Reading sample The Knights Templar

Chapter 1: A Strange Encounter

Etherton stood thigh deep in the river Shin a mile downstream of the falls, rod in hand. It was October and a perfect morning to be fishing. He cast with an expert flick of the wrist, the line snaking back and forth like the tail of some unearthly serpent. The fly landed precisely where he aimed it and drifted towards the object of his desire.. His quarry, a large Atlantic jack salmon, was moving up the river to its spawning grounds. The difficulty was the fish didn’t eat when they ran,  so to get one to take a fly was more a question of annoying it into biting rather than tempting it with a tasty morsel.

His concentration was totally on the fly as it passed over the fish’s head. It ignored it. He whipped his rod up snaking the line into the air, flicking it back and forth as he gathered the line in his left hand. A final flick and the fly landed ahead of the salmon, he expertly guided it, right over its nose. There was a flash of scales and a scintillating spray of water.

He struck.

The hook bit.

The fish ran.

His split cane rod bowed with the pressure, the line bit into his hand. He played him, trying to tire him out, the fish was fit and now angry at being hooked. It tried every trick in the book to get free. But Etherton was a master of his craft and inevitably the salmon tired after being fought for an hour.

Etherton reached behind him for his landing net.

“Can I help, old boy?” a distinctly Scottish voice said from the shore. A glance showed a fellow fisherman holding a larger landing net than he had.

“If you would, this one is a bit big for my net.”

The man waded in and slid his net down into the water, gently easing it under the fish. It gave a token thrash and then he had it.

“My! This is a splendid fish,” the man said.

“I’ve been hunting him all week.” Etherton said as they made their way to the bank.

The fish was a magnificent specimen when he saw it laid out on a moistened cloth that was used to hook the fish to a sprung scale. It weighed in at thirty-seven pounds five and a half ounces. Not a record but significant all the same.

“What will you do with it?” the stranger asked.

“Put it back.” Etherton said and eased the cloth encased fish back towards the river.

“Not smoke it?”

“No, he deserves to have his day at the spawning grounds.”

He gently eased the big fish back into the water and unwrapped it. He held its tail as it got water moving back over its gills. When he felt its strength return, he released it with a light push. The two men sat on the bank and watched it swim away.

 

Later that evening he sat and enjoyed a dram of Blablair single malt. The twenty-five-year-old whiskey was warm with a hint of dark chocolate and nut, sweet with citrusy overtones and a hint of tobacco. He swirled the amber fluid in its glass and looked through it at the flames from the fire.

“May I join you?” a familiar voice said. Etherton looked up and saw that it was his assistant from the river. He wasn’t surprised. Altnagar Lodge was the only place a fisherman could stay for miles along this stretch of the river.

“Feel free.”

He settled into the next comfortable lounge chair and placed a bottle of whiskey on the table between them. Etherton noted it was what he was already drinking.

“I should introduce myself, Hugh de Molay at your service.”

Etherton nodded and waited, he sensed there was more to this stranger than met the eye.

“And you are Etherton.”

“Now how would you know that?”

“Not because I asked the landlord, you signed in as Trevor English.” The Scottish burr disappeared.

Etherton waited, his hand moving to his coat pocket. The movement was noted.

“You won’t need that. I mean you no harm. In fact, I want to engage you and your employer.”

Etherton finished his whiskey and put the glass on the table. He left his Remington pistol in his pocket. Hugh poured him another dram.

“What would a gentleman like you need the services of Mr Griffon and me for?”

“Charlemagne Griffon has a reputation for finding the lost and overcoming obstacles whether they be physical, spiritual or man-made. He will be confronted with all of those and more if he accepts my commission.”

“Then why have you not gone directly to him?”

Hugh sighed. “There are people who will go to great lengths to stop you. I do not want to tip them off. I come to Scotland regularly for the fishing, so this trip was nothing extraordinary.”

“How did you know you would find me here?”

“A friend who is familiar with both you and Griffon is in the same lodge as me.”

“Masons. I saw the ring.”

“Very observant of you.”

“Who would want to stop us finding whatever it is you want us to find?”

“The Catholic Church for one, I don’t think the Anglicans would care one way or the other.”

“Let me see, you have an ancient French name, are a Mason, and the church of Rome is against you.” Etherton cocked his head to one side in thought. “Only one thing that fits all of those. The Templars.”

