Redemption's Song and other short stories

Redemption's Song

"This is Sergeant Smith, and my name is Carlton. We work for the UK government. Smith here used to be a butler..." Jeremiah's eyebrows rose in question and Carlton continued, "... albeit a somewhat specialist one."

Carlton leaned forward looking Jeremiah square in the eye. "I'll be blunt here Major Leopold. You are going to be going on a mission with Smith. He will be your protector. You will recover the plans, and you will return them to me by any means necessary. The war hangs in the balance Jeremiah. You are our link to this girl, we have no choice now."

"And if I refuse?"

"Mr. Smith, goggles down and cannons up please."

Smith undid the clasp of his cloak letting it fall to the floorboards and took a step forward. Matt black armour covered Smith's frame. He slapped a panel on his chest and a segmented metal hood slid near soundlessly into place over Smith's head. The other hand made a fist and pointed unerringly at Jeremiah's head, the muzzle of a gun aligned along his forearm.

"Sergeant Smith is also your weapon of choice in the field."

"Who will act as my executioner should the need arise?"

"I see you understand your circumstances, Major."

Smith stepped back a pace and tapped his chest again to reveal his battered face.

"I have a present for you." Carlton tapped the case with one hand and turned it to face Jeremiah. "For you. I took the liberty of making it from the measurements your medical team took when they made you your new leg. Wear it, and get used to it. The instructions are in the case. You leave in two days for Prussia. Good day to you Major, Mr. Smith will remain with you and act as your manservant in the meantime, and he will be a boon to you in the weeks ahead." Carlton stood, turned, and clapped a hand on his colleague's shoulder. "Good luck Jack, you know what to do." Smith nodded and smiled grimly at Carlton who left the room, closing the door silently behind him.

Jeremiah opened the case before him with shaking hands. Matt black metal looked back at him and he looked up at Smith whose deep mellow baritone surprised Jeremiah who had been expecting gravel and harshness. "I can help you with that sir, but in the meantime, should we have a cup of tea? I'm absolutely parched."

~

A dream of darkness and pain awoke him and Jeremiah flexed his false leg. It had been a while since he'd been out in the field, but the familiar thrill of subterfuge and skulduggery was intoxicating and he felt his adrenaline rise. He and Smith had been smuggled into Norway, had made their way across the country, and now sat on a train that was chewing up the miles between them and their destination.

Smith's eyes were closed and he breathed evenly as the carriages clattered across the Prussian countryside. Jeremiah flexed his ankle again and felt the leather cuffs dig into his leg. Clockwork, the artificial limb was a complicated maze of cogs and levers but was utterly fluid in its movement. It was a triumph of engineering, but nothing compared to the full suit that Smith wore. During the days following his chat with Carlton, Smith had been attentive, firm, useful, clever, and solid, but there was no mistaking the hardness in the man's eyes. He was a killer despite his urbane tone, but Jeremiah found he liked him despite the initial tension of their first meeting.

Smith stirred and opened his eyes, one finger pulling at the collar of his new uniform.

"They're a little tighter than the British ones aren't they?" said Jeremiah quietly.

"Yes sir, although thankfully mine hasn't got all the whistles and bells yours has." He tapped his stomach and there was a dull thud. "Wearing all this stuff underneath it doesn't help mind you."