Beyond the Rails 3: Slayer of Darkness

Chapter 15

Nairobi Wednesday morning

          “A tall white man in a full-facial mask shouldn’t be that hard to find in an up-country fishing village,” Jinx speculated as the porters rolled a cart full of coal up the dock.
          “You wouldn’t think so,” Monroe agreed as he watched the operation. Bakari had set up a fairlead at the lip of the motor room hatch and was attaching a canvas bag to the cargo derrick’s line. “Still, so many things could interfere. He might keep out of sight when he gets there, and too, we don't know why he’s wearing a mask. If it’s simply to hide his face on the journey, he might just take it off.”
          “I don’t know,” she said. “The hotel clerk said it was polished silver, didn’t he? Sounds expensive. Why would he go to such expense if he didn’t need it? He could have cut two holes in a burlap sack to ride the train up.”
          “That might have looked a bit suspicious. We’ll likely find out soon enough, anyway. It’s only a six-hour flight to Kisumu. We’ll have plenty of daylight left when we get there, assuming we get out of here soon enough.”
          “Captain,” Hobbs said, stepping out of the pilot house, “Darweshi wanted to come with us. Should we bring her?”
          “We should certainly invite her,” Monroe said. “She stood by Nicholas through a very hard time, and we owe her that much. David, see to that, would you?”
          “What's that, Cap’n,” Smith asked, turning from the motor room hatch.
          “Nip down to Nicholas’ shop and tell Darweshi we’re going up to Kisumu on the trail of the man behind Ellsworth’s attack. Ask her if she still wants to come.”
          “What about the coal?”
          “I’ll help with that. My lumbago doesn’t feel like taking a walk this morning.”
          “All right, Cap’n,” Smith replied, “I’ll see to it.”
          “Take Jinx with you, let them start getting acquainted.”

Kisumu 9:15 AM

          The building housing Omarion Fabrication on the northeastern outskirts of Kisumu was monolithic, and more than a little depressing. Simply a big cube, roof angled to shrug off the sometimes torrential rain, it was made of corrugated metal panels, some of which had slipped their moorings, allowing daylight to shine in, and all of which displayed varying degrees of rust over their original black finish. Reinhard stood back to allow Mutala to open one of the big, barn-like doors, which gave a piercing squeal of protest as it swung outward.
          Coming in out of the morning sunlight rendered the interior a cavern of Stygian darkness. The glare-reducing lens in Reinhard's mask was of no help at all, as glare was far from the issue, and he stood in the doorway and waited for his eyes to adjust. They rapidly did so, and he was able to make out the open space he had entered, some large pieces of machinery straight ahead, and several rows of shelves holding parts and assemblies off to his right.
          “Ah, Herr Reinhard, I presume,” came a clear voice from the rear of the building.
          His rapidly sharpening vision made out a man of average height walking toward him flanked by two others, both large and with the look of goons who would kill their own mothers at a simple command.
          “I am Mr. Reinhard,” he answered. “I take it you are Gervais?”
          “That is correct. I have been instructed to brief you. If you will accompany me?”
          He led Reinhard and Mutala to one of the offices built in against the back wall, dismissed the goons, and closed the door behind them. Checking through the window that they remained in place outside, he turned to the safe.
          “The combination is right 26, left 85, right 7,” he said as he opened it. “This will be your office from this point onward, so you should remember that.”
          He took out a rolled paper, spread it on the desk, and used various office implements and a coffee cup to hold it spread open.
          “I should inform you that the organization has determined that you are to be my replacement here.”
          “Your replacement?”
          “Yes. I am being moved to another assignment, and so it seems are you. If you have not received your formal orders yet, you soon will.”
          “What is it you do here?” Reinhard asked.
          “Myself, precious little beyond facilitating the slave consignments coming down from the interior. Likely the same ones you moved through Zanzibar. Now, however, the ruby deposits have taken the imagination of the council, and that is going to become your primary focus. This factory was purchased as cover, and to give you a reason to be closely involved with the mines.”
          “I see. Where will you be going, then?”
          “That is not your concern. The less you know, you understand.”
          “I do. So what will I be doing here?”
          Gervais indicated the map that he had unrolled, a topographical representation of some of the hills behind the town.
          “This map is of an area northwest of here. It’s hard to tell exactly where, but once you have been out there, you will have a clear understanding. The organization has filed three claims on adjoining parcels. Shafts will be sunk, and once they are down below the nearby hand-dug mines, they will be joined, unbeknownst to anyone, and taken far deeper than these prospectors and speculators can go. That is where this factory comes in. It is about to have a change in fortune. You will be provided with plans for several new types of mining equipment that are beyond the reach of the ordinary miners. It will enable the owners of those three mines, who are the same council who now own this factory, to extract a fortune in gems, do you see?”
          “Yes, quite.”
          “It will enable them to get to the deposits that our geologist is certain lie deeper than any hand operation can reach. Some of the profits from those deep deposits will enable us to buy out the prospectors, one by one, you see, no dramatic action to attract attention. Once that process is well under way, the profits will fund a good deal of the organization’s activities.”
          “That’s brilliant. How will the labor be handled, local talent?”
          “Perhaps for the upper levels. The richer deposits, further down the shafts, will be worked by slaves skimmed from the trade. If this becomes more lucrative than the trade in slaves itself, then we will become a leading voice for abolition.”
          “How’s that?”
          “We provide slaves to buyers throughout the region. If we no longer do that because all the captives are going into the mines, then we may as well seize the moral high ground. Everyone wins. Well, except the slaves, of course.”
          “Dear Lord,” Reinhard said, shaking his head in admiration, “My only regret is that I didn’t join this organization years ago!”
          “They do have some diabolically brilliant methods, do they not? On top of everything else, this region stands to transform itself from a quiet backwater to one of the driving engines of funding for the organization world-wide. And you, Herr Reinhard, stand to gain tremendous favor with the council, assuming nothing goes wrong.”
          “Nothing will go wrong, I assure you. But, why are you giving up the post just as it’s assuming a position of such importance?”
          “We are not asked where we wish to serve, Herr Reinhard, we are placed where we are needed. Take it from me, you have a powerful friend on the council, maybe more than one. Carry out this operation smoothly, and your next posting may be to the council itself.”