Hugh raised his glass and saluted Etherton with it. “Well done, ten out of ten. Now how do we get Mr Griffon here without alerting the opposition.”

“He will come if it’s worth his while.”

“Money is no object, the order is backing this.”

 

Charlie was sat in his living room enjoying a nice cup of tea and reading the paper. He was dressed in his pyjamas and a dressing gown. He only wore pyjamas at home, and these were a particularly nice pair of silk ones. The doorbell rang and he was about to call for Etherton to answer it when he remembered he was in Scotland chasing fish.

“Telegram for Mr Charlemagne Griffon,” The messenger said and held out the paper. “That’ll be a tanner.” He held out his other hand for the payment. Charlie kept some loose change on the hall table and fished out a sixpence.

“Here you go and a penny for your trouble.” He was feeling generous.

He looked at the paper.

He sighed it was obviously from Etherton and in code. He checked the date it was sent, calculated the key then spent a couple of minutes decoding it. It read, Come to Scotland. Interesting prospect. Large budget. He knew where Etherton was staying and took the hint that as he sent it in code that there must be other interested parties.

The next morning, he got up early, dressed in tweeds and packed a bag. He went down to the cellar, opened the vault door and entered their private armoury. He selected a Snider-Enfield Mk. III rifle and put it in a leather case along with ammunition. Next, he checked over a pair of Navy Colt revolvers and slipped them into shoulder holsters. A visit to the safe to collect fifty guineas for travelling expenses and he was ready to leave.

As a precaution he went upstairs and checked the camera obscura he had installed in a portico on the roof. Through it he could see the length of the street. He looked for anyone watching the house. Seeing it was clear he collected a thumb stick from the umbrella stand, picked up his bags and left the house. He looked the quintessential hunting gentleman.

He hailed a cab, “Fortnum and Masons,” he told the driver. He bought a picnic hamper while the cab waited. Then to King Cross Station where he bought a ticket on the ten o’clock Express to Aberdeen on the East coast railway. From there he would change to the Great North of Scotland Railway to Perth, and then the Highland railway to Dingwall. When he got there, he would hire a steam carriage to take him to Altnagar Lodge.

At first, he thought that he would be the only occupant of his first-class compartment, but he was joined by a middle-aged couple. Him dressed in a severe dark suit and her, in an unfashionable dress of dark brown with lace trims. He put their bags into the luggage rack, and they settled into their seats.

“Going all the way?” Charlie asked.

“To York,” he said and got out a copy of the Times. His wife pulled out a book and studiously ignored him.

Charlie was peckish as he had skipped breakfast and at eleven, a trolley service came around and he bought tea. He took down his hamper and selected a muffin which he split and spread with butter and raspberry jam. He was aware that the others were surreptitiously watching him. He ate, making yum, yum noises to show how good it was.

Watching the countryside got boring. They were travelling through Norfolk, and it was just flat. He had forgotten to pack a book. The train stopped at Peterborough but no one else joined them. Charlie had a mischievous streak and decided to test his neighbours. He took down his gun case and proceeded to strip and clean his rifle.

“Well really,” the woman said.

“A man has to look after his weapon,” Charlie said with a smirk. The innuendo wasn’t lost on the woman who glanced at her husband and blushed. The gun had been cleaned and oiled by Etherton before he left to go fishing, so was spotless, but he made a show of stripping, cleaning and reassembling it before the train stopped at Grantham. He put it away just as the door opened.

In stepped a woman of obvious good breeding. Five feet six inches tall in her heels, elegantly dressed in the latest fashion, her French style top hat sat on her chestnut hair and was decorated with bird of paradise feathers. She glanced at the couple and dismissed them with a glance. She looked Charlie over as he stood. She smiled and held out her hand. He bowed over it and introduced himself.

“Charlemagne Griffon, at your service.”

“Lady Glen Tanar, but you can call me Charlotte,” she purred in a delightful Aberdeenshire accent.

“Then please call me Charlie.”

They sat side by side and chatted. The disapproval from the couple opposite was tangible. York was their next stop at around three PM and the stuffy couple left. No one else joined. The train refuelled and watered. During their chat Charlie had established she was married, she wore a ring, her husband was the latest in a long line of his clan to be Laird of Glen Tanar. He was fifty years old, and they had been married for five years and had one son. She had been to Grantham to attend the funeral of the wife of a favourite uncle.

