Invasion

board. He drew out his sword, a lowly hanger, and hobbled forward purposefully.

'Nicholas—no!' Kydd blurted. Was he, through his beliefs, contemptuous of Fulton's life?

'He'll die!' the man shouted, the muzzle at Fulton's ear. Renzi took no notice and came steadily on. 'He dies— now!'

The pistol aimed and the finger tightened, but Renzi did not waver, still moving forward. Coldly he detached the weapon from the man's hand and tossed it in the sea.

Stunned, the others rushed up and seized the agent, releasing Fulton, who fell, retching.

'What in blazes—Nicholas?'

'No mystery, dear fellow. Their orders were to recover Fulton for Bonaparte's service. It stands to reason that no servant of the Emperor would dare destroy him out of spite if there's a chance he might be secured later.'

Kydd chuckled. 'You took a risk on it, Nicholas, m' friend.'

'Not so much,' Renzi said, with perfect equanimity, 'for if he killed me, with but one shot in his pistol, Fulton would still be safe, and I flatter myself he could be certain your vengeance was sure.'

'And if Fulton was not?'

'Then, alas, I could not forgive myself that the world would then be deprived of a most terrible new submarine boat . . .'

In the deathly silence nothing could be heard but a tiny tick, tick, tick. It came from a neat but incredibly complex brass mechanism secured in a vice, which the three men were watching.

Suddenly with a loud clack a sear rotated to allow a hammer arm to spring forward, tugging a lanyard. There was an instant fizz of priming and a small column of smoke, which rose and hung as if to mark the passing of a moment of portent.

'There! I give you twenty-nine minutes, gentlemen,' Fulton grunted, lowering his fob watch, 'and can thereby guarantee a detonation timed almost to the very minute.'

Kydd glanced at the expressionless face of the old watchmaker and murmured, 'To time to the instant when an unknowing man must be launched into eternity—this is our achievement?'

Fulton looked at him sharply. 'We progress,' he said coldly.

'As we must,' Kydd said heavily, then pulled himself together. 'So, what's our standing in the venture now?'

Fulton first addressed the watchmaker. 'Thank you, Mr. Jones. There'll be one or two small changes, then I'm content to recommend the placing of an order for, say, fifty mechanisms to be delivered without delay.'

'W-what? H-how many did you say?' he stuttered. 'It will—sir, I cannot possibly—'

'Then I must find someone who can.'

'No, no, sir, I—I will hire every watchmaker in Kent, if need be. But—but this will cost, um . . . It will be expensive.'

'No matter, leave it with our Mr. Hammond,' Fulton said airily, and turned to answer Kydd. 'Well, now, we have all the design testing complete. There will be some adjustments to my plans and then you may inform your masters that the production of ordnance may begin.'

'Adjustments?'

'A few. I've decided we must field all three designs of torpedo: the large coffer, against which even a ship-o'- the-line cannot stand; a small coffer, for the lesser breeds; and a hogshead carcass, as will be used against the flotilla.'

He pondered a little and added, 'This is all supposing your friend's catamarans are equal to the task, of course. The extra charge weight is not insignificant.'

'But we may say Teazer's task is complete?'

'For the moment.'

As soon as Kydd entered the Three Kings it was obvious that the atmosphere had changed. Dyer of Falcon and Mills of Bruiser were slumped opposite each other at an empty fireplace, and an officer he didn't know stood with a glass gazing moodily out over the anchorage. There was no sign of Savery.

'Ahoy there, the Bruisers!' Kydd called cheerily. The man looked the other way but Dyer nodded wearily. 'Captain Savery not at his Friday occasion?' he asked, signalling to the steward. 'A supernaculum for my friends as need a recuperative,' he ordered, looking about genially to mark their preference.

'Cap'n Savery is not here, Mr. Kydd,' Mills said suddenly, swivelling to look at him.

'Oh. Well, I—'

'He's up agin the French coast.'

'I wasn't aware—'

'Where he's been at the last month without even he's hauled off for a purgation.'

The officer at the window turned to look curiously at Kydd. 'Are you new on the coast, sir?'

'Not so,' Kydd said, nettled at his reception. 'I've been lately detained with secret matters touching on Boney's invasion plans.'

'Secret! Hah!'

'Your meaning, sir?' Kydd asked Mills.

'All the world knows o' these wild motions wi' infernal machines, dammit! Not as if you was out o' sight over