stories:dancing_the_shadows
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+ | ---- | ||
+ | ====== DANCING THE SHADOWS ===== | ||
- | ---- | + | By Grey Wolf |
- | === Dancing the Shadows - Lead In (Part I) === | + | ==== INTRODUCTION ==== |
- | //January 1936, Prague// | + | //1900// |
- | "The scene of your greatest victory, father." | + | ** Berlin** |
- | Archduke Eugen looked down at his youngest son and shook his head, | + | |
- | "It was a victory without meaning." | + | |
- | Leopold chewed his bottom lip, unhappy at the put-down. It did not seem right to forget such a feat of arms as his father had achieved before these very walls, fifteen years before. | + | |
- | "What about the death of the German Kaiser - THAT was an achievement !" | + | |
- | Eugen smiled fondly at his son's perseverance, | + | |
- | "It merits a note in the history books" the Archduke allowed, "But it gave the world Wilhelm I in his father' | + | |
- | "But we are come to meet him." Leopold was puzzled, "Are not relations between our two houses better than ever before ?" | + | |
- | "Yes, perhaps that it so." Eugen did not feel able to discuss the details with the boy. There were things best left unsaid. Instead he simply added, | + | |
- | "But it is because Kaiser Wilhelm quarrels with the Russians that he looks for new friends within Europe." | + | |
- | "And will we be friends with him, father ?" | + | |
- | Eugen looked into the adolescent' | + | |
- | "Time will tell." he said, then turned towards the window of the carriage, "Time will tell..." | + | |
+ | The Kaiser was dying. Sombre courtiers padded softly around the palace. Government ministers came by more frequenly than at any time since the Syrian Crisis. A myriad of princes and princesses came to pay their final visits to the great man. | ||
- | February 1936 | + | At nine o' |
- | Saint Petersburg | + | |
- | "I will not listen to any more of this rubbish !" | + | The bells tolled across |
- | Tsar Aleksandr V stopped his aide in mid flow. Eyes blazing he further emphasised the point by sweeping the entire contents of his desk - papers, pots and statuery - onto the floor in one almighty crash. He heaved a deep breath, gripping the wood at the edge until his knuckles went white, | + | |
- | "There MUST be a secret codicil." | + | |
- | He kicked at the mess on the floor, amidst which the copy of the Austro-German treaty could be found. | + | |
- | "Our agents assure us that this is the FULL treaty..." | + | |
- | "No !" the Tsar slammed a fist upon the desk. He glowered at them, "Get out !", he growled, "Get out !" | + | |
- | Exchanging puzzled | + | |
- | When they were gone, Aleksandr walked slowly over to the window. Looking down on his fleet, iced in upon the Neva, he shook his head. Surely it was not just the one thing which had pushed Wilhelm to jump into bed with the Austrians ?! | + | |
- | He grimaced at his choice of phrase. Jump into bed... Was the Kaiser so angry at the dishonour to his daughter that he would ally with the enemy ? Were international affairs driven by such petty slights ? | + | |
- | No ! Surely there had to be more. The Austrians MUST have offered Berlin something... He vowed to find out what... | + | |
+ | In the old man's bedroom, Frederick looked one last time at the body of his father. He heaved his shoulders, | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | It did not not seem to fit. Maybe he would grow into it. He rather doubted it... | ||
- | March 1936 | ||
- | London | ||
- | "Well, there is the other matter, your majesty." | + | * * * * * * * * * * * * |
- | Ernest II nodded, | + | |
- | "Yes, there is. How much of the tales doing the rounds in the salons is true, do we know ?" | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | "' | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | "One can understand why Kaiser Wilhelm is rather more than upset with his erstwhile ally." | + | |
- | "Ah yes" Salisbury was well aware he was repeating himself, " | + | |
- | "Who would be ?" Ernest could easily understand those sentiments, " | + | |
- | "I have made discreet enquiries of Ambassador Fairfax" | + | |
- | "I see" Ernest sat back in his red leather chair and crossed his hands above his muscular breast, " | + | |
- | "And yet..." | + | |
- | "And yet we cannot but deal with him. Hungary, Egypt, the Principalities. Russia is the key to them all, and Aleksandr has made himself Russia." | + | |
+ | // | ||
- | April 1936 | + | **Moscow** |
- | Pesh | + | |
- | " | + | Grand Duke Nikolai looked down at the twitching body of his elder brother, |
- | King Stephen was well aware that he was considered a traitor by the other branches | + | "What....what is happening ?" |
- | Tsar Aleksandr V nodded and smiled a smile of triumph. The traitorous Germans may turn away from him. The perfidious British may ostracise him. But he could still control events. Europe would still dance to his tune ! The Hungarians, for example, could not do without him. | + | The Tsesarevitch stirred his father' |
- | "Our two realms are bound by a mutual destiny" | + | "He is dying." |
- | As ever King Stephen was unsure how to answer such a direct statement. As usual he parried it aside with a platitude, | + | "Alexi !" his uncle used the familiar form, "That is no way to speak of the emperor." |
- | "Europe matters less than our firm friends in Saint Petersburg." | + | Aleksandr Aleksandrovich met his eyes, cold steel seeming |
- | "Firm friends, yes." Aleksandr emphasised each word in turn, " | + | "It is the truth, uncle." |
- | King Stephen smiled. It was both the confused smile of an old man and the tolerant smile of an old ally. The words themselves may be meaningless self-glorification. But he knew from long association | + | " |
- | He raised his glass in the air, | + | The two turned towards |
- | "Together victorious !" | + | "Yes Theodora, I shall soon be Tsar." |
- | " | + | The woman tossed her mane of dark brown hair. |
- | Downing his drink in one, Aleksandr laughed to himself. Yes - whether the Hungarians wanted it or not they would be victorious with him ! | + | "That is good, brother; it is very good indeed." |
+ | Nikolai turned away from his niece, venom on his tongue. He bit down. It was true... Soon, too soon, Aleksandr IV would be dead... It would do him well to start minding | ||
+ | Brother and sister exchanged a glance. Theodora sneered behind her uncle' | ||
+ | "I will be back when I hear the bells." | ||
+ | The Tsesarevitch turned back to the barely living body of his father, | ||
+ | "Fetch a priest." | ||
- | May 1936 | + | * * * * * * * * * * * * |
- | Madrid | + | |
- | King Alphonso XIV frowned and tried to concentrate on the words his Prime Minister was speaking. Youngest of the monarchs of Europe, albeit not by much over Ferdinando III of the Two Sicilies, he felt a heavy burden upon his shoulders. Well aware that his grandmother' | + | // |
- | "Are we sure this new clause to the alliance is really necessary ?" he asked at length. | + | |
- | Count Serrano nodded sombrely, | + | |
- | "The assessment of the Foreign Ministry is that the Russian Empire is getting desperate. It is not 1915 now. They feel themselves hemmed in - by Germany' | + | |
- | "I see" Alphonso struggled to juggle all the facts at once, | + | |
- | "And the Ottoman Empire under Sultan Yusef I has moved ever closer to Western Europe. Tsar Aleksandr fears that Egypt will follow this drift away from Russia ?" | + | |
- | "Yes !" | + | |
- | For a moment Count Serrano sounded celebratory, | + | |
- | "There are numerous signs for us to be wary of - the Pacific Fleet at Port Arthur is being strengthened once again. The Russian mission to Peking is pressing once again for a defensive alliance. Alaska' | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | He petered out beneath the Count' | + | |
- | "Your majesty" | + | |
- | "I see" Alphonso cradled his head in his hands for a full minute, "So, Spain cannot remain aloof ? If we fail to support the Alliance, the Philipinnes, | + | |
- | "I do not know" Count Serrano spread his hands expansively, | + | |
- | "I understand" | + | |
- | "Yes indeed" | + | |
+ | **Berlin** | ||
- | June 1936 | + | "I am glad that that is over", Karl II heaved his bulk into an armchair and lit his pipe from the match a servant proferred. |
- | Saint Petersburg | + | Across the expanse of deep red carpet, the Russian emperor nodded as if in sympathy, |
+ | " | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Karl paused, frowned, then shrugged. No doubt it was a linguistic slip. After all, German was not even the second language of the young Russian. | ||
+ | "I see a great future for our nations" | ||
+ | "The future..." | ||
- | Prince Mishkin' | ||
- | Cold steel... Hard and solid in his hands.. His service revolver... Had it really come to this ? | ||
- | His glass was empty... Port - the British drink, his brother-in-law had called it sneeringly. Brother-in-law ? Cuckoo in the nest ! | ||
- | He almost vomited upon the floor. How was he the last to know ? Why had nobody dared to tell him ? Had he always known ? He did not think so... Yes, looking back there were signs, but they meant nothing unless he knew what he was looking at. And that he only did now... | ||
- | Oh God ! But could there even be a God ? What did this mean ? It felt like some dark trick of Lucifer' | ||
- | Tsar Aleksandr V. Tsesarevitch Aleksandr (what else). Grand Dukes Mikhail and Dmitri. And then ? Who ? Where did the succession go ? To the sons of Aleksandr' | ||
- | Bastard... No ! He slammed his head against the wall. No ! No ! No ! Bloodied, hurting he stagged back to the desk. The gun was moving in his hands. Now ! He thought... Now ! | ||
- | "Damn you to Hell, Aleksandr !" he tried to sneer | ||
- | "Dmya ahelxuh !" it came out. | ||
- | He placed the gun against his head and pulled. | ||
- | Bang ! Grand Duchess Theodora' | ||
+ | * * * * * * * * * * * * | ||
- | July 1936 | + | // |
- | Port Arthur | + | |
- | Prince Aleksandr returned the salute, | + | **Barcelona** |
- | "You put on a very good display, admiral." | + | |
- | Admiral Crown grinned widely. No matter how odd the political circumstances, | + | |
- | "Thank you, your highness", | + | |
- | "Tell me about your strength." | + | |
- | Crown pointed out towards the bay, | + | |
- | "The Rossiya, Gromoboi and Oleg are newly arrived from the Mediterranean. Each bears ten 16" guns. They are a match for the British Royal Oaks or the American Dakotas. They are more than a match for the French Orleans', | + | |
- | "They are that good ?" Aleksandr was impressed. | + | |
- | "There are better ships in Europe and the Americas" | + | |
- | "And we have better battleships in Europe ?", Prince Aleksandr was genuinely interested. | + | |
- | "Oh yes. The Petr Velikis in the Baltic and the Osliabias in the Mediterranean... But out here the Rossiyas rate almost as good as those." | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | "Oh yes." Admiral Crown added his full agreement, "Here in Port Arthur we can take on the world - and win !" | + | |
- | Grey Wolf | + | The British ambassador stared dumbfounded for a moment, then found his tongue, |
+ | "I am sure that I speak for all my countrymen in offering you our sincere condolences." | ||
+ | "Yes, I am sure" | ||
+ | The young Spaniard turned his back on the British aristocrat and gazed out through the window across the vast lawns of the palace, | ||
+ | "The Prince of the Asturias... No !" he snapped at himself, angry at the slip, "The King will be here tonight. He comes directly from Madrid." | ||
+ | "Has the...I mean, did the police...?" | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | He turned back towards the ambassador, | ||
+ | "But be sure he will be found. And when he is..." | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | When he is... Lord Cecil knew exactly what the apprehension of Queen Mercedes II's assassin would mean for Europe... | ||
- | This story is also posted at my ' | ||
- | http:// | ||
- | (Message edited by 1time_wolf on October 20, 2003) | + | * * * * * * * * * * * * |
- | **__Some notes on characters__** | + | // |
- | Being a subscriber to both the slow butterflies and coin-toss approach to history, since history is intended to have begun to diverge in the 1830s, by the time the story is set scarcely any of the characters are people who really existed. However, this was an evolving process, with historical characters lingering into the alternate history of the nineteenth century | + | **Alexandria** |
- | As a bit of a dynastic nut (you would never have guessed | + | "No, it shall not be !" |
+ | Mustafa Ali threw the ultimatum down upon the floor. | ||
+ | Another cannonade shook the royal palace, throwing more dust into the air. | ||
+ | "Where is Orkhan Pasha ?!" he rose furious to his feet, "The empire promises aid and yet...and yet the British Navy sails into our harbours !" | ||
+ | "He is dead." | ||
+ | For a moment the Egyptian Sultan turned his wrath-filled face upon the voice from the darkened doorway. Then he nodded; the Grand Mufti could address him as he saw fit. | ||
+ | "Fetch my horse" he whispered to an aide. | ||
+ | "Yes, your majesty" | ||
+ | "You mean to fight, cousin ?" | ||
+ | The speaker this time was his kinsman, Abdullah. | ||
+ | "I mean to fight" he snapped, then waved a hand in the air, "Look about you - use your eyes !" | ||
+ | "We should not have come to El Iskandryia" | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | As ever, but perhaps | ||
- | - The key would have to be the death of Victoria by a childhood illness and the accession in 1837 as King of Great Britain and Hannover of Ernest I. This brings trouble to Britain but has butterfly-like knock-on effects including the non-death of Ferdinand, son of Louis Philippe of France | ||
- | - The non-death of Ferdinand leads to Louis Philippe' | + | * * * * * * * * * * * * |
- | - The absence of 1848 has knock-on effects in Austria, where the rather less than fully-competent Ferdinand continues to reign until his death in the 1870s. Eventually a regency is imposed upon him after Metternich' | + | // |
- | - More butterflies lead to an earlier death for Aleksandr II and the accession of his son Nicholas II who, as historical, dies young. Aleksandr III is infected by butterflies and marries differently. He names his oldest son Aleksandr, and his second Nikolai (in reality it was the other way round and Aleksandr died in infancy). Aleksandr IV thus occupies the place in history that OTL Nicholas II did but he is NOT him, he is normal...well, | + | **Berlin** |
- | - As seen in the introduction Aleksandr V marries the daughter | + | "I have not forgiven you for the death of my father." |
+ | On the surface, to outside eyes the two men walked in step, in harmony. Born in the same year and allies by a long-standing agreement, Wilhelm I and Aleksandr V seemed like any two royal cousins would be as they walked into the palace | ||
+ | "You had better forgive | ||
+ | "The final assault on Vienna need not have been delayed.", | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Wilhelm shuddered | ||
+ | "There are more immediate matters to talk of", the Russian continued, "Your daughter first and foremost." | ||
+ | The German Emperor shivered to his boots. To imagine his beautiful Louisa married to a brute like this... But there was no avoiding it now. | ||
- | - Britain has seen Ernest I's son not being blinded as he was historical. He succeeds as George V. Butterflies step in and he has three sons who rule in turn, during the reign of whom Hannover is lost in the Wars of German Unification. The regnal list thus reads George VI, Edward VII and then the third brother Frederick George who reigns as George VII and is the king who dies in 1929, succeeded by William V. His sons include Ernest II and the young Richard, created Duke of Albany. Ernest II marries one of the daughters of the French king | ||
- | - France, I have not dealt with in great detail yet. Butterflies probably diverge either with Louis Philippe III or his brother Ferdinand. | + | * * * * * * * * * * * * |
- | - Oh, there is ONE historical character in the lead-in. King Stephen of Hungary is actually Archduke Karl Stefan of the Teschen line of the Habsburg dynasty. | + | //1930// |
+ | |||
+ | **London** | ||
- | Hope that makes everything clear ! | + | One year since... Just one year had passed but it already felt like an eternity. William V had waited so long to be king that by the time his father finally passed away he had grown old - and tired. The past year had been one of toil, relentless and never ending. |
+ | "Cheer up father." | ||
+ | It was Prince Richard, his youngest, who spoke, " | ||
+ | "The sprat is right.", | ||
+ | Tenderly, King William looked from his youngest daughter to his wife, and felt his blood run cold. There was something distinctly odd about Maria these days. She was staring intently at their daughter, her eyes almost bulging as if in an attempt to bore into her skull. | ||
+ | "Um, yes" William coughed and looked away, "We should, ah, celebrate indeed." | ||
+ | He staggered to his weary feet and padded across to the great bay window, | ||
+ | "And here is Ernie !" | ||
+ | He thought he had heard hooves, even through the snow that blanketed the courtyard outside. | ||
+ | "Oh God" Sophie hung her head, "I do hope we do not have to suffer more of his tiresome tales of Paris." | ||
+ | The king frowned and looked to his wife. Marie was usually ever ready to scold their daughter for blasphemy. Instead he found her staring intently into the light of a candle. | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Sophie only stared at him. How crazy the older generation could be. She knew love. She just did not wish to hear about the Prince of Wales' tiresome bride to be ! | ||
+ | As the king moved towards the door to greet his eldest son, Sophie met her mother' | ||
+ | Queen Marie looked down at the floor, her shoulders visibly shaking in an effort to control herself. | ||
+ | "I think we shall have some fun this Christmas." | ||
+ | "Oh yes !" Prince Richard beamed in his innocence, " | ||
- | Grey Wolf | ||
- | ---- | + | * * * * * * * * * * * * |
- | === Dancing the Shadows - Lead In (Part II) === | + | //1935// |
+ | **Alexandria** | ||
- | August 1936 | + | The Asar-i Tewfik sailed magnificently upon the azure sea, her six turrets trained fore and aft, a spotter kite flying in the air above, tethered to the mainmast. |
- | British Columbia | + | "The Sultan names a ship for himself ?", Prince Richard of Great Britain, recently created Duke of Albany, asked his brother. |
+ | Ernest II laughed, that good-natured throaty sound that always won his listeners over. | ||
+ | "I am told the ship's name can be translated as ' | ||
+ | Prince Richard laughed at the joke. | ||