 

“I think it’s time for a late lunch,” Charlie said and reached down his hamper.

“Fortnum’s?”

“Absolutely, wouldn’t travel without one.

 A bottle of Burgundy was opened and shared. Gala and Game pie, rolls baked that morning, fresh butter, slices of ham and roast beef, cold roast chicken, apples, pickles and chutneys were extracted and spread out. It was worth every penny of the ten pounds he paid for it.

  They tucked in, Charlotte had a healthy appetite. When they finished, she sat back and gave Charlie a look, “what do we do now?”

“Well we are going all the way..” Charlie said, stood and pulled down the blinds to the corridor.

 

The train stopped at Darlington, which gave them an enforced break. They were alone to Newcastle when a churchman joined them and put a stop to any entertainment. He was the Cannon of somewhere and a jolly chap. It was a relief when he got off at Edinburgh where the train refuelled and watered again. Entertainment resumed until they got to Dundee.

To be honest Charlie was beginning to flag by then and was secretly grateful when a large Scot in a kilt joined them. Scotsmen aren’t the only ones who don’t wear underwear, he thought with a smile. Aberdeen was the end of the line and they disembarked. It was late evening, and Charlotte was met by a carriage driven by a stern looking man that looked at Charlie suspiciously. Charlie doffed his dear stalker hat in farewell and made his way to a local pub that had a sign for vacancies in the window.

“A room for the night, please,” he said to the barmaid.

“Angus! There’s a man here who wants a room.” She called. Angus was at the fire chatting to three men. He stood and walked over giving Charlie a once over, assessing how much he could fleece him for.

“Just for the night?”

“Yes, I’m going to Perth tomorrow.”

“By train?”

“Well, you will be wanting breakfast early then as it leaves at eight.”

“Excellent,” Charlie said.

“That’ll be extra. Bed and breakfast is five shillings and sixpence.”

“Wonderful I’ll take it.” Charlie enthused in a brainless toff way.

“Morag will show you up.”

“Spiffing!”

 

Morag led him up the stairs to a room. She unlocked the door and Charlie stepped inside.

“Toilet is at the end of the hall. There’s no hot water for a bath, you’re too late for that.”

“Can I get some food?”

“That hamper is empty?”

“I’m afraid so, it’s a long way from London.”

“I can serve you some beef stew and dumplings in the bar,” she smiled.

“I’ll be right down.”

The stew was rich, thick and full of root vegetables and chunks of meat. The dumplings, made with suet and flavoured with herbs, were light and fluffy. The ale, dark and strong. When he went back to his room he stripped and had a stand-up sponge bath. He slipped naked into the large bed and was asleep in minutes.

He was up at six thirty and sat down to a breakfast of porridge, followed by bacon and eggs cooked and served by Morag. There was no sign of Angus. For an extra tanner Morag supplied a game pie for his lunch. He paid her six bob and walked to the station.

The Perth train was a stopper and only had one first-class carriage which was half full. There were nine stations before Perth, but the scenery was spectacular. At Perth he bought a ticket for two pence to Dingwall. The train left two hours later and there was no first class. However, it wasn’t that busy and he had two seats to himself.

 

He arrived at Altnagar Lodge in a horse drawn trap. He signed the visitors book as Phileas Smythe and took a chair in the lounge. Etherton and a man with an aristocratic cast came through the front door an hour or so later enthusing about the day’s fishing and handing the landlord a pair of sea trout. Etherton made no sign he recognised Charlie before the two parted to go to their rooms to change for dinner. Charlie waited in the snug until they took a table, before entering the dining room.

“Good evening, may I join you?”

“Certainly,” Hugh said.

Charlie had carefully assessed the other residents and knew the table next to theirs was occupied by a pair of elderly spinsters who spoke to each other in loud voices as they were both deaf.

“Is the fishing good?” Charlie asked.

“Excellent, we caught a couple of beauties which we will have for dinner.” Hugh said.

They were served potato soup to start.

“Charlie, meet Hugh de Molay.” Etherton said quietly.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance at last,” Hugh said.

“Likewise, I’m sure. So, what is so secretive that I’ve been dragged all the way from London.”

