money in the other. A tiny fat man labeled Winston Churchill rode on its shoulder, watching as the obscene beast menaced the tiny spires and domes below.
“Who will protect us from these monsters?” read the legend across the top.
“That must be the
Alek nodded. “It’s odd to think, but if it weren’t for Lord Churchill stealing that ship, the
“We might be a bit safer there,” said Bauer. Then he smiled. “But a lot colder, too, and no one would be bringing us good Turkish coffee.”
“So you think I made the right choice, Hans? Leaving safety behind?”
“You didn’t have much of a choice, sir—I mean, Fritz.” Bauer shrugged. “You had to face what was in front of you, whatever your father’s plans. Every man arrives at that point, sooner or later.”
Alek swallowed, grateful for the words. He’d never asked Bauer’s opinion before, but now that he was in command, it was good to know that the man didn’t think he was a complete idiot.
“What about your father, Hans? He must think you’re a deserter.”
“My parents sent me off a long time ago.” The man shook his head. “Too many mouths to feed at home. It was the same with Hoffman, I think. Your father only chose men without families to help you.”
“That was kind of him, I suppose,” Alek said, struck by the thought that he and his men were, in a way, all orphans together. “But once this war is over, Hans, I swear you’ll never go hungry again.”
“No need, Fritz. This is duty. And besides, one could hardly go hungry in this city.”
The coffee arrived, smelling of chocolate and as thick as black honey. It certainly tasted better than anything that could have been cooked up over a fire in the freezing Alps.
Alek took a long drink, letting the rich flavors sweep away his dark thoughts. He eavesdropped on the surrounding tables, hearing complaints of delayed shipments of parts, and censored letters from home. The conquest of Belgium was almost complete, and the engineers were celebrating. France would fall soon after. Then would come a quick campaign against Darwinist Russia and the island fortress of Britain. Or it might be a long war, some argued, but Germany would prevail eventually—fabricated beasts were no match for Clanker bravery and steel.
It didn’t sound as though anyone cared if the Ottomans joined the war or not. The Germans were confident in themselves and their Austrian allies.
Of course, the high command might have a different view.
Suddenly Alek’s ears caught the sound of English. He turned and saw a man moving slowly among the tables, asking questions that drew only shrugs and uncomprehending stares. The man was scruffily dressed in a traveling coat and a shapeless hat, with a folding camera strapped around his neck. Some sort of fabricated beast rode on his shoulder—a frog, perhaps, its beady eyes peering out from beneath the man’s jacket collar.
A Darwinist, here, in what was practically German territory?
“Pardon me, gentlemen,” he said when he reached Alek’s table. “But do either of you speak any English?”
Alek hesitated. The man’s accent was unfamiliar, and he didn’t look British. His camera seemed to be a Clanker design.
“I do, a little,” Alek said.
The man’s face broke into a broad smile as he thrust out his hand. “Excellent! I’m Eddie Malone, reporter for the
TWENTEE
The man sat down without waiting for an answer, snapping for a waiter and ordering coffee.
“Did he say
Alek nodded—this was the perfect opportunity. The job of a foreign reporter, after all, was to understand the politics around him, the maneuverings of the great powers here in the Ottoman Empire. And talking to Malone was much safer than trying to extract gossip from a German, who might notice Alek’s aristocratic accent.
A few men at the other tables had glanced at the reporter as he’d sat down, but no one was staring now. The streets of Constantinople were full of stranger sights than a fabricated frog.
“I don’t know how much we can help you,” Alek said. “We haven’t been here very long.”
“Don’t worry. My questions won’t be too tricky.” The reporter pulled out a battered notebook. “I’m just curious about what they call the
Alek cleared his throat. The man had assumed they were Germans, of course. He probably couldn’t tell an Austrian accent from the croak of his own bullfrog. But there was no point in correcting him. “We aren’t in construction, Mr. Malone. At the moment we’re just traveling. Seeing the sights.”
Malone’s eyes scanned Alek up and down, coming to a halt on the fez on the chair beside him. “I can see you’ve been shopping already. Funny thing, though. Men of military age, on a vacation in wartime!”
Alek swore silently. He’d always been hopeless at any sort of lying, but pretending to be a tourist was absurd when every man in Europe was reporting for duty. Malone probably thought they were deserters, or spies.
Of course, a certain amount of mystery might be useful.
“Let’s just say you needn’t know our names.” Alek gestured at the camera. “And no photographs, if you please.”
“No problem. Istanbul is full of anonymous people.” The man reached up to scratch his bullfrog’s chin. “I suppose you came in on the Express?”
Alek nodded. The Orient-Express ran straight from Munich to Constantinople, and he could hardly admit they’d arrived by airship.
“Must’ve been crowded, with all the new workers coming in.”
“The train might have been crowded, but we had our own cabin.” As the words came out, Alek cursed himself again. Why did he always find ways to make it obvious that he was wealthy?
“So you didn’t talk to any of the folks working on that wireless tower, did you?”
“Wireless tower?” Alek asked.
“Yep. The one you Germans are building on the cliffs out to the west. A special project for the sultan, they say. It’s huge—has its own power station!”
Alek glanced at Bauer, wondering how much the man was following with the English he’d picked up aboard the
“I’m afraid we don’t know anything about that,” Alek said. “We’ve only been in Constantinople for two days.”
Malone looked at him closely for a moment, a gleam in his eye, as if Alek had just told a subtle but clever joke. “Not long enough to start calling it Istanbul, I see.”
Alek remembered Dr. Barlow saying that the locals used another name for their city, but the staff at his hotel hadn’t seemed to mind. “Whatever the city’s called, we haven’t seen much of it.”
“So you haven’t been down to the docks yet to see the sultan’s new warships?”
“New warships?”
“Two ironclads, just handed to the Ottomans by the Germans.” Malone’s eyes narrowed. “You haven’t seen them? They’re pretty hard to miss.”
Alek managed to shake his head. “No, we haven’t been to the harbor at all.”
“Haven’t been to the
