“Then let us do something! Where would you like to go? We’ll go right now. Anywhere! Where would you like to go?” Not realizing his own lack of ideas revealed how little he knew Elaine, he also did not realize that it was Elaine that wanted him to come up with an idea.
Karl Ernst kept the conversation up going on in this direction, anything to keep the subject of the several strands of red hair from coming up again.
“How about the Swordsmen Club?” Karl Ernst finally thought of a place. We could have a wonderful candlelit dinner and then go dancing. We had some real fun the last time we went there, didn’t we?”
“Well, yes, but that’s where that maladjusted Bruno practically lives. Seeing him will only remind me of that horrible time at Frau Ney’s.”
While Elaine was becoming more open, still hidden under her tone and demeanor was anger and negativity Karl Ernst had never seen. He wondered if their relationship had changed for the worse – and whether this change was permanent.
The butler slowly opened the door, the width of which could allow three people pass through with ease. “Yes, m’Lord, please do come in.”
The Admiral marched through the doorway in much the same way as the many other British Lords and Earls had done so throughout the centuries. The inside of the castle appeared clean, yet had a musty smell to it – not of age – but of the mixing of chemicals.
Lady Hightower was making her way down the stone staircase to meet her appointment, arranged rather hastily even by her own standards. The Admiral had only called an hour ago and said he urgently needed to see her.
When a war is on and a military man, an important military man, needs to see you urgently – then one does their duty. The Lady had a meeting with friends at two in the afternoon, but cancelled it in order to contribute to war effort.
“Ah, Admiral!” It is so nice to see you again. Please come into the library, that is the best place in the entire home for our conversation.” She grabbed the Admiral’s arm and began to lead him through one of the huge openings leading to a grand hallway, then suddenly stopped sniffing the air.
“Wilkins?”
“Yes, m’Lady?”
“What is that ghastly smell?”
“His chemistry set, m’Lady. Lord Everton has it out again, I’m afraid.” Wilkins rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Shall I tell him to stop since we have a guest, m’Lady?”
“What is he making?” Lady Hightower asked, without turning around to look at Wilkins, who was still standing in the doorway. The question was more for herself.
“A new type of fuel… for one of his rockets I believe, m’Lady. He insists the Germans are building one… and he needs to finish his first.”
“Well, Wilkins, if he is making something to save our London, then let him be.” She finally looked at her butler matter-of-factly. “Have him come to the library when he is finished, or if he so wishes, have him break and join us for tea.”
“Yes, m’Lady.”
Wilkins slowly made his way through the opposite opening. The Admiral could faintly hear the echoes of Lord Everton singing an old Scottish love song.
The library consisted of four walls – each five by twenty meters – and was completely covered with books. There were no windows, just three large leather cushioned easy chairs and a twelve-foot bear rug in the center of the room. Lady Hightower sat in one chair and motioned the Admiral to sit in the other.
“How may I serve my country, Admiral?”
“Lady Hightower, I have just received a report that my son is indeed alive, just as you said.” Lady Hightower closed her eyes and bowed her head, as if receiving a compliment or a thank-you. Admiral bowed back. “I would like, if possible, for you to use your skills again so that we may have further information, which may assist in his rescue.”
While the Admiral was completely sincere in his request, part of his mind was still under the conditioning of the military – and his own father – which would consider him a fool for seeing a psychic. However, the part of his mind that held the love between a father and son – his son – had the Admiral open his mind to any possible avenue for assistance.
Lady Hightower’s eyes remained shut, then after a few moments began to rock back and forth. As if in a trance, began to speak. “Your son, sent into Germany to find a secret… a secret with one who works with the stars… to use the stars in war.”
“Yes.” Astonishment swept over the Admiral. How could she know this? Indeed, the designing of the top-secret plan for the British to assassinate the astrologer Karl Ernst Krafft was partly his own. However, he had no part in the choosing who would execute the plan, plus had no idea his son would volunteer. What other military secrets does she know?
“How did you know this, Lady Hightower?”
Lady Hightower answered, but not his question specifically. “My husband will be of great service in this matter, since he can connect with the subjects in question.”
“Connect? The subjects in question?” Admiral Payne questioned still wishing an answer.
“Yes, Krafft’s work are the stars, the war is the dark one. My husband met him once, and can still sense his presence now.” Lady Hightower opened her eyes. “But there are others involved with the dark one… forces my husband can sense as well.”
The Admiral accepted the abstract answer. Since their first meeting, Ella and her husband’s ability in relating to ‘the other world’ had them appear a bit off at times. The Admiral’s mind then returned to his main concern.
“Lady Hightower, can you tell me where my son is now?”
“I feel your son is in the same place and condition when we met last. He is however undergoing a deeper torture.” The Admiral flinched. “A deeper, mental torture.” She added.
“Mental torture?” The Admiral immediately thought of the Geneva Convention.
“Torture… of the mind. Playing tricks on him to uncover his secrets.” Ella closed her eyes again. “Just a moment, please.”
From her tone, Admiral Payne thought she was excusing herself in order to get up to leave, however by appearance she was going into another trance. A few seconds later, a rumbling sound came from the hallway outside which ended with a loud thump on the door. The doorknob twisted back and forth violently. Lord Everton finally opened door.
“We need your thoughts on the stars and war, dear.” Lady Hightower said while her husband treaded over to the remaining chair available. “The Admiral says the outcome of the war may depend on it.” Ella looked over to the Admiral, smiled and winked.
“Of course it will, yes, of course, all must be brewed correctly.” Lord Everton shouted while settling in his seat and looking directly at the Admiral. “Yes, your son. I remember his glass. Your son was looking for him.” Everton took out a brown leather pouch that held all of his tools for smoking his pipe. “We must find him too! He is dying of thirst.” He then began to prepare himself a bowl, carefully primping and shaping the shredded dry leaves in his oversized Sherlock Holmes styled pipe.
The pipe ritual took twelve minutes to compete and almost another minute to get the object properly light. The Admiral looked over to Lady Hightower who simply shrugged her shoulders. After a long puff, Everton began to stare at the set of red books on the top shelve of the wall he was facing. Then he began his ramble, as if in a trance.
“Your son was on the right trail, but he was betrayed during the toast. There is another liquid at play here, one we… or the Germans know not. The cocktail in between, one who profits from both sides and will win, no matter who wins.” Lord Everton stopped and his face contorted in pain. “His distilled wealth betrayed your son! The barfly’s immense wealth got in the way… inadvertently… the wino… betrayed your son! And none of us could stomach it!”