The Hidden Man: A Phineas Starblower Adventure (Phineas Starblower Adventures) (18 page)

“I'd rather take a better look at the Discretion” Jerard parried. “I didn't see her from a distance when I boarded her. I mean the look in the hanger back in London was very impressive but...”

“I understand Sir, you can't see her whole length. Not a problem I can show you the admin office before I go onto the cargo master's office.”

“And what will you be doing there Sir, may I ask? Making sure they don't overstock us on Haggis and Scotch?” Phillips teased.

Howell grinned and winked. “Can't overstock on Scotch Sir.. But yes I can't imagine how Paulo would react to having a case of Haggis turn up in his pantry!”

“I can.” Pruette commented acidly.

Howell ignored the navigator and went on, “Tanner and I are going to transfer Mr, Carstares’ effects to the number five guest suite.” With a gentle thump and hiss of released vapor the lift touched the base of the tower.

Jerard was surprised at the the reply, but said nothing while the lift gates clashed open. “Isn't that a bit premature Mr Howell? Didn't Miss Smythe-Harris say she wanted to deal with this Carstares person face to face first?”

“She did Sir, she did. But she told me that the man would be joining us and to get his things settled directly.” Howell shrugged. “So I am.” Howell turned and closed the lift gates before continuing. “I expect Mr. Carstares will come around to Miss Tash's way of thinking soon enough.”

Phillips grinned despite himself. “Yes I imagine he will, Sir. So you’re thinking that we’ll just shove him in a corner so the rest of us can get ahead of these kidnapping bounders then?”

“Something like that, I imagine.” Howell returned noncommittally.

A few individuals were still evidently awaiting them at the base of the docking tower. The bear like man in the immaculately tailored suit had to be the lawyer McPherson Phillips reasoned. But it was not the lawyer that drew his attention. No it was the quite absurd site that greeted them all as they stepped out onto the grass of the landing field. Reclining as neat as you please just a short way back from the lift door, was a fellow in a camp chair reading a newspaper! Ignoring the wind that constantly threatened to drag the flimsy object from him the fellow looked for all the world as if he was on Brighton beach, instead of an airfield on the Scottish moors!

With a clang, a whirr and a puff of steam, the lift began an upward climb. The sound seemed to get the attention of the newspaper reader. Jerard nearly laughed at the bespectacled face peering at them from above the edge of the copy of ‘
The Scotsman’
. With an air of profound patience he folded the paper, and removed his glasses. He then carefully set them aside and got to his feet. No one seemed aware of the two ladies watching from the top of the lift tower.

“Persistent fellow.” Howell muttered.

Jerard inclined his head. He too had guessed who the phlegmatic individual had to be. The escort of McPherson had made it all too obvious. “Mr Carstares, I presume?” He just had to say.

“Leftenent Colonel Robert Carstares of her Majesty’s Intelligence Service at your service Sir” The middle aged man stated mildly and offered his hand to Jerard.

Jerard did not immediately return the handshake instead he spitted the man with a foul glare.
Another thrice damn’d desk Hussar to deal with
,
clearly this fellow had seen nothing like a real battle in years
he observed sourly. Carstares was of mid-height and slightly overweight. To Jerard’s practiced eye he could see it was once muscle but the fellow had been away from anything like a strenuous job for long enough that it had softened into fat. Likely he got ‘promoted’ to the far reaches of Scotland for some incompetence even the officers’ clique of his day couldn’t quite hush up.

Carstares simply endured the young mans disdainful look and did not withdraw his proffered hand. Pale blue eyes gazed steadily back at Phillips from behind bushy eyebrows. The mans fashionable sideburns quirked as he essayed a smile. “And you would be Jerard Phillips no doubt young Sir” He stated at last. His voice was mild and held no inflection at all. Least of all the slight edge of contempt Jerard was used to from senior officers.

Becoming aware that his own junior officers were watching him keenly. Phillips grasped the man’s hand and gave it a perfunctory pump. “I am, Sir. I presume you still await the departure of Miss Smythe-Harris?”

“That is my purpose here, but as you have come down, evidently the ship is once more docked to the tower.”

“Your meaning Sir!?” Jerard rapped out still feeling decidedly hostile to this individual.

“This matter is of the utmost urgency Captain. I merely meant that now that it is safe to do so I shall go up and get the final details thrashed out with the confoun... ...dear lady.”

