All she had to do was push, but it took more effort than it seemed like it would, like pushing a small car. It moved about as fast, about five miles per hour, a jog for her, down the hallway to a closed cabinet, which Gloria ran ahead and opened for them. It hadn't been that difficult, but she breathed hard by the time they were almost there.
“Start slowing it now. Slow. Good on at that speed now, steady and... stop.”
A few clamps thrown and the whole thing could be winched up to the third deck, where the docking bridge was. Gloria and Smitty both grabbed the handle of the winch, hands next to each other on the same lever, which pulled out from another cabinet she saw and started turning in the direction that said up. It was clearly marked with both words and arrows.
“Normally you'd be doing this, Curly, as the bottom rung here, but fresh off an injury like you are, we'll cut you some slack for a bit. Don't get too lazy, you won't get long on light duty.” She smiled when she said it.
Red faced, though not puffing, Smitty grunted taking a larger breath than normal.
“Injured?”
Gloria replied using an economy of words.
“Magic fuckers stabbed her. Chest, going for the heart.”
Smitty nodded, understanding enough to not ask any more questions, at least not right then. They kept winding the heavy weight up, which took about two minutes to raise the crystal about ten feet. They didn't take a break to catch their breaths, heading directly up the stairs at a trot when they finished.
Gwen wondered how they'd get it across the tiny and unstable bridge, but that proved not to be a problem at all. The larger ship had a crane, which had been taken out and stood ready for the crystal to be loaded into the cradle of straps and lines. Apparently, even though the others knew what to do, they had to wait for Gloria to double check the work. Given how expensive the thing was, she didn't blame any of them. She'd have to keep that in mind in case it came up in the future, double check everything if she got a chance. Common sense, once you thought about it, which probably meant not that normal at all, thinking not being nearly as fashionable as people liked to pretend.
After that they released the bridge and followed the craft to a safe airfield, just to make sure nothing else went wrong before they could land.
Gwen and Smitty were ordered to finish polishing the brass work on the upper decks on the trip home. As a reward for their hard work, the other men had to help them, which they all did with good humor. After about an hour Gloria joined them herself. Standing next to Gwen as they both polished a section of handrail on the third deck, Gloria confided something to her.
“These guys get lonely if I'm not around for too long. Oh, they try to hide it, but it's there...” She ducked her head shyly and grinned.
Then screamed at everyone to work harder.
Chapter twenty-four
For all that Gwen had managed to charge a crystal while hanging off the side of an airship, which everyone thought impressive, Beth still insisted that she practice that skill until it became automatic. Since the search for Mathews and the other freaks that had tried to kill her had stalled, and the press still watched them a little too closely to make Peals happy, the next two weeks were largely spent doing just that. Charging every crystal Beth could find, then emptying them and starting over again.
Beth even went so far as to get Mrs. Vernor to invite them over for an afternoon of work at her house. The older woman had heard about their little airship adventure, which the press hadn't noticed her involvement in, from Uncle Thomas.
“Gwen... I think we may need to discuss the idea of keeping a low profile,” Ethyl said when they arrived at nine something in the morning. She did say it while giving her a quick hug, which Gwen thought was kind of her, even if it did leave her feeling a little uncomfortable. The idea that anyone actually wanted to touch her felt... off. Like they were making themselves do it. They had to be, right?
Bethany checked every crystal in the house, which had a lot of them, every room having at least a clock or glow lamp, and had her top the charge on each. At noon, she got to take a break when Mr. Grimes, the Vernor's solicitor, came to visit. He wanted to talk to her about how her funds were holding out.
He shook her hand warmly, a smile on his face when he saw her. His suit, that shiny silk-like material that Gwen had finally learned wasn't silk at all, but a modified form of cotton that her own world had never managed to make, had a uniform gray color that matched his eyes. He didn't have a ring on his finger, but people here didn't seem to wear wedding bands at all.