- | "Sir, we have a problem." | + | A short way away upon the viewing platform, Tsar Aleksandr V frowned at the levity |
- | "What kind of problem ?" Colonel Stewart' | + | The attitude of the British was unacceptable. He made a mental note to do something about it later... |
- | "A big one, sir" Captain Aloysius Hammond took a moment' | + | |
- | For a moment there was a pause, then the Colonel' | + | |
- | "You mean the Tsar's uncle ?" | + | |
- | "Yes sir." | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | The line went dead. Captain Hammond slowly replaced the receiver and turned to the officer by the door, | + | |
- | "Call out B Company...call | + | |
- | The man snapped off a salute and hurried from the room. Taking one last look at the rolling forest beyond the windows, Hammond passed through into the comfortable ante-room. | + | |
- | "Well ?", | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | " | + | |
+ | It was cold - surprisingly cold. Alphonso XIV could not concentrate, | ||
- | September 1936 | ||
- | Marseille | ||
- | Prince Ferdinand dropped the glass, the crystal splintering into a thousand fragments as it hit the ground, | + | ---- |
- | "What in the name of God was that ?!" he demanded. | + | |
- | The reverberations still shook the building. Surely not an earthquake ? | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | "It did what ?" Prince Ferdinand shook his head as if to free of it the dust of normality. | + | |
- | "It just blew up..." | + | |
- | "My God", for a moment he was frozen in indecision, then his training kicked in, "Get a car. We shall go to the harbour and see for ourselves." | + | |
- | Nodding somewhat less than enthusiastically, | + | |
- | Prince Ferdinand frowned at the fragments of glass upon the floor, unsure of how they had got there. He smoothed down his uniform, that of an admiral in the royal fleet. Then he strode purposefully out of his office. | + | |
- | The scene at the dockside was one of pandemonium. The explosion had flattened several nearby warehouses, as well as causing a tidal surge which had swamped several smaller boats in the harbour. The Gloire had been one of France' | + | ==== LEAD IN ONE ==== |
- | Prince Ferdinand emerged from the staff car, a handkerchief to his face, his eyes watering almost immediately they came into contact with the smoke. | + | |
- | "What happened ?" he yelled at one of the men who came running to greet him. | + | |
- | "we don't know your highness." | + | |
- | "Just blew up ?" Prince Ferdinand turned away from the man. The pride of France' | + | |
+ | //January 1936// | ||
+ | |||
+ | **Prague** | ||
- | September 1936 | + | "The scene of your greatest victory, father." |
- | London | + | Archduke Eugen looked down at his youngest son and shook his head, |
+ | "It was a victory without meaning." | ||
+ | Leopold chewed his bottom lip, unhappy at the put-down. It did not seem right to forget such a feat of arms as his father had achieved before these very walls, fifteen years before. | ||
+ | "What about the death of the German Kaiser - THAT was an achievement !" | ||
+ | Eugen smiled fondly at his son's perseverance, | ||
+ | "It merits a note in the history books" the Archduke allowed, "But it gave the world Wilhelm I in his father' | ||
+ | "But we are come to meet him." Leopold was puzzled, "Are not relations between our two houses better than ever before ?" | ||
+ | "Yes, perhaps that it so." Eugen did not feel able to discuss the details with the boy. There were things best left unsaid. Instead he simply added, | ||
+ | "But it is because Kaiser Wilhelm quarrels with the Russians that he looks for new friends within Europe." | ||
+ | "And will we be friends with him, father ?" | ||
+ | Eugen looked into the adolescent' | ||
+ | "Time will tell." he said, then turned towards the window of the carriage, "Time will tell..." | ||
- | "Sir, you need to read this...now" | ||
- | Prince John, Duke of Kent looked up. Was the man being impertinent ? Perhaps not - there was a look of alarm on his face as he proferred the telegram. Reaching across the desk, the royal duke took it from him, | ||
- | "From the Orkneys ?" he raised his eyebrows at the headline. As the officer did not respond he read on... | ||
- | Silence reigned for a full minute whilst Prince John read, then reread the message. At length he looked up. The officer was standing as if frozen in time. | ||
- | "This is verified ?" he demanded. | ||
- | "Yes, sir. This is the full report not the preliminary despatch." | ||
- | Prince John tapped the arms of his chair, | ||
- | "The First Sealord is at Dover. Contact him immediately. I want the fleet on alert, never mind what Salisbury or the First Lord decide. I assume General Groves already has this. If he does not call in within the next ten minutes, contact him also. Then call in the regional commanders. Under the Defence of the Realm Act (1916) I am invoking a full session of the Home Defence Committee. I will inform the king." | ||
- | "Yes, sir" the man could hardly get the words out. He left the room as fast as he decently could. | ||
- | Prince John picked up the receiver from the red telephone upon his desk, the one that was rarely used, | ||
- | "Laura ?" he recognised the voice of the palace switchboard operator, "Get me the king immediately...and I mean immediately !" | ||
- | " | + | //February 1936// |
- | Lord Harcourt scratched his head, | + | //Saint Petersburg// |
- | "Some mines if I recall... Fisheries ? Not much." | + | |
- | "So what are the Russians doing ?" | + | |
- | The Foreign Secretary looked at the map of the Arctic that he had unfurled upon the table before them, | + | |
- | "If they establish a base there ?" he suggested. | + | |
- | There was a sharp knock at the door. Without waiting for an answer the flamboyant First Lord of the Admiralty bounded in to the Prime Minister' | + | |
- | "I have just heard." | + | |
- | Salisbury nodded, | + | |
- | "Why do you think the Russians have seized the islands ?" he asked the new arrival. | + | |
- | Andrew Farraday looked down at the map, | + | |
- | "It would be a good place for a forward base - bring the Arctic Fleet a lot nearer than at present. Or..." | + | |
- | "Or ?" Salisbury raised his eyebrows | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | There was another knock at the door. This time the person outside waited for permission before entering. A young man still only in his early twenties, he approached the Prime Minister with a decoded despatch. Salisbury took it and read it. He looked up, pursing his lips, | + | |
- | "From Stockholm. The Russian ambassador just presented Sweden with an ultimatum - surrender Spitzbergen." | + | |
- | "Or ..?" Lord Harcourt' | + | |
- | Salisbury nodded and looked across to his First Lord, | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | "Of course" | + | |
- | "I will be at Endymion House" he named the HeadQuarters of the Committee of Home Defence. | + | |
+ | "I will not listen to any more of this rubbish !" | ||
+ | Tsar Aleksandr V stopped his aide in mid flow. Eyes blazing he further emphasised the point by sweeping the entire contents of his desk - papers, pots and statuery - onto the floor in one almighty crash. He heaved a deep breath, gripping the wood at the edge until his knuckles went white, | ||
+ | "There MUST be a secret codicil." | ||
+ | He kicked at the mess on the floor, amidst which the copy of the Austro-German treaty could be found. | ||
+ | "Our agents assure us that this is the FULL treaty..." | ||
+ | "No !" the Tsar slammed a fist upon the desk. He glowered at them, "Get out !", he growled, "Get out !" | ||
+ | Exchanging puzzled and worried glances the generals backed away, at first slowly then more hastily as the Tsar jabbed a finger at the doorway. | ||
+ | When they were gone, Aleksandr walked slowly over to the window. Looking down on his fleet, iced in upon the Neva, he shook his head. Surely it was not just the one thing which had pushed Wilhelm to jump into bed with the Austrians ?! | ||
+ | He grimaced at his choice of phrase. Jump into bed... Was the Kaiser so angry at the dishonour to his daughter that he would ally with the enemy ? Were international affairs driven by such petty slights ? | ||
+ | No ! Surely there had to be more. The Austrians MUST have offered Berlin something... He vowed to find out what... | ||
- | October 1936 | ||
- | Vienna | ||
- | "The ultimatum expires at noon." Archduke Eugen remarked. | + | //March 1936// |
- | Emperor Otto I sipped at his coffee - dark and strong, just as he liked it. He nodded sagely, | + | |
- | "Yes, my brother. And we know what the Swedes will say." | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | "It is difficult to read the mind of a Russian." | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | Otto snorted, then launched into a coughing fit as he choked on his coffee. He set the cup down and steadied himself, | + | |
- | "And my ministers wonder if I am getting more eccentric in my old age." he wheezed, "What would they make of the Tsar !" | + | |
- | "Grand Duke Nikolai Aleksandrovich is said to believe him insane." | + | |
- | "One supposes he would know." Otto said carefully. | + | |
- | "Is there any hope that Aleksandr will be overthrown ?" | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | "And will it be ?" | + | |
- | It was a question that raised all the sore points of international diplomacy. In the 1915-1921 war Austria had been a firm ally of Britain, France and Spain. But her defeat and dismemberment had left the rump Austrian state outside of the Alliance. | + | |
- | "Our agents in London and Paris report confusion amongst the leadership of those nations. Spain will follow their lead, but what that will be ?", the emperor could only shrug his shoulders. | + | |
- | "They surely know that they must face Russia again eventually." | + | |
- | " | + | |
+ | **London** | ||
- | November 1936 | + | "Well, there is the other matter, your majesty." |
- | Paris | + | Ernest II nodded, |
+ | "Yes, there is. How much of the tales doing the rounds in the salons is true, do we know ?" | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "' | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "One can understand why Kaiser Wilhelm is rather more than upset with his erstwhile ally." | ||
+ | "Ah yes" Salisbury was well aware he was repeating himself, " | ||
+ | "Who would be ?" Ernest could easily understand those sentiments, " | ||
+ | "I have made discreet enquiries of Ambassador Fairfax" | ||
+ | "I see" Ernest sat back in his red leather chair and crossed his hands above his muscular breast, " | ||
+ | "And yet..." | ||
+ | "And yet we cannot but deal with him. Hungary, Egypt, the Principalities. Russia is the key to them all, and Aleksandr has made himself Russia." | ||
- | "My God..." | ||
- | The intelligence officer before him nodded slowly, swallowing with difficulty, | ||
- | "Yes, your highness. There can be no doubt." | ||
- | "My God..." | ||
- | Claude Duvallier was non-plussed. As a captain in Military Intelligence he did not expect to be involved n detailed discussion with the high comand. He had thought himself merely the messenger boy, | ||
- | "It means that Russian agents blew up the Gloire." | ||
- | Prince Ferdinand frowned, | ||
- | "It means that we have made a horrendous mistake.", | ||
- | To that, Captain Duvallier had no answer. | ||
- | Lord Harcourt was astonished. Rarely a man lost for words, he nevertheless found himself staring at his French counterpart, | + | //April 1936// |
- | "It is most unfortunate.", | + | |
- | " | + | **Budapest** |
- | "His majesty is of the opinion that to declare war now would be to enter a war that is already lost." | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | King Louis Philippe IV had been the strongest voice against giving military support to the Swedes. Who cared if the Russians occupied some desolate islands ? Those had been the arguments with which his government had beaten down Britain' | + | |
- | "And so ?" he demanded, " | + | |
- | The Duc de Guise had the decency to blush, | + | |
- | "His Majesty would like to assure his beloved allies that next time France will be ready to stand shoulder-to-shoulder in arms as previously we did before." | + | |
- | " | + | |
+ | " | ||
+ | King Stephen was well aware that he was considered a traitor by the other branches of the Habsburg dynasty for his acceptance of the Hungarian crown after the 1915-1921 War. Thus his kingdom' | ||
+ | Tsar Aleksandr V nodded and smiled a smile of triumph. The traitorous Germans may turn away from him. The perfidious British may ostracise him. But he could still control events. Europe would still dance to his tune ! The Hungarians, for example, could not do without him. | ||
+ | "Our two realms are bound by a mutual destiny" | ||
+ | As ever King Stephen was unsure how to answer such a direct statement. As usual he parried it aside with a platitude, | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "Firm friends, yes." Aleksandr emphasised each word in turn, "And so we will remain. A course of prosperity and power. A path of destiny. A road lined by Fate with the palm leaves of inevitability." | ||
+ | King Stephen smiled. It was both the confused smile of an old man and the tolerant smile of an old ally. The words themselves may be meaningless self-glorification. But he knew from long association what their intention was. | ||
+ | He raised his glass in the air, | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Downing his drink in one, Aleksandr laughed to himself. Yes - whether the Hungarians wanted it or not they would be victorious with him ! | ||
- | December 1936 | ||
- | London | ||
- | King Ernest II lowered the papers to the table, | + | //May 1936// |
- | "My God" he breathed, "This is the full treaty ? I had seen the summary in The Times." | + | |
- | "Yes, this is the full document, your majesty." | + | |
- | "That is something, at least." | + | |
- | "Yes, your majesty." | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | "We should have fought.", | + | |
- | "I must remind your majesty of the Treaty of Bayonne; the Alliance will act in concert in war, as in the making of peace." | + | |
- | The king ruffled the paper before him, | + | |
- | "The cession of disputed border territory, the demilitarisation of the border, the surrender of the fleet, the ' | + | |
- | "Yes, your majesty." | + | |
- | Grey Wolf | + | **Madrid** |
+ | King Alphonso XIV frowned and tried to concentrate on the words his Prime Minister was speaking. Youngest of the monarchs of Europe, albeit not by much over Ferdinando III of the Two Sicilies, he felt a heavy burden upon his shoulders. Well aware that his grandmother' | ||
+ | "Are we sure this new clause to the alliance is really necessary ?" he asked at length. | ||
+ | Count Serrano nodded sombrely, | ||
+ | "The assessment of the Foreign Ministry is that the Russian Empire is getting desperate. It is not 1915 now. They feel themselves hemmed in - by Germany' | ||
+ | "I see" Alphonso struggled to juggle all the facts at once, | ||
+ | "And the Ottoman Empire under Sultan Yusef I has moved ever closer to Western Europe. Tsar Aleksandr fears that Egypt will follow this drift away from Russia ?" | ||
+ | "Yes !" | ||
+ | For a moment Count Serrano sounded celebratory, | ||
+ | "There are numerous signs for us to be wary of - the Pacific Fleet at Port Arthur is being strengthened once again. The Russian mission to Peking is pressing once again for a defensive alliance. Alaska' | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | He petered out beneath the Count' | ||
+ | "Your majesty" | ||
+ | "I see" Alphonso cradled his head in his hands for a full minute, "So, Spain cannot remain aloof ? If we fail to support the Alliance, the Philipinnes, | ||
+ | "I do not know" Count Serrano spread his hands expansively, | ||
+ | "I understand" | ||
+ | "Yes indeed" | ||
- | ---- | + | //June 1936// |
- | === Dancing The Shadows - Introduction === | + | **Saint Petersburg** |
- | //1900, Berlin// | + | Prince Mishkin' |
+ | Cold steel... Hard and solid in his hands.. His service revolver... Had it really come to this ? | ||
+ | His glass was empty... Port - the British drink, his brother-in-law had called it sneeringly. Brother-in-law ? Cuckoo in the nest ! | ||
+ | He almost vomited upon the floor. How was he the last to know ? Why had nobody dared to tell him ? Had he always known ? He did not think so... Yes, looking back there were signs, but they meant nothing unless he knew what he was looking at. And that he only did now... | ||
+ | Oh God ! But could there even be a God ? What did this mean ? It felt like some dark trick of Lucifer' | ||
+ | Tsar Aleksandr V. Tsesarevitch Aleksandr (what else). Grand Dukes Mikhail and Dmitri. And then ? Who ? Where did the succession go ? To the sons of Aleksandr' | ||
+ | Bastard... No ! He slammed his head against the wall. No ! No ! No ! Bloodied, hurting he stagged back to the desk. The gun was moving in his hands. Now ! He thought... Now ! | ||
+ | "Damn you to Hell, Aleksandr !" he tried to sneer | ||
+ | "Dmya ahelxuh !" it came out. | ||
+ | He placed the gun against his head and pulled. | ||
+ | Bang ! Grand Duchess Theodora' | ||
- | The Kaiser was dying. Sombre courtiers padded softly around the palace. Government ministers came by more frequenly than at any time since the Syrian Crisis. A myriad of princes and princesses came to pay their final visits to the great man. | ||
- | At nine o' | + | //July 1936// |
+ | |||
+ | **Port Arthur** | ||
- | The bells tolled across | + | Prince Aleksandr returned |
+ | "You put on a very good display, admiral." | ||
+ | Admiral Crown grinned widely. No matter how odd the political circumstances, he was proud of his fleet - the Pacific Fleet. | ||
+ | "Thank you, your highness", | ||
+ | "Tell me about your strength." | ||
+ | Crown pointed out towards the bay, | ||
+ | "The Rossiya, Gromoboi | ||
+ | "They are that good ?" Aleksandr was impressed. | ||
+ | "There are better ships in Europe and the Americas" | ||
+ | "And we have better battleships in Europe ?", Prince Aleksandr was genuinely interested. | ||
+ | "Oh yes. The Petr Velikis in the Baltic and the Osliabias in the Mediterranean... But out here the Rossiyas rate almost as good as those." | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "Oh yes." Admiral Crown added his full agreement, "Here in Port Arthur we can take on the world - and win !" | ||
- | In the old man's bedroom, Frederick looked one last time at the body of his father. He heaved his shoulders, | + | ---- |
- | " | + | |
- | It did not not seem to fit. Maybe he would grow into it. He rather doubted it... | + | |
+ | ==== LEAD-IN TWO ==== | ||
- | //1905, Moscow// | + | //August 1936// |
