The Doomsday Vault

They all mean sparrow.”

“China,” Gavin repeated. “Why would Edwina tell us to play a Chinese game with the Queen?”

“She knew the Third Ward was coming,” Alice said. “Those lights on her wall were a series of alarms. She knew you and I were coming, remember? At any rate, she couldn’t tell us what she meant outright with the Ward in the room. It’s a hint that no one else would get, just like the coordinates puzzle.”

“And what’s the hint?”

“Mrs. Babbage reads the Times every day; did you know that? Every word. She also reads the Gazette, Punch, the Examiner, the Graphic, the Atlantic, and, well, everything!” Alice’s eyes sparkled. “There’s a speaking tube in the library, and you can ask her a question and-”

“I know, I know,” Gavin interrupted. “I met Mrs. Babbage last year. What does this have to do with Chinese sparrows? What’s the hint?”

“According to three different articles in different periodicals, the Chinese ambassador and his son introduced the Queen and the Prince Consort to ma que, and the four of them play quite a lot.”

“All right. But how could Edwina expect us to play ma que with the Queen?”

“She doesn’t,” Alice said. “But who does play ma que with the Queen?”

“The Chinese ambassador.” Gavin fiddled with his teacup. “You think Edwina wants us to talk to him?”

“I do. I think Aunt Edwina knew she was going to be captured, so she’s sending us to talk to someone else about the cure. The Chinese ambassador must know something important.”

“And where do we find him? We’d never get into Buckingham Palace. Not even with Third Ward credentials.”

Alice clapped her hands. “Ambassadors don’t stay at Buckingham Palace. They stay at Claridge’s hotel. You’ll never guess where that is.”

Gavin didn’t even think. “Near Hyde Park.”

“Shall we take a cab or get horses from the stable?”

“Wait just a moment.” Gavin tightened the final bolt and tossed the wrench aside with a clatter. “Let’s see if this works first.”

“I’m telling you, it won’t fly,” Alice repeated.

Gavin spun a crank on the generator and pressed a switch. It coughed twice, then sputtered to life in a cloud of acrid paraffin-oil smoke. Indicator lights flickered. Gavin reached for a dial on the side.

“Let’s see what happens,” he said, and turned the dial.

At first nothing at all happened. Then a thin crackle snaked through the air. Soft blue energy threaded through the loops and spirals of the lattice under the skin of the envelope and lit them like threads of sky. A soft hum thrummed under Gavin’s feet. Ropes creaked, and the envelope rose, taking the gondola with it. A moment later, it gently bumped the ceiling, as if nosing for a way out.

“Oh my goodness!” Alice laughed. “Oh my goodness! Gavin! What did you do?”

Gavin couldn’t stop grinning. “I wasn’t sure it would work. That’s why I didn’t want anyone to come look. It uses wire made from the new alloy Doctor Clef created for his Impossible Cube. The alloy pushes against gravity when you pump electricity through it. The more electricity you use, the more it pushes. So you don’t need a big envelope to fly.”

Alice balked. “Electricity is running through an envelope filled with hydrogen?”

“No, no,” he reassured her. “That’s something else I came up with. My ship uses helium, which doesn’t explode.”

“Well! Mr. Ennock, I have to say I find you intelligent and resourceful, and the way you lifted that generator made me truly appreciate how much a man you are.”

He laughed again. “How do you always know exactly what to say to a man?”

“I know what to say to you.” And she kissed him while the gondola swung gently beneath their feet. They parted and laughed.

“You didn’t lie about the gondola being too big for the envelope,” Gavin said. “Even though you thought it might hurt. Thank you.”

Gavin picked her up in one fluid motion, swung her around in a circle, and kissed her again. His tongue slid into her mouth, and she accepted it, smooth and soft. He set her down, and she put a hand up to catch her hat.

“Oh! That was engaging,” she said with a laugh. “Should we fly your new ship to the hotel?”

“I have to paint her yet,” Gavin said. “Let’s hire a carriage.”

Claridge’s, formerly Mivart’s, had gained a reputation as London’s only proper hotel for international political travelers. It was five stories of glass and red brick that occupied an enormous section of corner at Davies Street and Brook’s Mews. Alice adjusted her hat and allowed Gavin to help her down from the carriage. The afternoon was overcast, but not foggy, so they didn’t have to worry about plague zombies-not that even zombies would have dared wander close to Claridge’s.

In preparation for visiting an ambassador to the Orient, Alice had spent considerable time in a Third Ward attic searching for a suitable dress while Gavin washed up. She chose an afternoon dress of deep gold silk-and found she didn’t like wearing it. No matter how carefully Kemp and her little automatons altered the garment, the restrictive corset and annoying skirts got in the way. But she was calling on the Chinese ambassador, and she could hardly do so in trousers. At first, she chafed at having to follow the rules so shortly after being freed from them, but then she realized the dress was a disguise for a secret agent, which made her feel better.

Gavin’s coat and trousers allowed him freedom of movement and made much more sense. He certainly cut a dashing figure, with his powerful build, startling blue eyes, and white-blond hair. He dressed like a gentleman, but moved like a rake, and she saw envious glances from passing women as he offered her his arm outside the carriage to escort her indoors.

The concierge met them inside the lobby doors. Gavin showed him a silver badge. “We’re looking for the Chinese ambassador,” he said. “Crown business.”

Sometime later, they were ascending in a tiny lift, and Alice was examining a handwritten card the concierge had given them.

“His Honor Jun Lung, room 310,” she read. “You’d think he’d have more names than that. What do you know about China?”

“Nothing,” Gavin admitted as the lift stopped.

Alice knocked at the appropriate door, and it was opened by a young man in a long blue coat, which was heavily embroidered and had wide sleeves. His black hair was pulled back and plaited in a braid that hung down his back. Gavin showed the badge again and gave their names.

“We need to see His Honor, the Ambassador Jun Lung,” he said.

“Sorry. His Honor see no one.” The servant’s English was heavily accented.

“It’s Crown business,” Alice said.

The servant bowed. “Sorry. His Honor see no one.” And he shut the door.

Alice and Gavin looked at each other, dumbfounded. “That frankly didn’t occur to me,” Alice said. “Now what? Break the door down?”

“I don’t think that would put His Honor in a good mood. Maybe if we left him a note?”

“How do we know he’d read it?” Alice said. “A telegram might-”

The clatter of the lift interrupted them. From the cage emerged another Chinese servant, also in a blue coat. He was pushing a cart with covered dishes on it. Exotic smells wafted from them, and Alice wondered if the ambassador had his own private chef in the hotel kitchen.

“Here’s an idea,” Gavin muttered. He put a hand in his pocket and approached the man. “I wonder if you could help me, sir. I need to talk to the ambassador.” He took his hand from his pocket, and Alice caught a flash of silver. Something dropped to the carpeted floor as Gavin laid a heavy coin on the linen-covered cart. The servant flicked the coin away as if it were an insect and kept going, his expression wooden. Then he jerked the cart to a halt, leaned down, and scooped the fallen object from the floor.

“Where you get this?” His eyes were wide.

“That’s mine,” Gavin said sharply. “Give it back now.”