“I don’t think so
Colonel.
” Phillips replied icily. “That is
my
ship up there and you do not have
my
permission to board!”

Carstares looked at him steadily but refused to reply in kind. Instead his tone softened. “Captain Phillips, we are on the same side here. Miss Smythe-Harris accepted my word on any further incivilities. And for the record, I had no pleasure in delivering Lord Mansfield’s ultimatum this morning. But I am a
serving
soldier still. And I shall obey my orders as best I can Sir, as is my duty.” He glanced over his shoulder to the nearby McPherson. “In any case she has arranged a most formidable chaperon.”

McPherson smiled at this, and folded his arms in mock belligerence. For all the world he now reminded Phillips of a stern father interviewing his daughter’s first suitor. The site was so comic that Jerard’s evil mood began to evaporate; despite the pang of shame he felt at the oblique jibe about being a serving soldier and not a cashiered one.

“Colonel, I wish you luck. But I think you will find that Miss Smythe-Harris has many ‘chaperons’ as you so charmingly put it. None the less until my employer’s position is perfectly clear I shall have to refuse you permission to go aboard.”

Out of the corner of his eye Jerard was still watching to see how Pruette and the ship’s stewards were taking this exchange. None of them had commented thus far. However a ghost of a smile hovered about Howell’s lips, confirming that he had made the right choice in refusing Carstares access to the ship.

Carstares now smiled once more, and genuinely. “Fair enough then Sir. I have waited this long I can wait longer. Loyalty is an admirable trait.” Glancing to McPherson, he added “A very English trait.” Ignoring the dark scowl the comment engendered in the lawyer Carstares settled back in to his seat, obviously willing to wait comfortably for a good long time.

Annoyed that the officer was dismissing him so easily, Jerard snapped a salute at the now seated man. But even as he turned his back on Carstares he realized that he was developing a grudging admiration for the man’s poise in a bad position. Jerard directly addressed the steward. “Where to Mr. Howell?”

Jon Howell’s eyes reflected the lazy return salute Carstares gave Jerard’s back as he unfolded his paper once more. “Over this way Sir.” The steward indicated obviously trying to get his Captain moving.

Jerard turned in the direction Howell was pointing. A small office block was visible across the landing field attached to the side of one of the larger factory buildings. But before they could resume their stroll across the field he was interrupted once more by a loud voice from the crowd of stevedores approaching the docking tower.

“I see civilian life ‘aint softened you up
Captain Phillips!
” The newcomer called out over the hurley-burley of the loading team.

Jerard spun about annoyed to be so coarsely addressed. A tall man broke from the group and strode towards them his hand outstretched. Phillips gaped in surprise as the man pushed his slightly askew cap back squarely on his dark red hair, fully revealing his face.

“What the Devil are you doing here old man?” Jerard managed to splutter out as he grasped the offered hand. Fred had been the closest thing he had had to a friend in his last post.

“Being ‘devillish’ Captain what else?” The stranger replied, a grin lighting his freckled face.

Phillips turned to his crewmen, “Gentlemen may I present an old acquaintance of mine. Airshipman first class Frederick Randal.”

Fred Randal again grinned and gave the others a nod of a salute. “Just plain old Fred Randal now Captain,” he began “I mustered out a month and a half ago.”

Oh?
Jerard thought why did old Fred do that? He only had two years to go before he received his full pension and benefits on leaving the army. “Fred, this Archibald Pruette, the Discretion's navigator and Mr. Jon Howell her steward and his assistant Mr. Tanner.

As Jerard watched the men shaking hands and greeting one another he continued in explanation. “Mr Randal and I served in the Army together gentlemen. He was my navigator on the HMA 21.”

“Really?” Commented Pruette, eying the gangly man in Beardmore’s service uniform.

“Really!” Fred winked back at the older man. “So you fellows have to put up with “Ol’ By-the-Book” now, eh? My sympathies!”

Phillips was taken aback. Fred had always been a bit course but that was just his upbringing, he would have said the man had a heart of gold under the grubby exterior. “I beg your pardon Mr Randal; but “Ol’-by-the-book?” ”

“Its what the rest of the crew called you Captain.” Randal explained easily. “Oh don’t get me wrong it wasn’t meant nasty. If you want nasty, mebbie I should tell you what we called Air Major Franklin Sir.. Oh and to answer your original question. I applied for a position at Vickers Aviation’s Swindon works. But a man from Beardmore’s got a hold of me before they did and made me a better offer. So here I am north o’ the border.”