- | Grand Duke Nikolai looked down at the twitching body of his elder brother, | + | **British Columbia** |
- | " | + | |
- | The Tsesarevitch stirred his father' | + | |
- | "He is dying." | + | |
- | "Alexi !" his uncle used the familiar form, "That is no way to speak of the emperor." | + | |
- | Aleksandr Aleksandrovich met his eyes, cold steel seeming to lance from out of the blackness oif his pupils, | + | |
- | "It is the truth, uncle." | + | |
- | "And you will soon be Tsar..." | + | |
- | The two turned towards the door. The woman standing there was young, barely out of her teens. | + | |
- | "Yes Theodora, I shall soon be Tsar." | + | |
- | The woman tossed her mane of dark brown hair. | + | |
- | "That is good, brother; it is very good indeed." | + | |
- | Nikolai turned away from his niece, venom on his tongue. He bit down. It was true... Soon, too soon, Aleksandr IV would be dead... It would do him well to start minding what he said. He said nothing. | + | |
- | Brother and sister exchanged a glance. Theodora sneered behind her uncle' | + | |
- | "I will be back when I hear the bells." | + | |
- | The Tsesarevitch turned back to the barely living body of his father, | + | |
- | "Fetch a priest." | + | |
- | //1910, Berlin// | + | "Sir, we have a problem." |
+ | "What kind of problem ?" Colonel Stewart' | ||
+ | "A big one, sir" Captain Aloysius Hammond took a moment' | ||
+ | For a moment there was a pause, then the Colonel' | ||
+ | "You mean the Tsar's uncle ?" | ||
+ | "Yes sir." | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | The line went dead. Captain Hammond slowly replaced the receiver and turned to the officer by the door, | ||
+ | "Call out B Company...call it a test drill or something. And contact Garner at the bridge. Tell him to close the border - nothing more." | ||
+ | The man snapped off a salute and hurried from the room. Taking one last look at the rolling forest beyond the windows, Hammond passed through into the comfortable ante-room. | ||
+ | "Well ?", a heavily-bearded man looked up from his chair at the long wooden table. | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | " | ||
- | "I am glad that that is over", Karl II heaved his bulk into an armchair and lit his pipe from the match a servant proferred. | + | //September 1936// |
- | Across the expanse of deep red carpet, the Russian emperor nodded as if in sympathy, | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | Karl paused, frowned, then shrugged. No doubt it was a linguistic slip. After all, German was not even the second language of the young Russian. | + | |
- | "I see a great future for our nations" | + | |
- | "The future..." | + | |
- | //1915, Barcelona// | + | **Marseille** |
- | The British ambassador stared dumbfounded for a moment, then found his tongue, | + | Prince Ferdinand dropped the glass, the crystal splintering into a thousand fragments as it hit the ground, |
- | "I am sure that I speak for all my countrymen in offering you our sincere condolences." he stammered, "There will be great shock at this news." | + | "What in the name of God was that ?!" he demanded. |
- | "Yes, I am sure" | + | The reverberations still shook the building. Surely not an earthquake ? |
- | The young Spaniard turned his back on the British aristocrat and gazed out through the window across the vast lawns of the palace, | + | "Sir...er, your highness |
- | "The Prince of the Asturias... No !" | + | "It did what ?" Prince Ferdinand shook his head as if to free of it the dust of normality. |
- | "Has the...I mean, did the police...?" | + | "It just blew up..." |
- | "No" | + | "My God", for a moment he was frozen in indecision, then his training kicked in, "Get a car. We shall go to the harbour and see for ourselves." |
- | He turned back towards | + | Nodding somewhat less than enthusiastically, |
- | "But be sure he will be found. And when he is..." | + | Prince Ferdinand frowned at the fragments |
- | " | + | |
- | When he is... Lord Cecil knew exactly what the apprehension | + | |
- | //1920, Alexandria// | + | The scene at the dockside was one of pandemonium. The explosion had flattened several nearby warehouses, as well as causing a tidal surge which had swamped several smaller boats in the harbour. The Gloire had been one of France' |
+ | Prince Ferdinand emerged from the staff car, a handkerchief to his face, his eyes watering almost immediately they came into contact with the smoke. | ||
+ | "What happened ?" he yelled at one of the men who came running to greet him. | ||
+ | "we don't know your highness." | ||
+ | "Just blew up ?" Prince Ferdinand turned away from the man. The pride of France' | ||
- | "No, it shall not be !" | ||
- | Mustafa Ali threw the ultimatum down upon the floor. | ||
- | Another cannonade shook the royal palace, throwing more dust into the air. | ||
- | "Where is Orkhan Pasha ?!" he rose furious to his feet, "The empire promises aid and yet...and yet the British Navy sails into our harbours !" | ||
- | "He is dead." | ||
- | For a moment the Egyptian Sultan turned his wrath-filled face upon the voice from the darkened doorway. Then he nodded; the Grand Mufti could address him as he saw fit. | ||
- | "Fetch my horse" he whispered to an aide. | ||
- | "Yes, your majesty" | ||
- | "You mean to fight, cousin ?" | ||
- | The speaker this time was his kinsman, Abdullah. | ||
- | "I mean to fight" he snapped, then waved a hand in the air, "Look about you - use your eyes !" | ||
- | "We should not have come to El Iskandryia" | ||
- | " | ||
- | As ever, but perhaps this time more than ever. | ||
+ | //September 1936// | ||
- | //1925, Berlin// | + | **London** |
- | "I have not forgiven | + | "Sir, you need to read this...now" |
- | On the surface, to outside eyes the two men walked in step, in harmony. Born in the same year and allies by a long-standing agreement, Wilhelm I and Aleksandr V seemed like any two royal cousins would be as they walked into the palace from the courtyard. | + | Prince John, Duke of Kent looked up. Was the man being impertinent ? Perhaps not - there was a look of alarm on his face as he proferred the telegram. Reaching across the desk, the royal duke took it from him, |
- | "You had better forgive his stupidity", the Russian retorted, "My army was not bound to relieve Prague. He had been better never to have gone there at all." | + | "From the Orkneys ?" he raised his eyebrows at the headline. As the officer did not respond he read on... |
- | " | + | Silence reigned for a full minute whilst Prince John read, then reread |
- | "There is little point to this line of talk." the Tsar stared into the eyes of the other. | + | "This is verified ?" |
- | Wilhelm shuddered and looked away. It was true what they said about Aleksandr. | + | "Yes, sir. This is the full report |
- | "There are more immediate matters to talk of", the Russian continued, "Your daughter first and foremost." | + | Prince John tapped the arms of his chair, |
- | The German Emperor shivered to his boots. To imagine his beautiful Louisa married to a brute like this... But there was no avoiding it now. | + | " |
+ | "Yes, sir" the man could hardly get the words out. He left the room as fast as he decently could. | ||
+ | Prince John picked up the receiver from the red telephone upon his desk, the one that was rarely used, | ||
+ | "Laura ?" | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Lord Harcourt scratched his head, | ||
+ | "Some mines if I recall... Fisheries ? Not much." | ||
+ | "So what are the Russians doing ?" | ||
+ | The Foreign Secretary looked at the map of the Arctic that he had unfurled upon the table before them, | ||
+ | "If they establish a base there ?" he suggested. | ||
+ | There was a sharp knock at the door. Without waiting for an answer the flamboyant First Lord of the Admiralty bounded in to the Prime Minister' | ||
+ | "I have just heard." | ||
+ | Salisbury nodded, | ||
+ | "Why do you think the Russians have seized the islands ?" he asked the new arrival. | ||
+ | Andrew Farraday looked down at the map, | ||
+ | "It would be a good place for a forward base - bring the Arctic Fleet a lot nearer than at present. Or..." | ||
+ | "Or ?" Salisbury raised his eyebrows | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | There was another knock at the door. This time the person outside waited for permission before entering. A young man still only in his early twenties, he approached the Prime Minister with a decoded despatch. Salisbury took it and read it. He looked up, pursing his lips, | ||
+ | "From Stockholm. The Russian ambassador just presented Sweden with an ultimatum - surrender Spitzbergen." | ||
+ | "Or ..?" Lord Harcourt' | ||
+ | Salisbury nodded and looked across to his First Lord, | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "Of course" | ||
+ | "I will be at Endymion House" he named the HeadQuarters of the Committee of Home Defence. | ||
- | //1930, London// | ||
- | One year since... Just one year had passed but it already felt like an eternity. William V had waited so long to be king that by the time his father finally passed away he had grown old - and tired. The past year had been one of toil, relentless and never ending. | + | //October 1936// |
- | "Cheer up father." | + | |
- | It was Prince Richard, his youngest, who spoke, " | + | |
- | "The sprat is right.", | + | |
- | Tenderly, King William looked from his youngest daughter to his wife, and felt his blood run cold. There was something distinctly odd about Maria these days. She was staring intently at their daughter, her eyes almost bulging as if in an attempt to bore into her skull. | + | |
- | "Um, yes" William coughed and looked away, "We should, ah, celebrate indeed." | + | |
- | He staggered to his weary feet and padded across to the great bay window, | + | |
- | "And here is Ernie !" | + | |
- | He thought he had heard hooves, even through the snow that blanketed the courtyard outside. | + | |
- | "Oh God" Sophie hung her head, "I do hope we do not have to suffer more of his tiresome tales of Paris." | + | |
- | The king frowned and looked to his wife. Marie was usually ever ready to scold their daughter for blasphemy. Instead he found her staring intently into the light of a candle. | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | Sophie only stared at him. How crazy the older generation could be. She knew love. She just did not wish to hear about the Prince of Wales' tiresome bride to be ! | + | |
- | As the king moved towards the door to greet his eldest son, Sophie met her mother' | + | |
- | Queen Marie looked down at the floor, her shoulders visibly shaking in an effort to control herself. | + | |
- | "I think we shall have some fun this Christmas." | + | |
- | "Oh yes !" Prince Richard beamed in his innocence, " | + | |
+ | **Vienna** | ||
- | //1935, Alexandria// | + | "The ultimatum expires at noon." Archduke Eugen remarked. |
+ | Emperor Otto I sipped at his coffee - dark and strong, just as he liked it. He nodded sagely, | ||
+ | "Yes, my brother. And we know what the Swedes will say." | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "It is difficult to read the mind of a Russian." | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Otto snorted, then launched into a coughing fit as he choked on his coffee. He set the cup down and steadied himself, | ||
+ | "And my ministers wonder if I am getting more eccentric in my old age." he wheezed, "What would they make of the Tsar !" | ||
+ | "Grand Duke Nikolai Aleksandrovich is said to believe him insane." | ||
+ | "One supposes he would know." Otto said carefully. | ||
+ | "Is there any hope that Aleksandr will be overthrown ?" | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "And will it be ?" | ||
+ | It was a question that raised all the sore points of international diplomacy. In the 1915-1921 war Austria had been a firm ally of Britain, France and Spain. But her defeat and dismemberment had left the rump Austrian state outside of the Alliance. | ||
+ | "Our agents in London and Paris report confusion amongst the leadership of those nations. Spain will follow their lead, but what that will be ?", the emperor could only shrug his shoulders. | ||
+ | "They surely know that they must face Russia again eventually." | ||
+ | " | ||
- | The Asar-i Tewfik sailed magnificently upon the azure sea, her six turrets trained fore and aft, a spotter kite flying in the air above, tethered to the mainmast. | ||
- | "The Sultan names a ship for himself ?", Prince Richard of Great Britain, recently created Duke of Albany, asked his brother. | ||
- | Ernest II laughed, that good-natured throaty sound that always won his listeners over. | ||
- | "I am told the ship's name can be translated as ' | ||
- | Prince Richard laughed at the joke. | ||
- | A short way away upon the viewing platform, Tsar Aleksandr V frowned at the levity of the British. Egypt had suffered mightily at their hands in the 1915-1921 war. Indeed, the completion of this first Egyptian battleship of the modern era marked a turning point in her reconstruction. Tewfik Ali was at last able to say that his nation could stand proud where it once had stood. As Egypt remained an ally of the Russian Empire that was important to Aleksandr. | + | //November 1936// |
- | The attitude of the British was unacceptable. He made a mental note to do something about it later... | + | |
- | It was cold - surprisingly cold. Alphonso XIV could not concentrate, | + | **Paris** |
- | Grey Wolf | + | "My God..." |
+ | The intelligence officer before him nodded slowly, swallowing with difficulty, | ||
+ | "Yes, your highness. There can be no doubt." | ||
+ | "My God..." | ||
+ | Claude Duvallier was non-plussed. As a captain in Military Intelligence he did not expect to be involved n detailed discussion with the high comand. He had thought himself merely the messenger boy, | ||
+ | "It means that Russian agents blew up the Gloire." | ||
+ | Prince Ferdinand frowned, | ||
+ | "It means that we have made a horrendous mistake.", | ||
+ | To that, Captain Duvallier had no answer. | ||
- | http:// | + | Lord Harcourt was astonished. Rarely a man lost for words, he nevertheless found himself staring at his French counterpart, |
+ | "It is most unfortunate.", | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "His majesty is of the opinion that to declare war now would be to enter a war that is already lost." | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | King Louis Philippe IV had been the strongest voice against giving military support to the Swedes. Who cared if the Russians occupied some desolate islands ? Those had been the arguments with which his government had beaten down Britain' | ||
+ | "And so ?" he demanded, " | ||
+ | The Duc de Guise had the decency to blush, | ||
+ | "His Majesty would like to assure his beloved allies that next time France will be ready to stand shoulder-to-shoulder in arms as previously we did before." | ||
+ | " | ||
- | As a note, this story began life as an Excel spreadsheet of statistics, all made-up etc, so that I could practice my rusty formula skills ! | + | //December 1936// |
- | (Message edited by 1time_wolf on October 18, 2003) | + | **London** |
- | Do note the 5 year intervals between snippets - that means that in the 35 year timespan covered by this, the number | + | King Ernest II lowered |
+ | "My God" he breathed, "This is the full treaty ? I had seen the summary in The Times." | ||
+ | "Yes, this is the full document, your majesty." | ||
+ | "That is something, at least." | ||
+ | "Yes, your majesty." | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "We should have fought." | ||
+ | "I must remind your majesty of the Treaty | ||
+ | The king ruffled the paper before him, | ||
+ | "The cession of disputed border territory, the demilitarisation of the border, the surrender of the fleet, the ' | ||
+ | "Yes, your majesty." | ||
- | Germany | ||
- | The First Kaiser (Karl) | ||
- | Frederick III | ||
- | Karl II | ||
- | Wilhelm I - ALIVE | ||
- | Britain | + | ************ |
- | King George VII | + | |
- | William V | + | |
- | Ernest II - ALIVE | + | |
+ | ---- | ||
- | Russia | + | ==== ONE ==== |
- | Tsar Alexander IV | + | |
- | Alexander V - ALIVE | + | |
+ | //May 1937// | ||
- | Spain | + | **London** |
- | Mercedes I | + | |
- | Mercedes II | + | |
- | ALphonso XIII | + | |
- | Alphonso XIV | + | |
- | I think France and Austria either have the same monarch | + | " |
+ | Andrew Farraday sank down into the plush blue armchair. He held his head in his hands, | ||
+ | "We fought 1932 as the ' | ||
+ | "I would like to see THEM do any better !", | ||
+ | Farraday looked up and laughed a grim sharp laugh, | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "Lewis !", the other could barely keep his contempt from out of his voice, "I never thought to see his type in Number Ten !" | ||
+ | The First Lord of the Admiralty did not respond to the barb. Instead he looked around the sitting room, normally a bustling centre of life at the Carlton Club. Tonight perhaps it still bustled, but a more apt word would be shuffled, and where usually there was life there was now a feeling of death, as if at a funeral they were. Defeat had hit them hard. Confirmation had only come in the last half hour, and shock still rebounded round the hallways. Groups of men stood silently, unsure of what to say, or of when to say it. | ||
+ | Farraday looked across to the younger man who was watching him intently; Lawrence Basset, last of an old breed of youth, first of a new breed of adult, | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "Will you let your name be put forward ?" the younger man asked. | ||
+ | Farraday ran his tongue around the inside of his lips, | ||
+ | "Derby will stand, Holmes too I should not wonder, but" he shrugged, "it can do no harm, I think." | ||
+ | "There are at least a dozen of us who will back you right now" Lawrence said fiercely, "I could have words..." | ||
+ | He petered off as Farraday shook his head. | ||
+ | "Let it wait.", | ||
+ | Lawrence hardly needed to ask what he meant. | ||
- | Things are really only a bit dire in Germany (2 old guys, 1 killed in battle) and Spain | ||
- | Thanks for reading and commenting | + | **Aberdeen** |
- | Grey Wolf | + | Oleg looked up from the dockside and nodded to himself. The Okhrana' |
+ | "Mr McMillan ?" the voice before him said, the a moment later, "Here are your papers, Mr McMillan." | ||
+ | Oleg blinked, then smiled. He took the papers back from the customs inspector and walked along the gangway onto the quayside. He stood back as a steam tram rattled along the rails, crowded and no doubt stuffy inside. After his journey across the North Sea he could feel his stomach telling him that a smoother journey in a more pleasant environment would suit him better. | ||
