He Who Dares: Book Two (The Gray Chronicals 2) (19 page)

“True, very true.  The Naval Appropriations committee can bury any such request, much as they did the last time.”

“Excellent, I’ll relay your assurance to the appropriate people.”  He started to stand, then saw the worried look.

“Something else?”

“No, not exactly, only...“ He paused for a moment.  “Did you see this article in the news Fax?”  He handed over a new flimsy.  The distinguished looking man read the article and looked up.

“So, our original plan failed.”

“Yes, I believe so, but I have no way of knowing if this is true.”  He said, tapping the newssheet.

“The police report?”

“Uninformative to say the least.  According to them, the sword Master cut the man’s arms off in a training bout.”

“But, you think otherwise.”

“I do.  I suspect, but won’t know for sure until he is out of the regeneration tank, that is was Leftenant Gray that actually disabled him.”

“Yes, the Sensei had no reason to fight our man, and if he is as good as reported, that shouldn’t have posed a problem.”

“This Leftenant Gray is full of surprises.”

“Yes, don’t forget, he did win, not one, but two Victoria Crosses.”

“I thought they were more for show than anything.”

“I doubt the King and the Prince of Wales would cheapen such a reward just for show.”  The distinguished man touched his upper lip with a perfectly manicured finger.

“It does give one cause to think.”

“Yes, I think we’d better start taking Leftenant Gray a little more seriously in the future.”

“I don’t see what one man can do to change the course of events!”

“Do I need to remind you of Cromwell, Disraeli, and Churchill, to name just three?”

“Point taken.”

The distinguished looking man departed and exited the building feeling somewhat relieved he didn’t have to spend longer in the man’s company.  The policeman on duty waving his diver through the roadblock and turned into traffic onto Parliament Street away from 10 Downing Street.

*  *  *  *  *  *

Later that same day, two men entered the Dojo in Devonport, on the same quest, and with the same questions.

“Good evening, I’m Lord Seaforth, and this is the Duke of Cardiff.”  Both bowed slightly to the Sensei, who returned it.

“What can I do for you gentlemen?”

“We are here seeking information, unofficial of course, about the um, accident a few weeks ago.”

“I have nothing to add, other than what I told the police.”  Seaforth and Taffy looked at each other and nodded.

“Told you.”  Taffy interjected.

“You have some additional interest in the injured man?”  The Sensei asked, seeing the immediate look of distaste cross both the young men’s face.

“Hardly.  It’s a pity we have regeneration is all I can say.”  The Duke of Cardiff muttered.

“Taffy, be kind.”  Seaforth scolded.

“How can I be of service to you?”

“It’s more a question of a certain young man, a Leftenant Gray that we are more interested.  We were informed that he was here on the evening the accident happened.”

“Yes?”  The Sensei wasn’t giving them anything to work with.

“Well, we, and a few others were wondering if he might have been injured.”

“The young man in question has practiced here a few times, but on the evening of the accident, he departed early, and wasn’t here.”

“I see.”  Seaforth looked around the Dojo a moment.  “I take it you teach an Oriental form of sword fighting.”

“I do, would you be interested in taking lessons?”  They both knew the answer to that question.

“No, I use a fencing style myself.”

“This is good for a stabbing attack.”

“True.  So I take it, Leftenant Gray was leaning your style of fighting?”

“By no means.”

“Pardon?”  Taffy looked baffled.

Mr. Gray is a Master himself, and other than offering some small service for him to practice, I could offer little in the way of instruction to improve what is all ready perfect.” Seaforth head snapped around, and he locked eyes with the Sensei for a moment, clarity dawning.

“If such a practice bout in which the man was injured took place between Mr. Gray and him, would he have had any trouble defeating him?”  The Sensei smiled and shook his head.

“If such a bout ever happened, I suspect the young man would have met the same feat.”  Seaforth bowed again then held his hand out.  “Thank you Master, we are much obliged for your time.”

“Huh?”  Taffy asked.  Seaforth took him by the arm and led him outside.  “What!  We didn’t get a thing out of him.”

“Yes, we did.”

“Oh, right, you are a mind reader now.”  He grumbled.

“In a way.  I can tell you this, Mike did fight that piece of garbage, and he did lop off his arms.

“But the old boy said...“

“Nothing.”

“Then how?”

“It's what he didn’t say.”

“Now you are getting down right cryptic.”  Seaforth pulled him into a nearby pub and brought him a drink.

