Chapter 1

"We're headed to England in that thing?" Jack looked very skeptically at the extremely large object in front of them.

"Where's your sense of adventure, Jack?" Jack gave her a very dubious side-glance as she beamed broadly at him. "I think it fell off the back of that camel," he cracked wise back to her. They had decided to spend a few days exploring the Egypt properly before embarking on a truly different type of journey the rest of the way to England.

Phryne had booked them first class passage (really the only kind available) on one of the two British rigid airships to compete with a fleet of German zeppelins. This was the new frontier. The future was here. The R-101 was making its maiden return voyage to England and had stopped in Cairo, "And we have tickets!" Phryne had been so excited. "How wonderful," Jack swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing, in a tone that suggested that he felt much the opposite.

Jack looked at the massive oblong shape in awestruck terror.

Phryne looked at the massive oblong shape in awestruck wonder.

"Ready?" She said with glee and glorious grin.

"As I'll ever be." He responded quietly with a smirk and a sigh.

She squeezed his bicep. "Don't worry, Jack," she winked, "you'll have me with you to keep your head in the clouds." He tilted his head towards hers and she rose up on her toes to give him a gentle kiss as they continued to wait arm-in-arm to board the airship.

The ship was tethered to a mooring mast that rose fifty feet into the air. Their trunks had gone ahead of them on lifts while they waited in the lounge getting to know some of the other passengers and the senior officers.

When they first arrived at the royal reception lounge, Phryne was greeted by an effete gentleman with too much hair trying to compensate for too much forehead. His clothing was expensive and immaculately cared for, with no hint of wrinkle, no thread out of order. He was a model of sartorial perfection. He had large, clear, light-blue eyes and long, elegant lashes. His brows were artfully, though artificially, arched. He sported a tiny, but very well groomed, pencil thin moustache—not much more than the width of the tip of a knife. He lacked any strength of jaw, it gave the illusion that he had no chin.

"Phryne Fisher," he greeted her with something resembling, but not quite achieving the full effect of, warmth. "I haven't seen you in ages, darling. What brings you to Egypt?" He kissed her lightly on each cheek. He asked the question with the air of someone who already had some of the facts but was looking to catch a lie.

Philip Howard, the fifth Earl of Effingham, was an incurable gossip. Phryne knew him from London Society, of course. He'd proposed marriage a few times. He was one she'd actually seriously considered, only because she knew he'd have no interest in keeping her for himself, but—as it turned out—Phryne was a bit more romantic and less mercenary than he'd assumed. She understood that marriage amongst the peerage was really nothing more than securing alliances, and while she never considered herself the marrying kind, she still felt marriage should involve love, at least a little bit.

"Philip, darling, how wonderful to see you!" She greeted in return, "You know me. Just having a little adventure." Philip eyed the silent man just off Phryne's shoulder, "Who have we here?" he asked with a purse of his lips and an arch of his brow.

Phryne turned to pull Jack forward meeting his eyes with a wink. He smiled imperceivably to any but her trained eye. "Philip Howard, Earl of Effingham, may I introduce my partner Detective Inspector Jack Robinson." Jack tilted his head slightly and smiled a little more, but not effusively, "Lord Effingham, pleasure to meet you."

He offered his hand which Philip took with flourish, "Charmed, Inspector Robinson," he turned to Phryne, "he's marvelous."

Phryne wiggled her hand into the crook in Jack's elbow to grab his arm, "Yes," she said rather more sharply than she intended, "I rather think so." Jack glanced at her with a quizzical look. She wasn't usually this, what was this? Possessive.

They engaged in small talk with Philip for the duration of their wait. He introduced them to his valet Matthew Franklin. Phryne could tell that there was something else between the two besides the role of employer and valet. A bit too much care, perhaps, from Philip for Matthew. A bit too long a glance. A bit too tender a touch.

At last they were called for boarding. They waited in a queue to be lifted up the mooring mast to the 777-foot-long airship. They were lifted to the front of the airship. Jack peered nervously over the side. The gang plank was designed to keep anyone from plunging to their doom, but it was a bit nerve-wracking all the same. "I can do this," he thought to himself, "this is a perfectly safe means of transport." His mind was convinced, though his lungs and heart hadn't received the memorandum.