+ | Walking across the cobbled roadway, his keen sense noted the bustle around the goods sheds to the right, the cars and vans passing slowly as they manoevred around the horses and carts, and the goods wagons that a tank engine was hauling towards a loading bay. | ||
+ | Across the roadway, in front of the Harbour Office, a number of automobiles were drawn up, their drivers smoking their pipes or reading the newspaper. Oleg recognised a rank of private charabancs when he saw them. Smiling, satisifed, he waited for an old van to rattle past, then made his way across to the foremost vehicle. | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "The railway station" | ||
+ | Oleg made his own entrance into the rear, and took a seat facing forwards. Only once he was seated did the driver start the engine, and roll forward into the lane of traffic. | ||
+ | "If we go up Shore Brae we can get to Union Street much quicker.", | ||
+ | Oleg nodded. Two weeks ago, before he was detailed for this assignment, he would not have understood what the man had said, in fact he would not have recognised it as English. But the reason he had risen so quickly in the Okhrana was his gift for languages. In just two weeks he was now able to pass himself off as a perfect Scotsman...or at least what the Russian Empire considered a perfect Scotsman to be. | ||
+ | "Did you know Union Street is built on a series of huge arches ?", the driver threw over his shoulder. | ||
+ | "Why is that ?", Oleg asked. | ||
+ | He, ofcourse, knew both the fact and the reason for it. The Okhrana did not send agents into foreign countries without a detailed briefing. | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Oleg sat back and let the charabanc' | ||
- | (Message edited by 1time_wolf on October 19, 2003) | ||
+ | **London** | ||
- | ---- | + | "I suppose that you have heard the news ?" |
+ | Princess Sophia looked up from where she was playing with one of the palace dogs, teasing the spaniel with a ball tied to a length of silk ribbon. | ||
+ | "The news ? Oh", she nodded, her long brown hair bouncing on her head, "What of it ?" | ||
+ | Prince Richard, Duke of Albany, frowned deeply, | ||
+ | "I cannot see the Liberals appointing an Official Censor as compliant as old Tovey was." | ||
+ | "You are afraid that your infatuation with that fat Wurttemberger will come out ?" she laughed, a beautiful yet at the same time mocking sound. | ||
+ | Richard' | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "What then, brother ?", Sophia at last tired of toying with the dog. Letting the fevered mutt have the ribbon, she turned her attention to toying with her younger brother, "Do you have secrets that even I do not know ?" | ||
+ | Richard blushed. Perhaps that meant that he did. But it was not what he was on about, and his sister knew it. | ||
+ | "Over the last year alone, Tovey had nipped in the bud how many stories about your...escapades ?", he chose a more delicate word at the last moment, fearing to anger her. | ||
+ | She did not answer him, but her gaze hardened and the fingers on her left hand clenched into a fist. Somewhat nervously Richard continued, | ||
+ | "I know of at least ten different occasions... I am suire there are ones I do not know of." | ||
+ | "Nor will you." her voice was stone to his ears, "My life is my business and mine alone." | ||
+ | "The public may not see it that way... Your expenses are after all paid for by parliamentary grant." | ||
+ | "Then we will have to make sure that the Censor understands his job, Liberal or no." | ||
+ | "Oh ?", her brother tried not to sound too incredulous, | ||
+ | A smile suddenly animated her face, a dangerous light shining from her eyes, | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Richard just stared at his sister. Surely she did not mean...? What else COULD she mean ? | ||
- | === Dancing The Shadows - Chapter First === | ||
- | //May 1937// | + | **Aberdeen** |
- | //London// | + | The railway station was not what he had expected. He knew it from photographs that he had seen in Moscow, knew it from the copy of the designer' |
+ | He passed across the concourse, noting the time from the giant clock hanging over the centre. He was early, but of course he was not really - he was here deliberately at this time. Only that way could he be sure. | ||
+ | The station tavern did not seem to have a name. He had been puzzled not to see one on the photographs, | ||
+ | He made his way across the floor to the bar - noticing things. The absence of sawdust upon the flor. The spitoons discreetly in the corner. The empty ashtrays which showed that the patron took a care with his premises. The old men in the corner, perhaps the only regulars this place had. The individuals, | ||
+ | "Yes sir ?", the patron was a florid white-haired man, his Scottish accent bearing the unmistakeable overlay of the regimental Seargant Major. Ex-army, no doubt that went a long way towards keeping order in a place like this...or in place like this could have been with a weaker character in charge. | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | While the patron pulled the pump, Oleg made a show of searching through his pockets. Let the pickpockets wonder if he were not in fact poor, let the better quality folk wonder if he was so rich he did not carry loose change. He found two shillings, one from King George VII's reign and one minted that very year, and placed them on the bar. | ||
+ | The patron settled his pint down and nodded at the money, | ||
+ | "Its two and six now sir. We had to put our prices up after last month' | ||
+ | "Oh, I am sorry." | ||
+ | "Its quite a turn-up for the books.!" | ||
+ | For a moment Oleg was confused; surely no one had expected the Conservatives to survive. He opened the newspaper up, | ||
+ | "Oh !" he said in some surprise. | ||
+ | The Midday Edition it declared itself to be, ' | ||
+ | "Mr Lewis can appoint whomsoever he wants", | ||
+ | "No, indeed." | ||
+ | Well, that would make things interesting, | ||
- | " | ||
- | Andrew Farraday sank down into the plush blue armchair. He held his head in his hands, | ||
- | "We fought 1932 as the ' | ||
- | "I would like to see THEM do any better !", the serious young man sitting opposite him spoke with venom. | ||
- | Farraday looked up and laughed a grim sharp laugh, | ||
- | " | ||
- | "Lewis !", the other could barely keep his contempt from out of his voice, "I never thought to see his type in Number Ten !" | ||
- | The First Lord of the Admiralty did not respond to the barb. Instead he looked around the sitting room, normally a bustling centre of life at the Carlton Club. Tonight perhaps it still bustled, but a more apt word would be shuffled, and where usually there was life there was now a feeling of death, as if at a funeral they were. Defeat had hit them hard. Confirmation had only come in the last half hour, and shock still rebounded round the hallways. Groups of men stood silently, unsure of what to say, or of when to say it. | ||
- | Farraday looked across to the younger man who was watching him intently; Lawrence Basset, last of an old breed of youth, first of a new breed of adult, | ||
- | " | ||
- | "Will you let your name be put forward ?" the younger man asked. | ||
- | Farraday ran his tongue around the inside of his lips, | ||
- | "Derby will stand, Holmes too I should not wonder, but" he shrugged, "it can do no harm, I think." | ||
- | "There are at least a dozen of us who will back you right now" Lawrence said fiercely, "I could have words..." | ||
- | He petered off as Farraday shook his head. | ||
- | "Let it wait.", | ||
- | Lawrence hardly needed to ask what he meant. | ||
+ | **London** | ||
- | // | + | "I don't believe it." |
+ | The whisper was hoarse, was hard with despair. Although it was daylight, had been for many hours now, the heavy curtains remained closed from the night before. Perhaps no one should be permitted to gaze in upon their misery. The day that had started with joy was now ending more heavily laden with doom than anyone could have predicted. | ||
+ | He gazed upon the brown envelope by his side upon the chaise long, | ||
+ | ' | ||
+ | it was addressed simply. Party leader, he nodded grimly, but what a party... | ||
+ | Beside the envelope was its contents, strewn carelessly where he had thrown them down, the few type-written sheets of paper which so irked his heart. A heavy hand lifted the topmost one, upon which was the summary; the percentages told a cleaner story than did the numbers of seats won. | ||
+ | 'The Liberal Party - 52% of seats' | ||
+ | That was the only one that mattered. An absolute majority ! And where did that leave the Radicals ? | ||
+ | He dd not have an answer to that question. His party had more seats than before the election - but less relevance. It had been assumed that Lewis would need him to be able to rule. But not with an absolute majority. There would be no coalition now, none of his men in government, no Deputy Prime Ministership for himself. Just five long heart-breaking years of opposition - again. It hardly bore thinking about... | ||
+ | He blinked...well, | ||
+ | He was on his feet now, pacing the wreck of his office, kicking over piles of papers, piles of books, folders and reports. This was NOT politics ! This was shit. Kick it over, kick it away. | ||
+ | Were they not called the RADICAL Party ?! Well, then, let them BE radical ! He would talk with Buckmaster. | ||
+ | He reached for the telephone, then paused. It would probably be best not to involve his secretary - Ellie might be a fierce sufragette, but this might be too much for her. Yes, there was a better way of doing this. He picked up the telephone, cradled the bulk in his arm and placed the receiver under his chin. Dialling the number dragged from the depths of his memory he moved to the window, pulling the curtains slightly apart. Blinking into the sunlight he smiled as the device on the other end was picked up. | ||
+ | "New Model Army" came the reply. | ||
+ | "This is Mulligan. Your people and my people, we need to talk." | ||
+ | There was a pause, the sense of a hurried whispered exchange, then | ||
+ | "Name the place. We will be there." | ||
- | Oleg looked up from the dockside and nodded to himself. The Okhrana' | ||
- | "Mr McMillan ?" the voice before him said, the a moment later, "Here are your papers, Mr McMillan." | ||
- | Oleg blinked, then smiled. He took the papers back from the customs inspector and walked along the gangway onto the quayside. He stood back as a steam tram rattled along the rails, crowded and no doubt stuffy inside. After his journey across the North Sea he could feel his stomach telling him that a smoother journey in a more pleasant environment would suit him better. | ||
- | Walking across the cobbled roadway, his keen sense noted the bustle around the goods sheds to the right, the cars and vans passing slowly as they manoevred around the horses and carts, and the goods wagons that a tank engine was hauling towards a loading bay. | ||
- | Across the roadway, in front of the Harbour Office, a number of automobiles were drawn up, their drivers smoking their pipes or reading the newspaper. Oleg recognised a rank of private charabancs when he saw them. Smiling, satisifed, he waited for an old van to rattle past, then made his way across to the foremost vehicle. | ||
- | " | ||
- | "The railway station" | ||
- | Oleg made his own entrance into the rear, and took a seat facing forwards. Only once he was seated did the driver start the engine, and roll forward into the lane of traffic. | ||
- | "If we go up Shore Brae we can get to Union Street much quicker.", | ||
- | Oleg nodded. Two weeks ago, before he was detailed for this assignment, he would not have understood what the man had said, in fact he would not have recognised it as English. But the reason he had risen so quickly in the Okhrana was his gift for languages. In just two weeks he was now able to pass himself off as a perfect Scotsman...or at least what the Russian Empire considered a perfect Scotsman to be. | ||
- | "Did you know Union Street is built on a series of huge arches ?", the driver threw over his shoulder. | ||
- | "Why is that ?", Oleg asked. | ||
- | He, ofcourse, knew both the fact and the reason for it. The Okhrana did not send agents into foreign countries without a detailed briefing. | ||
- | " | ||
- | Oleg sat back and let the charabanc' | ||
+ | **Aberdeen** | ||
- | //London// | + | He looked up. The train for the Highlands was coming in. Among the places listed amongst its stops - Balmoral. Oleg smiled a happy smile. |
- | "I suppose that you have heard the news ?" | + | ---- |
- | Princess Sophia looked up from where she was playing with one of the palace dogs, teasing the spaniel with a ball tied to a length of silk ribbon. | + | |
- | "The news ? Oh", she nodded, her long brown hair bouncing on her head, "What of it ?" | + | |
- | Prince Richard, Duke of Albany, frowned deeply, | + | |
- | "I cannot see the Liberals appointing an Official Censor as compliant as old Tovey was." | + | |
- | "You are afraid that your infatuation with that fat Wurttemberger will come out ?" she laughed, a beautiful yet at the same time mocking sound. | + | |
- | Richard' | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | "What then, brother ?", Sophia at last tired of toying with the dog. Letting the fevered mutt have the ribbon, she turned her attention to toying with her younger brother, "Do you have secrets that even I do not know ?" | + | |
- | Richard blushed. Perhaps that meant that he did. But it was not what he was on about, and his sister knew it. | + | |
- | "Over the last year alone, Tovey had nipped in the bud how many stories about your...escapades ?", he chose a more delicate word at the last moment, fearing to anger her. | + | |
- | She did not answer him, but her gaze hardened and the fingers on her left hand clenched into a fist. Somewhat nervously Richard continued, | + | |
- | "I know of at least ten different occasions... I am suire there are ones I do not know of." | + | |
- | "Nor will you." her voice was stone to his ears, "My life is my business and mine alone." | + | |
- | "The public may not see it that way... Your expenses are after all paid for by parliamentary grant." | + | |
- | "Then we will have to make sure that the Censor understands his job, Liberal or no." | + | |
- | "Oh ?", her brother tried not to sound too incredulous, | + | |
- | A smile suddenly animated her face, a dangerous light shining from her eyes, | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | Richard just stared at his sister. Surely she did not mean...? What else COULD she mean ? | + | |
+ | ==== TWO ==== | ||
- | //Aberdeen// | + | //June 1937// |
- | The railway station was not what he had expected. He knew it from photographs that he had seen in Moscow, knew it from the copy of the designer' | + | **Paris** |
- | He passed across the concourse, noting the time from the giant clock hanging over the centre. He was early, but of course he was not really - he was here deliberately at this time. Only that way could he be sure. | + | |
- | The station tavern did not seem to have a name. He had been puzzled not to see one on the photographs, | + | |
- | He made his way across the floor to the bar - noticing things. The absence of sawdust upon the flor. The spitoons discreetly in the corner. The empty ashtrays which showed that the patron took a care with his premises. The old men in the corner, perhaps the only regulars this place had. The individuals, | + | |
- | "Yes sir ?", the patron was a florid white-haired man, his Scottish accent bearing the unmistakeable overlay of the regimental Seargant Major. Ex-army, no doubt that went a long way towards keeping order in a place like this...or in place like this could have been with a weaker character in charge. | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | While the patron pulled the pump, Oleg made a show of searching through his pockets. Let the pickpockets wonder if he were not in fact poor, let the better quality folk wonder if he was so rich he did not carry loose change. He found two shillings, one from King George VII's reign and one minted that very year, and placed them on the bar. | + | |
- | The patron settled his pint down and nodded at the money, | + | |
- | "Its two and six now sir. We had to put our prices up after last month' | + | |
- | "Oh, I am sorry." | + | |
- | "Its quite a turn-up for the books.!" | + | |
- | For a moment Oleg was confused; surely no one had expected the Conservatives to survive. He opened the newspaper up, | + | |
- | "Oh !" he said in some surprise. | + | |
- | The Midday Edition it declared itself to be, ' | + | |
- | "Mr Lewis can appoint whomsoever he wants", | + | |
- | "No, indeed." | + | |
- | Well, that would make things interesting, | + | |
+ | Flames leapt up the sides of the ruined charabanc, smoke billowing into the air as the driver relinquished all control to the forces of nature. Careening across the carriageway it swiped aside a van that was little more than a motorised cart, and ploughed into the tables of a pavement cafe. Warned by the explosion and subsequent chaos as the burning apparition headed towards them, all of the mid-morning clientele had managed to hastily evacuate their tables. Over-turning on impact, the charabanc spilled screaming and bloody bodies from its upper deck as it careened through the window of the establishment, | ||
+ | "Holy mother" | ||
+ | The Archduke slowly stood up from his crouching position. | ||
+ | "What happened ?" a voice cried behind him. | ||
+ | Friedrich Franz looked vaguely around for his hat, then gave up. His mind was not functioning properly. What HAD happened ? There had been a flash of light. For some reason - instinct ? - he had ducked, then behind him the charabanc had exploded. He had a vague impression before that of it pulling away from a stop, a ticket-collector standing at the foot of the stairway that wound up the back, passengers crowded on the open upper deck. Had the flash of light caused the explosion ? Had some kind of mortar been fired ? What would have happened had he not ducked ? | ||
+ | "My God" a secret policeman - one of his invisible shadows - stepped forward to draw alongside the Hungarian exile, "Are they all dead ?" | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "My God" his shadow echoed, this time more devoutly. | ||
- | //London// | ||
- | "I don't believe it." | + | **London** |
- | The whisper was hoarse, was hard with despair. Although it was daylight, had been for many hours now, the heavy curtains remained closed from the night before. Perhaps no one should be permitted to gaze in upon their misery. The day that had started with joy was now ending more heavily laden with doom than anyone could have predicted. | + | |
- | He gazed upon the brown envelope by his side upon the chaise long, | + | |
