Einstein Must Die! (Fate of Nations Book 1) (11 page)

Tesla slid to the floor and finally found his slumber.

A SIMPLE TEST FLIGHT

ELSTREE, ENGLAND

The Royal procession blew through the main security gate, then turned and veered around and behind Hanger Seven, home of the HMS
Artemis
. The lead motorcar traced a wide curve toward the floating airship, and slowed as workers scrambled to run out of the way. It settled to a stop just past the first wooden stair tower.
 

Behind it, the rest of the procession slowed and stopped. Eight dark motorcars rolled to a stop. The twin lines of horsemen spaced themselves apart, leaving a wide gap beside one car. It was a large, heavy-looking black cruiser with flared wheel wells, silver running boards, and purple pennants flickering in the mild breeze. The V-12 Rolls Royce engine rumbled with a throaty purr, then went silent as the driver killed the ignition.

The entire base seemed to freeze, struck by the unexpected spectacle. Dozens of workers and crew members stood frozen, staring at the impressive sight. For almost all of them, it would be the first time they’d seen the king. Then several remembered the stories of the king’s fickle mood and sadistic nature, and decided they were needed elsewhere. Just last week the king felt an unlucky gawker was staring too hard, so he had the man’s eyes removed.

The driver stepped from the motorcar, opened the rear door, and stood still as a statue, eyes cast down.
 

Inside the
Artemis
, word had spread like a brush fire, and Einstein was bolting down the stairs to meet the monarch. Right behind him, Captain Stevens raced to catch up.

“Always a pleasure to see the king,” muttered the captain. Einstein laughed at the jest, careful not to trip down the stairs.

The two men stepped off onto the ground and hurried to the king’s motorcar. The door was held open, but no one had exited the fine vehicle yet. Just as they arrived, the king stepped from his car.
 

He was tall and unlike so many before him, had not let his body go to fat. In his perfectly tailored Saville Row dark suit, leather gloves, and silver-tipped walking stick, he could be mistaken for a wealthy industrialist or perhaps a very successful banker. But in truth, he was far more. He was the God-appointed supreme ruler of the Commonwealth, with all the weight and privilege such a role bespoke.

Einstein and the captain stood at attention and bowed at the neck as the king approached them. “Welcome, Your Majesty,” said Captain Stevens. “Hello, Your Majesty,” echoed Einstein.

“How goes my airship, gentlemen?” asked the king.

“In fine shape, sir,” said the captain. “In fact, we are preparing for a flight test just now.”

The king’s smile could wilt flowers. “Yes, I know. Why do you think I am here?”

“It would be a delight to have you observe the—” began the captain.

The king waved his hand dismissively. “No, no. I am here to take to the skies, good Captain. Make that happen.”

Einstein stepped forward. “Sir, that is not possible. The ship is not ready for a passenger of your importance. We have many systems still under development.”

The king turned to his head scientist. “Professor, I have brought my friends here,” he said, waving toward the twenty men and women stepping from the motorcars behind him. “And we will see my country as the birds and God see it. Are we understood?”

“Yes, of course, sir. But—”

“Has the passenger compartment been furnished?” interrupted the king.

“The… well, yes, sir.”

“Is there tea aboard?”

“Tea? Ah, I don’t—yes, I believe so.”

The king nodded. “And, is there… champagne?”

Einstein’s eyes went wide at the question. Several subsystems were in disarray, and the King asked about champagne? “Your Majesty, I don’t see what—”

Captain Stevens put a hand on Einstein’s shoulder. “But of course there is champagne, sir. Please follow my steward, and we’ll have you properly situated at once.”

The king clapped his hands. “Excellent! Forward, my friends!” he called out and strode up the stairs into the
Artemis
, his retinue in tow.

Einstein leaned into the captain and whispered. “Are you mad? The ship is not ready for him! And there’s no room in passenger compartment for his group.”

