Goliath

“And I was almost married once,” Miss Rogers said. “But an old suitor rushed in at the last moment and tore up the marriage license. I think he was still in love with me.”

“Really?” Alek managed. “No doubt he was.”

“Couldn’t you have got another license?” the lady boffin asked.

“I suppose so. But the interruption gave me time to think. I have decided to put my writing first. One can always get a husband, after all.”

Dr. Barlow laughed as she guided the young lady toward the table. Alek felt himself blushing and looked away, only to see a smirk on Deryn’s face—and on Volger’s as well. He wondered if all American women were this bold, as ready to embarrass men as they were to escape in balloons.

“Easily swayed,” Bovril repeated; then it crawled beneath the table to join the lady boffin’s loris. As Alek took his seat, he noticed a sixth table setting before an empty chair.

“We appear to be awaiting a mystery guest,” Count Volger said, inspecting his wineglass for spots.

“Mr. Francis?” Alek asked Dr. Barlow.

“He was not invited. You shall soon see why.” She nodded at Deryn, who opened the door. A man in a somewhat ill-fitting jacket entered. It took a moment, but then Alek gripped the table’s edge, half rising from his chair.

“You!”

“Don’t get up, Your Highness.” Eddie Malone bowed. “Ladies and gentlemen, sorry I’m late.”

Alek sank back into his chair.

“Mystery guest,” the beast muttered.

“Mr. Malone, I believe you’ve met Count Volger and His Serene Highness.” Dr. Barlow was all smiles. “Mr. Nikola Tesla and Miss Adela Rogers, this is Eddie Malone, reporter for the New York World.”

“The World?” said Miss Rogers. “Oh, dear.”

“Edward Malone,” Tesla murmured. “Aren’t you that reporter who interviewed Prince Aleksandar in Istanbul?”

“That was me, all right.” Malone took his seat. “I’ve been tracking him ever since, you might say. And thanks to your flying radio, I’ve found him at last!”

The inventor smiled. “A most rewarding experiment.”

The two men laughed, and Alek suddenly wished that he and Deryn had let the storm wreck the antenna. Its only purpose had been to generate more publicity.

Miss Rogers looked aghast. “Has anyone told the chief that one of Pulitzer’s men is aboard?”

“Mr. Hearst didn’t think to ask.” The lady boffin gestured to Deryn, who stepped forward to pour the wine. “And you’ll find that Mr. Malone has some interesting news.”

Malone turned to Miss Rogers. “It has to do with your friend Philip Francis. We’ve been looking into him for some time now, and it turns out that’s not his real name. He was born Philip Diefendorf, about as German a name as you could have!”

Alek frowned, recalling Mr. Francis from the night before. “He doesn’t have a German accent.”

“Maybe he also changed the way he talks.”

Miss Rogers rolled her eyes. “Philip was born in New York.”

“So he claims,” Malone said.

“Hah! You boys at the World are always making out like the chief’s a traitor. You just hate him because he sells more papers than you!”

“I didn’t say Hearst knew anything about this,” Malone said, raising his hands. “But the head of your newsreel operation is German, and he’s taken pains to hide it.”

“Don’t most Americans come from somewhere else?” Count Volger asked.

Mr. Tesla nodded. “I am an immigrant myself.”

“An excellent point,” Dr. Barlow said. “But the captain is concerned. Last night we took aboard a large quantity of supplies in a great hurry, and not all of it has been searched yet.”

“Searched for what?” Miss Rogers asked.

“Sabotage is the easiest way to destroy the Leviathan,” Dr. Barlow said. “A small phosphorous bomb in the right place would bring us all to a fiery end.”

The table went silent, and Alek felt his headache threatening to return.

“That’s not likely, of course,” Deryn spoke up. “We’ve had the sniffers belowdecks all afternoon, and they’d have found any explosives. But something dangerous might’ve been smuggled aboard.”

“Such as?” Count Volger asked.

Deryn shrugged. “A weapon of some kind?”

“Now, this is just preposterous,” Miss Rogers said. “One man can’t take on the whole crew, no matter what sort of weapon he has.”

“With the right tool one man can do quite a bit,” Mr. Tesla said, and let out a sigh. “I recently designed a device that would have been most useful in this situation. I had it built and shipped to me in Siberia, but, alas, it didn’t arrive before your ship was kind enough to rescue me.”

Alek glanced at Deryn, remembering the contraption still sitting in the officers’ storeroom.

“That sounds like a fascinating machine,” Dr. Barlow said with a smile. “Perhaps you could give us a demonstration, Mr. Tesla.”

“A demonstration? But it never…” He narrowed his eyes at the lady boffin. “Ah, I see. I would be happy to.”

“After dinner, of course. Mr. Sharp?”

Deryn bowed, then turned to open the door again. The ship’s stewards were waiting outside.

As the dishes came clattering in, their metal covers steaming out the scents of steak and potatoes, Alek pondered what had just happened. The lady boffin never let anything slip without a good reason, but she’d revealed her suspicions about Philip Francis to Miss Rogers, a fellow Hearst reporter. And then she’d let Mr. Tesla know that his metal detecting machine had been aboard the Leviathan all along.

Had she decided that cooperation was better than secrecy?

“Dinner,” Bovril said happily, crawling up into Alek’s lap.

The door to the officers’ storeroom creaked open, revealing Mr. Tesla’s machine among crates of sake and Japanese silks. The party had moved belowdecks after dinner, and the six of them looked out of place in their finery. Miss Rogers was still sipping sherry, and Volger and Malone had brought down their brandy snifters.

“This was here?” Tesla asked. “And you kept it from me?”

“Sir, it was you who kept it from us,” Dr. Barlow said. “Why on earth did you have it smuggled aboard?”

Tesla sputtered for a moment, then threw out his arms. “Smuggled? Why would I do that? It must have been a misunderstanding with the Russians.”

“Perhaps you merely asked them to exercise discretion?” Dr. Barlow said helpfully.

“Well, of course. So many ideas have been stolen from me. And you know the Russians, very secretive people.” The inventor stepped forward, inspecting the control panel. “But how did you manage to put it together without plans?”

“My men and I found your design quite intuitive,” Alek said. “We’re still Clankers, you know.”

“Clankers!” Bovril said.

“Well remembered,” Count Volger muttered, but Alek ignored him.

“Just as I visualized it.” Tesla’s hands caressed the woodwork. “Not a bad job, Your Highness.”

Alek clicked his heels. “I shall pass on your compliments to Master Klopp.”

“What exactly is this doohickey?” asked Miss Rogers.

Tesla turned to her. “A magnetometer of the highest sensitivity, using principles of atmospheric conduction.”

“In other words, it detects metal,” Deryn said.

Tesla waved a hand. “One of its more mundane uses.”

“But at the moment, the most pertinent.” Dr. Barlow stepped forward and twisted the main control knob; the