- | ' | + | |
- | it was addressed simply. Party leader, he nodded grimly, but what a party... | + | |
- | Beside the envelope was its contents, strewn carelessly where he had thrown them down, the few type-written sheets of paper which so irked his heart. A heavy hand lifted the topmost one, upon which was the summary; the percentages told a cleaner story than did the numbers of seats won. | + | |
- | 'The Liberal Party - 52% of seats' | + | |
- | That was the only one that mattered. An absolute majority ! And where did that leave the Radicals ? | + | |
- | He dd not have an answer to that question. His party had more seats than before the election - but less relevance. It had been assumed that Lewis would need him to be able to rule. But not with an absolute majority. There would be no coalition now, none of his men in government, no Deputy Prime Ministership for himself. Just five long heart-breaking years of opposition - again. It hardly bore thinking about... | + | |
- | He blinked...well, | + | |
- | He was on his feet now, pacing the wreck of his office, kicking over piles of papers, piles of books, folders and reports. This was NOT politics ! This was shit. Kick it over, kick it away. | + | |
- | Were they not called the RADICAL Party ?! Well, then, let them BE radical ! He would talk with Buckmaster. | + | |
- | He reached for the telephone, then paused. It would probably be best not to involve his secretary - Ellie might be a fierce sufragette, but this might be too much for her. Yes, there was a better way of doing this. He picked up the telephone, cradled the bulk in his arm and placed the receiver under his chin. Dialling the number dragged from the depths of his memory he moved to the window, pulling the curtains slightly apart. Blinking into the sunlight he smiled as the device on the other end was picked up. | + | |
- | "New Model Army" came the reply. | + | |
- | "This is Mulligan. Your people and my people, we need to talk." | + | |
- | There was a pause, the sense of a hurried whispered exchange, then | + | |
- | "Name the place. We will be there." | + | |
+ | Princess Sophia leant back and luxuriated in the soft embrace of the couch. She raised the cocktail glass to her lips. Who knew what was in it ? She did not care. She took a large swallow and gazed beauteosly at her friends who sat around her. Similarly attired in fine yet risque outfits, and drinking who-knew-what with the devil-may-care attitude of the Old Rich, they represented the best blood that Britain had. And she revelled at being the centre of it all. | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Sophia ran her tongue sensuously over her lips then laughed, | ||
+ | "I do not think much of the new Official Censor." | ||
+ | "Why ?", the young man was genuinely puzzled, "Isaac Charles has a reputation for being a toady towards you lot." | ||
+ | He meant the royal family and he, indeed, spoke the truth. Sophia wrinkled her nose and ran a strand of her long brown hair through her fingers, | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Sophia took a hearty swig of the unidentified cocktail, | ||
+ | "I bet he's a pig in bed" she said. | ||
+ | Sarah spluttered. Robert grinned a good natured confusion, | ||
+ | "Well, thank goodness you are not his wife, then" he said. | ||
+ | Sophia met his gaze and nodded, suddenly sober, | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Her friends just stared at her in confusion, before breaking into nervous giggles. The princess was being more strange than ever tonight... | ||
- | // | ||
- | He looked up. The train for the Highlands was coming in. Among the places listed amongst its stops - Balmoral. Oleg smiled a happy smile. | + | **Paris** |
+ | "Yes, I understand. Yes, I will make sure of that." | ||
+ | Hector Bellingham hung the telephone back upon its stand. He took a deep breath then exited the small study, striding down the stairway with a measured pace as he categorised the facts within his mind. | ||
+ | The two guards in the hallway, ornate-helmeted and breast-plated ceremonial elite presented arms as he passed. | ||
+ | A manservant seemingly materialised out of nowhere. Bowing deeply to the British Foreign Secretary he indicated that he should accompany him, | ||
+ | "If you would please come this way, sir." | ||
+ | Hector followed him down a carpeted passageway to a pair of large doors. One was ajar, and beyond it he could see shelves of books, a roaring fireplace and three armchairs arranged around a coffee table. One of the chairs was occupied, | ||
+ | "Msr le duc will see you now." | ||
+ | Hector frowned at the man; the phrasing did not feel right and, besides, should HE not have been the one being introduced to the Frenchman. | ||
+ | Seeing only stone in the manservant' | ||
+ | The French Foreign Minister rose slowly at his approach and nodded sharply, | ||
+ | "I trust you are sufficiently refreshed ?" he asked. | ||
+ | "Yes, the facilities are quite adequate." | ||
+ | He found it hard to disguise his contempt for the Foreign Minister. Like all Liberals, except for those from the Socialist fringe, he had no problem with aristocrats in government. There had always been great Liberal Lords, and there were again with Vincent Lewis having appointed three to his cabinet, the most senior being the Earl of Oxford. | ||
+ | But the Duc de Guise was not only an aristocrat, he was also a scion of a junior branch of the royal family and by all accounts he owed his position more to his Orleans heritage than to any idea of merit. | ||
+ | After the events of the previous year over Spitzbergen, | ||
+ | The duc indicated that he take one of the vacant seats. Hector did so, and waited. Maybe the Frenchman would play the host and provide him with a drink ? None was forthcoming. | ||
+ | Instead, the duc settled himself back down, | ||
+ | "We await Archduke Friedrich Franz" he said. | ||
+ | Hector nodded, as if he had been informed. | ||
+ | "He was involved in an incident on his way here. Luckily he was not hurt." | ||
+ | "I see. That is most fortunate." | ||
+ | They lapsed into an awkward silence. Hector turned his thoughts inward... | ||
- | Grey Wolf | + | Archduke Friedrich Franz was from the Habsburg dynasty' |
+ | The manservant announced him properly, | ||
+ | "Your highness, Msr Bellingham, may I present His Imperial Hiighness Archduke Friedrich Franz of Hungary and Austria." | ||
+ | The Archduke, freshly attired, entered and doffed his brand new hat, | ||
+ | "Your highness, Mr Bellingham, I am honoured to meet you." | ||
+ | The Duc de Guise smiled a pleased smile, | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "Yes indeed." | ||
+ | "That, of course, is why we are here !", the duc informed him. | ||
+ | Hector raised his eyebrows. Well, that was certainly news to him ! | ||
- | ---- | ||
- | === Dancing The Shadows - Chapter Two === | + | **London** |
- | //June 1937// | + | Andrew Farraday walked slowly down the pavement. He was vaguely aware of the secret policemen trailing him, a necessary precaution in this day and age but they were relatively unobstructive, |
+ | The coming weeks would see the culmination of the leadership contest within the Conservative Party. It was a shadowy and clandestine contest, to be sure, held behind closed doors, present only in briefings and in private meetings. Yet by the end of the month the party managers would be aware of the general - or majority, if that was not forthcoming - consensus. And a new man would be named to replace Lord Salisbury. | ||
+ | He turned the corner, and the Carlton Club came into sight on the left. Ah, he thought, finally, where it all went down... | ||
+ | He never saw the blast. Later he would think maybe he had glanced down at his feet - to check whether he still walked between the puddles. He had seen the car - but vaguely, a presence before the building. Rather than an exact article in itself. The explosion blew him off his feet. | ||
- | //Paris// | + | "Sir ! Sir ! Get back please, we don't know if it's safe !" |
+ | Farraday stared at the man, aware that he knew him from somewhere. Since picking himself up off the floor, he was not at all sure that he was thinking straight. His instinct had been to rush up to the Carlton Club, to help....with what, he wasn't sure. And now this man was trying to stop him. | ||
+ | A fire engine pulled up, all screaming siren and revolving light. He watched, almost mesmerised, as the London firemen leapt down from the sides and began to hastily unravel the hose. | ||
+ | Around them a crowd of curious and shocked onlookers were gathering, all staring at the devastation. For the first time Farraday' | ||
+ | "Oh my God...! he managed. | ||
+ | The man in front of him had moved on, trying to clear the way through the crowd for several ambulance crews to pass. Farraday just stood, numb and rooted to the spot, watching. | ||
+ | The whole front of the Carlton Club was gone, blown away into the interior if it had not crashed down upon the pavement. The car which he assumed had contained the bomb had disappeared, | ||
+ | Like any of the gathering crowd, Farraday just stood and watched. The police soon arrived to keep people back from the immediate area, and firemen soon had the smaller fires under control. Numbed survivors either staggered out of their own volition, or were beginning to be hauled out by the ambulance crews. | ||
+ | Farraday started as two ambulance men, smoke-stained and grim-faced, emerged carrying a stretcher between them. Lying on his back was a man whose face was unmistakeable, | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | One of the ambulance men turned to him, | ||
+ | "Are you a friend of this gentleman, sir ?" | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | The ambulance man frowned, stepping out of the way to let another pair pass with another stretcher, | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | He stopped seeing the shock on the other man's face, | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "I see", Farraday could not manage much more. | ||
+ | He just stood there staring as they carried Lawrence away... Who on Earth was responsible for this outrage ? | ||
- | Flames leapt up the sides of the ruined charabanc, smoke billowing into the air as the driver relinquished all control to the forces of nature. Careening across the carriageway it swiped aside a van that was little more than a motorised cart, and ploughed into the tables of a pavement cafe. Warned by the explosion and subsequent chaos as the burning apparition headed towards them, all of the mid-morning clientele had managed to hastily evacuate their tables. Over-turning on impact, the charabanc spilled screaming and bloody bodies from its upper deck as it careened through the window of the establishment, | ||
- | "Holy mother" | ||
- | The Archduke slowly stood up from his crouching position. | ||
- | "What happened ?" a voice cried behind him. | ||
- | Friedrich Franz looked vaguely around for his hat, then gave up. His mind was not functioning properly. What HAD happened ? There had been a flash of light. For some reason - instinct ? - he had ducked, then behind him the charabanc had exploded. He had a vague impression before that of it pulling away from a stop, a ticket-collector standing at the foot of the stairway that wound up the back, passengers crowded on the open upper deck. Had the flash of light caused the explosion ? Had some kind of mortar been fired ? What would have happened had he not ducked ? | ||
- | "My God" a secret policeman - one of his invisible shadows - stepped forward to draw alongside the Hungarian exile, "Are they all dead ?" | ||
- | " | ||
- | "My God" his shadow echoed, this time more devoutly. | ||
+ | **Paris** | ||
- | --- London --- | + | Sebastian threw the papers down upon the desk. |
+ | "Sam !" he yelled, "What the hell is this ?!" | ||
+ | Samuel Carson appeared in the doorway, his journalist' | ||
+ | "The order came in from Washington while you were out." he drawled. | ||
+ | Sebastian gestured wildly in the air, | ||
+ | "But for God's sake" he spluttered, "What are we supposed to do ? Just call everybody off ?!" | ||
+ | "I guess so." Sam sounded rather less concerned than his boss, "If they tell us to stop, we stop." | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "So Andy and Larry don't appear in the log ?" | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "And Andy and Larry ?" Sam flicked his visor with his index finger. | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Sebastian walked across to the great bay window and looked down on the busy streets outside. Why, he wondered, just why would Washington order him to stop watching the Russians ? Just what did that signify ? He ran a few possible answers through his mind and found that he did not like any of them. | ||
- | Princess Sophia leant back and luxuriated in the soft embrace of the couch. She raised the cocktail glass to her lips. Who knew what was in it ? She did not care. She took a large swallow and gazed beauteosly at her friends who sat around her. Similarly attired in fine yet risque outfits, and drinking who-knew-what with the devil-may-care attitude of the Old Rich, they represented the best blood that Britain had. And she revelled at being the centre of it all. | ||
- | " | ||
- | Sophia ran her tongue sensuously over her lips then laughed, | ||
- | "I do not think much of the new Official Censor." | ||
- | "Why ?", the young man was genuinely puzzled, "Isaac Charles has a reputation for being a toady towards you lot." | ||
- | He meant the royal family and he, indeed, spoke the truth. Sophia wrinkled her nose and ran a strand of her long brown hair through her fingers, | ||
- | " | ||
- | " | ||
- | Sophia took a hearty swig of the unidentified cocktail, | ||
- | "I bet he's a pig in bed" she said. | ||
- | Sarah spluttered. Robert grinned a good natured confusion, | ||
- | "Well, thank goodness you are not his wife, then" he said. | ||
- | Sophia met his gaze and nodded, suddenly sober, | ||
- | " | ||
- | Her friends just stared at her in confusion, before breaking into nervous giggles. The princess was being more strange than ever tonight... | ||
+ | **London** | ||
- | --- Paris --- | + | " |
+ | " | ||
+ | "HM Airship Celeste reports Russian 2nd Battle-squadron at Latitude 57 degrees 30 minutes, Longitude 9 degrees. Speed increasing to 25 knots, bearing North-North-West. Estimate 20 minutes until they catch up with the scouting pair." | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "It is a story with only a beginning, admiral.", | ||
+ | The white-haired veteran of the 1915-1921 war turned slowly around, | ||
+ | "I agree, your highness. The middle chapter is the most crucial. We must cover all possible scenarios for that." | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "We need to read Aleksandr' | ||
+ | Admiral Withers just stared at Prince John. To have made such a statement ! | ||
+ | "Sir !", it was the intelligence officer again, "We have a serious problem. Signals Intelligence in Halifax is reporting that the U.S. Atlantic Fleet is putting to sea." | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "I rather think not.", Prince John sounded almost scornful at the idea, "I am calling a meeting of the Home Defence Committee for two hours' time. If you are unable to be there, send a deputy with plenipotentiary powers." | ||
+ | "I understand", | ||
- | "Yes, I understand. Yes, I will make sure of that." | + | ---- |
- | Hector Bellingham hung the telephone back upon its stand. He took a deep breath then exited the small study, striding down the stairway with a measured pace as he categorised the facts within his mind. | + | |
- | The two guards in the hallway, ornate-helmeted and breast-plated ceremonial elite presented arms as he passed. | + | |
- | A manservant seemingly materialised out of nowhere. Bowing deeply to the British Foreign Secretary he indicated that he should accompany him, | + | |
- | "If you would please come this way, sir." | + | |
- | Hector followed him down a carpeted passageway to a pair of large doors. One was ajar, and beyond it he could see shelves of books, a roaring fireplace and three armchairs arranged around a coffee table. One of the chairs was occupied, | + | |
- | "Msr le duc will see you now." | + | |
- | Hector frowned at the man; the phrasing did not feel right and, besides, should HE not have been the one being introduced to the Frenchman. | + | |
- | Seeing only stone in the manservant' | + | |
- | The French Foreign Minister rose slowly at his approach and nodded sharply, | + | |
- | "I trust you are sufficiently refreshed ?" he asked. | + | |
- | "Yes, the facilities are quite adequate." | + | |
- | He found it hard to disguise his contempt for the Foreign Minister. Like all Liberals, except for those from the Socialist fringe, he had no problem with aristocrats in government. There had always been great Liberal Lords, and there were again with Vincent Lewis having appointed three to his cabinet, the most senior being the Earl of Oxford. | + | |
- | But the Duc de Guise was not only an aristocrat, he was also a scion of a junior branch of the royal family and by all accounts he owed his position more to his Orleans heritage than to any idea of merit. | + | |
- | After the events of the previous year over Spitzbergen, | + | |
- | The duc indicated that he take one of the vacant seats. Hector did so, and waited. Maybe the Frenchman would play the host and provide him with a drink ? None was forthcoming. | + | |
- | Instead, the duc settled himself back down, | + | |
- | "We await Archduke Friedrich Franz" he said. | + | |
- | Hector nodded, as if he had been informed. | + | |
- | "He was involved in an incident on his way here. Luckily he was not hurt." | + | |
- | "I see. That is most fortunate." | + | |
- | They lapsed into an awkward silence. Hector turned his thoughts inward... | + | |
- | Archduke Friedrich Franz was from the Habsburg dynasty' | + | ==== THREE ==== |
- | The manservant announced him properly, | + | |
- | "Your highness, Msr Bellingham, may I present His Imperial Hiighness Archduke Friedrich Franz of Hungary and Austria." | + | |
- | The Archduke, freshly attired, entered and doffed his brand new hat, | + | |
- | "Your highness, Mr Bellingham, I am honoured to meet you." | + | |
- | The Duc de Guise smiled a pleased smile, | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | "Yes indeed." | + | |
- | "That, of course, is why we are here !", the duc informed him. | + | |
- | Hector raised his eyebrows. Well, that was certainly news to him ! | + | |
+ | //June 1937// | ||
- | --- London --- | + | **Northern Approaches** |
- | Andrew Farraday walked slowly down the pavement. He was vaguely aware of the secret policemen trailing him, a necessary precaution | + | " |
