The Golden Age

Chapter 19: “Also sprach…”

As Elspeth was returning to her room after a pleasant discussion with Sandy she passed by Insing's office again. She was almost bowled over as Insing's receptionist emerged in a great hurry, carrying a tray of pill boxes and medicines. At least she assumed it was Insing's receptionist since now as well as her white uniform and cap she was wearing a surgical mask.

Curious, thought Elspeth, there's no real need for her to be wearing a mask out here. And even more curious, she thought, looking at the back of the woman walking away from her so briskly, wasn't Insing's nurse a blonde?

Certain that something was amiss she hit one of the red alarm buttons that could be seen on almost every corridor of the chateau. The effect on the woman as the klaxon sounded was enough to confirm Elspeth's suspicions. She dropped the tray and started to run. Two guards, answering the alarm call appeared at the door in front of her. She stopped and span around.

“Grab her,” called Elspeth. “She's an escapee!”

The masked woman turned, trying to spot an escape route but the guards closed in on her and soon had her struggling in their grasp. Elspeth got to them a moment later as they wrenched the woman's arms behind her and span her to face Elspeth.

Elspeth reached forward and pulled the mask down, recognising the woman immediately. “Why Miss Addams,” she said, “I hadn't realised that your skills extended to nursing. I'm not at all sure that you should be wandering around out here. Let's go and ask Dr Insing if your treatment is really complete shall we?”

“Damn you! You're not taking me back to that perverted fiend, you garrkhh!” Hermione's protests were cut off as Elspeth wrenched the surgical mask from around her neck and jammed it into her mouth.

“Bring our friend along, boys,” Elspeth said to the guards as she turned to wards Insing's office. “And don't be too gentle with her.” Hermione squealed into her makeshift gag as the guards half dragged, half pushed her forward.

Insing's office was, unsurprisingly, a shambles. On the floor of the reception area, with a heady smell of ether hanging in the air, was the half naked, unconscious, form of Insing's real nurse. Stripped to her underwear, she was lying on her face. Her wrists had been tied behind her back with strips apparently torn from sheets, the cable from a lamp had been used to truss her ankles and to hog tie her so that her wrists and ankles almost touched. A further length of cloth had been tied across her mouth as a gag. Another length of cloth pulled her elbows back together until they were almost touching. The ends of the cloth that gagged her had been used to drag her head back towards her elbows. A thorough job, thought Elspeth, for an amateur.

In his consulting room, Insing was not unconscious but Elspeth quite felt that he might want to be. He had been strapped across his consulting couch with his wrists chained to his ankles beneath the couch with Hermione's fetters that she had somehow escaped from. His own tie had been used to gag him, his trousers and underpants had been pulled down and the electrified metal tube had been jammed into his anus. It was apparently still working, every so often Insing gave a wrenching struggle and screamed into his gag.

There was a large lump on the back of his bald head where Hermione had evidently hit him. A heavy metal bedpan lay on the couch beside him – seemingly the weapon.

She turned to the guards who were still holding the struggling Hermione. “You'd better get this sorted out and have your stories straight before the Comtesse gets here. She's not going to like this one little bit. I think the young lady out there would like her uniform back for a start. Clegg's not going to be too happy either if this little lady isn't ready for transfer in four hours and believe me you really don't want to be around for that. Herr Doktor is going to have to get a move on if he's going to finish in time.”

“Right, Miss,” the taller of the two guards responded. “Leave it to us. Dr Insing liked to look after his own security but I guess he isn't really up to it. We'll make sure he gets on with things, don't worry.” His colleague was busily stripping Hermione of the nurse's uniform. Having got her naked, he wrestled Hermione to the floor and tied her wrists securely. A length of cord tied across her mouth stopped her spitting out the gag.

Elspeth smiled down at Hermione, as she struggled against the guard. “Good try, Addams,” she said, sounding encouraging, “but I am afraid you'll regret it.” Hermione grunted furiously as Elspeth left the consulting room.

Four hours later, Bertie was standing in the courtyard of the Chateau. Across the lawn and through the gatehouse the view stretched the whole length of the Lac D'Ysel. The sun had just slipped behind the hills that sheltered the west side of the lake and dusk was closing in. A thin mist was forming over the lake. As Bertie stared out at the idyllic scene an airship appeared over the low hills at the far end of the valley. It was enormous, Bertie was impressed as it slid slowly closer. Aligning itself with the long axis of the lake it edged towards the Chateau. The low throb of the airship's engines could be clearly heard as it approached. The last rays of the setting sun glinted on its massive silver envelope.