“I am a direct descendant of Jacques de Molay, the last Grand Master of the Knights Templar. I am also a Grand Master of the masons.”

“I always thought there was a connection.” Charley murmured.

“We would like,”

“We?” Charlie interrupted.

“My brothers in the lodge and I would like to employ you to search for and retrieve some artifacts for us.”

Charlie sat back and wiped his mouth with his napkin, “not the holy grail.”

“No, there are very few clues to where that is hidden. I am talking about the sword, shield, bible and cross of Jacques de Molay which went missing when he was imprisoned in 1300.”

They stopped talking while the waitress cleared the soup bowls away and brought the poached sea trout for their main.

“That is over five-hundred years ago. Why would any of it still exist?” Charlie started the discussion again.

“I understand you have found artifacts older than that.”

“Touché,” Etherton grinned, Charlie returned it.

“In the desert inside pyramids that are as dry as dust, not in Europe where it is wet and cold.”

“I didn’t say that the artifacts were in Europe. In fact, they could be here, in the Middle East or anywhere else, come to that.”

“Alright, you can hire the two of us at our weekly rate of one hundred pounds plus expenses. If we need to bring in extra manpower you will be charged whatever their rate is plus a ten percent handling fee.”

Hugh steepled his fingers. Charlie thought he would try and haggle, but he said, “Agreed, and a completion bonus of five thousand pounds per artifact. I want you to be motivated to succeed.”

Etherton asked, “Any documents are bound to be in Latin. We will need someone who can read it.”

“Eddie and Stan,” Charlie said. “That changes things, we will need a four-man team from the start. That makes it two hundred a week plus expenses.”

“Who are Eddie and Stan?”

“Dr Edwina Barbour, researcher and archaeologist at Cambridge and her partner Sergeant Stan Billings formerly of the French Foreign Legion. They come as a pair.”

“Very well you have a deal.”

They shook hands but Charlie wanted his signature on a contract before they started. Etherton drafted one in his fine copperplate, and it was signed by the river.  To keep things authentic Charlie went deer stalking and bagged a nice four tine buck.

Chapter 2: Preparation

They returned separately to Whitechapel and immediately contacted Stan and Eddie by telegraph. The message was necessarily cryptic just telling them they had a job and needed their help. The couple were living in Cambridge where Eddie was a researcher for the Department of History and Archaeology at the University.

While they were waiting Charlie and Etherton started researching the Templars at the British Library.

“Good morning, we are interested in books on the history of the Templars.” Charlie said to a stern looking librarian who sat behind a desk in the foyer.

The woman who had her hair tied back tightly in a bun and had round glasses perched on the end of her long nose, looked them up and down.

“Medieval history is on the second floor, rows nine to eleven. Which century are you interested in?”

“The thirteenth and fourteenth.”

“Then you need row eleven.”

“Thank you.”

“And please be quiet.”

“We will,” Charlie mock whispered.

They climbed the stairs to the second floor and found row eleven.

“Oh, Christ there are hundreds,” Charlie groaned.

Etherton grinned and started checking the books on one side of the row, Charlie sighed and took the other. They spent the morning going through books looking for references to Jacques de Molay.

“Here’s something,” Etherton said. “This passage refers to a biography of de Molay being written by a priest.”

“Go and ask that delightful librarian if they have it,” Charlie said.

Etherton left and was back a few minutes later.

“They don’t, she’s never heard of it.”

Charlie sat back, “I just read that it was rumoured his execution was carried out in spite of him being absolved by the Pope. The King of France was determined to be rid of him and practically ordered the French Cardinals to approve it.”

“So, there was a heavy church influence and a split that went up to the Vatican.” Etherton said. “They won’t want that publicised.”

“SHHHHH!” another librarian hissed as she walked by with a trolley of books.

“It looks to me Charlie,” said softly, “that there was a huge international conspiracy to discredit and destroy the Templars. They must have pissed off a lot of people.”

“They were financing almost every major project in Europe at the time and almost all the Kings were in debt to them. They were incredibly rich as an order and acted more like loan sharks than Christian knights.” Etherton whispered in kind.

“Bear in mind that history is written by the victor.” Charlie warned.

“Philip IV seems to have coordinated it but, in those times, to coordinate something on this scale by courier was an incredible feat. It must have taken years.”

