Lady Scarlet

By T. N. Leonard

By the time Vivian realized something was strange about her necklace, she’d stolen £2,000 and boarded an international airship flight. She’s hearing thoughts and voices that aren’t hers. She’s also seeing younger versions of herself, each with a different escape plan.
Agent Jack Durnham knew something was wrong as soon as his partner and the professor they were guarding went missing. Professor Kayhill escaped protective custody and boarded that same airship. When Kayhill turns up dead, the newspapers tie Vivian to the killing and theft of a secret weapon, dubbing her “Lady Scarlet.” Her splintered mind adopts the persona of master spy.
With Lady Scarlet’s help, Vivian outfoxes a crime lord’s thug and Agent Durnham. One wants to kill her to get the weapon she doesn’t have. The second wants to arrest her and use her to catch the thug. When her childhood friend turns up working against her, Vivian doesn’t know whether he’s been duped or if he’s part of the plot. The voices are telling Vivian one thing and each of her younger selves is saying another. Agent Durnham says he wants to help, but Lady Scarlet trusts no one. The magic in the necklace might help, if she knew how to use it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: T. N. Leonard
• Release date: Sep 19, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311381668

T. N. Leonard

I'm a computer programmer by day. Luckily I have my beautiful and supportive wife who encourages me to put words on the page during the evenings. My home life is quiet and dull by most standards, but I like it that way.I've been writing stories of all types all my life. Now that my two sons are older, I can devote more time to writing. I try to write the stories I'd like to read.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Vivian Hawthorn

My breath caught in my throat as the door to the next railway carriage opened and I saw the blue uniform. The man wasn’t a police constable, but a railway train guard. If the police had figured out my escape route they could have sent a message to the train.

The blue-clad man closed the door behind him and walked down the center aisle toward my seat. I tilted my head so my wide-brimmed lace and flower hat blocked any direct view of my face and red hair while I racked my mind for a way out. The window to my left was large enough, but breaking the glass and getting myself through with my traveling jacket, long dress, and petticoats before he could grab me was questionable at best. For a moment I thought about bolting for the door at the rear of the coach or even springing forward and tackling him directly.

One of the coach’s metal wheels struck a joint in the rails and the carriage shuddered. One by one the other wheels hit the small gap and the clatter repeated as the train passed. It only took a few seconds for the sound to traverse the entire train.

We were moving too quickly for me to jump off.

The man stopped one row ahead of my seat and, gripping the seat back cushions on either side of him, blocked the aisle. He never looked directly at me as he addressed the passengers. Next stop, Brighton. The train terminates in Brighton.

He released his grip and resumed walking.

I turned and watched him go, hoping this wasn’t a walkthrough to determine my location on the train. The man didn’t look back as he exited our coach via the door at the rear.

Taking a quick look around, I sized up the other passengers. They were all ages, mostly families, and not one of them was paying any attention to me. They didn’t seem to be, anyway.

I took a breath and let it out slowly. It wasn’t time to relax.

Not yet, I whispered to myself.

The train began to slow. I debated grabbing my things and moving to the platform at the front of the carriage where I could jump as soon as we had slowed enough. A distant male voice in the dark and stormy part of my mind said to hold fast. There was no sign that I had been spotted and no reason to go off plan.

Still, I had to discreetly wipe the sweat from my palms on the folds of my dress twice before the train came to a complete stop.

The Brighton airship dock was at the West Pier, a few blocks from the railway station. There was plenty of time to get there before the ship left. The distant voice kept reminding me of that fact so I wouldn’t hurry and give the appearance of being in a rush.

Nodding to the voice, I took a deep breath and rose with the other passengers, checking the small satchel strapped around my shoulder and lifting my much larger suitcase.

The railcar wasn’t crowded by any means, but the narrow walkway between the rows of seats had already filled. The passengers were beginning to file through the narrow doorways at either end of the car. I stood patiently, waiting for my turn to step out.

A kindly, older man paused as he got to my seat. He dipped his head and waved me in. Ladies first.

Thank you very much, I said smiling and easing into the gap in front of him.

From there I followed the others down the aisle and steps and through the coach’s doors.

My mother’s sapphire necklace was caught in my hair again. With my free hand I tucked it beneath my white blouse.

