PULP SPYCRAFT
That evening ...
Nadia and Houston peered at the mansion from the back of Furio's borrowed Daimler autocar. "That's a sight, all right," Houston admitted.
"Yes, it must be quite a shock, coming from the desert towns of your state, to see a building over three stories tall." Nadia, peered through opera glasses at the bizarre structure.
A vast, square ninth-century monastery/keep sat atop this hill on the outskirts of London. Several circular towers decorated each corner of the stone-and-mortar ruin. The walls stretched a hundred feet into the night sky. Literally stuck onto the face of this ancient edifice was a sprawling white marble mansion. A long circular driveway looped up from the main road, past the guarded wall of the estate's front yard, arched to the front door of the mansion and then circled back down to the street. Dozens of black-tie guests clustered at the front door, waiting for their invitations to be checked.
"We got tall buildings in Texas, missy," Houston explained patiently. The poor girl had obviously never had the pleasure of being in that fine state. "And the city of Houston itself is very tropical."
Nadia sighed. "Thank you. I don't know how I would have dragged my way through the rest of my miserable existence without that nugget of topographical knowledge burrowing away at my medulla oblongata. Now, do we have a plan?"
Furio craned his neck around from the driver's seat. "I was thinking, the Captain and I climb the wall over by the side of the mansion while you distract them."
"And how should I distract them?"
Furio shrugged his head. "Blow something up."
Houston nodded. "Exactly."
"You know," Nadia said as she adjusted her gown, "there are distractions other than blowing things up."
Houston stared at her. He squinted, lost in thought. Finally, slowly, he shook his head. "I don't think so. Furious?"
Furio was also concentrating, hard. "I suppose ... setting a fire would be a distraction ... but that would end with something blowing up, and that's always better." Houston nodded.
"Just drive." Nadia checked the various goodies of her father's invention she might need. This was going to be a long night. "There's another option." The men raised their eyebrows. "Watch."
*****************************
The guards at the door subtly stepped into the trio's path. "Invitation?"
"I'm afraid we don't have one." Nadia flashed the smile. "We're just in London for a few days, and so many of my friends are at this party, I just had to come."
"Miss, I'm afraid --"
"Could you just tell Lord Mountheim that Nadia Tesla is here?"
The guard's jaw dropped. His partner shifted nervously. Houston tensed when he spotted the gun half-hidden in the man's waistband. It would be so easy to cut through these tuxedoed dandies with the sweet, sweet taste of righteous American vengeance ... but he restrained himself. He'd give this not-blowing-something-up plan five more minutes.
The guards scurried away. Mere moments later, they returned, apologizing profusely. "Lord Mountheiim is deliriously hapy you've arrived. Please, go right in."
As they passed through the doors, the Head Steward greeted them. "I see you've brought your own domestic." They looked at each other, realized the Steward was looking at Furio. "I'll bring him to the kitchen immediately. You don't mind if he helps in the general serving?"
Nadia motioned Furio away. He paused for a moment, then slowly -- sloooowwllly -- followed the Head Steward.
Houston and Nadia swept thorugh the mansion's foyer. They passed a grand staircase, beyond which lay large, almost garage-sized doors. Both spies caught sight of the guards lurking in the shadows.
"My geography's right, just past there's the main body of the old monastery," Houston whispered. "Wouldn't mind getting in there."
"Let's see if we can find a way in that doesn't involve the cunningly disguised blast doors." Nadia nodded graciously as several young scientists waved to her.
In the ballroom, things were in full swing. A big band played, guests mingled, servants patrolled with silver tray of hors d'oeuvres and champagne flutes. On the opposite end of the room, French doors opened out to a patio and lovely overgrown garden.
"Miss Tesla?" The two turned at the sound of a high, aristocratic, vaguely Germanic accent.
The man before them was in an impeccable black evening jacket, gold pince-nez perched on a ski-slope nose. He held his cigarette pinched between the forefinger and thumb of his right hand, held palm up. "I am Lord Mountheim."
