But you have to swear not to tell anyone else—not Lilit, not the Committee. No one.”

“I’ll always keep your secrets, Dylan.”

The boy nodded slowly. “This one’s a bit trickier than most.”

He fell silent again, the pause stretching out.

“It’s about your mission here, isn’t it?”

Dylan let out a slow sigh, a sound of relief and exhaustion. “Aye, I suppose it is. We were an advance party, sent to sabotage the kraken nets in the strait. It was all part of Dr. Barlow’s plan from the beginning.”

“But your men were captured.”

Dylan shook his head. “My men may have been caught, but we did our job. Right now those nets are being eaten away by wee beasties. And it’s happening so slowly that the Ottomans won’t realize until it’s too late.”

“So you British aren’t waiting for the sultan to join the war. You’ll strike the first blow.”

“Aye, in three weeks. Dr. Barlow says the nets will be in tatters by then. On the night of the next new moon, the
Leviathan
will guide a new beastie down the strait. It’s the companion creature for the
Osman
, the ship that Lord Churchill stole from the Ottomans. It’s called a behemoth, and it’s barking huge, like the world has never seen before! Those German ironclads’ days are numbered.”

Alek clenched the scroll case tighter. The weakest link in the Committee’s plans had always been the German ironclads. But with some kind of Royal Navy monster on its way, the odds had changed considerably.

“But this is exactly what we need, Dylan. We
have
to tell the Committee!”

“We can’t,” the boy said. “I trust Zaven and his family, but there are hundreds of others involved. What if one of them is a Clanker spy? If the Germans find out the
Leviathan
is coming, the
Goeben
could surprise it anywhere along the way with her Tesla cannon charged!”

“Of course.” Alek shuddered a bit, remembering the lightning coursing through his body. “But what about Zaven’s plan? He’s leading walkers with spice bombs against the ironclads. Klopp says it’s insane.”

“Aye, completely daft,” Dylan said. “But don’t tell
Zaven that! If they strike on the night of the new moon, the
Goeben
will be sunk before they even get there!”

Alek nodded slowly, thinking it through. In an all-out battle for the city, the sultan would send his walkers into the streets, relying on the German warships to protect the palace. But if they lay at the bottom of the sea, the revolution could be over in a single night. Thousands of lives might be spared.

Of course, an attack in utter darkness would mean teaching the Committee’s pilots how to drive their walkers at night. He’d already explained the principles to Lilit, and she’d picked them up quickly enough. If anything, it would give the revolutionaries yet another advantage.

“I’ll order Klopp to say he’s changed his mind, that he thinks spice bombing the
Goeben
will work. He might grumble a bit, but he’ll do as he’s told. But how do we get the Committee to pick that exact night?”

“Have Klopp say that it’s best to attack the ironclads in darkness.” Dylan shrugged. “Then we’ll point out that September 19 is a new moon, and let them decide on their own.”

Alek smiled. “And with your masculine charms, you can persuade Lilit to plead our case for us!”

Dylan rolled his eyes, turning beet red again. “Speaking of secrets, you won’t tell Lilit about
that
discussion either, will you? It’ll only complicate things.”

Alek chuckled. He’d always heard that Darwinists were quite plainspoken about matters of biology, to the point of being vulgar. But Dylan looked positively shamefaced about the whole thing, more like a schoolboy than a soldier.

It was most amusing.

“As I said, all your secrets are safe with me.”

“Aye, good, then.” Dylan hesitated. “And … you’re completely sure it’s
me
she likes, not you?”

Alek laughed. “I should hope so. After all, if we did like each other, I’d have to run a mile.”

“What do you mean?”

“For heaven’s sake, Dylan. Lilit is a
commoner
, far more common than my mother.” Alek held up the scroll case. “I grew up not knowing if this would ever happen. Not knowing who I really was, and always thinking how much easier it would be for everyone if I hadn’t been born. I could never do that to my own children, not in a thousand years.”

Dylan stared at the scroll case sadly. “Must be tough, being a prince.”

“Not any longer, thanks to this.” Alek clasped Dylan’s shoulder again, happy that his only real friend knew his last secret. “Let’s get out of here. We have a revolution to plan.”

Lilit opened her door wearing a frown.

“Took you two long enough. I thought you’d got yourselves into trouble.”

“We were having a bit of a discussion.” Alek winked at Dylan, then held up the scroll case. “But we found this.”

Lilit gave them both an odd look, and Dylan turned away in embarrassment, heading toward the servants’ staircase.

Alek shrugged for Lilit’s benefit, then followed.

As they descended the stairs, the hotel began to stir around them. The steam elevators rumbled and hissed, building up pressure for the morning traffic, and soon a clattering rose up from below.

Dylan came to a halt, raising his hand. “The cooks are in the kitchen already. We can’t go back that way.”

“Straight through the lobby doors, then,” Lilit said. “If no one found your letter, there won’t be any German agents about.”

“Aye, but some of us are wanted taxi thieves!” Dylan said.

Alek shook his head. “It’ll be fine. We’ll be out the door before anyone gives us a second look.”

