Free The Firebird Mystery by Darrell Pitt Page A

knowledge.’
    â€˜What did they say?’ Scarlet asked, sitting forward.
    â€˜One of them was looking forward to his cheese and sauerkraut sandwich,’ Mr Doyle said. ‘I must confess I salivated at the thought of it.’
    â€˜Mr Doyle!’ Jack interrupted.
    â€˜Oh, yes. The fellow in charge told the others they had to hurry. It seems their next target is Paul Harker.’
    â€˜Paul Harker!’ Jack exclaimed. ‘Why, he’s famous!’
    â€˜The inventor of the space steamer,’ Scarlet said.
    â€˜And our first astronaut,’ Mr Doyle said, looking up into the night sky.

CHAPTER NINE
    As the sun set and the light drained from the sky, Mr Doyle set their instruments for the metrotower. He cooked and served dinner before producing bedding and nightclothes for everyone. Drawing a curtain across the middle of the living room, he provided Scarlet with her own bedroom.
    â€˜I fear I only have men’s night apparel,’ Mr Doyle said as he handed the clothing to the girl.
    â€˜I should be most concerned if you kept women’s apparel in your drawers,’ said Scarlet.
    â€˜Quite,’ Mr Doyle said. ‘Quite.’
    The detective turned the lamp down low as Jack climbed into his bunk bed. Sleeping in such a confined space reminded him of the orphanage. Sometimes when the lights went out, Charley Spratt and his cronies would roam the dorm rooms, searching for one of the smaller boys to bash.
    Jack shivered. He had been on the receiving end of Charley’s bashings. At least he had always tried to fight back—the worst error was to curl up on the bed and do nothing.
    He lay in his bed and looked through the curved window at the sky. Circling the globe at this very moment were hundreds of space steamers, travelling between dozens of metrotowers. It was hard to visualise. Jack had heard about the wonders of space flight and even seen the occasional sketch in a newspaper, but imagining it was an entirely different thing. Entire fleets of trading vessels moved supplies from one tower to another—and that did not include the military ships patrolling the borders between the nations.
    â€˜You’ve done very well, Jack,’ Mr Doyle said.
    â€˜Thanks, Mr Doyle. I like it.’
    Mr Doyle laughed. ‘Being shot at is fun, is it?’
    â€˜Sure beats the orphanage.’ A thought occurred to Jack. ‘You have a son, don’t you?’
    In the darkness now was the pale light of the moon filtering through the airship’s curtains and the dim glow from the bridge lighting. Mr Doyle was silent for a moment before he said, ‘I had a son. His name was Phillip. He was killed in the war.’
    Jack remembered Mr Doyle’s uncomfortable silence. He cursed himself. He was an absolute idiot sometimes. Scarlet was only a year older, yet she was far wiser. She knew when to speak and when to remain silent.
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have asked.’
    â€˜That’s all right, Jack,’ Mr Doyle said. ‘I also have a grandson, although I have not seen him for some time.’
    â€˜Why is that? Does he live far away?’
    â€˜No. He lives on the east coast.’ Mr Doyle paused. ‘His name is Jason. His mother’s name is Amelia. When the war began, Phillip signed up. So did I.’
    For what seemed like an eternity the only sound was the chugging of the airship’s engine.
    â€˜Phillip believed what they told him about king and country,’ Mr Doyle continued, ‘but I had no such illusions. I knew there would be bloodshed. I had fought in the Boer conflict, and had heard the lies that politicians tell. I knew the tragedy that war brings.
    â€˜The pacts drawn up prior to the Great War were built on a house of cards. Great Britain was allied with France, Germany with Austria, and every country held similar alliances. Many naively believed there would be a clearing of the deck, a