Kisumu 2:10 PM

          Lines made fast, and dock workers turned away with nothing to unload, Kestrel settled into her mooring across the narrow harbor from Kisumu. Jinx came up from her cabin to join the crew on deck, fully armed in her walking about outfit.
          “Nothing to do now but find a big man with a metal face, eh?” she quipped, settling her hat in a motion the crew was beginning to recognize as a nervous habit.
          “Hold on there, Missy,” Monroe told her. “I don’t want you poking around over there alone.”
          “I thought you didn’t want my work to splash over onto your crew,” she said.
          “I also don’t want to get a reputation for sending a young girl into a lion’s den alone.”
          “I can certainly appreciate that. Is Kisumu all that bad?”
          “Definitely. What with every prospector and the people who prey on them who’ve flocked here for the rubies, this is as much a boom town as Nairobi, and unlike Nairobi, there are no soldiers here, just Colonial Police.”
          “Sounds dangerous. What do you propose?”
          “Same arrangement, David to accompany you.”
          “How do you feel about that, Mr. Smith?” she asked as he coiled the throwing lines at the aft mooring station.
          “Another engagement without a chaperone? What isn’t to like?”
          “All right, it’s settled then. Wait for David, and the two of you go together.”
          “It would go faster if we had two teams out looking, Captain,” Hobbs said as she walked back from the pilot house.
          “Faster yet if we had ten,” Monroe said, “but we don’t.”
          “But we would have two if Darweshi and I went out to help. Bakari could come too, if he wants. And you.”
          “Generous of you to include me in your plans.”
          “The more, the merrier, I always say.”
          “Especially in this hole then, isn’t it? All right, you can go if Darweshi and Bakari both go with you. Jinx, we don’t have as many contacts here as we do in the other towns. This is the end of the line for us, and given that we can make a round trip from Nairobi and back in a single day, that’s usually what we do.”
          “Maybe I should do the talking, then. I’ll just flutter my innocent little eyelashes, and the men will fall all over themselves to tell me anything I want to know.”
          “Yes, I’m sure that’s what will happen. You two work that out between you, and be sure to let me know how it comes out. Patience, be sure to visit Musa. Last I heard, he was still working the night shift, so probably after five for that.”
          “Right, Captain.”
          “Who’s Musa?” Jinx asked.
          “One of the watch captains with the Colonial Police here. We’re on good terms, I’m sure he’ll help us out if he can. Or warn us off if we’re about to shake a hornet’s nest.”
          “That would be convenient. Odd how the only people you know in this town are the police.”
          “Oh, they aren’t the only people, just the only ones we tell our guests about.”
          “Nice.”
          “Right, well, it isn't getting any earlier. Why don’t you all get ready and move out? I’m going to take care of a few things here, and we’ll all meet to compare notes over dinner. Should we say six o’clock at that fish restaurant just off the north square? David, Patty, do both of you know it?”
          “Aye, Cap’n.”
          “Yes, sir.”
          “All right, six it is. I’ll see you there. Be careful out there!”