- | The coming weeks would see the culmination | + | " |
- | He turned | + | Commander Octavius Farrington looked up from the radio station, wondering just what a regular interval |
- | He never saw the blast. Later he would think maybe he had glanced down at his feet - to check whether he still walked | + | "Any change ?" he asked grimly. |
+ | "No sir" | ||
+ | He nodded. Ever since the Russian Fleet had altered course, and it had become clear that it was not heading for Spitzbergen, British scouting cruisershad had it under visual observation. The Bacchante was one of the newest | ||
+ | He swept his binoculars over the nearest ships - two large cruisers he was almost sure were the Bogatyr and Boyarin, and a flotilla of eight very modern-looking destroyers. It was the same in the rest of the fleet - the three newest classes of battleship, the most modern scouting cruisers, fleet auxiliaries which he knew from reports had only been completed the year before, and only the largest ocean-going destroyers. Just what was Aleksandr doing sending his entire first-class fleet out of the Baltic and into the Atlantic ? | ||
+ | There came a chatter of code on the radio, a moment' | ||
+ | "Sir, message from Northern Tracking Station - Halifax reports that the U.S. 1st Battle-squadron with attendant vessels is heading due Easr into the Atlantic." | ||
+ | "To meet the Russians ?", Farrington was confused. | ||
+ | Relations | ||
+ | "Any movement from the Russian fleet ?" | ||
+ | "No change, sir." | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "Yes sir", the radio officer flicked the voice control open. | ||
- | "Sir ! Sir ! Get back please, we don't know if it's safe !" | ||
- | Farraday stared at the man, aware that he knew him from somewhere. Since picking himself up off the floor, he was not at all sure that he was thinking straight. His instinct had been to rush up to the Carlton Club, to help....with what, he wasn't sure. And now this man was trying to stop him. | ||
- | A fire engine pulled up, all screaming siren and revolving light. He watched, almost mesmerised, as the London firemen leapt down from the sides and began to hastily unravel the hose. | ||
- | Around them a crowd of curious and shocked onlookers were gathering, all staring at the devastation. For the first time Farraday' | ||
- | "Oh my God...! he managed. | ||
- | The man in front of him had moved on, trying to clear the way through the crowd for several ambulance crews to pass. Farraday just stood, numb and rooted to the spot, watching. | ||
- | The whole front of the Carlton Club was gone, blown away into the interior if it had not crashed down upon the pavement. The car which he assumed had contained the bomb had disappeared, | ||
- | Like any of the gathering crowd, Farraday just stood and watched. The police soon arrived to keep people back from the immediate area, and firemen soon had the smaller fires under control. Numbed survivors either staggered out of their own volition, or were beginning to be hauled out by the ambulance crews. | ||
- | Farraday started as two ambulance men, smoke-stained and grim-faced, emerged carrying a stretcher between them. Lying on his back was a man whose face was unmistakeable, | ||
- | " | ||
- | One of the ambulance men turned to him, | ||
- | "Are you a friend of this gentleman, sir ?" | ||
- | " | ||
- | The ambulance man frowned, stepping out of the way to let another pair pass with another stretcher, | ||
- | " | ||
- | He stopped seeing the shock on the other man's face, | ||
- | " | ||
- | "I see", Farraday could not manage much more. | ||
- | He just stood there staring as they carried Lawrence away... Who on Earth was responsible for this outrage ? | ||
+ | **London** | ||
- | --- Paris --- | + | Princess Sophia let go of the arm of the guardsman and staggered into the centre of the paved walk. Her vision was blurred from an incessant cocktail of drinks, and she was tired, so tired ! Drinking, partying, and the bedroom, her eyes glittered at the memory. She tripped on a paving stone and fell flat upon the ground. Where was that guardsman when she needed him ? Angrily, muttering curses that would have put to shame any fishwife, she raised herself to her knees... |
- | Sebastian threw the papers down upon the desk. | + | A wave of intense heat washed over her. Then a blast wave drew her breath |
- | "Sam !" he yelled, "What the hell is this ?!" | + | |
- | Samuel Carson appeared in the doorway, his journalist' | + | |
- | "The order came in from Washington while you were out." he drawled. | + | |
- | Sebastian gestured wildly in the air, | + | |
- | "But for God's sake" he spluttered, "What are we supposed to do ? Just call everybody off ?!" | + | |
- | "I guess so." Sam sounded rather less concerned than his boss, "If they tell us to stop, we stop." | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | "Three - one on the embassy, one on the ambassador' | + | |
- | "So Andy and Larry don't appear in the log ?" | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | "And Andy and Larry ?" Sam flicked his visor with his index finger. | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | Sebastian walked across to the great bay window and looked down on the busy streets outside. Why, he wondered, just why would Washington order him to stop watching the Russians ? Just what did that signify ? He ran a few possible answers through his mind and found that he did not like any of them. | + | |
+ | She waited. No one came. Slowly, painfully, she groped her way onto all fours and blinked away the tears. Her dress, white before the night had started, grubby and stained with various substances a moment before, was now shredded, hanging from her in blackened stripes. Her skin smarted from dozens of tiny puncture wounds and burns. But she was alive - and all her limbs remained whole. | ||
- | --- London --- | + | Ahead of her the wreck of the limousine burned brightly in the night. Testing her legs gingerly she stood up. The ruin of her dress slid from her shoulders. Almost absent mindedly she stepped out of it, kicking it away, either not remembering or not caring that her underwear remained in some young buck's bedroom back within the mansion house. |
- | " | + | Naked, smeared with blood and sweat, she walked unsteadily towards what surely had been intended |
- | " | + | |
- | "HM Airship Celeste reports Russian 2nd Battle-squadron at Latitude 57 degrees 30 minutes, Longitude 9 degrees. Speed increasing | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | "It is a story with only a beginning, admiral.", | + | |
- | The white-haired veteran of the 1915-1921 war turned slowly around, | + | |
- | "I agree, your highness. The middle chapter is the most crucial. We must cover all possible scenarios for that." | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | "We need to read Aleksandr' | + | |
- | Admiral Withers just stared at Prince John. To have made such a statement ! | + | |
- | "Sir !", it was the intelligence officer again, "We have a serious problem. Signals Intelligence | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | "I rather think not.", Prince John sounded almost scornful at the idea, "I am calling | + | |
- | "I understand", | + | |
- | Grey Wolf | + | **Mid Atlantic** |
- | ---- | + | Sometimes it still did not seem real. If going through clouds, one had the feeling of somehow being suspended in limbo, an expedition to nowhere, perhaps a wraith captured by the mist. There was still the throb of the engines, the vibration of the hull, and the bite of the wind, but the mist seemed to dampen it all, to swallow up all sound, to leave the traveller marooned to drift forever in this netherworld. |
+ | Jonathan shook his head to dispel such thoughts, and moved slowly along the passageway. The heavy whine of the engines told him that HM airship Lysander was dropping out of the clouds, descending for a better view at what was below them. | ||
+ | "Ah, Lieutenant Carstairs", | ||
+ | "Yes sir." | ||
+ | Jonathan moved to the window, and swung the view-finder round. Similar in appearance to what might be found at any seaside fair, the machine was far more powerful and would give him as good a view as if he held a telescope to each eye. | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Jonathan did some quick calculations and swung the view-finder round until the compass needle was pointing a degree or two beyond West. Ah, there they were ! | ||
+ | He focused in, bringing the long line of grey ships into clearer view. Sweeping along the line, he did a cursory examination of the auxiliaries | ||
+ | Then he came to the battleships, | ||
+ | Closing in on the battleships he wondered whether some day, even such behemoths as these would fear attack from the air, and whether it would be the airship or the aeroplane which might deliver it. | ||
+ | "First battlesquadron steaming in order Borodino, Gangut, Poltava, Navarin" | ||
- | === Dancing The Shadows - Chapter Three === | ||
- | //June 1937// | + | **Hungary** |
- | //Northern Approaches// | + | " |
+ | "Mais oui ?" Archduke Friedrich Franz smiled up at him. French may be his fourth language - after German, Hungarian and Italian - but he was certainly fluent in it. | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "To Pesh, on business.", | ||
+ | The train guard took the document and flicked through it. He pursed his lips; well, it WOULD be in French, wouldn' | ||
+ | "Thank you sir", he handed passport and papers back, "The next stop is Agram. Please enjoy your stay in the Kingdom of Hungary." | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | The guard nodded and moved on down the carriage. Shutting the briefcase, Friedrich Franz sat back and breathed out heavily. Well, time would tell if the fellow had bought his story, but he would certainly be careful to watch his step once they got to Pesh... | ||
- | " | ||
- | " | ||
- | Commander Octavius Farrington looked up from the radio station, wondering just what a regular interval in these circumstances was. He made his way over to the bridge rail and looked out. Ahead, the sky was a silent white, giving no indication of which way the weather might go. To port, however, in a roughly Southerly direction, line after line of ships could be seen steaming on a heading of almost exactly West-by-North-West. | ||
- | "Any change ?" he asked grimly. | ||
- | "No sir" | ||
- | He nodded. Ever since the Russian Fleet had altered course, and it had become clear that it was not heading for Spitzbergen, | ||
- | He swept his binoculars over the nearest ships - two large cruisers he was almost sure were the Bogatyr and Boyarin, and a flotilla of eight very modern-looking destroyers. It was the same in the rest of the fleet - the three newest classes of battleship, the most modern scouting cruisers, fleet auxiliaries which he knew from reports had only been completed the year before, and only the largest ocean-going destroyers. Just what was Aleksandr doing sending his entire first-class fleet out of the Baltic and into the Atlantic ? | ||
- | There came a chatter of code on the radio, a moment' | ||
- | "Sir, message from Northern Tracking Station - Halifax reports that the U.S. 1st Battle-squadron with attendant vessels is heading due Easr into the Atlantic." | ||
- | "To meet the Russians ?", Farrington was confused. | ||
- | Relations between Russia and the United States had always been friendly. Within North America they both had the British Empire as an enemy. But what, quite, did this signify ? | ||
- | "Any movement from the Russian fleet ?" | ||
- | "No change, sir." | ||
- | " | ||
- | " | ||
- | "Yes sir", the radio officer flicked the voice control open. | ||
- | --- London --- | + | **Balmoral, Scotland** |
- | Princess Sophia let go of the arm of the guardsman | + | Oleg watched, thinking himself the hawk above the field mice. It had taken a while, but he was not surprised by that. In other circumstances the church across the river at Crathie would have offered the perfect opportunity for an ambush. But that did not work when his target was not a member |
+ | So, it was not a Sunday, | ||
+ | Looking down from his perch, Oleg watched as the royal party made its way across the courtyard. The current royal duke in residence was Prince Edward, Duke of York, an uncle of King Ernest II and older brother to the Duke of Kent. He was a man in his mid sixties, relatively undistinguished looking, but able to carry himself with a certain bearing. Today he walked beside his target, and - as a bonus, Oleg had known there would be one - both of the target' | ||
+ | Oleg hefted | ||
- | A wave of intense heat washed over her. Then a blast wave drew her breath | + | "Your royal highness", |
+ | Prince Edward laughed, | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | A shot rang out. No one knew where it had come from. But Grand Duke Nikolai Aleksandrovich collapsed soundless to the ground. Before anyone had a chance to make a move a second shot rang out. Andrei Nikolaievich, | ||
- | She waited. No one came. Slowly, painfully, she groped her way onto all fours and blinked away the tears. Her dress, white before | + | Oleg removed the additions to the gun, and pocketed them. He moved slowly backwards and made his unhurried way back across |
- | Ahead of her the wreck of the limousine burned brightly in the night. Testing her legs gingerly she stood up. The ruin of her dress slid from her shoulders. Almost absent mindedly she stepped out of it, kicking it away, either not remembering or not caring that her underwear remained in some young buck's bedroom back within the mansion house. | ||
- | Naked, smeared with blood and sweat, she walked unsteadily towards what surely had been intended to be her death. Behind her, upon the paved walk, the guardsman escort lay decapitated in a spreading pool of his own blood | + | **Mid Atlantic** |
+ | "All engines stop !" Captain Karoli commanded. | ||
+ | "All engines stop, aye." | ||
+ | The giant battleship which had been slowing down for the past ten minutes finally drifted to a halt. Without the sound of the engines there was an eery silence upon the bridge. The officer of the deck did not hesitate to break it, | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | The radio officer listened intently withn his headphones, then reported | ||
+ | "The Nevsky reports she is stable in position, and awaiting guests." | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "Thank you, comander." | ||
+ | Tsar Aleksandr V nodded once. He was of course well aware of the facts already, not having had his eyes closed and his ears bunged during his time upon the bridge. But he appreciated the captain' | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "Yes, Your Majesty." | ||
+ | "Then I will to the launch." | ||
+ | Without looking back, the Tsar of All the Russians departed from the bridge. Aides and guards fell in around him, as they headed for the launch. With one last look at his flagship, Aleksandr stepped aboard and settled onto the bench. His aides, and the gun-toting members of his personal guard, did likewise. Then the crew started the engine and the launched turned in the water. | ||
+ | The journey across the the Nevsky passed relatively quickly, and entirely without incident. Aleksandr used the time to study the American battleship beyond - the USS Sonora, flagship of the US Atlantic Fleet, and at least a match for the Borodino. Except of course that they would never fight each other. | ||
- | --- Mid Atlantic --- | + | The Nevsky had started life as a transport, but during the previous year as part of a reconstruction programme it had been entirely rebuilt. On the outside it still looked the same, but inside it resembled nothing more than a luxury liner. Initially intended as an incognito version of imperial yacht, it served well enough in its current duties. |
+ | Leaving all but two of his guards on the deck, and divesting himself of all but his most senior aides, Tsar Aleksandr followed the captain of the Nevsky down a marble staircase and across an expansive room in the centre of which a fountain poured its water from out of the mouth of a statuesque Venus. It would have seemed incongruous had he not himself drawn up the design from a scene envisioned in one of his dreams. | ||
+ | "The Americans are through here, your majesty." | ||
+ | Aleksandr allowed himself to be led into one of the smaller rooms that exited the hallway. Whilst the Grand Dining Room and the State Ballroom would have had magnificence, | ||
+ | The American delegation was standing in one corner, being served with wine by a smartly-attired court waiter. In their top hats and tails they looked every inch the American politicians that he had seen pictures of. | ||
+ | "His Imperial Majesty, Aleksandr V, Tsar of All the Russians !" | ||
+ | The captain' | ||
+ | "Your majesty, I am Herbert Prouse, President of the United States of America." | ||
+ | "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr President." | ||
+ | The mood noticeably lightened, the normally taciturn Prouse breaking into a smile that did strange | ||
+ | "May I present Dr Robert Reid, Attorney General; Mr Simeon Spake, Secretary of Defence; Mr Abraham Jenkinson, Under Secretary of State; and Mr Lucas Riley, Under Secretary of the Navy." | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "This is Nikolai Vaskkov, Head of my State Secretariat, | ||
+ | In his turn, the president noded a greeting at the Tsar's aides. Aleksandr smiled and pointed to the table, | ||
+ | "If we can make a start, gentlemen. Mr Vashkov has our copy of the treaty." | ||
+ | As they sat themselves around the table, the American Attorney General opened a leather document wallet and produced a wad of papers, | ||
+ | "And this, your majesty, is our copy." | ||
+ | " | ||
- | Sometimes it still did not seem real. If going through clouds, one had the feeling of somehow being suspended in limbo, an expedition to nowhere, perhaps a wraith captured by the mist. There was still the throb of the engines, the vibration of the hull, and the bite of the wind, but the mist seemed to dampen it all, to swallow up all sound, to leave the traveller marooned to drift forever in this netherworld. | + | ---- |
- | Jonathan shook his head to dispel such thoughts, and moved slowly along the passageway. The heavy whine of the engines told him that HM airship Lysander was dropping out of the clouds, descending for a better view at what was below them. | + | |
- | "Ah, Lieutenant Carstairs", | + | |
- | "Yes sir." | + | |
- | Jonathan moved to the window, and swung the view-finder round. Similar in appearance to what might be found at any seaside fair, the machine was far more powerful and would give him as good a view as if he held a telescope to each eye. | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | Jonathan did some quick calculations and swung the view-finder round until the compass needle was pointing a degree or two beyond West. Ah, there they were ! | + | |