The dirigible came nearer, its slow but steady speed and massive bulk creating the impression of an unstoppable machine. With surprise Bertie realised that the airship was headed straight toward the Chateau. Clegg had told him they would be leaving that evening but he had not indicated how.

It kept on coming. It was almost overhead the gatehouse when Bertie heard a noise behind and above him. He turned around and looked up. He watched as the cap of the chateau's highest tower rotated until one of its windows was facing directly at the ship. The ship edged ever closer, the control gondola was almost directly above Bertie's head. The vast bulk of the ship blocked out his view of the sky, the noise from the engines in the four power cars that were slung under the ‘ship's body, echoed around the courtyard walls, deafening him. A cross of lights appeared on the wall of the Chateau's tower. The ship edged closer still, its pilot in the gondola evidently using the lights to align the craft. A shower of water ballast fell from the ship, splashing down in the courtyard; lines dropped down from the gondola.

Two teams of men emerged from a door in the courtyard wall and ran towards the lines, mooring the ship to rings set in the paving. Bertie saw a gangway emerge from the tower's window and slide forward to dock against the nose of the airship like a silver mouth to suckle on the vast silver breast of the dirigible's hull.

Bertie heard the ringing of a telegraph from the gondola above him and the ship's propellers began to slow to a standstill. The airship had arrived.

Clegg beckoned him from a door in the far corner of the courtyard. “Come on Bertie, old man,” he called. “Don't want to keep these balloonists waiting, do we?”

Clegg and Bertie climbed the stairway inside the tower to the turret room where the gangway to the airship was. Two of the ship's crew and Jennings were standing by the gangway. Jennings had assembled a pile of suitcases from Bertie's, Clegg's and Elspeth's rooms. “I' do believe I have everything her that you all need, gentlemen. The crew tell me that we should board at once. Miss Grant is seeing to the others.”

“First rate, Jennings ,” said Clegg and then, turning to Bertie, “Your man really does a very good job, Bertie. Very good.”

Clegg and Bertie walked across to the gangway. The crew members stiffened to attention and clicked their heels as the two men passed between them and into the silver tube that led to the airship. As they emerged they were greeted by a uniformed officer. “Gruss Gott, gentlemen,” he said, “Welcome on board the Fredrick Nietzsche. I am First Officer Schneer. Herr Kapitan Luftwehr sends his compliments and hopes that you will join him in the lounge after we have taken off.”

“Thank you Schneer, we'd be delighted,” Bertie said. “Now let's see where you're putting us. First time I've been in one of these.” He peered at the framework of metal girders and canvas that covered the walkway leading away from the nose and down under the belly of the ship. “Looks a bit spartan so far.”

“I think you'll find it comfortable enough, Sir.” Schneer ventured. “Please follow me,” he said, leading the way down the walkway, “and please watch your step, it is quite a way to the cabins.”

Schneer wasn't exaggerating. The Friedrich Nietzsche was almost 800 feet long and the cabins were situated under the belly of the airship. The walkway stretched for about 100 yards curving downwards, steeply and first and then levelling out before it opened into a corridor. Schneer opened two doors one on either side. “Gentlemen, your cabins. Please make yourselves comfortable. I am sure your man will see to the luggage. The lounge is through that door at the end of the walkway. Now if you will excuse me I am needed in the control gondola. We depart in,” Schneer stopped and took a pocket watch from his jacket, “exactly five minutes.” And with that he was gone.

Bertie stepped into his cabin, surprised at the size and comfortable appointments after the factory like walkway. On one side was a bed. He prodded it, noting that it seemed satisfactorily firm. Opposite a white wicker arm chair and couch combined elegant lines and, essential lightness. “No place for heavy oak here,” thought Bertie. A small writing desk which apparently folded down from the side wall completed the cabin's furnishings. On the desk was a printed folder with the double-headed eagle insignia of the Deutsche Zeppelin Reederei airline. “ Wilkommen An Bord : Welcome On Board,” its cover said. The same insignia seemed to adorn all the cabin's appointments. Behind the chair and couch were a pair of curtains. Bertie leant across and pulled them open. He was at once impressed by the sight. Two windows provided a view out, looking down across the Chateau's courtyard. Peering upwards, Bertie could look up at the curve of the ship's body stretching above. Looking forward he could see one of the airship's four power cars and its four bladed propeller. As he was looking at it a puff of smoke emerged from an exhaust pipe on the power car and its engine coughed into life, slowly turning the propeller. Moments later the ship gave the slightest judder under his feet and he became aware that they were sliding slowly backwards. The Friedrich Nietzsche was under way.

