Page 54 of Prince of the Undying

“Why not Germany?”

His spectacles flashed. “Are you loyal to America?”

He had a point.

At a riverside restaurant, Diesel’s colleagues joined us—two Belgian men, Georges Carels and Alfred Luckmann. From what I could tell, Diesel and Carels were both directors of the Consolidated Diesel Engine Manufacturers. Carels ran a diesel engine factory in Ghent, where Luckmann worked as his chief engineer.

The men chatted in French, with a smattering of German, over cream of endive soup.

French wasn’t a language that I had mastered, so I sat against the wall and tried to be inconspicuous. Carels kept glancing my way and then laughing to his companions. Luckmann sat farther from me, fidgeting when I looked at him, until finally I pretended he was invisible. Diesel merely ignored me.

Finally, at six o’clock, we left the restaurant and took a taxi to the docks.

We boarded the SSDresden, a gleaming steel steamship, and followed the Scheldt River into the sea. Carels and Luckmann disappeared below deck, but Diesel stood at the railing and watched the sun bleed gold into the water.

The icy sea spray made my teeth chatter. I clenched my jaw. “It must be dinnertime. Your friends are waiting for you.”

Diesel sighed. He looked tired, very tired, and older than I had thought.

“I suppose I should spend this one night with them,” he said.

I frowned. “Aren’t they traveling to London with you? For the meeting?”

“They are.”

I edged closer to him, one hand on the hilt of my sword. The deck was nearly deserted at this instant, but soon we would sail outside of the influence of the Hex. Somewhere out on the English Channel, guns could kill again.

“You know why the archmages sent me,” I said. “You aren’t safe out here.”

Diesel shrugged. “I am free to sell my patents to whomever I wish. Even if I sell them to the enemies of the German Empire.”

“Is the profit worth your life?”

He laughed dryly. “Do you honestly think that they will act upon their threats? My inventions are far too valuable to them.”

“Your inventions, but you are only their inventor.”

“Only.” He laughed again.

Diesel looked back to the horizon. After sunset, the water was the dark color of a bruise. He rubbed his forehead.

“My friends are waiting for me,” he said in a distant voice, as if to convince himself.

I touched his elbow and walked with him down to the dining saloon. The saloon was a bit chilly, but cheery, with white paneling on the walls and electric lights in the chandeliers. Diesel found Carels and Luckmann and joined them at their table. I sat alone nearby, ignoring their curious glances.

I ordered a simple dinner—oxtail stew and boiled potatoes—and remained vigilant.

There were perhaps two hundred other passengers dining that evening. I didn’t expect anyone to attack Diesel in such a public venue. If I had been hired to threaten a man into cooperation, I would do it in his cabin.

With that in mind, I waited. Diesel joked and laughed with his companions, the darkness outside forgotten. He ordered several courses from the menu, encouraged by the flirtatious blonde waitress. Diesel started with the French onion soup, worked his way through halibut in hollandaise sauce, and finished with a chocolate éclair and coffee. Everything looked delicious from where I sat. Glumly, I poked at my potatoes, wishing I hadn’t spent so much money at the swordsmith.

Luckmann fingered a packet of cigarettes. “Shall we go for a stroll?”

Smiling, Diesel folded his napkin. “That sounds like a fine idea.”

I abandoned my oxtail stew and followed them.

“Don’t forget your shadow, Diesel,” Carels teased.

---