The 13th Floor Elevator came to a complete stop at its berth in the aërodock, right next to a Goshawk 90 reconnaissance airship belonging to the Guild of Engineers, and her moorings were secured. Pewsey and Gench, the reformed air-pirates who piloted her, leapt out onto the deck and fastened the gangplank, as it extended out from the gondola on a large hydraulic screw. Then they simply turned and stood guard as they waited.
Thaddeus Valentine didn't make them wait long, as they knew he wouldn't. They had been his faithful servants for almost twenty years now and a respect had grown between the three of them that was hard to break. Pewsey and Gench did all the spade work ... piloting The 13th Floor Elevator, being grunts and guards when off on expedition, that sort of thing ... and in return, Valentine treated them like kings and gave them a hefty share of the spoils they dug up and sold to cities across the world.
It was a situation that suited them all. And when that situation brought them home to London, as it had now, the old pirates were viewed as royalty. They dressed the part, in the livery of staff of senior Guildsmen, and accepted the cap doffing and simpering that came from all the lesser servants. They got to shake hands with all the great and good of the city, coax secret information out of them using the dark arts of flattery, then discuss it all with their master to see how best they could use that information for profit and progress.
Not that working for Valentine was all spying and dark fun. Sometimes it had its irritations, particularly when it came to that daughter of his. Gench, for one, couldn't stand the sight of the foreign bitch, conceived with one of Valentine's conquests when they had visited the raft-city of Puerto Angeles sixteen years ago. The mother had died five years later, and the kid was sent to London to live with Valentine.
She didn't speak a word of Anglish, only that gibberish Hispanish nonsense, and Gench reckoned they'd have been better served opening up a hatch on The Elevator and dumping the brat into the depths of the Pacific. They could have easily made it look like an accident. But Valentine was taken with the kid right away, even bringing her that savage wolf cub back as a gift from the Ice Wastes. What was it the girl had named him again?
"Dog! Dog, come back here at once!"
Gench ground his jaw and sighed furiously under his rough breath. Pewsey, surprised by hearing the girl's voice, and even more surprised by the appearance of the huge white wolf, jumped a whole foot into the air as the animal bounded towards him.
"Oh, do behave, Pewsey!" the girl laughed. "Dog's just happy to see you, that's all!"
"And I'm happy to see you, Kate!" Valentine's voice sounded from the gondola, and a moment later the man himself was striding down the gangplank. "Aren't you going to give your old father a welcome home hug?!"
Thaddeus Valentine was a handsome man in his forties, his silver-flecked black hair styled immaculately to enhance his rugged good looks. His grey eyes twinkled with mirth as his daughter, Katherine, hurried up to him, every bit as excited to greet her father as her wolf had been to see Pewsey. Her grey eyes matched his for affection and humour, and they embraced deeply as they met, her long dark hair getting patted repeatedly until she pulled away with a sharp tug.
"I hope your hands aren't oily and grubby from all that air travel," Katherine warned with a laugh. "I spent hours getting my hair just right this morning!"
"And beautiful it looks," Valentine admired as he chuckled. "And what's this you're wearing? You look very grown up, Kate."
"I am sixteen next week, Father, so I have to dress like a High London Lady now," Katherine reminded him playfully, as if he would forget. She wore slim, silk trousers and a flowing tunic that were all the rage in London that Summer. "So I hope you're going to buy me a special present. Speaking of presents, have you brought me anything back from your latest trip?"
Valentine boomed out a laugh. "You really are my daughter, aren't you? Atta girl, Kate, atta girl! But, as it happens ... I have brought you a little something."
Valentine reached into his coat pocket and took out a long, thin box, which he presented to Katherine. She opened it up with curious caution. But when she looked at what was inside, she thought that her Father was teasing her ... because all she could see was a rustic old a stick. But then she looked closer. She saw that the stick was intricately and elaborated carved, adorned with strange markings and symbols that almost seemed to whisper back as Katherine feasted her eyes on them.
"You feel it too, then?" Valentine hushed as Katherine further examined the stick. "That low hum of power? Can you feel it, Kate?"
"I can," Katherine breathed back. "It's almost like an echo ... but what is it, Father?"