The captain nodded. “I know. That is why you have five minutes to pull your team off the ship. We take off in ten.”

“What!? We have all sorts of tests to run. We can’t possibly—”

“It’s done, Professor. Let’s make the most of it. Who knows? You may get more funding out of this. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” He turned and headed up the stairs after the king. Along the way he called to a crew member. “You, Harrison! Find me some champagne, now!”

***

Morgan knocked the last crew member unconscious and bound him, while Lucas brought out the box and retrieved the dynamite. He looked around the room for the first time. It was an electrical relay station. On the blueprints it had simply been labeled as “Shunt Control,” which meant nothing to him.

Thick electrical cabling fed into the room from several directions, each as wide as his wrist. A central board held several large fuses, to prevent excess power from flowing through the system. It seemed a fine place for an explosion.

He set the dynamite bundle down and set the timer for ten minutes. Enough time to get airborne, but not too much to risk discovery. He slipped it inside a crate of bananas.

“Help me with them,” he told Morgan, pointing to the four bodies. Together they pulled the four men into the small storage closet and locked the door. Eliza frowned at the bloodstain on the floor, then shoved a large crate over it.

Lucas looked around the room and was satisfied. “All right, let’s get off this damned ship.”

“I second that plan,” said Eliza.

They slipped back out into the corridor, retracing their steps. “Let’s go back to the same staircase we came in on. With a little luck—”

BRANG, BRANG!

A brass bell mounted on the wall rang twice, loudly. They froze.

“Alarm?” asked Morgan. Then it repeated.

BRANG, BRANG!

“I don’t think so,” said Lucas. “But it could be something worse.”

Just then the floor beneath them shifted and rocked gently. They all reached out to steady themselves against the nearest wall, and the swaying motion told them all what the bell indicated.
 

They were now airborne.

***

In the passenger compartment, the king and his party marveled at the view as the
Artemis
took flight.

The compartment was mostly furnished, with dark mahogany tables and lushly upholstered chairs. The oval-shaped room had wraparound glass panels, giving the occupants a clear view in all directions.
 

The king leaned against a brass rail and pressed his forehead to the glass, looking down. Already, the workmen on the airbase seemed small and ant-like. He could see Einstein, surrounded by his scientific team and no doubt fuming mad.
 

Behind him, the king’s friends murmured their amazement at the experience of flight. The excited rush of chatter and laughter pleased him immensely.

“It seems a shame to waste such a craft in war,” said someone. “As a pleasure ship, it has no equal.”

The king turned around. “It’s true. But after the war, we can always have her again.”
 

A display caught his eye, and the king crossed the room and discovered the rack of maps, all rolled in tight tubes and labeled with brass plaques. He ran his finger along them, then stopped at “USA-Eastern Seaboard.” Pulling out the rolled tube, he brought the map to a nearby table and spread it out. As his group crowded around him, he placed two ceramic statues in the corners to hold the curled map in place.

“Here,” he said, stabbing the map with his finger. “Washington, DC. Our very first target for Einstein’s new bombs.”

The crowd tittered and applauded the news.

“Our previous colony has grown arrogant and willful. Very soon we will remind them of their rightful place.”

***

“Do we abort?” asked Morgan.

Lucas shook his head. “Mission’s too important. Who knows when we get another break like this.” He checked his watch. “Six minutes. Plenty of time to figure something out.”

Morgan and Eliza waited for the promised plan, but Lucas just ran his hand through his hair and looked around the corridor. He began running through options.
 

“Once started, the timer can’t be reset. Blueprints showed no escape mechanism. There’s no time to commandeer the thing. That just leaves one bad idea.”

“I seriously doubt we can survive a jump from here,” said Eliza.

“Yeah, no way,” agreed Morgan.

Lucas nodded. “I know. But if we drop a line down, we can cut a hundred feet from the altitude. It’s that, or we stay here.” He looked at the time again. “Five minutes.”