Apparently if you wanted to know, you were supposed to ask someone that knew the person, who would tell you their status and, if they were single, introduce you or possibly bring the topic up with them. He was older than she was, her real body being thirty-four. Worse, Katherine's body was only twenty-two, making things even more difficult. All the guys Gwen thought looked about right for her were way too old for Katherine.
“Miss Farris! The Vernors asked me to check on you in regards to funds. You haven't come to get your monthly allotment or asked for any other draws. We all realize that you may feel awkward about this, but truly, it's not a hardship for anyone involved. Even if you don't want to come to the offices to pick it up – understandable given everything – we'll gladly send a man to deliver it, or I can bring it myself...”
Gwen shrugged, then, realizing that the gesture just looked incredibly foreign here, turned her palms up. It took some time, but she eventually convinced them that it wasn't about feeling troubled about it, just that she'd forgotten, since she hadn't needed any money yet.
“I mean, last month I spent... seventy dollars? Mets I mean. Which is a lot more than I'm actually earning right now... The amount is simply very generous, so I guess I can save up?”
This seemed to make Grimes very happy to hear, since it set him off on investment opportunities that she could put her money toward, including purchase of Vernor Industries shipping stock. That last seemed to be his personal favorite right now. Laughing, she asked him to set it up, taking half the money each month and putting it back into the company, until she needed more.
As for the rest of the funds, he agreed to hold most of it for her, and bring her money when she needed it, past two hundred that he'd bring her at the start of each month. This seemed like a good enough plan to her, since she didn't know what the future would bring.
While they had all been very kind to her so far, she kept expecting everyone to suddenly turn on her, realize that a freak had taken over this beautiful girl's body and demand she give it back. That this didn't even seem to be possible didn't make her feel a lot better inside. If her old life had taught her one thing it had been that you stood on your own in life, because no one else would ever really be there for you. Not when it counted.
Bethany teased her about Grimes while she worked on the remaining crystals later that day.
“Notice how he kept offering to bring you the money personally? I think he likes you... Good looking enough, don't you think? Plus, Ethyl told me he's a widower...” Her grin made it clear that she was just kidding around, but Gwen answered her seriously.
“Yeah, he's pretty hot. If I could have gotten a guy like that back home... I mean, you know, he's what, fifty? That's not that much older than my actual age, sixteen years, but...” Bethany's laughter hit then, and she did try to hide it behind her hand.
“Oh my! I was just teasing, Gwen. You'll meet someone you like closer to Katherine's age soon, I'm sure.” Beth dropped the subject, but kept looking at her sideways while she tried to focus on the crystals to charge them. Grinning. It was just a little annoying.
On their fifteenth day away from the case, Peals finally called them into the office. Not to tell them to come back to work, but with even more incredible news.
Peals and his office looked exactly the same to Gwen, she thought he may even have been wearing the same clothes she'd last seen him in. The difference this time being that instead of a slightly sour look, the one she'd seen him with last, he had a large, almost vicious, smile on his face.
“Miss Westmorland... for all that individuals say some unkind things about your people, you all seem to be making my life far simpler lately. They found him. Baron Mathews.”
Gwen listened with rapt attention as Peals explained everything to them. Given how the case had been going and that a Westmorland asset had just been sitting and doing nothing, Peals felt obligated to call her headquarters and let them know about everything. Instead of recalling Beth like he'd feared they would, they simply asked him to wait.
Three days later, a message came on the telestator for him, from a Darren Westmorland. He'd figured that her orders to leave had come in but instead the man gave him a location.
“The man found our quarry to a specific address, even the room number of the hotel. True, it's in Europa, the Frank area, a city called Paris? I don't know if you know it, but we can get the man. The Europans aren't too keen on extradition as a rule, but they've agreed to... look the other way if we take care of this difficulty off the books. Say what you want about them, the Europans don't brook murderers in their midst.” His chin came up as he looked at them.
