Airship City

Chapter 2

"Well, what was all that about?" said his mother, as she closed the door behind Monmouth.

Joseph was just as puzzled. "I haven't a clue, Mum."

"Maybe he's going to offer you a job. Oh Joseph, promise me you'll never work for that awful Zeppelin company! I couldn't bear the worry if you started flying as well. You wouldn't do that to me, would you?"

Joseph stared at his mother's worry-drawn face. He understood her concerns, but her near-constant fear that he would suddenly decide to become a pilot could be tiresome. He forced a smile. "Of course not, Mum. Don't you worry, I've got a good job at the bank. Anyway, whatever Mr Monmouth wants to talk to me about, I'm sure it's nothing like that."

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"So you work at the City and Empire Merchant Bank, do you?" 

Monmouth sat back in his chair and puffed on his cigar, regarding Joseph through the clouds of smoke. They were in the dining room of his club. Their conversation had been limited to the weather (good) and the food (bad), but now it seemed that Monmouth would finally come to the point of their meeting.

"Yes sir, I work in the post room." He briefly wondered how Monmouth had known the name of his employer. My mother must have mentioned it.

"Ah." Monmouth had that slightly annoying half-smile on his face again. "Do you ever see Winston Churchill, I wonder?"

"I do sometimes, when I deliver his post." Joseph began to feel a bit uncomfortable about the questions, as if Monmouth were prying into something that didn't strictly speaking concern him. "Do you know Mr Churchill?"

Monmouth nodded. "Yes, I have met him. So you haven't sat in on any client meetings or anything like that?"

"No." Joseph now felt defensive, and then annoyed with himself for feeling that way. He was only sixteen, why would he be sitting in on client meetings? "I told you, I'm just a clerk."

"It's all right." Monmouth smiled encouragingly. "You can still help me."

"Help you with what?"

"Before we get into that, I'd like to talk about your father."

"My father? What does he have to do with it?"

Monmouth looked pained. He leaned forward, stubbing out his cigar, and glanced around before answering. When he did, he kept his voice low. "Joseph, there's no easy way to say this, but I believe that your father was murdered, and I need your help to bring his murderer to justice."

Joseph stared at him, shocked and stunned. "That's impossible," he said eventually. "My father was killed when his airship exploded. It was an accident, pure and simple."

"It was made to seem an accident." Monmouth shook his head. "But it wasn't. Ever since the Hindenburg nearly caught fire at Lakehurst, we have been absolutely dedicated to safety at the Zeppelin company. The moment I heard about the explosion, I knew it could not be a fault with the airship."

"So how was it done? Who do you think did it?"

Monmouth sat back in his chair. "I don't yet know exactly how it was done. I've been following up clues and leads ever since the explosion. It's taken months and months of very hard work." He sighed, and rubbed his forehead. "Lots of dead ends, unfortunately. But just recently, I've had a bit of a breakthrough. I'm certain that Howard Hughes is involved in some way."

"You mean the Howard Hughes, the one who built Aeropolis? He's a client of the bank."

"Yes, I mean him. Hughes has been an enemy of the Zeppelin company for years, but I didn't think even he would go as far as murder. But now some new evidence has come to light. I need more information to confirm it, and I need you to get it for me."

Joseph was taken aback. "You need me? Why? What can I do?"

"You can tell me what Hughes gets up to when he comes to the bank tomorrow."

"How would that help you? Are you with the police?"

Monmouth shook his head. "No, I'm still helping the Zeppelin company. But now I'm with a special department, known as the ZA. We work to keep Zeppelin employees safe, and if needs be, we undertake investigations. I'm the head of investigations at the ZA."

Joseph grimaced at that. "Investigations, or spying? I'm not prepared to be a spy!"

Monmouth looked at him steadily. "It's not really spying. You're just going to tell me who Hughes meets, and so on. Just the sort of thing you might say to your mother, when you tell her about your day at work. Trust me, it will be a big help to me."

"I don't know. It still feels wrong, somehow. Like I'm betraying Mr Churchill."

"So Hughes is meeting with Churchill, is he?" Monmouth grinned. "You're helping me already!"

"I didn't say that!" Joseph felt a rush of panic. He hadn't known about the meeting, but Hughes had met with Churchill on previous visits. Now he had inadvertently given something away.

"It's all right, Joseph. No-one will ever know. Besides, you know what they say about ends and means, don't you?"

Joseph frowned. "I do, but I don't know that I agree with it."

"Well, agree with it or not, if you don't help me, you're effectively helping the man who killed your father to escape justice."

The words struck Joseph like a knife, cutting him to the quick. He felt a painful lump forming in his throat, and he wanted to cry out that he would never do that, never do such an awful, horrible thing. He felt tears starting in the corners of his eyes and he looked down quickly, swallowing hard, trying to control himself. He took a sip of water, noticing how his hand trembled slightly. 

"Are you all right?"

He nodded back at Monmouth, not quite ready to speak again. Monmouth in response gave a concerned smile. "Why don't you think about it? We'll meet again in a few days, and if you want to tell me anything then, you'll do so. If not...." He shrugged. 

Joseph had regained his composure, feeling grateful that Monmouth had not put further pressure on him. I'll just bide my time, and tell him nothing when we meet again. "All right. In a few days then." But there was a twinge of guilt there, when he thought about his father. Was he betraying him in some way, by not helping Monmouth? It was an awful dilemma, and it stayed with him through the rest of the meal, and on the walk back to the bank.