Nadia curtsied prettily. "This is Captain Houston, an American military attache." Mountheim bowed extravagantly. Houston made a mental note -- however this evening turned out, Little Lord Fauntleroy here would get one upside his head.
"You can't iiiimmmagggiiinnne how pleeeased I am to have you here." Nadia noticed that Mountheim was not looking at her cleavage, as might be expected. He was, rather disconcertingly, staring at her skull. "A young lady of your intellectual caliber, with such a fine, fine head on her shoulders." Mountheim grinned. "How lucky I am to have you at my party. I assure you, it will be the last party you EVER ENJOY."
"Beg pardon?" Nadia asked.
"Oh. I meant, the last party ... you'll ever enjoy ... quite like this one ... because of the enjoyability." Pause. "And the band. Dance!" With that, Mountheim swept away, leading with his hips. His torso and cigarette trailed behind his cumberbund like a fey kite.
Nadia and Houston watched him go. Houston whispered. "Think he suspects?"
Nadia was still cycling through sarcastic comebacks when a young man interrupted them. He was elegantly handsome, and impeccably dressed. "Nadia Tesla, as I live and breathe. David McGregor --"
"-- the engineer!" Nadia air-kissed around McGregor's cheeks. She'd met the lad at one of her father's seminars.
"Great seeing you." McGregor waved his hand around the room. "You're in fantastic company. I swear, every scientist and artist left living in London is here tonight."
For some reason, that filled Nadia with dread. She turned to tell the Captain --
-- he was gone.
And that filled her with more dread.
*****************************
What Nadia had missed was Furio's sudden appearance at Houston's side. The gunman was carrying a tray of champagne. "I found something," he whispered. "A doorway, at the back of the kitchen."
"What should we do?" Houston asked. Nadia was making small talk with this new pretty-boy. Natter, natter, natter, if this was spying, he preferred the battlefield.
Furio didn't answer, but instead led Houston silently away.
Once they reached the kitchen, Furio suddenly whirled and THREW his drink tray on Houston's shirt. Before Houston could react, Furio backed into the kitchen, begging: "Signore, I am so sorry, please, please --"
Houston caught on. He barreled into the kitchen. "That's it, you useless moron! I'm sick of --"
The Head Steward interrupted. "Sir, is there a problem?"
Houston glared at Furio. "Just this damn lazy servant of mine. I don't suppose you mind if we have a minute? I feel a man should discipline his own domestics, but we should have a little decorum."
The Head Steward nodded, a sadistic gleam in his eye. "Of course sir." He clapped, and the rest of the help cleared the kitchen. "And if I may, there are several very appropriate items here in the kitchen for dealing out a soud thrashing."
"Err, thanks." Houston waited until the Steward left. He rounded on Furio, shaking his head. "Is everybody on this side of the Atlantic all freaky-like?"
"You know, I am from Italy," muttered Furio. But he led Houton to a locked door in the back of the room. "Think you can --"
CRACK. The doorframe was massive, but Houston quickly levered the knob clean off. He eased the door open.
An ancient stone corridor stretched away to their right and left. Dead ahead of them was a circular stairwell heading upward. Houston slid his shield out from under his tux. Instantly, the two men slipped through the door, eased it shut, and stepped silently up the water-worn, dank stone stairs. They followed the wall, leaving an open space, free-drop in the center of the shaft. At the top appeared to be another door ...
They got halfway up before a voice echoed from below them.
"All right! Whoever's up there, COME DOWN!" The threat was punctuated by the CH-CHANK of a machine-gun's bolt being slammed back.
"Oh, we're coming down all right ..." Furio called down into the dark, palming his gun.
"Right down," echoed Houston. He grinned over the edge of his shield. Finally. Skulls to crack ...
He hoped Nadia was finding something to blow up.