Once they'd made their entrance past the flap of the entry into the airship proper, it was a different world. All whites and golds and opulence. There was a slight feeling of unease. A tremor to every step. But it didn't take long to acclimate to the oddness of the place. There were three floors of passenger access. Phryne and Jack found their cabin. It wasn't overly large, but it was large enough. It had a bed that was almost a double bed. The two trunks had been stacked side by side in the small closet. The bathroom facilities were down the hall. It was luxurious to a degree, but spartan by necessity.

"This is — cozy," Phryne said as they tried to unpack a little.

Jack pulled her to him, and kissed her soundly. "It is." He agreed, meaning something altogether different than what she meant. The room was small and had no windows, so it felt smaller than it really was. Phryne had initially felt cramped, but with Jack pressing into her, merging his mouth and hands and body with hers, the tightness of the space eased.

They were expected on the promenade deck for the decoupling ceremony. They reluctantly pulled their lips apart and rested foreheads together. "Hold that thought, Inspector," Phryne breathed into her partner. They were both short of breath. "If I hold it too tightly, I won't be polite company," he countered with a smirk. "Mmm. Yes, I've noticed." Jack groaned. "That isn't helping, Miss Fisher." They decided they could be a late for the ceremony.

They arrived at the promenade deck, late for the speeches, but before the rigid airship had decoupled from the mooring mast. Jack, for one, felt like this was an acceptable loss. The promenade deck had a number of lounge chairs which had been stacked against the wall for the casting-off ceremony. They made their way to the rail and peered over the side through the glass to the ground below. They could see part of the mooring mast and the tiny forms of the ground crew below them. A loud whirring sound and a heavy clang signaled that they were finally cut free the umbilical to mother earth. At first, it seemed nothing was happening; that they were suspended the same as they had been before. Gradually, slowly, they began to rise and the mooring mast passed beneath them.

"Magnificent, isn't it," a raspy voice that they couldn't immediately identify as either male or female spoke next to them. Jack and Phryne had been pressed together observing the ground below. Jack had one hand on the far side of Phryne's body against the rail as she was tucked into his side, no space between them. Their hands were laced together on the railing. They turned as one to the voice. They encountered a small—less than five feet tall—older woman. It was hard to determine her age, but her face had the evidence of much laughter over many years. Her hair was a shock of white, but it was cut in a style very similar to Phryne's. Bobbed short and sleeker than one would expect for hair that had seen so many years. She had large round spectacles with thick glass. Her eyes were so heavily lidded that the color could not be discerned from a casual glance in the dim light of the promenade deck. She wore bright red lipstick that matched perfectly her red fascinator and red boa. It completely failed to match her canary yellow dress, but this was a woman who clearly did not care. She was, Phryne decided immediately, delightful.

"Yes! It is magnificent," Phryne responded, "Phryne Fisher." She offered her hand.

"Yes, Miss Fisher. I know who you are," the delightful old woman responded, "Dame Salome Anders. I know your mother. Delighted to meet you and to see that the apple does in fact fall farther from the tree than I feared," she turned to Jack, "And you must be her scandal."

Jack raised his eyebrows for a brief moment, "I…suppose I must," he responded taking her proffered hand to kiss as she was clearly indicating he should, "Jack Robinson."

Dame Salome looked at Phryne, "He's a charmer."

Phryne smiled at her warmly, "I've always thought so."

"But you're failing to compensate for the atmospheric pressure!" the trio turned to see a young man of about twenty-five following a man who looked to be about forty. The older man was wearing a uniform with the Royal Air Force insignia indicating he was the captain.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Crocker," the captain said dismissively to the young man, "that will be all." The captain stalked away to another man wearing an even more impressive uniform and a beautiful, slender young woman with wavy chestnut hair. Mr. Crocker had come to a stop near Dame Salome and the detectives.

"He's a fool," the young man said, apparently to himself, though loud enough for the three to hear him.

"How do you mean?" Dame Salome interrupted his thoughts.