- | He focused in, bringing the long line of grey ships into clearer view. Sweeping along the line, he did a cursory examination of the auxiliaries | + | |
- | Then he came to the battleships, | + | |
- | Closing in on the battleships he wondered whether some day, even such behemoths as these would fear attack from the air, and whether it would be the airship or the aeroplane which might deliver it. | + | |
- | "First battlesquadron steaming in order Borodino, Gangut, Poltava, Navarin" | + | |
+ | ==== FOUR ==== | ||
- | --- Hungary --- | + | //July 1937// |
- | " | + | **Cairo, Egypt** |
- | "Mais oui ?" Archduke Friedrich Franz smiled up at him. French may be his fourth language - after German, Hungarian and Italian - but he was certainly fluent in it. | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | "To Pesh, on business.", | + | |
- | The train guard took the document and flicked through it. He pursed his lips; well, it WOULD be in French, wouldn' | + | |
- | "Thank you sir", he handed passport and papers back, "The next stop is Agram. Please enjoy your stay in the Kingdom of Hungary." | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | The guard nodded and moved on down the carriage. Shutting the briefcase, Friedrich Franz sat back and breathed out heavily. Well, time would tell if the fellow had bought his story, but he would certainly be careful to watch his step once they got to Pesh... | + | |
+ | Charles Heyward was concerned. He could never remember the Americans taking much notice of Egypt. They had always maintained an embassy here, but a minimal staff. But now - suddenly - the Ambassador had received a proper-sized contingent, and he was paying a visit to the Khedive. | ||
+ | He looked across the dusty road. The two fez-wearing Egyptians in the locally-built limousine were, of course, aware of his presence. But it was like that, the shadow world in Cairo. They watched, they saw, but rarely did anyone act. | ||
+ | He started as someone knocked on the opposite window. Biting down a curse, he reached across and wound it down, | ||
+ | "What the devil are you playing at ?" he asked the man who was standing there. | ||
+ | Rannulph Carstairs had been braced for his superior' | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "The Russian Fleet put into port yesterday, and he surprised everyone - EXCEPT the Americans - with his appearance." | ||
+ | "Well now", that certainly added a different dimension to recent events here in Cairo. And the American delegation had already been with the Khedive for a full half hour. | ||
+ | "We need to find out what's happening in there." | ||
+ | "Ali ?" the other asked | ||
+ | Charles nodded, | ||
+ | "Yes, and as quickly as possible." | ||
+ | As Carstairs made a hurried exit, Charles turned his attention back to the two Egyptian officers sat across the road in their limousine. Just what had they made of the brief and hurried exchange ? Out of habit he checked for the service revolver beneath his seat, and nodded. In the last resort there was always that. | ||
- | --- Balmoral, Scotland --- | ||
- | Oleg watched, thinking himself the hawk above the field mice. It had taken a while, but he was not surprised by that. In other circumstances the church across the river at Crathie would have offered the perfect opportunity for an ambush. But that did not work when his target was not a member of the Protestant-Anglican faith. | + | **The Yucatan** |
- | So, it was not a Sunday, and the target was surrounded by his guards, hardly making any attempt to hide the revolvers on their belts. The locals expressed little surprise. Although they did not know the target, or his family, they were used to royal visitors in Balmoral and one of the royal dukes was always in residence, so this unknown other raised little surprise. Although some did mutter that it was unusual that his identity had not been made public. | + | |
- | Looking down from his perch, Oleg watched as the royal party made its way across the courtyard. The current royal duke in residence was Prince Edward, Duke of York, an uncle of King Ernest II and older brother to the Duke of Kent. He was a man in his mid sixties, relatively undistinguished looking, but able to carry himself with a certain bearing. Today he walked beside his target, and - as a bonus, Oleg had known there would be one - both of the target' | + | |
- | Oleg hefted the weapon. It had been easy to acquire a hunting rifle, easy again to have made specialist adjustments to it. He had been out on the estate, paying the going rate for a deer stalking license, making his presence in the area anything but a secret. He had practised, and made himself familiar with the weapon, its inconsistencies, | + | |
- | " | + | Blue and white. Those were Tsar Aleksandr' |
- | Prince Edward laughed, | + | Against all this, the grey lines of the battle-fleet looked like a school of whales which had swum inadvertently up to the locks of the canal. |
- | "Humble, Aaron ? I think not.", | + | " |
- | A shot rang out. No one knew where it had come from. But Grand Duke Nikolai Aleksandrovich collapsed soundless | + | " |
+ | Alfred Cass was momentarily taken aback, but soon recovered. Not for nothing was he a scion of an old and noble family, | ||
+ | "Yes indeed, your majesty. And it is a most mighty fleet indeed !" | ||
+ | "Of course it is", | ||
+ | "My ancestor had the right idea", he said slowly, " | ||
+ | "Most true, your majesty", | ||
+ | Aleksandr gave him a curious look, just long enough for the Governor' | ||
+ | "Four battleships," | ||
+ | "Oh yes indeed, your majesty" | ||
+ | Aleksandr slowly turned back from his perusal of the boy. He shrugged, then rubbed his nose, | ||
+ | "Where are your presidents ?" | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "Your warships - where are the ones named for your presidents ? The great Petr Veliki is named for my forefather. The same with the Nikolai I, the Pavel and the Ekaterina Velikaya. I see states and cities, but I do not see your great presidents." | ||
+ | It was the admiral who had spoken before who dared to answer the Russian emperor, | ||
+ | "Ah, your majesty. The only presidents in our armed forces serve in the air !" | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | The American blanched, | ||
+ | "Er yes, your majesty. Although strictly they are not part of the armed services, the federal government took over airship operations after the crash of 1932. There are twenty great leviathans of the air, all named after presidents." | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Alfred Cass beamed to hear his president spoken of in such glowing terms, amidst such illustrious company, | ||
+ | "Ah, glorious names indeed, your majesty." | ||
+ | Aleksandr nodded. Again there was a peculiar silence. He looked across the canal to where a moving picture crew were filming his reception. He looked closely at them, the camera on its tripod, the film can hanging from it, the crew working it with expertise. Without a doubt his face would adorn American moving picture theatres in just a couple | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "I had thought as much." Aleksandr turned back towards his American hosts, "I wish to hire one of your airships", | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "I am certain that such passage can be arranged at once for a personage of your exulted eminence." | ||
+ | " | ||
- | Oleg removed the additions to the gun, and pocketed them. He moved slowly backwards and made his unhurried way back across the stream. He had a license to shoot in the forest, and he would finish the day as he had purportedly begun. The Okhrana did not train men to ignore local features or leave their route of escape open to observation. No one saw him as he made his way back into the cover of the trees. Now, to stalk those deer... | ||
+ | **North Yorkshire** | ||
- | --- Mid Atlantic --- | + | The sun glinted off the shining black paintwork. Steam and smoke rushed headlong into the clear blue sky. Rhythmically, |
- | "All engines stop !" Captain Karoli commanded. | + | The guard slid back the door of the compartment and gave the fixed smile of a taciturn man forced |
- | "All engines stop, aye." | + | "Your tickets and documents please, sir." |
- | The giant battleship which had been slowing down for the past ten minutes finally drifted to a halt. Without | + | Oleg handed over his papers, every inch the man who expected no problem at all. The guard ran a practical eye over them; Edinburgh-to-London first class, open return. He glanced at the documents, |
- | "Launch heading out from the USS Sonora" | + | "Mr Hays ?", |
- | The radio officer listened intently withn his headphones, then reported | + | "Yes", Oleg affected |
- | "The Nevsky reports she is stable in position, and awaiting guests." | + | "Enjoy your stay in London, sir." |
- | "Sir", | + | The guard handed |
- | "Thank you, comander." | + | The change of identity was all part of the plan. Mr McMillan had retired home to Edinburgh, except that the address given was one number more than the street possessed. Mr Hays had been ' |
- | Tsar Aleksandr V nodded once. He was of course well aware of the facts already, not having had his eyes closed | + | Oleg opened |
- | " | + | |
- | "Yes, Your Majesty." | + | |
- | "Then I will to the launch." | + | |
- | Without looking back, the Tsar of All the Russians departed from the bridge. Aides and guards fell in around him, as they headed for the launch. With one last look at his flagship, Aleksandr stepped aboard and settled onto the bench. His aides, and the gun-toting members | + | |
- | The journey across | + | |
- | The Nevsky had started life as a transport, but during the previous year as part of a reconstruction programme it had been entirely rebuilt. On the outside it still looked the same, but inside it resembled nothing more than a luxury liner. Initially intended as an incognito version of imperial yacht, it served well enough in its current duties. | + | //"Tsar Alexander' |
- | Leaving all but two of his guards on the deck, and divesting himself of all but his most senior aides, | + | |
- | "The Americans are through here, your majesty." | + | |
- | Aleksandr allowed himself to be led into one of the smaller rooms that exited the hallway. Whilst the Grand Dining Room and the State Ballroom would have had magnificence, | + | |
- | The American delegation was standing in one corner, being served with wine by a smartly-attired court waiter. In their top hats and tails they looked every inch the American politicians that he had seen pictures of. | + | |
- | "His Imperial Majesty, Aleksandr V, Tsar of All the Russians !" | + | |
- | The captain' | + | |
- | "Your majesty, I am Herbert Prouse, President of the United States of America." | + | |
- | "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr President." | + | |
- | The mood noticeably lightened, the normally taciturn Prouse breaking into a smile that did strange | + | |
- | "May I present Dr Robert Reid, Attorney General; Mr Simeon Spake, Secretary of Defence; Mr Abraham Jenkinson, Under Secretary of State; and Mr Lucas Riley, Under Secretary of the Navy." | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | "This is Nikolai Vaskkov, Head of my State Secretariat, | + | |
- | In his turn, the president noded a greeting at the Tsar's aides. Aleksandr smiled and pointed to the table, | + | |
- | "If we can make a start, gentlemen. Mr Vashkov has our copy of the treaty." | + | |
- | As they sat themselves around the table, | + | |
- | "And this, your majesty, is our copy." | + | |
- | " | + | |
+ | There can be no doubt that it is a danger ! We do not need to know the details to know that British Columbia is less secure today, that even Canada can no longer rest in peace. British Honduras, the Mosquito Coast, even Jamaica - all are at a greater peril due to this union of souls. The dark hordes of Russia and the grasping hands of the United States of America. Britain must heed this warning !"// | ||
- | Grey Wolf | + | And so it went on. Oleg looked once more out of the window as some market town flashed by, no sooner here than gone. The details of the great events were unknown to him. The short term implications were obvious. He leant back and smiled to himself. He had been told his next target would present itself to him in due course. Now he knew what it would be... |
- | ---- | ||
- | === Dancing The Shadows - Chapter Four === | + | **North Pacific** |
+ | The aide spread the map out upon the table in the viewing gallery. Smoothing the creases he placed in the corners several coins - heavy silver dollars he had picked up as souvenirs. | ||
+ | "That island down there ?" Tsar Aleksandr poked a finger towards the window where a brown dot could be seen amidst the silver sea as the airship flew over it. | ||
+ | "Guam, your majesty." | ||
+ | "It has never struck me as natural that second rate powers such as Spain should rule over so many parts of this planet." | ||
+ | The aide nodded, deciding from experience that it was not a question that he was expected to answer. | ||
+ | Aleksandr looked at the map and jabbed a finger repeatedly at it, | ||
+ | "Guam, the Caroline Islands, the Marianas, the Philippines. All remnants of an imperial glory long since gone." | ||
+ | "Yes, your majesty", | ||
+ | Aleksandr was quiet for a moment, pondering the map. From the Himalayas in the West to the Rockies in the East, from Siberia in the North to New Guinea in the South. The nations, and colonial holdings, that made up the Pacific theatre. | ||
+ | He smiled at the thought that the large brown-shaded mass of the Russian Empire was but less than half of its total, lacking its European and most of its central Asian extent, and yet it dominated the map, seeming to lord it over the other nations. | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | The Yi Kingdom remained independent, | ||
+ | "Have you ever pondered on that nature of empire ?" he asked. | ||
+ | The aide was clearly discomfited by the question. Obviously he was expected to say something - and something intelligent, | ||
+ | "Of the dynamics of international relations, your majesty ? Of how world politics is dominated so far from their homelands by a handful of global powers ?" | ||
+ | It was trite, but Aleksandr did not seem annoyed. Perhaps he simply continued with what he was going to say, anyway, | ||
+ | "There are vibrant empires, undefeated in their quest for the glory of their people. There are decadent empires, that no one has yet dismembered because their holdings are of less value to the predators. And their are failing empires, constantly eaten away at by those whose future is on an upwards curve." | ||
+ | "Yes, your majesty...China, | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | For a moment he stood as if frozen, then he strode across to the window, looking down upon the Pacific. Later that day the US airship ' | ||
+ | His aide swallowed hard and concentrated on not looking at his master... | ||
+ | **London** | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "Ouch !", he sat up, pulling her towards him. Running a hand through her long brown hair, he leant back against the bed-head, "How about inappropriate for a peer of the realm ?" | ||
+ | She kissed his nose, | ||
+ | "So Richard Neville, 2nd Viscount Honeypot is not allowed ?" | ||
+ | "I think the ghost of my father would take out an injunction." | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | He smiled good-naturedly, | ||
+ | "That is the kind of attitude that causes people to put bombs in your cars." | ||
+ | He meant it as a joke, but a shiver ran down her back as memory washed over her. She lay down at his side, her breasts rising and falling as she simply thought for a while. Sensing what he had done, Richard let her take her time to recover. | ||
+ | After a pause that could have been moments, could have been minutes, she raised herself up on one elbow and turned towards him, | ||
+ | "Do you not know who is behind the bombs ?", she asked. | ||
+ | Beads of sweat burst upon his forehead like a rainstorm. He had hoped that she would recognise the delicacy of the situation and not ask questions the answers to which he was not supposed to reveal to anyone, not even to the sister of the king. But she had asked and he could deny her nothing, and besides they HAD tried to kill her, | ||
+ | "We have the beginnings of an idea." he admitted. | ||
+ | Surprisingly Sophia bit her lip, | ||
+ | "What does that mean ?" | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | She lay back down, one hand upon the upwards curve of her belly. For a moment she focussed only on the carvings upon the ceiling, then she asked, | ||
+ | "These words and rumours, do they have a name ?" | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | She turned eyes of cold steel upon him. A chill ran through his body. | ||
+ | "They are just words, phrases - nothing more." he said weakly. | ||
+ | "What words and what phrases ?" she asked. | ||
+ | For a moment Richard wondered how he could ever have been attracted to a woman like this, then he looked down, followed her contours and remembered. Torn between two worlds, he swallowed hard, and spoke, | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | **Moscow** | ||
+ | The Trans-Siberian express pulled into Moscow' | ||
+ | Aleksandr, for his part, was glad to be home. The twin journeys, both naval and airship, had been interesting and pleasant. He was still a strong man despite now being in his late forties, and his stamina was enormous. But being away from Russia was always a risk, and always a worry. That was why he had left his sister in charge... | ||
+ | There she was now - Grand Duchess Theodora, standing regal and resplendant under a gigantic flag of the Romanov arms, Prince Aleksandr - Prince Mishkin now, he laughed - at her side. | ||
+ | As he disembarked, | ||
+ | The young prince was a fine-looking lad, strong and long-limbed. And he had carried himself well since learning of his true parentage. He smiled in satisfaction...just as the Mayor of Moscow approached. | ||
+ | That worthy beamed to be - apparently - the object of His Imperial Majesty' | ||
+ | "And may I welcome you back to the heart of Russia. I hope your journey around the world was a great success ?" | ||
+ | Usually Aleksandr would have brushed the man aside, but he caught the glint in his sister' | ||
+ | "Yes indeed", | ||
+ | The mayor tried hard not to flinch before that famous gaze, but a nervous tick beneath his left eye socket betrayed him. His quick mind searched for a suitable reply, | ||