My thoughts were a wild, swirling mess. They had been since earlier that morning when I’d tried on the necklace. In all the years since my mother had passed, I’d never once been able to bring myself to try the necklace on.

Not until that morning on the day that should have been my wedding day.

When I caught sight of it around my neck and saw the blue flash in the mirror, my mind had started racing at a thousand miles an hour. Despite that, everything was clear. Each step was laid out for me in a precise order. All I had to do was to stick to the plan.

I followed the others off the railway platform toward the station’s Queen’s Road exit. I took a discrete look at my surroundings, first to the left and then to the right. There were no more uniforms than I had expected. All of them were railway employees. There wasn’t a real constable among them.

Maybe they hadn’t figured it out yet.

I filed through the exit with the others.

Outside, the sun was bright. It would have been a good day to visit the beach, which was exactly why most of these day-trippers were here. There were a lot of them, but that was good.

A woman travelling alone was less likely to be noticed in the crowd, as long as she didn’t make a scene.

There were several men with their motorized carts waiting outside shouting, Where ya headed? I can fetch your bags! Too hot to carry that so far! You’re on holiday, let the me do the work!

My plan was to ignore them and slip away through the petrol fumes as an anonymous face in a sea of travelers, but one of the men was a little too insistent. He came right up to me – far closer than was proper – and said, I can get you there, Miss! Just let me throw that bag aboard and tell me where to.

I leaned back from him. That’s very kind. I think I’ll just walk.

But he didn’t give up. He took his ragged hat off and held it in front of his chest with the same grip one would use to hold the steering wheel of a motorcar. Please, Miss. I need the work. Just a small tip? To feed my family?

He crinkled his dirty face up into a grotesque smile. I tried to ignore him and move on, but he reached out and grabbed my suitcase. That’s too heavy for a pretty lady like you to carry. Let me take it for you!

I jerked my arm back, trying to pull the bag away from him, but he had a tight grip. I yanked again, this time with enough force that we both nearly fell over.

Another traveler from the other side of the road raised his voice and changed his tack, heading toward us. You, there! Let her go! He looked to me, all the while continuing to walk toward us.

So much for an anonymous escape from the train station.

The cart driver released my bag and stepped back. The Good Samaritan was looking at both of us, sizing up the dirty man and assessing my situation. Is he bothering you, Miss?

I smiled and shook my head. I’m fine, but thank you.

He nodded, but his eyes said he didn’t believe me. He cast a stern look to the cart driver and lingered just long enough to glare at him once more.

He looked back at me. Well, if things are alright here...

It was intended as a question. It was a last chance for me to say that I needed help with the over-anxious street worker. It was also my chance to get rid of this well-intentioned man.

Thank you very much. Everything’s fine.

The man nodded, turned away, and headed back down Queen’s Road toward the beach.

At least two people had interacted with me and might recognize me if asked. Worse, others had seen the commotion and were looking my way. Now there was no reason to refuse help from the cart driver. I needed to make a quick exit before I made any sort of lasting impression on anyone else.

Turning away from the crowd and toward the enthusiastic man, I lifted my bag with one hand while using the other to hold the brim of my hat so it shielded my face from the others.

To the airship dock, please.

His face brightened. I’ll have you there in just a moment, Miss. He took my suitcase, climbed into the back of his tiny cart and turned back to me with his right hand extended. With your permission?

I lifted my left hand and let him pull me up into the cart. It wobbled as I stepped on, but he held me firmly. Once I had my footing, he released my hand.

It can take some getting used to, he said with a grin.

I can see that, I said pulling my skirt and petticoat up so I could sit with my bustle.

He grabbed the tip of what was left of his hat and bowed. I’ll have you to the dock before you know!

He stepped forward and plopped down into the driver’s seat. Once he released the brake we were off. It was jerky when we started, but I was glad not to be lugging the bag the half mile to the beach.

Most of the other drivers went slowly, allowing their passengers to enjoy the novelty of the ride. This driver had apparently sensed my urgency and was moving at a furious pace. As he came up behind another cart he squeezed his horn several times and pulled out to the right in order to overtake and pass the other buggy. Several tourists turned their heads to see what all the commotion was about.

I lowered my head so no one could get a good look at me.

At least we were making great time.

It only took us a few minutes to reach the airship dock, but it felt like an hour before we got there. No doubt I aged a week along the way. I’m not sure I even breathed once the entire trip.