"What? Oh, so sorry. No, it's nothing," the young man said.

"I believe if there is something the captain is failing to consider about atmospheric pressure, it's worth listening to," Phryne jumped into the conversation, "I'm an aviatrix myself. While I'm not opposed to taking risks, if there's something we need to know…"

Mr. Crocker was quick to counter, "No, no… nothing like that. It's perfectly safe," he had pinched his brows together for a fraction of a second, "at least according to the calculations based on the data I have."

Phryne nodded at the young man and tried to decide whether to push the issue. "Phryne Fisher, aviatrix… and private detective."

The young man pushed his glasses back up on his nose. He was a little shorter than Jack, he had dark blonde hair which was not entirely contained by pomade. As if he made the attempt with less of the product than one would need to manage successfully. The effect meant that bits of his hair stuck out at odd angles and were not as styled as he clearly intended. He had large brown eyes which seemed larger by the magnification of the lenses of his glasses. He looked at if he didn't need to shave often, and his skill at it was not well developed. There were places he'd missed, but his face didn't seem to notice much. He wasn't unhandsome, but he wasn't likely to be gracing the silver screen either. "Um… Hello," he blinked a few times trying to get his bearings. It seemed like meeting new people and dazzling them with his charm was not in his wheelhouse, "Glenn Crocker." The others introduced themselves as well and they continued in conversation for some time as Egypt fell away beneath their feet.

After an hour or so, dinner was announced and the guests were directed to leave the promenade deck and make their way to the dining room. Dame Salome turned to Phryne and Jack, "I'm to dine with my godson Lord Thomson this evening, but join me later in the smoking lounge," she commanded.

Jack tried to demur, "Oh—thank you for the invitation Dame Salome. Neither of us smoke."

Dame Salome gave Jack a patient but withering look, "Perhaps not, Inspector, but I do and I have things to say."

Phryne barely stifled a giggle at this.

"Ah. We'd be delighted in that case," followed Jack.

In the large dining hall, they found themselves being flagged down by Philip. "Hello, darling!" he greeted, "come join us!"

Dame Salome had gone to the captain's table which had the included the two the captain had abandoned Mr. Crocker to speak with earlier and another pair. This new couple was older. The woman was very elegant and richly dressed. Phryne thought she recognized her, but couldn't quite place from where. Perhaps from a magazine or newspaper. The man had been in the newspapers. Lord Thomson, British Minister of Air. The British Rigid Airship program was his pet project.

Mr. Crocker joined Jack and Phryne at Lord Effingham's table. They were also joined by a young couple—Princess Valentina and Prince Dimitrie Comanesti, Romanian royals of some sort, though it was unclear where they fell in the succession. They were both in their late twenties and seemed to be distracted by their own thoughts. Whenever the conversation didn't directly involve them, Princess Valentina's eyes would wander to the captain's table.

There were advantages to allying with a notorious gossip. Philip knew everyone and everything.

"Lord Thomson is, of course, the Air Minister. The woman is the romance writer Lucile Décaux, you've read her?" Phryne shook her head in the negative, "You haven't? Oh, she's marvelous. I understand she and Lord Thomson have quite the torrid affair going. He's never married. I thought for a time he might be willing to have a go, but turned out he'd been pining for her. Anyway, she is apparently married to someone else and Lucile Décaux is only a pseudonym, though I haven't been able to find out who she really is yet," Valentina looked at sharply at Philip but said nothing. He continued with his long-winded narrative, oblivious to the effect it was having on the table. "That older gentleman is Air Commodore Douglas Cobb and that lovely young lady is his daughter Emma. She's betrothed the captain of this beast who has swallowed us, Group Captain Percy Davis." Phryne looked at the young woman being lectured by captain.

The girl Emma looked deeply unhappy, "He seems a little old for her," she mused, "I can't imagine they have much to talk about."

Philip arched a brow at her, "Oh my darling, you should know that's not how this works. Not all daughters are as headstrong as you, my dear girl."

Phryne frowned, "Well, it's ridiculous. It's clear she doesn't love him."

Philip studied her for a moment. "When did you become such a romantic, Phryne Fisher?"