“I don't know how you're going to get there, but I take it that you two can figure something out? It's probably best if I don't know too much about it officially. Still, an opportunity like this... I wish I could go myself, to tell the truth.”
Bethany smiled herself, nodded and stood up suddenly. Reaching over the desk, she solemnly shook the chief's hand... and resigned.
“Nothing to tie to your organization directly that way. I do hope to work with you again in the future, if possible.”
Gwen shook the chief's hand too, since he was one of six or seven people she actually knew here, at least to talk to, it occurred to her she might miss him. Not that missing a new friend would stop her from getting Mathews.
Sure, Mathews seemed like a charming gentleman, kind even, when not sacrificing innocent people for some pipe dream or whatever the heck they were doing. It really worked down to one thing for her; the fucker stabbed her. Personally. Knowing what he was doing at the time and having planned it in advance. That meant he'd be going down, no matter what, at least if she had anything to say about it.
They needed to get to Europa, Europe Gwen guessed, though that name sounded familiar, a moon of Saturn or Jupiter or something, she thought. Astronomy had never been a big interest to her. Paris she recognized of course, so she had a vague idea of where they were headed.
It turned out that while Gwen could have just booked passage on a luxurious airship or sailing vessel, Beth couldn't, not under her own name, because she'd be on every Europan watch list, being a Westmorland. After giving it some consideration, Gwen decided to invite the Vernors for dinner at their place.
“I mean, after all, Mr. Vernor runs one of the world's biggest shipping lines, right? Maybe we could hide in a cargo container or something?”
Still, not wanting to seem too pushy, they tried to put on a meal that wouldn't insult their guest's fairly refined tastes, which meant a full day of cooking. The pot roast, which took four hours in a pot on the stove top to finish cooking, since they didn't have an oven, got done just as a knock came on the front door. Beth had to answer, since Gwen still needed to mash the potatoes and set up the soup, salad, bread and aperitif courses. They'd bought some tiny pastries for dessert, picking them up from the bakery down the street earlier in the day, so at least they didn't have to make those.
The Vernors were gracious guests, not concerned when one or the other of them jumped up suddenly to get the next course or clear the table, ignoring their lack of servants as if it were totally normal to them. Mrs. Vernor even commented on how well everything had turned out.
After dinner Gwen explained the situation, how they had a chance to take down Mathews – if they could get there – and how they needed to do it quietly. Robert asked to use their telestator, and removed himself to make a call.
Probably to have her committed, Gwen thought, since he hadn't seemed overly thrilled about the idea of them using one of his boats or airships to sneak into a foreign country. Then again, maybe his worried look had been for their safety? The idea nearly seemed foreign to Gwen. Someone caring about her like that? The Vernors being nice to her, even giving her money and help, made sense. They wanted Gwen to keep pretending to be their daughter. She was finally getting what a big deal it really was here and it would keep being one for as long as they all lived. But if she died, then all those problems just went away, right?
Only even then it didn't really, because too many other people were in on the secret. The only way to keep everyone silent was for her to do it. Anyone could talk at any time, but no one would buy it if Gwen kept denying it. If she were dead and someone talked though, that would have a lot more traction.
Twenty minutes later the device made a fairly pleasant chiming sound, almost like deep wind chimes, or a low gong, indicating that someone wanted to speak to them. It turned out to be Admiral Thomas Welk. How he'd bypassed the operator Gwen didn't know, some kind of secret rank pulling probably.
“Robert?” The voice came, as if standing in the room, but invisible, at nearly his own head height. The effect still seemed a little eerie to Gwen when she took time to consider it.
“Go ahead, Tom.”