Mombasa 3:50 PM

          Jubilee Bellouard knocked at the door of her men’s room at the Seaview Hotel.
          “Who is it?” came Two-Fives’ angry snarl without a second's hesitation.
          “Jubilee, sugar.”
          The latch slid back, and Crenshaw opened the door, standing back to let her in. She swept into the room and took in the surroundings. Nothing ever changed. There was Crenshaw’s Klondike game spread on the table as Two-Fives stood glaring out the window toward the aerodrome. No food, no reading material, no sign of any distraction beyond the worn cards. She found in this immediate vindication of her decision; it couldn’t be doing anything positive for their edge.
          “Good news, boys,” she told them. “We’re going up to Nairobi to wait for them there.”
          “About time,” Two-Fives growled.
          “How come, Miss Jubal?” Crenshaw asked in childlike innocence.
          “Apparently, they aren’t getting back here as much as they used to, and besides, this town is teeming. I really had no idea. It’s as crowded as New York or San Francisco. We’ll have a much better chance of taking him without raising a lot of questions in one of the smaller towns in the interior.”
          “How do you know they’re smaller,” Two-Fives challenged. “You didn’t know about this one.”
          “Because I ask, Johnny. That’s how you learn things, not by sitting here cooped up and fuming.”
          “You told me not to go out.”
          “No, I told you not to take your guns out.”
          “Same thing. Nobody tells you you can’t go out unless you’re naked.”
          “I’m not here to argue with you, Johnny,” she said, exasperated. “I have purchased tickets for us to Nairobi on the morning train. I need you to pack your things and take them to the train station. Check your bags with the clerk, and they will be put on the train tonight.”
          “That’s great. Now, what if conditions are right, and we take him in Nairobi. We don’t just hop on a boat there. We have to get him all the way back here first.”
          “Here, or across the border into Tanganyika. That was your idea, remember, and a good one. The Prussians are far less likely to care what we’re doing with a wanted criminal.”
          “If we can get there.”
          “Johnny, I swear! You’ve been telling me for a week that we need to go look for him, now we’re going looking for him, and you can do nothing but find fault with it. What do you want?”
          “A plan. That’s your contribution to this little company, plans. It ain’t like you’re gonna shoot anybody.”
          “Keep prodding me, and I might,” She said pointedly.
          “Okay, maybe, but your part of the plan is the plan. You’ve always had good ones before, but this time, all you can offer is ‘we’ll go here and see if he’s around, and then if we can take him, we’ll hope it works out.’ I think you’re gettin’ touched by this languorous climate.”
          “Why, Johnny, the cheek! If you don’t want to be here, nothing’s keeping you.”
          “Didn’t say that.” He looked around, and pounded his fist into his palm, trying to reach a decision. In the end, he made the easy one.
          “I’m still in,” he said. “I’d just like to know you’re going by something besides a guess and a prayer.”
          “Johnny,” she said soothingly, knowing she’d won again, “I have to see the ground before I can make a plan. That’s what this trip is about. You know the saying. If the mountain won't come to Mohammed, then Mohammed must go to the mountain. For whatever reason, they’re spending most of their time up-country, so we’ll need to go up-country, too. Doesn’t that make sense to you?”
          “I suppose.”
          “All right, then, it’s settled. We board early tomorrow morning, and the train leaves at eight o’clock sharp. We can ill-afford to miss it, as it only goes up every other day, so we’ll want to turn in early. Right, Johnny?”
          “What?”
          “No late night carousing tonight.”
          “What carousing is it you’re talking about?”
          “Drinking, gambling, whoring, whatever it is you get up to.”
          “Here, I don’t—”
          “I have no interest in the sordid details,” she said, holding her hand up. “I want you in your bed early tonight, alone, and up early, ready to travel tomorrow. If you miss this train, Benjamin and I will divide half of your share. Early. And pick out some preserved food to bring. It’s a twelve-hour ride, and I don’t want to be dependent on whatever they might be serving on that train.”