“Here, this should clear your fuzzy Welsh brain a little, think about what the old boy did say.”  Taffy looked morass and downed half his drink.

“Yes, I see.  He couldn’t very well change his story now could he.”

“No, he reported to the police that he did the lopping during a practice bout.”

“And we do know that...” he took a swallow of his drink as if even thinking about the man’s name brought a rotten taste to his mouth, “... you know who only fights for money.”

“And usually at the behest of someone who wants someone else dead.”

“That doesn’t get us any closer to whoever paid him to kill Mike.”

“Tried and failed to kill Mike you mean.”

“Aren’t you glad you didn’t cross sword with our Leftenant Gray.” Taffy chuckled.

“Shut up Taffy and buy me a drink, it’s your turn anyway.”  Taffy laughed and did as ordered.

“You gentlemen on your way to the shipyard, then?”  The bartender asked as he sat the drinks down in front of them.

“No, we are just visiting.”

“Oh, thought you might be part of the crew, or whatever, of that Naval Inspector.”

“Which Naval Inspector?”  Seaforth added a hundred credit note to the money Taffy put on the bar.  The bartender looked at it for a moment, then it vanished.

“The one that use to come in for a drink once in a while.”

“Any name to go with a description?”

“I heard someone call him Leftenant Gray one time if that helps.”

“It does.”

“He came in here once in a while, usually early in the afternoon.  Use to like to play the piano for a while.”

“Did he now?”

“Was he any good?”  Taffy asked, getting a hopeless look from Seaforth.  “The Lady Ann will ask you know.”  He offered in his defense.

“Yes, actually, he was very good, a bit out of practice is all.”

“Have you seen him around recently?”

“Can’t say that I have...“ He stopped as a rather short older man came up beside them.  “Evening Able.”

“Evening Harry.”

“These gentlemen were asking about Leftenant Gray.”

“Were they now, and what would be your interested in him, may I ask?”

“Friend, we haven’t been able to contact him for a while.”

“I see.”  Able motioned them over to an empty table in the corner.  “Friends you say?”  He asked as they sat down.

“Yes, he was at a party with us and he had to take off rather suddenly on Christmas Day without saying goodbye.  We were wondering if he was in some sort of trouble.”  Able March took a swallow of his dark beer and placed the glass carefully on the table in front of him, and wiped his upper lip with the back of his hand.

“And where did you say this was?”

“I didn’t, but if you must know, it was at, um, Windsor Castle.”   Seaforth was reluctant to say it, as he didn’t want to appear snotty.  Working class man sometimes had an aversion to upper class people.  Able just nodded, and looked at them a moment.

“That’s where Petty Officer Conner Blake said he was going.”

“Do you know where he is now?”

“Can’t rightly say, heard he was posted somewhere.”  He smiled.  “You know the Navy, one minute you’re here, the next half way across the Galaxy.”

“Posted?”

“Yes, posted.”

“What about the ship!”  Taffy muttered as he carefully looked around the room.  No one seemed interested in them, or their conversation.

“Ship?  What ship would that be, sir?”

“The one he was building…”  Taffy said under his breath.

“Building you say.  No, not here, we only repair ships in Devonport nowadays.”

“Yes, of course, what were you thinking, Taffy.”

“Me?”  He looked wounded.

“Yes, you.  You know Mike was only the Naval Inspector here.  Thank you for your time Mr. March, we are grateful for your assistance.

“Not at all.  Sorry I couldn't be more help in finding your friend.”  With that, he picked up his beer and left to join a group around the piano.

“So much for that.”  Taffy murmured.

“I doubt we’ll get any more information around here.”

“Tight lipped lot, aren’t they.”

“You can thank your lucky star they are.  I doubt that MI5 or naval intelligence will get any more out of them than we have without the use of brute force.”

“So, what do we know so far, not much from what I can see.”

“We can report to the Lady Ann, that Mike is alive and uninjured for a start.”

“I have the feeling that there is more going on between those two than meets the eye.”  Taffy mumbled into his glass.

“Taffy, you are so dense sometimes, it amazes me that you’ve lived so long.”

“What did I say?”

“Of course, there is more going on between those two, silly, the Princess is in love with him.”

“Now you tell me!”  He smiled, then winked, seeing Seaforth shake his head.  If he didn’t know better, he would have sworn on a stack of bibles that sometimes, Taffy was as thick as two short planks.

“So when?”

“My dear Seaforth, I suspected something when she arrived back for her, shall we say, adventure?”