Interlude
Lieutenant Susan Phipps threw her hat onto the rickety table. She had intended to drop into the ladder-back chair next to it, but found she couldn’t, and paced the tiny room instead, her hands clasped behind her. Her brass left hand felt cool and heavy in her fleshy right one, though the sensation was so familiar to her now she barely noticed it.
Glenda Teasdale, her blouse and skirt looking worse for the wear, stood behind the other ladder-back chair while Simon d’Arco, equally disheveled, hovered near the bed. A tiny lamp shed grudging light over the table as the sun slid away. The quarters, part of what passed for a hotel in this little town, were dank and cramped compared to her spacious rooms at Third Ward headquarters back in London, but Phipps refused to voice a single complaint, even to herself. What sort of commander sent her troops into conditions that she herself refused to endure?
“We were close,” Glenda said in that flat voice that was still new to Phipps. “So close. If that bloody Dr. Clef hadn’t shown up—”
“It’s fine,” Phipps interrupted, still pacing. “They’re traveling by airship. Very hard to hide an airship. We
“It’s just… We’re very tired, ma’am,” Simon said.
She suddenly realized what she was doing. They had to remain standing while their commanding officer was on her feet. “Sit, sit,” she ordered. “I think better on my feet.”
Simon dropped onto the bed while Glenda perched on the chair. The woman looked odd in skirts. Ever since she joined the Ward, she had put aside feminine clothing in favor of more practical male attire, like what Phipps wore. However, when female agents traveled abroad, especially in places where the Third Ward had less influence and no actual authority, they typically wore skirts to avoid attracting attention. Phipps continued to wear her uniform, partly because it conveyed authority whether she had it or not, and partly—she admitted only to herself—because it provided her with a wall that made her feel safe.
“They’re heading for Luxembourg, no doubt, judging from the general direction they took and the fact that it’s a major trade city,” Phipps said, thinking out loud. “Alice will want to spread her cure there. And that’s a fine thing for us. The Crown has strong ties with Luxembourg, and I can force a fair amount of cooperation with the local gendarmerie. They’ll help us find Ennock and Michaels in no time. The mechanicals will let us catch them up fairly quickly, so we won’t lose much time.”
“Maybe we should check the hotels first, Lieutenant,” Glenda said. “They’ll have to stay somewhere, and if we find them without starting a fuss with the police first, so much the better.”
“I like that,” Phipps said with a small nod. “We’ll start there, then use the police.”
“Good plan.” Simon paused, then added, “How long are we going to chase them?”
Phipps turned. The monocle that framed her left eye amplified low light and let her see better—a clockworker invention she had confiscated nearly a year before the incident that had claimed her left arm—but she didn’t need it to read the tension in Simon’s body.
“We’ll pursue them until we catch them, Simon,” she said evenly. “There’s no question.”
“Only I was wondering,” Simon replied in a low voice, “whether it’ll be worth the cost.”
“Worth the cost?” Phipps repeated. “Simon, they are dangerous
Simon didn’t answer. Dr. Clef worried Phipps. He was a classic clockworker—completely absorbed by his work and utterly oblivious to the impact any of it might have on the world around him. His Impossible Cube was one of the most powerful inventions she had ever seen, and thank God it had been destroyed. Unfortunately, he was running about loose in the world with Gavin Ennock, a new-made clockworker. The thought of the two of them creating world-class inventions together made her sweat ice water and lent new urgency to her need to capture the little group before China got hold of them. Every hour she regretted not killing Alice Michaels beneath Third Ward headquarters. It was the biggest mistake of her career, and now the world was paying for it.
“Dr. Clef will probably be dead in a few weeks,” Simon said at last. “As for the doomsday weapon Alice and Gavin released… Well, we can’t put the cure back into the bottle, and England’s clockworkers will be gone within the year. If we let them go to China, they might be able to ensure the same thing happens to the Dragon—”
“You shut it, Simon d’Arco!” Glenda was on her feet again. Two spots of color rose in her cheeks. “I’m going to capture Alice Michaels—
“Why, Glenda?” Simon asked. “What for?”
“What do I have, Simon?” Glenda snarled. “The Third Ward is dead, by the Queen’s order. Once the final clockworker dies, we’ll have no reason to exist anyway. Maybe a few of us will hang about to guard the Doomsday Vault, but nothing more. And where will I go? I’m a
“Oh,” was all Simon said.
“You may sit down again, Glenda,” Phipps said quietly, and Glenda reluctantly obeyed. “And I don’t answer to you, Simon,” she added.
“Yes, ma’am.” He shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “But I… I just…”
Phipps leveled a hard gaze at him. “Simon, I want the full truth from you, as a gentleman and an officer of the Third Ward.”
He stiffened. “Ma’am.”
“I brought you and Glenda on this assignment because you are my absolute best agents. I am not saying this as flattery or to puff you up. It’s simple truth. However, I am also fully aware of your… romantic proclivities and of your feelings toward your former partner. I don’t much care about the former, since you are an officer of the Ward, and as such, you have my complete loyalty and support. As for the latter, I assumed that your loyalty toward the Ward would be the overriding concern, but now I must ask, Agent d’Arco: Is your loyalty pure? Will your feelings for Gavin Ennock get in the way of our mission? Answer honestly. You will not be reprimanded, but I do need to know if
