Behemoth

“Aye, in three weeks. Dr. Barlow says the nets will be in tatters by then. On the night of the next new moon, the Leviathan will guide a new beastie down the strait. It’s the companion creature for the Osman, the ship that Lord Churchill stole from the Ottomans. It’s called a behemoth, and it’s barking huge, like the world has never seen before! Those German ironclads’ days are numbered.”

Alek clenched the scroll case tighter. The weakest link in the Committee’s plans had always been the German ironclads. But with some kind of Royal Navy monster on its way, the odds had changed considerably.

“But this is exactly what we need, Dylan. We have to tell the Committee!”

“We can’t,” the boy said. “I trust Zaven and his family, but there are hundreds of others involved. What if one of them is a Clanker spy? If the Germans find out the Leviathan is coming, the Goeben could surprise it anywhere along the way with her Tesla cannon charged!”

“Of course.” Alek shuddered a bit, remembering the lightning coursing through his body. “But what about Zaven’s plan? He’s leading walkers with spice bombs against the ironclads. Klopp says it’s insane.”

“Aye, completely daft,” Dylan said. “But don’t tell Zaven that! If they strike on the night of the new moon, the Goeben will be sunk before they even get there!”

Alek nodded slowly, thinking it through. In an all-out battle for the city, the sultan would send his walkers into the streets, relying on the German warships to protect the palace. But if they lay at the bottom of the sea, the revolution could be over in a single night. Thousands of lives might be spared.

Of course, an attack in utter darkness would mean teaching the Committee’s pilots how to drive their walkers at night. He’d already explained the principles to Lilit, and she’d picked them up quickly enough. If anything, it would give the revolutionaries yet another advantage.

“I’ll order Klopp to say he’s changed his mind, that he thinks spice bombing the Goeben will work. He might grumble a bit, but he’ll do as he’s told. But how do we get the Committee to pick that exact night?”

“Have Klopp say that it’s best to attack the ironclads in darkness.” Dylan shrugged. “Then we’ll point out that September 19 is a new moon, and let them decide on their own.”

Alek smiled. “And with your masculine charms, you can persuade Lilit to plead our case for us!”

Dylan rolled his eyes, turning beet red again. “Speaking of secrets, you won’t tell Lilit about that discussion either, will you? It’ll only complicate things.”

Alek chuckled. He’d always heard that Darwinists were quite plainspoken about matters of biology, to the point of being vulgar. But Dylan looked positively shamefaced about the whole thing, more like a schoolboy than a soldier.

It was most amusing.

“As I said, all your secrets are safe with me.”

“Aye, good, then.” Dylan hesitated. “And … you’re completely sure it’s me she likes, not you?”

Alek laughed. “I should hope so. After all, if we did like each other, I’d have to run a mile.”

“What do you mean?”

“For heaven’s sake, Dylan. Lilit is a commoner, far more common than my mother.” Alek held up the scroll case. “I grew up not knowing if this would ever happen. Not knowing who I really was, and always thinking how much easier it would be for everyone if I hadn’t been born. I could never do that to my own children, not in a thousand years.”

Dylan stared at the scroll case sadly. “Must be tough, being a prince.”

“Not any longer, thanks to this.” Alek clasped Dylan’s shoulder again, happy that his only real friend knew his last secret. “Let’s get out of here. We have a revolution to plan.”

Lilit opened her door wearing a frown.

“Took you two long enough. I thought you’d got yourselves into trouble.”

“We were having a bit of a discussion.” Alek winked at Dylan, then held up the scroll case. “But we found this.”

Lilit gave them both an odd look, and Dylan turned away in embarrassment, heading toward the servants’ staircase.

Alek shrugged for Lilit’s benefit, then followed.

As they descended the stairs, the hotel began to stir around them. The steam elevators rumbled and hissed, building up pressure for the morning traffic, and soon a clattering rose up from below.

Dylan came to a halt, raising his hand. “The cooks are in the kitchen already. We can’t go back that way.”

“Straight through the lobby doors, then,” Lilit said. “If no one found your letter, there won’t be any German agents about.”

“Aye, but some of us are wanted taxi thieves!” Dylan said.

Alek shook his head. “It’ll be fine. We’ll be out the door before anyone gives us a second look.”

“Just try not to act suspicious,” Lilit said, nudging open the door to the dining room.

She led them through the empty tables, with a stride as confident as if she owned the hotel. A young boy in a fez looked up from polishing silverware and frowned, but didn’t say a word.

They passed him and headed through the lobby, which was empty except for one rather shabby-looking tourist waiting for a room.…

The man glanced up from his newspaper, smiled, and waved a hand.

“Ah, Prince Alek,” he called. “I thought you might be somewhere hereabouts.”

Alek froze in midstride. It was Eddie Malone.

THIRTY-SIX

“Of course, I never took you for a taxi thief,” Malone said, stirring his coffee. “But then I heard the name of that hotel.”

Alek didn’t answer, just gazed at his cup in silence. The black surface of the liquid flickered, reflecting the dancing shapes of shadow puppets on the screen behind him.

The reporter had led them to a coffeehouse, well away from the curious glances of the hotel staff. Each table had its own tiny shadow play machine, and the place was dark and nearly empty, the few patrons all transfixed by their own puppets. But Alek felt as though the walls were listening.

Perhaps it was the beady eyes of the bullfrog staring at him from across the table.

“My mother’s name,” he said softly. “Of course.”

Malone nodded. “I’ve been looking at hotel signs ever since, and wondering. The Dora Hotel? The Santa Pera? The Angel?” He let out a low chuckle. “And then I heard about some Germans staying at the Hagia Sophia stealing a taxi. So the name Sophie started ringing in my ears.”

“But how did you know to call me prince?” Alek said. “I’m not the only Austrian with a mother named Sophie.”

“That’s what I figured, until I started looking into that Count Volger fellow. He and your father were old friends, weren’t they?”

Alek nodded, his eyes closing. He was exhausted, and there was another long day of work ahead—a whole revolution to rethink.

“But we stole that taxi seven barking days ago!” Dylan said. “Have you been sitting in that lobby all that time?”

“Of course not,” Malone said. “It took me three days of pondering, then another three to find out who Count Volger was. I practically just got there.”

Alek winced a little. If only they’d gone to retrieve the letter a day earlier, they might have never laid eyes on