“The fact they kept it secret was even more impressive.”

“It smells of the Church. I bet the Vatican was involved in some way.”

“Working through Philip?”

“Yes, and providing him with resources, I bet they were jealous of the Templars' wealth and power. A smear campaign through the priesthood would be the perfect set up for the final action.”

“Which was a classic money grab.”

The library closed without them finding out anything else.

 

Eddie and Stan arrived, and Charlie briefed them.

“Phew, the Templars, you don’t half pick them.” Stan said.

“They are paying well and only want the four artifacts. If we find anything else….” Charlie said.

“The question is,” the diminutive Eddie said, “where do we start?”

“There was a mention of a biography written by a catholic priest.” Etherton chipped in.

“Bet it’s not in the British,” Eddie frowned.

“No, it’s not. We asked.” Charlie said.

“That kind of thing is only kept in one place.”

“Where’s that?” Stan asked.

“The Vatican’s secret library.”

“Not very secret if you know about it,” Stan laughed.

Eddie punched him in the arm, “It’s not a secret that it exists, at least not to scholars, but what is in it is.”

“How do we get access?” Charlie said.

“We send in a request to see a specific document. If it’s approved, we would be taken in under guard and the document brought to us in a reading cubicle. We would not be allowed into the library proper.”

“What’s the chance of getting approval to see the biography?”

“I don’t know. It depends on what it contains.”

“What if it’s not in the secret library but in the public one?” Etherton suddenly asked.

“I suppose it could be.” Eddie said thoughtfully.

“Only one way to find out,” Charley said.

 

Before they could set out to Rome more research had to be done at  the British Library in London and Bodleian Library in Oxford.

“The Bodleian is the oldest library in England and has some rare manuscripts.” Eddie explained.

Charlie, fed up with browsing dusty books, went to talk to his friend, and Eddie’s brother, Felix who was a curator at the British Museum. Felix, who was a bonne vivant and gourmet, insisted they meet for lunch and chose Mabel’s tavern which was a short walk from his office.

“Charlie my boy!” Felix greeted him. He was dressed in a garish mustard yellow waistcoat done up with silver chains, a scarlet cravat, patterned velvet tailcoat and placed a bowler, with hinged magnifying lenses attached, on the table.

“Felix, you’re looking stylish.”

“Thank you, old boy. You don’t look so bad yourself!” Charley was wearing a plaid waistcoat with gold clasps in the shape of lizards and a tooled leather coat. His cravat was white silk, and he had a top hat, with driving goggles, beside him on the seat. In London to blend in you had to stand out.

“Shall we order before you start asking me difficult questions,” Felix said, scanning the slate with today’s dishes on.

“Go ahead.”

“Potted shrimps to start, some of that game pie (it is in season) and apple pie with custard.”

“I’ll have the potted shrimp, the venison, as I shot it, and the apple pie. We will have a bottle of burgundy as well.” Charlie said

“You shot it? Where?” Felix said in surprise.

“Scotland, a week ago, it’s just about been hung long enough. I sold it to the landlord yesterday.”

“Extraordinary. I hear my sister and that gorilla of a boyfriend of hers are in town. Is that what you want to talk about?”

“Why they are here is directly connected. What do you know about the Knights Templar?”

“That is an awfully big subject, anything in particular?”

“Their final years and the last Grand Master.”

“Personally, practically nothing, but we have a researcher who specialises in the subject. I will introduce you after lunch. Are you still walking out with Samantha?”

Samantha was Charlie’s long-term girlfriend in London. She was the daughter of Seamus Quinlan the Mobster boss of the area bounded by Spitalfields, Tower Bridge, Limehouse and Mile End. She was a good catholic girl which meant there was a lot of pent-up sexual tension in the relationship.

“We are,” Charlie left it at that.

Lunch completed, they walked back to the museum, passed through the public areas, and found their way down into the catacomb-like basements. Felix knocked on a grey painted door and entered without waiting. There were books everywhere and the walls were covered in heraldic symbols and family trees.

“Lesley are you here?” Felix called.

A head came around the side of a blackboard. Charlie saw, tousled blond hair tied up into a careless topknot, a forehead with chalk dust on it over the most stunning blue eyes. They framed a cute slightly turned up nose and a mouth with lips that were made for..