Bertie stepped out of his cabin and along the corridor to the lounge. Freddie was already there together with Schneer. Here the windows looking down were even larger and gave a panoramic view of the Lac D'Ysel as the Nietzsche came to a standstill and then started to edge forwards and upwards. He watched as the Chateau slid beneath them and the dark forests of the surrounding countryside came into view. The throbbing of the engines slowed and the airship settled into a steady climb away from the lake.

With the Nietzsche under way, Kapitan Luftwehr had time to leave the bridge and join the party in the lounge. Schneer produced two bottles of champagne and opened them. He filled glasses for each of the assembled passengers. “At least there is one thing that I suppose we must thank the French for,” he said, evidently disapproving.

Bertie wasn't keen on the First Officer's attitude. “You chaps are jolly good at the old engineering bit – maybe second only to ourselves. What? Still not quite so good at the vino plonko and the culinary expertise, eh? Hope you're not going to subject us to sauerkraut and dumplings for the whole trip. Not too much w ü rst and worse, eh? Ha, ha!”

Schneer scowled at Bertie's jocular remarks. Kapitan Luftwehr intervened to calm things down. “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” he smiled. “We have a long journey and large as this craft is, we all need to get along.”

Clegg said nothing, preferring to grasp a glass of champagne and peer down at the receding countryside.

Elspeth strode into the lounge wearing a floor length, wrap around cream wool coat trimmed with white fur. From the way that the collar dipped between her breasts and the coat fell open as she walked, Schneer was convinced she wore nothing beneath it. “All secure, chief,” Elspeth announced to Clegg, ignoring Schneer's lecherous glance. Then, sensing that all was not calm in the room, she said, “Do you want to check?”

“Hmm,” Clegg responded, absent-mindedly, “Yes, yes, I should. Excuse us, gentlemen. Elspeth, you'd better lead the way.”

Elspeth took Clegg back out into the corridor and through another door. They came out at the foot of a stair way that led up into the cavernous inside of the Nietzsche. The interlocking girders stretched above them like the inside of a metal cathedral. On either side the vast gas bags that served to keep the ship airborne were swollen inside the cables that held them into the frame. Twenty, thirty, forty steps led them upwards. A hundred and fifty feet above the cabins the stairway reached the gangway that stretched from stem to stern through the centre of the ship.

“There we go,” said Elspeth, waving above her, “our guests' personal cabins.”

Clegg looked up. Hanging from the frame of the dirigible each suspended from a pulley system that allowed them to be raised or lowered, were four globe-shaped cages, each made from riveted aluminium bars that left a gap of only inches between each bar. Through tiny gaps between the bars. Clegg could make out that each globe held one of their captives. Jean, Hermione, Sally and Alice swung and span slowly as the airship gave a tremor in its climb.

“And how is our archivist?” asked Clegg. “Is she going to behave herself now?”

“Ah, you heard about that,” Elspeth grinned.

“Well, let's just say I was with the Comtesse when she heard about it. I think Herr Doktor Insing was left in no doubt regarding her views on the matter.”

“He assures me the problem is resolved. Addams' thresholds proved a little higher than he had determined. A further cycle with the tube set at a higher intensity was all she needed, he claimed. Certainly she seemed docile enough when we put her in the globe. I'll keep an eye on her through the trip, don't worry.”

“It's rather important that she is available to us at the other end, you know.” Clegg had confidence in Elspeth but he was still evidently concerned.

“Yes, I know. I'm going to be as dependent on her as any of us.”

“Of course, of course. Anyway how are our birds in their not so gilded cages?”

“Fine, I think. I put them in flight suits,” Elspeth explained. “If we'd left them naked they wouldn't have coped with the cold as far as Rome , much less for the rest of the flight. They're not cuffed or tied but their gags are locked on – we don't want them disturbing us after all.”

“No, no. We certainly don't want them exciting too much attention from the crew. You've done enough of that with Schneer already.” Clegg chuckled.

Elspeth gave a grunt. “Time for dinner, I think,” she said and led the way back down the stairway.