We’re here, Miss, said the driver as he jumped down from the seat.

I stood and brushed the dust from my dress and jacket as I straightened up.

Very sorry for the dirt, he said as he grabbed my suitcase from the cart and raised his arm to help me down. It sure beats walking though!

It certainly does, I said taking his hand and stepping down from the carriage. I reached into my satchel and thumbed through a paper envelope hidden in a small pocket near the bottom. I pulled out a ten-pound note and held it out for him to see.

My voice turned serious. Thank you for the lift. Take this for your family, but if anyone asks, you didn’t see me.

His eyes were the size of tea saucers. His voice had left him and he stared agape at the slip of paper between my fingers. It took him a moment to make sense of it.

I never saw you in my life, he said with what appeared to be great effort. Surely I’ve never met you.

Thank you.

I extended my hand so the money was closer to him.

Hesitantly, he reached out and touched the note. I let it go, sealing the pact between us. He clutched it with both hands, staring at it as though he had never seen one before.

I grabbed my bag and turned toward the dock.

The Channel was calm that day and the waves that rolled into the shore were small and gentle. The blue of the sea and sky was gorgeous. There was hardly a cloud to be seen. The breeze was refreshing. The air smelled like saltwater and fried fish.

But all I could see was the hull of an enormous sky vessel. The Athena was a magnificent airship – a marvel of British engineering. Her lines were sleek and modern. She was far more graceful than any dirigible anywhere else in the world.

The Athena’s white envelope, shaped like a bullet up front and tapering to a sharp point in the back, glistened in the bright sunlight. Her control fins were freshly trimmed in blue and red and the eight engines had been newly serviced. That I knew for sure because my father had overseen that job himself. Not that he had known I would be anywhere near them today. Not even I had known I was going to be anywhere near them today.

I made my way to the ticket kiosk. Of the many potential ways my plan might fail, the one of most immediate concern was that there would not be room aboard the Athena. I looked for a sold out notice or any other sign that the trip was fully booked. I saw nothing.

A young blond man in the kiosk made eye contact with me and smiled as I approached. He stopped what he was doing and gave me his full attention. I strode forward hoping to keep the conversation as short as possible and with any luck, forgettable.

Do you need a ticket, Miss? he asked.

I do. Is there passage as far as Cairo? I folded my hands and rested them on the counter.

There are three staterooms available.

I’ll have one, please.

Single or return ticket?

Single, I said pulling several large denomination pound notes from the envelope.

As you wish. He produced a ticket and a small metal key from a side drawer. He set them on the counter just out of my reach and slid a thick ledger toward me. If you will just sign your name here, please?

The book was open to about the halfway point. There were several names already written on the preprinted lines, sorted by destination. Using the pen that was in the crease of the book I wrote on the first blank line next to Cairo. I tried to keep my writing smooth and comfortable. Then I wondered if I looked like a Cynthia Harrison.

I handed him the money.

Enjoy your trip. He handed me the ticket and key. Did you need anything else?

No thank you. I bent down and grabbed my suitcase.

No sooner had I started toward the stairs that led to the boarding platform than I heard a shrill voice from behind me.

Samantha? Is that you?

My eyes popped wide open and I felt my blood run cold.

The distant voice was screaming at me.

Get rid of her!

As I had just signed a different name in the airship’s manifest, I didn’t want to have this conversation within earshot of the ticket clerk. I turned and faced the woman who had called me.

Sally Hampton, I said softly, trying to keep the conversation as muted as possible. What on earth are you doing here?

Her eyes were wide and her gestures were exaggerated as she crossed the platform toward me. She didn’t follow my lead with a lower, more dignified tone of voice. I came to see the ship off, what with this being her farewell tour and all. She looked up at the Athena and then back to me, taking one last step and stopping uncomfortably close. I haven’t seen you in such a long time! What’s been happening in London?

That question stabbed me right between my ribs.

She knew good and well what was going on in London. I’d known it was a bad idea not to invite her to the church with my friends and family to be, but there was something about Sally I had never liked. I’d always known there would be a price for not having her there. I hadn’t expected consequences today, though,

Oh, the same old thing, I said speaking even softer than I had before. You know London. Nothing much ever changes.

Sally looked up the ramp toward the ship then around the dock to the left and right. She was looking to see who I might be with. Satisfied that I was alone she said, I expect there will be a lot to talk about tomorrow.