"An antiques peddler in Dublin sold it to me," Valentine explained. "His was one of the most bizarre shops I've ever seen, stocked full of trinkets and amulets and talismans, all of them, he claimed, were packed full of mystical power. Codswallop, if you ask me, but there are these New Age types who believe in the healing powers of crystals and the like.
"But he was a very good showman and salesman. I bet the visitors to his shop always leave thinking that they've bought a necklace blessed by a moon goddess or something. But this one item stood out. It spoke to me, as I can see it is speaking to you, and I couldn't leave without it."
"And what did the peddler say it was?" Katherine asked eagerly.
"He said it was a magic wand from the very ancient times," Valentine revealed. "Made of Holly, eleven inches, a feather inside from some exotic bird or another. He said it was from a phoenix, and he was very convincing, but I suspect it was merely a peacock or something similar. Whatever it was, I just had to have it."
"But what is this energy, Father? What is it that we can feel? Is it magic?"
"Don't be silly, Kate, I didn't raise you to believe in such superstitious nonsense," Valentine scoffed derisorily. "No, I'm quite convinced that this is some form of Old Tech. Not all of them had wires and buttons and components, you know. Some were very advanced and had information built-in to the very fabric of the object. I think this is something like that."
"How does it work, then? And what does it do?" Katherine wondered.
"Who could say? Maybe anything," Valentine replied. "I once uncovered something called a remote control, which allowed the Ancients to control Goggle-boxes and music machines without even touching them. Such technology is far beyond anything our Engineers have yet been able to craft, but maybe this wand was something of that nature."
"It's very beautiful, whatever it is," Katherine smiled as she lifted the wand from the box and examined it under the light. "I shall try to learn what these markings are, maybe I can understand it better if I do."
"That sounds like an admirable project," Valentine chuckled approvingly. "But for now, I have my own project to attend to, and I'm afraid you aren't allowed to be with me when I do."
"Very well, Father," Katherine nodded, knowing better than to question such a dismissal. "What will you be doing?"
"I have to meet with Dr Twix," Valentine told her. "Pewsey and Gench will escort you back home. I shouldn't be too long, a couple of hours at most, then you and I can have dinner. I can tell you all about my plans for my next trip to the ruins of Central Canada."
Evadne Twix was one of the best Engineers in London. This surprised people who met her, not expecting this squat, white-coated, barrel of a woman - who looked like she might be someone's dotty aunt on a day visit to the fayre - to be such a prominent member of London's most prestigious Guild. But she was quick, had a brilliant mind, and a ruthless streak that had led her all the way to the top of her profession.
It had landed her with one of the most secret, covert, yet vital projects in London. She and her team studied the Stalkers, Resurrected Men whose brains were incorporated into virtually indestructible steel skeletons to be used in a long-forgotten war. Bits of them turned up in the Out-Country every now and then, and merchants hurried them to London to sell to the Guild. It was a profitable business to dig up the dead these days.
Dr Twix and her colleagues painstakingly reassembled the Stalkers, attempting to learn the secrets of their design and construction, so that they may produce new models of their own. Superior, deadlier ... an army to strike fear into cities everywhere, both static and Traction. That was part of Mayor Magnus Chrome's grand plan, and Dr Twix was simply thrilled to have such a key role in it.
But she also had a side project of her own. It was strictly off the books, information shared on a need-to-know basis. If you needed to know, Dr Twix would tell you. If you found out something you shouldn't have, you were silenced.
And the main source of that silencing had just entered the private aërodock hangar where Dr Twix was waiting for him.
"Ah, Thaddeus, good to see you," Dr Twix simpered as Valentine crossed the hangar to her. "I was starting to think you'd never get here."
"I had business with my daughter, but I apologise for my delay," Valentine explained. "This is it then? Your new toy?"
Dr Twix narrowed her eyes at the Head Historian. "I'll have you know this is the most advanced piece of aeronautical engineering London has ever seen. She'll be faster, more robust, and packed full of more new tech than even your 13th Floor Elevator. No, Thaddeus, The Jily Harmony is the future of air travel. Come aboard the gondola and let me show you around."
