Behemoth

the man.

“But once it all fell into place, I just had to find you again.” Malone’s face was beaming. “A missing prince, the boy whose family started the Great War! Biggest story I’ve ever covered.”

“Should we kill him now?” Lilit asked.

Malone gave her a curious look; clearly he hadn’t understood her German. He pulled out his notepad. “And who might you be, miss?”

Lilit’s eyes narrowed, and Alek hurriedly spoke up. “I’m afraid that’s none of your business, Mr. Malone. We won’t be answering any of your questions.”

The man held up his notebook. “So I’ll have to publish my story with so many questions left unanswered? And so soon? Say … tomorrow?”

“Are you blackmailing us, Mr. Malone?”

“Of course not. I just don’t like loose ends.”

Alek shook his head and sighed. “Write what you want. The Germans already know I’m here in Istanbul.”

“Interesting,” Malone said, his pen scribbling on the pad. “See? You’re adding background already! But what’s really interesting is young Dylan being with you. The Ottomans will be surprised to hear that one of the Leviathan’s saboteurs escaped!”

From the corner of his eye, Alek saw Dylan’s fists clench.

But Malone had turned his gaze on Lilit. “And then there’s the matter of your new revolutionary friends. That might raise a few eyebrows as well.”

“My knife is ready,” Lilit said softly in German. “Just say the word.”

“Mr. Malone,” Alek said, “perhaps we can convince you to delay publishing your story.”

“How long do you need?” the man said, his pen still poised to write.

Alek sighed. Giving Malone a date only revealed more about their plans. But they had to string the man along somehow. If the Ottomans learned that a Darwinist saboteur was working with revolutionaries here in Istanbul, they might begin to piece together Dr. Barlow’s plan.

Alek looked to Dylan for help.

“Don’t you see, Mr. Malone?” the boy said. “If you give us all away, then the story’s over. But if you just wait a wee bit, it’ll get heaps more interesting, we promise!”

Malone leaned back, drumming his fingers on the table. “Well, I suppose you’ve got a little while. I file my stories by messenger tern. That’s four days to cross the Atlantic. And because I use birds, the Germans’ can’t listen in on their fancy new wireless tower.”

“Four days is hardly—,” Alek began, but Dylan grabbed his arm.

“Excuse me, Mr. Malone,” the boy said. “What wireless tower are you talking about?”

“The big one they’re just finishing.” Malone gave a shrug. “It’s meant to be a secret, but half the Germans in this city are working on it. Has its own power station, they say.”

Dylan’s eyes grew wider. “Is this tower somewhere along a railroad line?”

“I’ve heard it’s somewhere on the cliffs, where the old tracks follow the water.” Malone narrowed his eyes. “What’s so interesting about that?”

“Barking spiders,” Dylan said softly. “I should have realized the first night I was here.”

Alek stared at the boy, remembering his story about the night he’d arrived. Dylan had secretly ridden a short way on the Orient-Express, which the Germans were using to smuggle parts out of the city … electrikal parts.

The pieces finally fell into place.

“With its own power station?” Alek asked.

Eddie Malone nodded, his eyes flicking between the two of them.

Alek felt a cold finger sliding down his spine. No mere wireless tower would need that much power. The Leviathan was flying straight into disaster.

“Can you give us a month?” he asked Malone.

“A whole month?” The reporter let out a snort. “My editors would have me brought home in a brown bag. You have to give me something to write about.”

Dylan sat up straighter. “All right, then, I’ve got a story for you. And the sooner you publish it, the better. That wireless tower—”

“Wait!” Alek said. “I have something better. How about an interview with the missing prince of Hohenberg? I’ll tell you about the night I left my home, how I escaped Austria and made it to the Alps. Who I think killed my parents, and why. Will that keep you busy enough, Mr. Malone?”

The man’s pen was scribbling, his head nodding furiously. Dylan was staring at Alek, wide eyed.

“But there’s one condition: You can’t mention either of my friends,” Alek said. “Just say I’m hiding in the hills somewhere, alone.”

The man paused a moment, then shrugged. “Whatever you want, as long as I can take some photographs too.”

Alek shuddered—of course Malone’s newspaper was the sort that published photographs. How perfectly vulgar.

But he could only nod.

“Mr. Malone,” Dylan said, “there’s still one other thing—”

“Not tonight,” Alek said. “I’m afraid we’re all quite tired, Mr. Malone. I’m sure you understand.”

“You’re not the only ones.” The reporter stood up, stretching his arms. “I’ve been in that lobby all night. Meet me tomorrow in the usual cafe?”

Alek nodded, and Malone gathered his things and left, not even offering to pay for his coffee.

“This is all my fault,” Lilit said when the man was gone. “I saw him when I followed you. I should have recognized him on my way up.”

Alek shook his head. “No. I was the one foolish enough to involve a reporter in my affairs.”

“No matter whose fault it is,” Dylan said, “we should have told him about the …” He hesitated, looking at Lilit.

She waved a hand dismissively. “The Committee knows all about that tower. We’d been watching the Germans build it for months, wondering what it might be. Until Alek came along and explained everything.”

“I did?” Alek asked, then remembered his first day at the warehouse. Nene hadn’t believed a word he’d said … until he’d mentioned the Tesla cannon. Then suddenly she’d become quite interested, peppering him with questions—what it was called, how it worked, and whether it could be used against walkers. “But I thought we were talking about the Goeben. Why didn’t you tell me the sultan had another Tesla cannon?”

“It hardly mattered—you said it couldn’t affect our walkers.” She frowned, looking at Dylan. “But it can shoot down airships, can’t it?”

The boy cleared his throat, but only shrugged.

“And you both just turned green at the thought of that,” Lilit said.

“Aye, well, you know,” Dylan said. “Those contraptions are a professional hazard, when you’re an airman.”

Lilit crossed her arms. “And you were about to tell that reporter what this ‘wireless tower’ really was, to warn your Darwinist friends!” She turned to Alek. “And you’re willing to spill your family secrets just to keep Dylan out of the papers! There’s something you two aren’t telling me.”

Alek sighed. Lilit could be annoyingly perceptive sometimes.

“Shall I ask my grandmother to help me sort this all out? She’s very good at puzzles.”

Alek turned to Dylan. “We should tell her everything.”

The boy threw up his hand in surrender. “Aye, it hardly matters anymore. We have to put a stop to the whole plan! Just tell Malone about the Tesla cannon tomorrow. Once that’s in the papers, the Admiralty will know the plan is too dangerous.”

“We can’t,” Alek said. “The revolution will fail without the Leviathan’s help!”

“But they’ll never make it. If that cannon’s got its own power plant, it’s got to be barking huge.”

Alek opened his mouth, but couldn’t find words to argue with. There was no way to fly an airship over