“Hello Felix. Who’s that?”

“This is Charlie Griffon.”

“Charlie, may I introduce Lesley Carter. Specialist in all things Templar.

“The bloke who found the mask?” She had a decidedly Chelsea accent.

“The very same,” Charlie said with a bow

She stepped out from behind the blackboard to reveal she was dressed in men’s trousers and a shirt which actually enhanced rather than concealed her curves. She had chalk smuts on her forehead where she had pushed her hair back,

“Pleased to meet you,” she said and shook his hand with a surprisingly strong grip.

“Charlies got a project that involves the demise of the Templars.”

“Really? Which Grand Master?”

“Jacques de Molay.”

“There are a lot of gaps in his history.”

“So we are finding.”

“What are you looking for?”

“His sword, shield, bible and cross.”

She looked at him thoughtfully. “You need to get into the Vatican’s records.  But they will never let you because you aren’t a known scholar.”

“We have one, Felix’s sister, Dr Edwina Barbour.”

“Eddie? She’s a specialist in South America not the Templars and anyway she is an archaeologist not a scholastic researcher,” she laughed disparagingly. “You need a recognised scholar in the field.”

Charlie sighed, he had a feeling of inevitability when he asked, “Would you come with us?”

“Thought you’d never ask, when do we leave?” she said, giving him a beaming smile.

 

Back at his house Charlie braced himself to tell Eddie that Lesley was coming with them. He didn’t know if the two women got on, but from the way Lesley had described her as an ‘archaeologist’ he feared the worst. He was sat in his study idly twiddling a paper knife when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

Eddie stuck her head around the door and said, “Have you got a moment?”

“Of course, I wanted to see you anyway.”

“Oh,” she looked at him expectantly.

“You, first.”

“Um, have you spoken to Felix?”

“Yes, this morning.”

“Did he introduce you to Doctor Lesley Carter?”

“He did.”

She looked awkward and Charlie decided to get it over with.

“I asked her to come with us so she can get us into the Vatican archives.”

Eddie pulled a face, “That’s what I expected.”

“You don’t get on with her?”

“She can be insufferably smug about her status as a ‘scholar’ and she lives with a woman.”

“You are saying she is a lesbian? I wondered when I saw what she was wearing. Do you have a problem with that?”

“No, I don’t. I didn’t want you to get your hopes up.”

“Don’t worry about that. You didn’t answer the other question. Can you get on with her?”

Eddie sighed, “I will have to or not come to Rome with you. We won’t need her after that.”

Charlie wasn’t sure on that point but decided to hold his peace.

“Etherton has looked into the travel schedule. We can leave in the morning.” Eddie said.

“We should be prepared to move straight to wherever the biography sends us.”

“I’ll tell them to pack for a long trip then.”

 

Lesley arrived with a large travel trunk dressed as she had been at the museum. She had modified the trunk with a pair of small wheels so she could pull it along. She was accompanied by a pretty smaller woman dressed in a very feminine way.  Etherton let the two in and went to help with the trunk.

“I can manage,” Lesley snapped.

He looked at her down his nose, “I am sure you can, but it is my job to take you to your room and make sure you are ready for the expedition. To do that I need to make sure you have packed appropriately and supply anything that you may be lacking.”

“Listen little man,” she snarled.

“That is enough of that.” Charlie said from the doorway. “Etherton take the trunk to her room. Lesley come with me.” He turned at her friend who was looking horrified by the exchange.

“You can come too.”

“Her name’s Mary,” Lesley snapped

He led them to his office and closed the door.

He turned to Lesley.

“On this trip I am in charge, Etherton is my number two and is responsible for making sure we have everything we need in the field. This is not a scholastic road trip, it is an expedition, funded by a sponsor to find and retrieve artifacts. We all need to get on as we will rely on each other if things go to hell in a handbasket, which is what normally happens at some point. Now do you have a problem with that or will your insecurities that you are a woman get in the way?”

Nobody had ever spoken to Lesley like that, and she stood with her mouth open in surprise. Charlie continued before she could respond, “Everybody is treated the same, no exceptions. Now do you have a gun?”

She looked confused, “A gun?”

“Yes, one of these.”

Charlie held his coat open to show his holstered Colts.

“Why? I mean no. Why would I need one?”