Valentine couldn't help but be impressed by the airship as he boarded. The long, crimson balloon looked majestic, the state-of-the-art Augenhauser pods shimmered where the light caught them, and everything smelled of new paint and sealant. It was surgically clean, the gondola cabin deep and spacious ... it was a vessel just begging for adventure.
But Dr Twix had more in mind for it than just that.
"The cockpit," she began, gesturing to Valentine to look around. "Compasses, radio, radar to check the weather. It's all top of the range stuff and, of course, I've hidden tracking beacons all throughout the cabin. Cameras and microphones too, recording twenty-four hours a day and broadcasting back to us here.
"But this is the really clever bit. The seats are rigged with sensors to monitor body heat, blood pressure, heart rate and breathing. If the pilots don't do as they are told, a little signal sent through the radio will activate shock rods hidden inside the fabric. A blast of electricity to the spine should be enough to keep those kids in line."
Valentine frowned a little. "Is that necessary? To hurt them?"
"They are a defiant pair, are Harry Potter and Hermione Granger," Dr Twix warned. "And that intensifies when they are together, which is pretty much all the time. Pain may be the only way to control either of them, though we may have to threaten one to keep the other in line. It's the only way ... well, besides switching them off, of course."
"And what would be the use in that?" Valentine nodded. "Your experiment would fail before it even started."
"Precisely. But I don't expect that to happen. They have been programmed, essentially, to obey my commands. But Potter is so free-willed that he is potentially dangerous ... and if it comes to protecting Granger, he might even be able to break my programming. So we needed to include a failsafe."
"Such as blasting him with a thousand volts. I understand."
"Have you developed a noble streak, Thaddeus?" Dr Twix scoffed. "If you have, drop it. It doesn't suit you."
"On the contrary, Evadne, I am very much as I ever was," Valentine returned in a fierce growl. "I simply find the Potter boy to be very pleasant. Well mannered, eager to please ... wounding him to keep him in line seems extreme. But if it is necessary, well, that's just unfortunate for him."
"Speaking of Potter ... did you recover the artefact?"
Dr Twix spoke lowly now, even though there was no-one around to overhear in the empty hangar. One could never be too careful in London.
"I did," Valentine confirmed slowly. "It was there, just as you said ... on a purple cushion in the shop window."
"Were there any problems in recovering it?"
"Finnegan wasn't keen to give it up," Valentine replied. "But he soon changed his mind ... when he realised I wasn't taking no for an answer. My sword at his throat might have swung it ... it tends to have that effect on difficult people."
"You didn't kill him, did you?" Dr Twix frowned. "Patrick has a habit of unearthing useful things that others seem to miss."
"No, I simply scratched him," said Valentine. "Just wanted to leave him a little reminder of who he was dealing with."
Dr Twix continued to frown, but decided to abandon the point. "So ... where is the wand now?"
"Safe," Valentine replied evasively. "I want to study it myself before I turn it over to you. Those are runes carved into the wood ... and that ancient language could be the key to reawaken the power we humans have lost."
"Just be sure to share your discoveries, Thaddeus. There are some who might interpret your secrecy as you being, well, up to something."
"You know me, Evadne, I always have a scheme or two on the go," laughed Valentine. "How do you think I've stayed ahead of the game for so long?"
"That's something many of us wonder," Dr Twix sniped. "Whatever you do, however unlikely the scenario may sound, do not let Harry Potter near that wand. It may trigger memories in him, however thousands of years old they may be. And that could be disastrous for all of us."
Valentine blinked in surprise. "You think he might still remember? Even after all this time?"
"The human brain never forgets, the Stalkers have told us that," Dr Twix warned. "Harry and Hermione are slightly different to both, but the rules still apply. The memories will be there, buried deep, but more than that ... their powers, too. If the stories are true, we want that sort of weapon to be one we wield in the face of London's enemies ... Quirke save us if Harry and Hermione are ever turned against us."
"Then we must do all we can to make sure that doesn't happen. You've done a fine job with The Jily Harmony, Evadne. But I must go and see Magnus. Now that I've returned, he will want to begin our journey back across the land bridge, possibly today. I'll have to be on Gut Duty in case we find a town to eat, just to raise the spirits of the people. I think I saw one on my flight here, Salthook it was called. If London is quick, we might catch it before nightfall ..."