“I've traded some scheduling around for this, but I can put the girls on the Peregrine, if they don't mind working their way there and back? Captain Westmorland will need an assumed name, but we can use some... special papers, for that. I'll act as Captain, with her as A-relief. No government ever pays much attention to the A-relief. It's a skilled position after all, so no one could just casually pretend to it. Katherine can work as a loader. The Engineer has been asking when Curly would be coming back anyway. The crew does know who Captain Westmorland is, but we can just keep them on the ship in dock and tell them not to talk about it. Most of them served in the Air-Navy, you know. They'll keep the others in line, if it comes to that.”
They were to leave in just over twenty-four hours, but Gwen would have to report to work before that, the next morning, early, so that she could do her job as a loader. The idea of Katherine actually doing physical labor seemed to tickle Uncle Thomas, but he didn't say anything about it particularly. After what she'd done on the Merriment, he didn't want to even suggest that the girl might not be up to the task it seemed.
That left Beth to make all the mundane arrangements, all the papers they'd need, putting a hold on the milk delivery and all that kind of thing. Luckily they didn't have any pets, Gwen thought. She'd never gone in for them herself, always afraid that someone might hurt any animal that belonged to her, a surrogate for the freak that couldn't defend itself as well as she could. One less thing to worry about.
Tired, having packed all her work clothes, plus a few things that Beth assured her would pass casual inspection in Europa, a few short skirts, low cut tops and shoes that looked designed to torture a woman and keep her from running away too fast, rather than protect her feet while she walked. She reported for duty at four in the morning the following day.
Everyone stood inside the hangar, waiting for the first load of goods to arrive by lorrie wagon, drinking large cups of coffee, or something that came from a large metal container and smelled like it to her. Gloria stood, talking to Groundling and Smitty. When she saw Gwen walk up with her bag, a large tan rucksack that the Admiral had assured her would look normal enough that no one would notice, she raised her cup and called out.
“Curly! Grab a cup and slurp it down. We've got a load coming inside the hour, maybe less, and we need everyone awake as soon as possible. Just set your kit in your lock box. Smitty, show her where that is and get her oriented. She's your trainee for the trip, since you seemed to work together well last time.”
Palms going up, Smitty waved her over to the silver container and grabbed a mug that looked more like a beer stein than a coffee mug, heavy enough to club a man to death at need, and filled it for her quickly, then had her follow him. He didn't hand the cup off to her, so that she could carry her bag with both hands. Just off the stairs, in the main hallway, there was a small room with a row of cabinets, one of which, the one on the bottom it turned out, would be for her things. There were two bunk beds set up along two of the walls.
“We work three shifts once we're in the air. We all work loading and unloading, no matter which shift we have. So at least part of the time you end up missing sleep in dock. Lots of coffee on board, thank goodness.” He handed the cup over, now that her rucksack had been shut away.
“No one will take your things or bother you on the trip. Everyone knows not to pull anything, but if someone does try something, if you could get with Gloria or me before going to the Captain, that would be appreciated, not strictly anything you have to do. We shouldn't be away so long that anyone tries to take liberties...”
Gwen, keeping her face straight tried to drink as much coffee as she could, as fast as possible. It wouldn't get any better cold, she could tell, since it had already reached a state that would only just count as warm. She downed half of it and looked up at him.
“I'm sure everyone will be fine. If not I reserve the right to... discuss the topic with them, maybe Gloria would lend me her wrench for it?” She grinned, wondering how this would go over with the man.
He took it well, laughing, but not at her, more at the idea.
“That would work! Still, if you see something shaping up in a way you don't like, try explaining it to the fellow first, if that doesn't work, get with one of us others. Then if that doesn't work, go to the First mate. Try to keep the violence to a minimum. We need all our loaders and officers get touchy when you start hitting them for some reason.”
He grinned again, looked around carefully and then glanced back at her.
“Course on this trip, what with you being the owner's daughter, the Admiral's niece and the First mate's personal helper or whatever, you should be fine.” His voice had gone low and conspiratorial.
Her eyebrows went up, she hadn't thought anyone knew who she was here. The red-haired man shrugged and winked at her before speaking again.