Kisumu 4:10 PM

          “He’s tall,” Jinx told the heavy-set African woman, “and wears a metal mask over the lower part of his face. He may be using the name Krieger. It’s very important that we find him.”
          “Why?”
          “We’re crew from the airship across the harbor,” Smith told her, fishing a shilling from his pocket and laying it on the counter in front of her. “He expressed an interest in flying with us, but now that we’re here, we can’t seem to find him.”
          “Maybe he is hiding from all those weapons,” the woman observed, taking in their array of hardware.
          “They are to protect him," Jinx said, adding a shilling to Smith’s. “He told us there may be people tracking him, and he needs to get to the harbor at Mombasa to escape.”
          “There was a balloon here yesterday. Perhaps he took a ride with them.”
          “Perhaps,” Smith said. “If you happen to see him—”
          “I will tell him you are searching for him,” the woman finished, picking up the coins.
          “Don’t,” Jinx said. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. He can easily see our ship from here. The fact that he hasn’t contacted us may mean that he is in trouble. Just take note if you see him, and let us know if we come back later to ask again.”
          “So it shall be. How about you young people? Do you need a room?”
          The woman was, after all, an innkeeper, and business was where you found it.
          “No thanks,” Smith said. “A little early in the day for all that.”
          They stepped out into the street where Smith looked south down the main commercial thoroughfare of the rapidly growing town.
          “Early in the day?” Jinx repeated. “I ought to hurt you!”
          “I’m sorry. Did you want me to say yes?”
          “Why, of all the cheek!”
          “The third one,” Smith said, ignoring her outburst.
          “What?”
          “Two hotels and a restaurant, and no one has seen a European in a metal mask. That isn’t the kind of sight that goes unnoticed, so either all these people are lying, or he really hasn’t been here.”
          “Could he have gone somewhere else? I mean, he wasn’t in Nairobi, so he obviously arrived with that balloon she spoke of being here yesterday.”
          “Yes, and if he stayed aboard and left with them... No, that doesn’t make sense.”
          “Where else could he have gone?” she asked. “Just possibilities.”
          “If he stayed aboard, anywhere. He could be back in Nairobi, or even descending into Mombasa by now."
          “That would mean he knows we’re onto him, and that is very unlikely.”
          “Why?”
          “Because we haven’t caught up yet. Everywhere we’ve been, he’s a step ahead of us, so there hasn’t been anyone to tell him that we’ve asking about him. You share this lake with the Prussian colony, correct?”
          “Yes.”
          “And do they have a port on the shore like this one?”
          “M’wanza. It’s exactly like this one, a fishing village for centuries, sort of commandeered by the Prussians.”
          “What if he went there? How far is it?”
          “Farther from here than Nairobi is.”
          “But it’s possible?”
          “Possible, but any of these balloons would be highly resistant to entering a Prussian aerodrome. They’re very suspicious of all things English.”
          “Money is a wonderful lubricant.”
          “That’s true. Still, you’d have to spend some time in the culture to realize how unlikely it is. The Prussians would seize your ship, tie you up in diplomatic protests, probably accuse you of spying. I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t hold the crew for long, but you might never get your ship back. I don’t see it happening. The risk would be unthinkable for any crew with half a brain.”
          “Well, then,” Jinx said, “he has to be here. Nothing else makes any sense. Oh, wait, he could have chartered a boat to take him there.”
          “Yeah, well if he did, there’s nothing we can do about it. Unless you want to go yourself.”
          “It could happen.”
          “I expected as much, but we’re here now, and we don’t know that he’s left. This ‘M’ person told him the house was ready, so let’s assume that he’s here until we exhaust every possibility.”
          “A sensible course. What’s next?”
          “There’s a good eatery off the square up here, and a well-stocked store right next to it. Maybe he stopped at one of those.”
          “Lead the way.”