“Just try not to act suspicious,” Lilit said, nudging open the door to the dining room.

She led them through the empty tables, with a stride as confident as if she owned the hotel. A young boy in a fez looked up from polishing silverware and frowned, but didn’t say a word.

They passed him and headed through the lobby, which
was empty except for one rather shabby-looking tourist waiting for a room.…

The man glanced up from his newspaper, smiled, and waved a hand.

“Ah, Prince Alek,” he called. “I thought you might be somewhere hereabouts.”

Alek froze in midstride. It was Eddie Malone.

“Of course, I never took you for a taxi thief,” Malone said, stirring his coffee. “But then I heard the name of that hotel.”

Alek didn’t answer, just gazed at his cup in silence. The black surface of the liquid flickered, reflecting the dancing shapes of shadow puppets on the screen behind him.

The reporter had led them to a coffeehouse, well away from the curious glances of the hotel staff. Each table had its own tiny shadow play machine, and the place was dark and nearly empty, the few patrons all transfixed by their own puppets. But Alek felt as though the walls were listening.

Perhaps it was the beady eyes of the bullfrog staring at him from across the table.

“My mother’s name,” he said softly. “Of course.”

Malone nodded. “I’ve been looking at hotel signs ever
since, and wondering. The Dora Hotel? The Santa Pera? The Angel?” He let out a low chuckle. “And then I heard about some Germans staying at the Hagia Sophia stealing a taxi. So the name Sophie started ringing in my ears.”

“But how did you know to call me
prince
?” Alek said. “I’m not the only Austrian with a mother named Sophie.”

“That’s what I figured, until I started looking into that Count Volger fellow. He and your father were old friends, weren’t they?”

Alek nodded, his eyes closing. He was exhausted, and there was another long day of work ahead—a whole revolution to rethink.

“But we stole that taxi seven barking days ago!” Dylan said. “Have you been sitting in that lobby all that time?”

“Of course not,” Malone said. “It took me three days of pondering, then another three to find out who Count Volger was. I practically just got there.”

Alek winced a little. If only they’d gone to retrieve the letter a day earlier, they might have never laid eyes on the man.

“But once it all fell into place, I just
had
to find you again.” Malone’s face was beaming. “A missing prince, the boy whose family started the Great War! Biggest story I’ve ever covered.”

“Should we kill him now?” Lilit asked.

Malone gave her a curious look; clearly he hadn’t
understood her German. He pulled out his notepad. “And who might you be, miss?”

Lilit’s eyes narrowed, and Alek hurriedly spoke up. “I’m afraid that’s none of your business, Mr. Malone. We won’t be answering any of your questions.”

The man held up his notebook. “So I’ll have to publish my story with so many questions left unanswered? And so soon? Say … tomorrow?”

“Are you blackmailing us, Mr. Malone?”

“Of course not. I just don’t like loose ends.”

Alek shook his head and sighed. “Write what you want. The Germans already know I’m here in Istanbul.”

“Interesting,” Malone said, his pen scribbling on the pad. “See? You’re adding background already! But what’s really interesting is young Dylan being with you. The Ottomans will be surprised to hear that one of the
Leviathan
’s saboteurs escaped!”

From the corner of his eye, Alek saw Dylan’s fists clench.

But Malone had turned his gaze on Lilit. “And then there’s the matter of your new revolutionary friends. That might raise a few eyebrows as well.”

“My knife is ready,” Lilit said softly in German. “Just say the word.”

“Mr. Malone,” Alek said, “perhaps we can convince you to delay publishing your story.”

“How long do you need?” the man said, his pen still poised to write.

Alek sighed. Giving Malone a date only revealed more about their plans. But they had to string the man along somehow. If the Ottomans learned that a Darwinist saboteur was working with revolutionaries here in Istanbul, they might begin to piece together Dr. Barlow’s plan.

Alek looked to Dylan for help.

“Don’t you see, Mr. Malone?” the boy said. “If you give us all away, then the story’s over. But if you just wait a
wee bit
, it’ll get heaps more interesting, we promise!”

Malone leaned back, drumming his fingers on the table. “Well, I suppose you’ve got a little while. I file my stories by messenger tern. That’s four days to cross the Atlantic. And because I use birds, the Germans’ can’t listen in on their fancy new wireless tower.”

“Four days is hardly—,” Alek began, but Dylan grabbed his arm.

“Excuse me, Mr. Malone,” the boy said. “What wireless tower are you talking about?”

“The big one they’re just finishing.” Malone gave a shrug. “It’s meant to be a secret, but half the Germans in this city are working on it. Has its own power station, they say.”

Dylan’s eyes grew wider. “Is this tower somewhere along a railroad line?”

“I’ve heard it’s somewhere on the cliffs, where the old tracks follow the water.” Malone narrowed his eyes. “What’s so interesting about that?”

“Barking spiders,” Dylan said softly. “I should have realized the first night I was here.”

Alek stared at the boy, remembering his story about the night he’d arrived. Dylan had secretly ridden a short way on the Orient-Express, which the Germans were using to smuggle parts out of the city … electrikal parts.