I nodded slowly. I imagine there will be.

One of the airship’s horns sounded, warning she was leaving soon.

I don’t mean to be rude, but I must be going.

Bon voyage. Sally moved in to hug me.

This was why I hadn’t invited her.

Her voice became even more animated. I’ll be moving back to London soon. We’ll get together then.

Gently I eased away from the embrace. I look forward to it.

I turned and lugged my suitcase up the stairway toward the platform and the gangway that led to the airship’s gondola. I muttered under my breath as I climbed the stairs. That’ll never happen.

It was nothing personal against Sally this time. The fact was I was never going back to London.

Just a few more steps and everything was going to be alright.

I took those steps in stride, showing my ticket to one of the ship’s officers at the gangway. He glanced at it and smiled.

"Ma’am, welcome aboard the Athena. May we see to your bags?"

He indicated my suitcase and the satchel. An attendant in a blue and yellow uniform stepped up beside him, waiting for me to indicate whether he could take my luggage. That did sound nice.

I moved the suitcase forward slightly and set it down. He grabbed it and held his fingers out as if expecting my satchel.

I’ll hold on to this, thank you.

My pleasure, ma’am. I’ll see that this gets to your room. He looked to the officer who repeated my accommodation number for him. The attendant turned on his heel and left.

The air began to rumble as the first of the great engines came to life. No matter how many times I hear that sound it will always send a shiver down my spine. In a few minutes we would be among the clouds, high over the ocean, and with any luck, out of sight of anyone who might recognize me.

I took the final step aboard and moved forward toward the observation deck – a great expanse of windows with rows of seats positioned so that the passengers could see the horizon coming toward them in flight. Right now the windows merely framed the town of Brighton, but soon they would reveal the secrets of the world. I took a seat so I could watch the liftoff. There were a number of people there, but everyone was watching the spectacle unfolding through the windows. No one was paying any attention to me.

We watched as the ground crews began untying the mooring lines that held the ship down and the beach goers gathered to watch our departure. From inside, we couldn’t hear the drone of the engines as they revved higher and higher. So smooth was the operation of the vessel that we felt nothing as she slipped free of her bonds and rose unfettered into the air.

Athena was on her way.

It was over.

Easing back into the luxuriously padded wingchair, I relaxed - perhaps more than a lady should. My eyes were fixed on the view ahead. Though my mind was sill racing, my heart was finally falling back to its usual rhythm. Now I could breathe. I would be safe for at least a few hours. Maybe I could even get some sleep.

Or so I thought.

There, among the faces of the other travelers was one that wasn’t supposed to be there any more than mine. We noticed each other at the exact same instant. Our glances crossed and then we immediately broke away. A moment later I looked back just in time to see him look back to me.

We stared at each other for a short, uncomfortable beat. I felt my skin flush and a wave of heat rose up from under my traveling jacket. I lifted my right hand and waved my fingers at him.

He silently mouthed the words Hello, Sam.

Chapter 2

Agent Jack Durnham

My gun was in my hand as I crossed the pavement toward the safe house’s front door. The operation had been compromised and the agents inside were likely dead. Professor Kayhill was almost certainly gone.

I pressed myself flat against the front façade of the building and yanked the puff tie around my neck, loosening it. I would have liked to lose the long frock coat I was wearing, but there was no time.

I used my left hand to check the front door. It was unlocked. I paused for a half second before slowly turning the knob and nudging the door open.

There was no sound as I let the door swing through its full arc.

With the gun fully extended in front of me and aimed low to sweep for any hostiles who might still be on the scene, I took one step into the front room. There was no sign of trouble. Whatever had happened hadn’t taken place in here.

Aside from someone having read yesterday’s paper and leaving it folded on the couch, there was no sign that anything had happened in the room recently.

Gun in hand, I searched the rest of the house room by room and found no sign of anyone. Nothing was out of place. It was as near identical to how it had been the night before as I could imagine.

Except that three International Police Commission agents and a noted scientist were unaccounted for.

The house was completely unoccupied except for me. Whoever had done this was also long gone. They had been gone for at least half an hour.

I knew that because there was a small red ribbon hanging discreetly from the underside of the rain gutter over the front door. The weighted ribbon was normally hidden inside a long tube at