“Because there are people out there who will either want to stop us finding the artifacts or take them from us if we find them and who will not hesitate to kill us to achieve their ends.”

She looked at Mary who looked horrified and said, “You said this was just a trip to Rome to search the archives.”

Charlie walked to the door, “I will leave you two to discuss this, I will be with the others in the sitting room once you have decided what you will do.”

 

Charlie joined the others who were using the sitting room to pack the innumerable small item that they would need. A good half hour later Lesley walked in with Mary beside her. Coincidently, Eddie was checking one of a pair of nickel-plated Colt pocket navy 36 calibre pistols that Stan had bought her. She carried one in a shoulder holster and the other in a holster on the back of her belt.

Lesley looked at each of them in turn. Charlie had his coat off and his Colts were on show, Etherton had his Remingtons and their rifles laid out ready to pack. Stan carried a Colt 45 Army in a flapped holster on his right hip balanced by a large hunting knife on his right. They were accompanied by an ankle holstered Colt Sheriff’s 44-40 revolver that could be seen as his trouser leg had ridden up as he sat. In front of him was his rifle ready to go in its case.

“I seem to have underestimated this expedition,” she said.

“People don’t employ us unless it’s dangerous, difficult and demanding,” Eddie said and holstered her pistol to emphasise the point.

Charlie had to suppress a smile as he asked, “Will you still be coming with us?”

Lesley looked at Mary who nodded encouragingly.

“I will for as long as you need me.”

“Good, Etherton please check her kit and repack it suitably. You come with me.”

He took Lesley and Mary down into the basement armoury. The women looked in wonder at the vault door and gasped at the sight of the collection.

“Nobody is expecting you to stand shoulder to shoulder and fight with the rest of us as you have had no experience or training, but you should be able to defend yourself.” He took down a Remington Model 95 Derringer double barrelled .41 rimfire with a pearl grip. “Here, you can carry this in a pocket. It can be fired twice and at close range will stop a man. Come and try it.” He took her to the door at the end of the armoury that opened into a firing range. He set the man shaped target at ten feet and loaded the gun from a box of cartridges.

“Just point it at the belly area and pull the trigger.”

Lesley held the gun at arm’s length and aimed. She jerked the trigger and the gun fired. A hole appeared in the shoulder of the target.

“Try squeezing it rather than jerking the trigger.”

The second shot hit in the top of the chest.

“Better,” Charlie said and reloaded it. “Try again.”

As she got used to it, she found she was hitting the target close to the centre.

“That was a kill shot. Do that in an emergency and you will walk away.” Charlie said and proceeded to show her how to clean the simple weapon. He reloaded and gave her the gun with ten cartridges. “Let’s go see what Etherton has done.”

Etherton had taken her trunk, sorted through the voluminous quantity of clothes and repacked them in two lightweight canvas travel bags.  He had added the standard items they all carried. He looked up as they entered, “she needs boots and socks.”

“What size are you?” Charlie asked.

“I’m a six.” Lesley said.

“Hmm. Eddie’s a four. So, you can’t borrow a pair of hers. We need to go shopping.”

“Did someone say shopping?” Samantha said from the doorway in her Dublin brogue.

“Hello sweetheart,” Charlie said and rose to embrace her.

“Daddy said you were off again.”

“Did he? Now how would he know that?”

“Oh, to be sure he knows everything that’s goin’ on in his patch.” She looked at Lesley and Mary.

“And who are you?”

“This is Dr Lesley Carter. She is coming on this trip. This is her friend Mary.”

“Uh Huh.” Samantha said, looking the two over. She was dressed in the latest fashion. A tight, laced bustier, skirt and petticoats. The skirt and petticoats were cut above the knee in front swooping down to ankle level at the back with high heeled laced ankle boots and stockings. On her head was a soldier’s cap decorated with badges and feathers. She carried a silver raven headed walking stick in her hand. Compared to the other two women she looked like a queen.

“You need boots?”

Lesley nodded.

“Come on I know where we can get you some made of soft leather that won’t need any breaking in.”

Charlie grabbed a coat and followed them outside. Samantha gave an instruction to a man Charlie identified as one of Seamus’s soldiers. He ran towards her house.

“A carriage will be here in a minute, she said.”

Lesley could not fail to notice that there were more men stood around being watchful.