Hippo Point 5:20 PM

          Mutala dropped ice cubes into Reinhard’s glass, and poured a fresh shot of bourbon into the water. Swirling it around, he crossed the veranda and handed it to Reinhard, who sat on the sofa taking in the sunset. With the house facing northeast, the sun was setting behind them, its orange rays painting the whitewashed buildings and rendering the moored airship across the harbor a prominent feature in the glow.
          “To success,” Mutala said, raising his glass in toast.
          “Success,” Reinhard repeated, raising his glass in return.
          “Gervais certainly is knowledgeable about the operation,” Mutala said, taking a seat in the armchair at the end of the sofa.
          “Indeed,” Reinhard agreed, “although with the acquisition of those mines, it’s about to enter a phase he knows nothing about. I suppose that’s why the council is making these changes right at this moment. Within a fortnight, what he knows about this operation will be obsolete, a history lesson, no more.”
          “Yes, sir. What about your operation in Zanzibar?”
          “That’s up to the council. Either I’ll continue to operate it remotely, or I’ll be replaced as I have replaced Gervais. They know what they’re doing.”
          “Yes, but the staff will certainly note the change, and have questions.”
          “It won’t be an issue, I assure you. I’ll either have sold it to someone here, who I will notify them in a letter will be arriving soon to take over, or they’ll find someone similar, and my ‘brother’ or ‘cousin’ will arrive to manage the shop in my absence. The council will advise me of their decision, and that will be that. The view from here is magnificent, Mutala. I applaud your taste in housing.”
          “Thank you, sir.”
          He didn't mention Gervais’ part in it this time; the man was gone, why share the credit?
          “Just be sure your mosquito netting is fully closed, sir, and don’t sleep touching the mesh. They can stick their little suckers right through it.”
          “Rude bastards!”
          The men shared a laugh, and watched the colors deepen as the sun eased toward the horizon. After a few moments, they were interrupted by one of the guards who stopped at the door into the sitting room.
          “Mr. Mutala?”
          Mutala sat his drink on the corner table, and went over to the guard with whom he shared a whispered conversation as Reinhard refastened his mask in place. Shortly, he returned with the guard and a common laborer.
          “Mr. Reinhard,” he said, “this is Babajide. He is the cleaner at the Lakeshore Rest, a hotel in town. Apparently, Gervais kept a number of men on retainer simply to keep their ears open, and report what they hear. Babajide, tell Mr. Reinhard what you heard.”
          “Yes, sir. Some people came into the hotel asking about you.”
          “Me? By name?”
          “Yes, sir. They described you as a tall man in a metal mask.”
          “Who were these people?”
          “I do not know them, but there were two, a man and a much younger woman. Both wore guns, and the woman called the man ‘David.’ They said they were trying to find you because you had contacted them for a ride on their balloon ship.”
          “That’s all? Do you remember anything else?”
          “That is all, sir. Madame shooed me off to clean the kitchen after that.”
          “You’ve done well, boy. Mutala, give him a shilling for his efforts.”
          “Yes, sir.”
          Reinhard waited while Mutala saw the man out, thinking about this development.
          “So, someone is asking about me, are they?” he said when Mutala returned.
          “Apparently, but I don’t see how.”
          “Obviously, it’s connected with the break-in of my office. The burglary where nothing was stolen, you recall? It seems something was stolen after all. Information, and now someone is making use of it. Someone from that airship.” He gestured across the harbor to where the setting sun had painted its envelope orange. “Do you know it?”
          “I don’t know the airships in detail,” Mutala replied, “but that looks very much like the Kestrel. I flew aboard her when I returned to Zanzibar the last time.”
          “So. What do you know of the crew?”
          “An old man is the captain. Has an unmistakable military bearing, probably retired. They have a young female pilot who’s something of a daredevil. That’s obviously the woman our contact was talking about.”
          “Interesting.”
          “Their deck man is an American, a cowboy of their western frontier. The man he referred to could be either him or the captain. The engineer is an African, so he’s out.”
          “An African?”
          “Yes. Why?”
          “Oh, nothing. It just seems odd that an all-white crew would employ an African engineer, of all the positions. It’s a good probability that he didn’t study at Oxford.”
          “Ah, I see.”
          “All right, Mutala, I don’t know what these people are after, but we need to find out. I want you to take some of the boys to town tomorrow and set them to asking questions. It sounds like these people will know you on sight, so keep back and coordinate things from a distance, but I want to know who they really are, and exactly what they’re after. We’re in a transition here, and that makes us vulnerable. I don’t need any nosy blimp-riders throwing a spanner into the works.”
          “I’ll see to it, sir.”