+ | "On behalf of your great city of Moscow, I offer up hearty congratulations." | ||
+ | It was weak, but Aleksandr was not of a mind to spoil the mood. He nodded, then resumed his progress along the platform towards where Theodora and their son awaited him. | ||
+ | Oh yes, he thought, the world shall indeed soon know it ! | ||
+ | |||
+ | **London** | ||
+ | |||
+ | Sophia rolled off his fat body and padded naked across the wooden floor to the water jug upon the wash stand. Behind her, on the bed, Isaac Charles lay spent and exhausted, bathed in his own sweat. She doused herself down, drying quickly with the towel that the Official Censor knew to leave out for her. Dressing in silence, she gave the figure upon the bed a hearty wave, then exited the apartment. | ||
+ | Down on the street, the two bodyguards were waiting, watchful and alert. One took up position behind her, as the princess clambered into the black limousine, its shapely exterior belying the steel armour and bullet-proof glass that had been installed on this vehicle after the demise of the previous one. | ||
+ | Sophia settled into the back and waited whilst the two men seated themselves in the front. | ||
+ | "Back to the palace, your highness ?" | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | That surprised them. She startled them further, | ||
+ | "Head for Gables Gate." | ||
+ | Although the two men exchanged glances they did as they were told. Gables Gate was the mansion house where she had been partying the night that someone had planted a bomb in her vehicle. One of their colleagues had died in the blast, and the princess left with superficial injuries. | ||
+ | The front passenger turned towards her as the limousine entered one of the the main traffic arteries of central London, | ||
+ | "I have heard, your highness, that there is a theory about going back to the scene of an incident in order to speed the process of recovery." | ||
+ | She smiled at him, | ||
+ | "Oh yes, Sylv, I have heard that theory also," she paused then added, "Do you carry a knife ?" | ||
+ | Non-plussed, | ||
+ | "Hand it to me." | ||
+ | Somewhat taken back her reached down to his boot, and unstrapped an ankle sheaf. He was about to remove just the knife to pass to her, when she shook her head, | ||
+ | "All of it." | ||
+ | Mentally shrugging he did as he was told. Perhaps the psychological impact of the assassination attempt had been so great she had the feeling of a need for the physical reassurance of a weapon in her hand. | ||
+ | Seeming to put the lie to that, Sophia examined the sheaf then strapped it to the unorthodox position of her right forearm, hidden from view by the sleeve of her dress. | ||
+ | "Use the private entrance at the rear." she commanded. | ||
+ | The driver switched course. Having until that moment assumed they were headed for the scene of the explosion out by the front, he now shot down a narrow side street, and into the mansion grounds through a covered gateway. | ||
+ | Tehy pulled up in a small courtyard. | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Somewhat reluctantly they acquiesced, watching as the princess trotted up a small flight of steps and knocked slowly on a shiny black-and-gold door. | ||
+ | The owner of the establishment, | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | She followed him inside, the door closing behind them. | ||
+ | "I need to ask you something", | ||
+ | He nodded soberly, presuming that she ws not referring to their brief after-dinner fling in the bedroom, | ||
+ | "Come into my study" he beckoned her. | ||
+ | Behind his back she smiled. | ||
+ | Seated opposite him, she was all dark seriousness again, | ||
+ | "I have been thinking about the bomb" she explained | ||
+ | "I do not doubt it" Robert said, meaning it. | ||
+ | "It had to have been planted by someone who knew I would be here." | ||
+ | "Your guard maybe ?" | ||
+ | Sophia wrinkled her nose, | ||
+ | "It is bad taste to speak ill of the dead." she reminded him, " | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "I think that the person responsible was form this end" | ||
+ | "One of...the guests ?" he asked | ||
+ | She shook her head, her long brown hair swooshing from side to side with the emphatic nature of the gesture. | ||
+ | "One of my staff ?", he frowned at her, "Who ?" | ||
+ | As if stalling for an answer she reached up her right-hand sleeve and slowly drew out the knife. She put it to her lips and flicked her tongue gently across the blade, | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | Lord Moresby visibly blanched. | ||
+ | "I thought it strange that that was the first word you said when you answered the telephone from the bed", she carressed her cheek with the flat of the blade, "I supposed it was the name of who you spoke to, but I remember wondering how you knew who it would be." | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "You spoke very quietly. I was too flushed to hear, but I remember thinking that you discussed buying an automobile. Do you know why ?" | ||
+ | He stared at her in horrified confusion. | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | The sweat was pouring off him now. He made a visible effort to control himself, but after several sessions in bed with her, he knew just how strong the princess could be, | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | In an instant the knife had passed from her hands to his chest. Too dead to be surprised, Robert, Lord Moresby, slumped to the floor. | ||
+ | Sophia gave him one last stare, then rose and opened the door, ready to make a quick exit. A terrified girl stood there before her ! | ||
+ | The princess took a deep breath, recovering her composure before the girl. She looked her over. She was more than a girl, but less than a woman, a few years younger than herself perhaps. | ||
+ | "Who are you ? What were you doing ?" | ||
+ | The girl reddened, | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | " | ||
+ | "Oh yes", Sophia saw no point in beating around the bush, "I think you should come with me. I can always use another girl in my Household." | ||
+ | Molly looked from her dead employer to his killer, and knew where reality lay, | ||
+ | "Yes miss" she said | ||
+ | "Good. Come now" | ||
+ | It was a command and the girl followed her out of the mansion house and down the steps. Sylv was out of the limousine in an instant, eyeing the girl. | ||
+ | "She comes with me." Sophia told him in a voice that would brook no opposition, "Make sure the rest of the household staff realise that I was never here." | ||
+ | He frowned deeply, | ||
+ | "And Lord Moresby, your highness ?" | ||
+ | "He will not be a problem." | ||
+ | Sophiua ushered the girl into the vehicle, and nodded to the driver. Someone would be along to pick Sylvester up later. The limousine turned neatly and headed swiftly down the driveway. | ||
---- | ---- | ||
- | === Dancing The Shadows - Chapter Five === | + | ==== FIVE ==== |
- | //Madrid// | + | **Madrid** |
Count Serrano indicated that they be seated. Since the crisis of the previous year he had taken the Foreign Minister portfolio as his own, in addition to the Prime Minister-ship. Hence, this was formally a meeting of the Foreign Ministers of the Alliance. But he was host, and by dint of his position he was most senior. Unwilling to give up the rare advantage, the Spaniard remained seated behind his desk whilst his visitors sat on chairs before it. | Count Serrano indicated that they be seated. Since the crisis of the previous year he had taken the Foreign Minister portfolio as his own, in addition to the Prime Minister-ship. Hence, this was formally a meeting of the Foreign Ministers of the Alliance. But he was host, and by dint of his position he was most senior. Unwilling to give up the rare advantage, the Spaniard remained seated behind his desk whilst his visitors sat on chairs before it. | ||
Line 907: | Line 1082: | ||
The count looked down at the papers on his desk. Anything for a moment' | The count looked down at the papers on his desk. Anything for a moment' | ||
+ | ---- | ||
- | + | **Washington DC** | |
- | Washington DC | + | |
The newspaper performed a somersault, spread its wings upon the air, and crashed to the hearth rug in disarray. | The newspaper performed a somersault, spread its wings upon the air, and crashed to the hearth rug in disarray. | ||
Line 936: | Line 1111: | ||
Samuel could only agree. Together, they lapsed into silence, all conversation spent. There was nothing more that needed to be said. | Samuel could only agree. Together, they lapsed into silence, all conversation spent. There was nothing more that needed to be said. | ||
+ | ---- | ||
- | Dancing The Shadows - Chapter 5c | + | ==== Copyright disclaimer ==== |
- | Seoul, Kingdom of Korea | + | |
- | "Go !" Andrei Gromykin hissed the word, a simple syllable, a command that would see the world set on fire. | + | (C) [[offtopic: |
- | The dozen or so elite warriors of the Imperial Guard' | + | |
- | A flash came from the top of the wall, then another. Gromykin nodded. There would be no answering flash, no unexplained light to give the palace guards a few extra seconds of warning. He raised the sight of his rifle to his eyes, targeted on the lamp burning in the gatehouse and squeezed the trigger. | + | |
- | The lamp shattered. Mortars leapt into the air from the soldiers in the square. Gunfire from the wall rained down on the gatehouse. | + | |
- | Amidst the flames and explosions, the palace guard made an effort to fight back. Two of Gromykin' | + | |
- | Like his men, Gromykin was on his feet and running even before the first splinters fell to earth. | + | |
- | Yi Lin could feel the rush, could almost hear the blood pounding in his veins. Seeing his allies safely attain the gatehouse, he bounded down to ground level. | + | http:// |
- | " | + | |
- | Time was of the essence. At the moment the Guard was confused and in shock. They had a window of opportunity, | + | |
- | A mixed force of his own men and Russians at his back, the Korean royal led the attack out of the grounds and into the palace proper. Shotting from the hip he downed a veteran captain, one of his father' | + | |
- | They dashed along a corridor, spookily devoid of all resistance, and burst into the grand dining room just as its occupants were scrambling for the rear door, panic having overtaken decorum as the appropriate course of action. | + | |
- | "Kill them !" he yelled, levelling his own pistol at the shocked individual in the centre of the party. | + | |
- | King Sunjong froze, as if his feet had suddenly been welded to the spot. With his wife shaking in terror at his back, and assorted courtiers and servants imploring him to get away, he could only stare down the barrel of the gun that his second son was levelling at him from across the room. | + | ---- |
- | "Why ?" he asked. | + | |
- | Yi Lin did not reply. | + | |
- | "By doing this you give Korea to the Russians !" his father spoke desperately. | + | |
- | Yi Lin fired. Blood blossomed on his forehead, rained down on his wife. Her attempt to scream was cut off by another shot. A hail of bullets from rebels and Russians alike cut down the rest. | + | |
- | "We must find my brother !" the Korean prince growled in frustration, | + | |
- | They moved deeper into the palace. | + | |
- | The defenders were rallying. The rebels were having to form a defensive | + | All text below this line is AH.com Wiki administration stuff again. |
- | "There !" screamed Yi Lin, "There ! There !" | + | ---- |
- | Gromykin had seen it too. A desperate knot of royal guard falling away before them into the residential wing, and amongst them the crown prince | + | |
- | Hearing gunfire from the rear, seeing even a bullet splinter off the cornice, the Russian commander made his decision, | + | |
- | "Take him out now !" he yelled. | + | |
- | Sensing the desperation of the circumstances his men threw themselves forward. Several fell, cut down by the guards' | + | |
- | The wall beside Gromykin exploded in a shower of splinters. | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | The same thought had occurred to Yi Lin. Realising that his men could not long hold out behind him, the would-be monarch drew his sword and leapt into battle. | + | |
- | For a moment brother stood facing brother, an impasse of but a moment, but something which rippled across the room. Then Yi Lin lashed out. His elder brother' | + | |
- | A royal guard captain ran into the room, too late... He took in the scene before him, knew that he only had one chance. He dropped to the floor, | + | |
- | "Your majesty" | + | |
- | Behind him, the rest of his men did likewise. | + | |
- | Yi Lin looked from the sudden act of obeisance to the wounded Russian commander to the severed head of his brother and smiled, | + | ==== Navigation ==== |
- | "I always fancied Chongjong as a regnal name", he said. | + | |
- | Upon the floor, Gromykin shivered to see the smile upon the new king's face. Did the High Command know what they were doing in making this man ruler of Korea ? | + | |
- | " | + | |
+ | **[[offtopic: | ||
- | + | **[[ah index|Alternate History Stories Main Directory]]** | |
- | Hawaii | + | |
- | August 1937 | + | |
- | + | ||
- | The newspaper did not make happy reading. 'The Honolulu Times' was the Kingdom of Hawaii' | + | |
- | Sir Edward Manners looked around the gentleman' | + | |
- | "Sir Edward ?" | + | |
- | He looked up. One of the boys from the embassy was there. | + | |
- | "Yes ?", the fifty year old was not used to being interupted whilst out in company, but these were unusual times. | + | |
- | "Sir, the Telegraph Officer requires me to give you this at once." | + | |
- | He took the paper from the lad's hand and split the seal with a finger nail. Time seemed to stand still as he read. | + | |
- | ' | + | |
- | Without knowing how he got there, Sir Edward was on his feet, | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | ' | + | |
- | Urgent meeting with French and Spanish ambassadors - tonight ? | + | |
- | Will be at the palace' | + | |
- | He folded the paper neatly into an impossible shape. Origami was one of his leaisure-time specialisms, | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | "Yes sir" | + | |
- | Sir Edward nodded with approval as the boy turned and ran at full pelt out of the room, not letting decorum stand in the way of urgency. Asher was the Imperial Defence Attache and his deputy, and would set everything in motion at once. The Extra-Territorial Intelligence commander would already be contacting London, Vancouver, HongKong, Singapore and Sydney. By the time he returned to the embassy, everybody would be in possession of information as full as was possible to obtain at this juncture. Before that he had an appointment at the palace. | + | |
- | Replacing his pen in his pocket, he strode out of the lounge, through the grand hallway and out of the Royale. A row of private charabancs was drawn up opposite. He stepped out into the road, his hand raised in the air, | + | |
- | "To the palace - at once !" he commanded. | + | |
- | + | ||
- | + | ||
- | + | ||
- | HMS Porpoise | + | |
- | Off Port Arthur | + | |
- | + | ||
- | "Holy Lord !" | + | |
- | Captain Arnold Bates turned a disapproving scowl upon the lieutenant currently manning the periscope, | + | |
- | "Do you care to make a proper report, Mr Farraday ?" | + | |
- | For some reason the officer remained glued to the eye-piece rather than turning to face his superior officer as etiquette required. | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | "Move over", Bates did not bother with decorum but fairly shouldered the man aside. He took a moment to focus, | + | |
- | "Good God" he breathed, "That they are, indeed !" | + | |
- | Through the periscope he could see line after line of Russian warships exiting the roads. Screens of destroyers fanning out. Cruisers bounding across the waves to take positions on the flank. And amidst it all, squadron after squadron of first class battleships, | + | |
- | He swallowed hard, steadying his voice with rigid discipline, | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | The officer addressed consulted a number of charts and tables. No ship ever stayed in one place for long and patrols this close to Russian waters were by their nature somewhat erratic in holding position. | + | |
- | "I have the cruiser Shamrock off Taku and the gunboat Lurgan off Chefoo. Possibly the cruiser Antelope in the Yellow Sea, but I cannot confirm." | + | |
- | That would do. Two ships to relay their signal. | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | It would make them more visible to watchful eyes, but news of this magnitude needed to be received with all possible speed. | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | + | ||
- | + | ||
- | + | ||
- | British Columbia | + | |
- | + | ||
- | Colonel Stewart sat back in his leather chair, and stretched. His eyes took in his desk, a greast bulk of native wood (redwood if he recalled), but almost obscured in papers, folders and leather-bound log books. Since he had received - highly confidential - news of Grand Dke Nikolai Aleksandrovich' | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | Just what the hell was that ? There was a general furore outside his officer, shouts, even screams... He thrust his chair backwards and stood up, just as a young telegraph officer runner almost broke the door down in his haste. Ignoring the decidedly odd lack of protocol, Colonel Stewart took the sheet of paper that the young man held as if it were a bomb. | + | |
- | He blanched, | + | |
- | "War warning ?!", his voice was too high pitched. He coughed, wiped his forehead, noted the terror in the young man's eyes. Military discipline took over, | + | |
- | "Get confirmation of this from London - now !" | + | |
- | The youth jumped and ran away. Colonel Stewart strode over to the doorway and stared out into pandemonium, | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | All movement ceased, all eyes turned to his. | + | |
- | "Issue the order for general mobilisation. Close Vancouver and Seattle to all civilian traffic. Contact all airship operators and require the immediate grounding of their vessels. Bring the fleet to alert. Contact all border positions...", | + | |
- | Mesmerised by the sound of his voice, its sudden cessation galvanised them. Men set off running in all directions. Female typists typed. Secretaries of both sexes picked up the emergency telephones and began to issue orders. | + | |
- | Satisfied, he returned to his office, closing the door behind him. He picked up the telephone receiver from off his desk, | + | |
- | " | + | |
- | + | ||
- | Grey Wolf | + | |
- | + | ||
- | http:// | + |
stories/dancing_the_shadows.1389034713.txt.gz · Last modified: 2019/03/29 15:19 (external edit)