“Let’s do it,” said Eliza.

“Agreed,” Morgan said. “But where? That access hatch was pretty public. We can’t just shimmy down a line without attention.”

“I know, I know.” Lucas turned and looked down the corridor. “Follow me.” Not waiting, he ran down the narrow hallway. Morgan and Eliza sprinted after him.

Lucas led them down the corridor, slipping past surprised crew members. He slammed shoulders with a large worker, but didn’t stop running, despite the man’s cursing. Morgan and Eliza caught up and stayed right behind him. As they bolted forward, Lucas scanned the room names, then stopped suddenly right before an open bulkhead. He peered around the corner into the room, then pulled back.

“The bomb bay,” he told them. “Just one worker in there. Guess they’re not worried about dropping many bombs today. Eliza, take him out, fast. Morgan, figure out how to get those bay doors open. I’ll find the longest rope I can.”

Eliza nodded and stepped softly around the corner. She saw the man across the bay, his back to her. He was checking a meter on the wall, and flipping through pages on a clipboard.

She padded forward and reached for the blade tucked into her boot. She gripped the knife hatchet style, with the sharpened edge out. The blackened metal quivered slightly, and her lips pulled back in a grimace of uneasy anticipation.

She crossed the bay silently, coming almost within striking distance. He dropped the clipboard on a worktable and turned aside to a valve fitting. He tried to turn the gray steel wheel, but it was frozen. Only his focus on the valve kept him from turning around.
 

Eliza stepped forward, now within arm’s length.
 

The man grunted and pulled on the wheel with both hands. The valve gave loose and spun freely. He opened it to the maximum, then began to turn back around.

Eliza crouched and slashed her blade forward, level with the worker’s neck. Something warned the man, maybe the glint off her knife’s edge, maybe a whisper of air movement. His head spun around just as her blade sliced across the side of his throat. Their eyes met as the blade opened skin and severed the carotid artery. Eliza felt the subtle vibration of rough texture as her blade’s edge slid over his vertebrae.

He opened his mouth to scream and Eliza whipped the knife back, opening his throat below the Adam’s apple. His lungs pushed, but the scream escaped only as a puff of air from the severed windpipe. Sliding quickly into shock, his body went slack.

Eliza stepped forward and wrapped the man in a bear hug, stopping the body from hitting the floor. Arterial spray coated the side of her face with warm, coppery blood, but she ignored the grisly fountain. She bent to ease the body quietly to the floor, when a voice brought her head up.

“Hey, Johan, I have the—” A young crew member was stepping from behind a large support column, holding a heavy silver wrench. He froze, mouth open at the morbid scene.

Eliza dropped the body, and it landed with a heavy thud on the steel floor plates. Without thinking, she reversed the blade in her hand, bringing the knife into throwing position.

The junior officer was young, but fast. He dropped the wrench and sprang for an alarm switch behind him.
 

Eliza drew back and threw the blade hard. It sliced through the air before slamming into the officer’s back. It slid into his right kidney, throwing his nervous system into hysterics as his hand fell across the alarm. His fingers clenched, and the switch tripped. A red light on the wall flared. He hit the floor, twitching. A moment later, the klaxon blared, a high-pitched whine of alarm.

Lucas burst into the room, scanning for a coil of line. “Christ, that’s loud!” he yelled, the sound ringing in his ears.

Eliza shot him a look of apology, but he waved it off.

Morgan was at the bay doors, looking over the hinges and release mechanisms. He ran his hands over the metal as if to pull their workings out through osmosis.

Lucas darted around a corner and found a wide rack of tools, various metal fittings, and a wide assortment of pipe in differing sizes. Then he spotted it. A thick coil of woven rope. He threw it over his shoulder.

Eliza retrieved her knife from the unlucky officer’s back and took the sidearm from his holster. She posted herself at the corridor entry, peering around the corner, waiting for the guards sure to arrive any second.