“Is Seamus expecting trouble?” Charlie said.

“Oh, he’s being overprotective as usual. They’ve noticed some strangers hanging around the streets.”

“Have they now,” Charlie said thoughtfully.

A steam carriage chuffed and squeaked to a halt and Samantha opened the door. “Come on,” she said. Two of the men got up on top, one by the driver and the other on a seat at the back. 

“Who is your father?” Mary asked.

“Seamus Quinlan.” Samantha said as if that said everything.

Lesley shook her head and looked to Charlie.

“He’s the gang boss of this area. Runs the docks and several, aah, businesses,” he said.

Mary was none the wiser, until Lesley whispered something in her ear. Then her eyes went round, and her mouth made an Oh.

The carriage pulled up in Jermyn Street outside of Crocket and Jones. Samantha led the way in.  She was recognised immediately, and a pair of assistants descended on her.

“I want to talk to Jeremy,” she said, and a servant scuttled off to find him.

Jeremy arrived post haste, “Miss Samantha, how are you? How can I help?”

“Miss Carter here needs a couple of pairs of boots suitable for walkin’ and expeditioning. She needs them now as they are leaving tomorrow.”

Jeremy looked at Lesley’s feet, “size six, medium width?” he said.

“Yes, that’s it.” Lesley said.

“May I see your feet?”

Lesley raised her eyebrows but did as she was asked and sat on a stool to take off her shoes and short socks.

Jeremy picked them up and gently examined them. Then placed wooden measuring device on the floor and said, “Please stand and place your right foot on the measure.” He took several measurements of width at different points and the length.

“Hmm, high insteps,” he muttered

He stood and went to a rack of nicely designed walking boots. “Of course, a fitted boot would be best, but I think we can get close enough with these.” he brought over a pair stopping to grab a pair of woollen socks.

Try these.

Lesley put on the socks and boots, “They feel wonderful.”

Jeremy knelt at her feet and ran his hands over feeling how the boot fit. “They fit very well. You have room to wiggle your toes?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Excellent,” Charlie said. “We will take two pairs.”

“Oh, I am sorry we only have the one. We can make another pair for next Tuesday.”

“That will be too late. We leave in the morning. We will take that pair and six pairs of socks.”

“That will be twenty-two pounds, ten shillings and thruppence.” Jeremy said after adding the bill up.

Lesley choked, that was a month’s rent on her house!

“Put them on my account, please. Charlie here will settle up with me.”

As they left Charlie whispered something to Samantha who grinned and turned right out of the store and headed towards Piccadilly Circus. She cut across to Regent Street and marched them to Liberty of London. Her appearance caused the same stir as before only this time a fashionably dressed woman met her in the ladies clothing department.

“What are we doing here?” Lesley asked suspiciously. Mary giggled.

“We are going to disguise you.” Samantha said.

“You what?”

“You stand out like a sore thumb dressed like that,” Charlie said. “You need to blend in more.”

“Says the man carrying an armoury!”

“You only know that because I showed you,” Charlie winked.

Samantha had been discussing things with the manageress and they started taking dresses and tops and coats off rails.

“Come with me,” Samantha said and led Lesley into a dressing room.  Charlie sat with Mary and waited. The manageress came out several times to collect different items but eventually Lesley emerged.

Charlie nodded in approval. Mary gasped. Lesley was dressed in a close-fitting black leather corset with laces at the front over a white blouse, a black ruffled calf length skirt, a military style red, tailed jacket and officers cap completed the ensemble.

She stepped forward, a little unsteady on three-inch heels.

“You look fabulous!” Mary crowed.

“I look like a…”

“You look fabulous,” Samantha said. “No one will recognise you. Especially if we get your hair done.”

At that point Charlie decided to retire to the nearest pub.

 

The next morning, they set out in a pair of Seamus’s steam carriages to Croydon where they would get the regular airship to Paris. Mary said a tearful farewell to Lesley and Samantha insisted on coming along to wave them off. The giant airship was based on a design by a German inventor but the British Lighter Than Air Company had licensed and improved it. One major improvement BLAC had made was in the use of helium rather than hydrogen which the Germans used.

They boarded the spacious gondola and found their seats.  The scheduled flight time was three and a half hours at seventy ground miles per hour. It cast off and they were on their way.