Pruette broke in while Jerard was momentarily lost guessing what his old crew must have thought of Major Franklin. “So, you’re a Navigator here now are you Mr Randal?”

“Officially Sir, yes” Fred stated with a note of frustration edging out his cheerfulness. “Not seen much air time as yet but I suppose that’s to be expected as the new boy.”

“The new
English
boy as well Mr Randal. Any trouble there may I ask? I used to work here too and it took a while to settle in, so I know.” Pruette probed.

Fred looked a little uncomfortable. “Yes well there is always a bit of that sort of thing I suppose, but I’m used to it. Fortunately...” He tapped his dark red hair “Most of the local jocks mistake me for one of them first up..”

“Until you open your mouth I daresay Fred.” Jerard resumed. “Calling them ‘Jocks’ is hardly a polite move old chap.”

“I give as good as I get Sir; you know that.” Randal replied, his grin returning.

“Indeed I do Sir.” Ol’-by-the-book, indeed! And I bet I know who came up with that moniker. Phillips thought with a wry grin.

“But have you been up in the B97 as yet Mr Randal?” Pruette pressed on, ignoring Phillips’ interjection.

“Yessir, I took her up across the straights and out to Skye and back.” Randal replied with a smile. “Very nice ship, but she’s down for refit now, or she will be when we have your little show done with. Mr. ‘B’ wants to put a pair of his new light weight A-K engines into her in place of two of the Wolsey’s.”

“That was as far as they let you fly her was it Sir?” Howell said mischievously. “Skye was your limit?”

Jerard winced at the blatant pun. Fred was still Fred it seemed and more of the same appeared to be surfacing in Howell. “They let you pick the destination didn’t they?”

“I did have some discretion on that Sir” Randal allowed.

“Yes I just bet you did!” Phillips agreed and rolled his eyes up at his own ship. “So do I it seems Fred.”

“Very good Sir.” Fred commented with mock gravity. His eyes twinkling at the jest.

“Ahem,” Pruette coughed breaking the pair up. “ If I might, I’d take it as a kindness if we could continue to the hanger? The wind is chillier than I thought, and I have just recalled I need to speak to Mr. Beardmore about something.”

Jerard looked at Pruette with a slightly perplexed expression; while it was a bit windy is certainly wasn’t cold. “Yes, yes of course Mr. Pruette. Forgive me this is a day of surprises it seems. Let us all walk that way if we can?”

“Fine by me, Cap I was waitin’ for you in any case.” Fred agreed.

“Uh Captain, Sir, if Mr. Randal is with you now, might we be excused? I need to get to the cargo master's soonest and I’m a bit late as it is.” Howell said almost apologetically.

Collecting himself for a moment Phillips dropped the light tone he had slipped into. “Of course Mr Howell, carry on, we can find the way from here I expect.”

Howell and Tanner sketched a salute to their Captain and moved off towards a different building. Pruette also excused himself then. “I’ll be off as well Captain. See you at dinner Sir.” He sated saluting crisply.

“Looking forward to it Mr Pruette” Phillips returned the salute, dismissing the man.

Randal looked wistful for a moment. “Where you going to dinner then Captain? Hope its someplace good, I must confess,the local ‘cuisine’ hasn’t impressed me as of yet.”

“Oh we’ll dine aboard ship Fred. We have a first class chef on the Discretion. Mr. Starblower doesn’t do things by halves. Beef Wellington I believe it is tonight.” Inwardly Jerard was wondering if he could get Fred invited aboard as his guest. It would be nice to spend a little more time catching up with him before they got back into the air.

Randal whistled. “First class chef then? Sounds like you landed upright! He shook his head and grinned again. “So, can an old mate find you a course one more time Captain?” Randal paused and waited for Jerard’s nod before going on. “Where did you want to go exactly?”

“I just thought it polite to present my credentials to the Station Master as a visiting captain ought to Fred. Whereabouts is his office, if you please? But really, I am sure I can find it if you have other duties to attend to.”

“Oh don’t worry about that Sir, as I said to your navigator there, I’m at a bit of a loose end til the B97 gets her engine job. I’ll be happy to take you over.”