Airship City

Chapter 20

JOSEPH

At a quarter to nine on Monday morning he walked into the tearoom at King’s Cross Station, and ordered tea and a chelsea bun. He took a seat at the window overlooking the platforms, which were wreathed in steam from the locomotives waiting to depart. He had just taken a big bite from the bun when Monmouth suddenly appeared from behind him.

“Good morning,” he said, depositing his tray onto the table. Joseph took a gulp of scalding tea to get the mouthful of bun down, then gasped out his greeting, much to Monmouth’s evident amusement. “Steady on there, old chap, we wouldn’t want you to choke now, would we? Anyway, when you’re quite ready, you can tell me all about your little tête-à-tête with Miss Hughes.”

Joseph had to admit to himself that Monmouth’s condescending style of speech got on his nerves. He frowned while he framed his reply. “It went very well, thank you. I’m to meet her on Aeropolis next weekend.”

Monmouth’s eyes lit up. “Splendid! Oh well done, old chap. I don’t mind admitting that I was prepared to hear of your failure, but this is excellent news indeed!”

Joseph clenched his fists until his nails dug painfully into his palms. Hear of my failure, indeed! Why would Monmouth have expected him to fail? He became even more determined to show him. He forced himself to relax. “So what do you want me to do while I’m there?”

“Ah.” Monmouth lifted his briefcase onto his lap, and flipped through the papers inside it. He drew out a slim manila envelope. “I want you to make what we call a drop. You need to take this, and leave it in a specific spot, the drop spot, on Aeropolis. No-one must see you do it. I’ll tell you exactly where the drop spot is.” He held out the envelope for Joseph to take.

“What is it?” said Joseph, making no move to touch it.

“Well now, it’s probably better that you don’t know that. At least at this stage.” Monmouth placed the envelope on the table between them.

“What? Why? How can you expect me to help you, if you won’t tell me what’s going on?” Joseph felt his patience wearing very thin indeed.

“All right, calm down.” Monmouth looked around them quickly, but the tearoom was quiet, and no-one was paying them any attention. He leaned forward, and continued in a conspiratorial tone. “Look, Joseph, this is for your own protection. If you should be discovered, or searched, then you can quite truthfully say that you don’t know what is in the envelope, or who it is for. It’s standard operating procedure for couriers.”

He leaned back. “You’re still playing a very valuable role, never doubt that.” He spooned sugar into his tea, and stirred it. “But it’s best if you know only what you need to.” He took a cautious sip.

Joseph picked up the envelope. It was sealed, and had no markings of any sort on its outside. It felt very light, either it was empty or held only a single sheet of folded paper. But what was written on the paper?

“I should warn you that you must deliver the envelope intact and exactly as I have given it to you now. If you tamper with it in any way, I will know about it.”

“So this is a test.”

Monmouth considered this. “You could say that,” he replied after a while. “You will be entrusted with more important duties if you carry out these instructions well.” He picked up the envelope. “But this is important in its own right. You will be helping me by doing this, and by that token, helping to bring your father’s killer to justice.”

Joseph sighed. Monmouth seemed to think he could get him to do anything by trotting out the line about his father every time. “You know, I don’t feel that I’m actually any closer to finding out the truth about that. I have only your word that anything is happening at all.”

Monmouth stared at Joseph steadily. “It’s not just me, Joseph. Lots of people blame Hughes for your father’s death.”

“Really. Well then, you don’t need me, do you?”

Monmouth glared at him. “I don’t mean that they think Hughes killed him with his own hands!”

“Then what do you mean? My father died when his airship exploded during testing. It was just an accident!”

“Yes, that’s what’s generally believed.” Monmouth leaned forward, his tone earnest. “But why did it explode? Do airships explode very often?”

Joseph flinched. “No, they don’t. But that’s because they are usually filled with helium.”

“Usually, indeed. But what lift gas was used in your father’s ship?”

Joseph felt a heaviness in his chest. “Hydrogen.” An image from his dreams flashed in his mind, an image of an exploding, burning airship. He shook his head as if that could clear the picture from his mind.

“Yes, hydrogen.” Monmouth’s tone was gentle. “Highly flammable hydrogen.”

“But there was no choice! Helium was in short supply! The ship had to be tested, so they filled it with hydrogen, just for the test flight.”

“Indeed. But why was helium in short supply?”

“I have no idea.” Joseph wished Monmouth would drop the subject, he was feeling more miserable by the second.

“Because Howard Hughes was buying up all the helium to fill Aeropolis!”

Joseph stared at the man as the implications flooded through his brain. He’s right. He must be. Aeropolis must use an incredible amount of helium. Hughes used it all up, and my father died as a consequence. It was a bitter thought.

He rubbed his eyes, suddenly feeling very tired. “So, if everyone knows this, and nothing has happened to Hughes, why do you need me?”

Monmouth frowned in irritation. “You can’t be put in prison for buying up helium. I’m merely pointing out Hughes’s basic ruthlessness. But I suspect that Hughes went much further than that. I need proof of his direct responsibility for your father’s death to put him away. And I need you to help me find it.”

Joseph shook his head. “I don’t even know what I’m looking for. How do you think he is involved?”

“I don’t know for sure. I have a few theories, but I’d rather keep them to myself at this stage, and see how they match up to the evidence you find.”

“Why can’t you share them with me?”

Monmouth scratched his upper lip. “Because it might influence where you look and what you do. I want to keep myself open to all possibilities. My theories may be completely wrong.” He pressed his fingertips together. “This will be a long, slow process, Joseph. I know it must be frustrating at the moment, with you feeling as if no progress is being made. But the truth is that you’ve made great strides. You are perfectly positioned to see all manner of things on your visits to Aeropolis, and as you bring these things back to me, so the picture will be built up, and I will be able to guide you on where to go next.

“And this envelope, whether you know it or not, is a key step. I want you to take it with you to Aeropolis next weekend, and I want you to find the golden statue of Atlas in one of the arcades that lead off the Core, and I want you to slip the envelope behind the statue’s plinth.”

Monmouth stood up, put on his fedora, and picked up his briefcase. “Those are the things that I want you to do. I can’t make you do them. Only you can decide whether or not you will. I leave it up to you. Should you successfully carry out this assignment, meet me in Trafalgar Square at noon next Monday.”

He turned on his heel and strode out of the tearoom without a backward glance. Joseph picked up the envelope and stared at it thoughtfully.