After what seemed like an interminable age, there was a commotion from above them and the buggy pulled to a stop. The three of them looked to each other in confusion.

When they exited the cabin, they found Hideyoshi standing high atop the roof, much to the drivers annoyance.

“Damned fools liable to kill himself!” the portly man bellowed.

Hideyoshi pointed, eyes wide with boy-like wonder, and exclaimed in loud Japanese to Angelique. A crowd of onlookers, who gawped much like her brother, caused her both be unable to see up the road, which they, and unable to understand Hideyoshi. Swearing under her breath, she hitched up her skirt and climbed the wheel to join him.

Wake clapped his hands and let out a hooting guffaw. “I do love her gumption.”

Beechworth looked from the throng to see what it was the American was bellowing about, and as quickly looked away. “Is that what you call it?” He’d seen exactly what the man was leering at. “Heaven’s sake, man, look away. Have you no decency?”

By then, though, she was well and truly on her feet and as exuberant as the young man beside her.

“It’s incredible!” she announced.

The constable turned cautiously, and looked to the top of the coach, wondering if he could — or should — join them.

“Go on, limey,” Wake said. “See what you make of my pony.”

Beechworth soured at the man’s use of the derogatory term, but unable to resist, joined the younger members of his party. “My word.”

It was the single largest machine he had ever seen. The thing hissed and spewed smoke like some great dragon of folk legend, but it was no thing of fiction or nature this. It was hulking and metal, all angles and geometric shapes, and they couldn’t even see the whole of it. There was a tall fence barricading it with armed men protecting the only way through.

Wake motioned to the driver who nodded back, pulled a signal gun and large, red kerchief from under his long coat. He set off the gun which set the crowd to shrieking and waved the bright cloth to gain the attention of the guards, Upon seeing the driver and the carriage, they set to clearing a path.

Back in the carriage, the three of them craned their heads at the window in an attempt to see the wonder through the chaos outside. The journey to the machine seemed to take as long as the one that had brought them to it, but finally they were through the partition. As they exited the carriage once more, it was in utter wonderment.

“I’ve seen it plenty,” Wake said, “but I still feel the way you three look every single time.”

They gawped at the feat of engineering before them. The wheels alone — connected by huge beams that would crush a person — were as tall as a man and multitude. The body of the thing was a massive barrel atop a box, both covered in pipes and valves, and atop that a smoking chimney of great girth belched black smoke to the sky even as steam the colour of the purest clouds escaped from various other locations.

A man in a thick leather apron, and matching cap and gloves climbed from an opening toward the rear of the machine. He had on a pair of large, blacked out goggles. Seeing the party, he lifted the darkened glass on a hinged panel to reveal clear windows, though a little grimy around the edges. Beneath the goggles, the man had a blue spotted cloth tied over his mouth and nose, which he yanked down to reveal a wide grin. He waved.

“Agent Wake!” the man yelled as he hurried to them.

The three looked to Wake.

“Lady, gents, this here is The Pony’s chief engineer, Tom Yardley.”

“Greetings.” Yardley strode with excited purpose and offered his hand, still gloved and covered in soot and grease. He hit himself on the forehead, leaving a dark line on his sweaty skin, and pulled the glove off. “I do apologise,” he said with an upper-class English accent. “I’ve become so accustomed to having them on now I hardly notice. Thomas Yardley, at your service.” He shook their hands excitedly in succession.

“So?” Wake asked. “What do you think of her?”

“What in blazes—” Beechworth stood shaking his head.

“Steam locomotive,” Yardley proudly pronounced the machine. He frowned when he saw their confused faces. “The Turks revolutionised the world when they developed the steam turbine with the use of Greek Fire,” Yardley continued in his excited tone. “Given the massive advantage Greek Fire gives them in battle also, they managed to turn about the decline of the Ottoman empire.”

“I’m well aware of what they’ve done and achieved,” the constable said in annoyance. “And I have seen pictures of such a thing in the papers and read the reports. What I mean to say is,” he was now almost on the point of anger, “how in the seven hells do the Americans have an Ottoman steam train when we don’t?”

“We don’t either,” Wake answered with a wink. Several men approached Wake and he directed them to take the three travellers bags.

“You may have been keeping it a secret until now,” Angelique, finally out of her reverie, said. “But I am fairly certain all those people out there will be speaking of this day to all their friends and family.”

“Let them.” Wake smiled. “As far as the outside world is concerned,” he said in a conspiratorial tone, “the United States of America has now cracked the secret of the steam engine.”

“But in truth,” Yardley continued, “we appropriated the machinery and fuel in a rather more cloak and dagger fashion.” He tapped the side of his nose, blackening it.

“You captured an Ottoman steam ship,” Hideyoshi said matter of fact as he looked over the locomotive.

“How the devil—” Yardley said with a frown.

“I recognise some of the parts, the patterns.” All but his sister looked at him gave him quizzical stares. “I had some assignments in the Japanese navy and spent some time belowdecks… investigating.”

Wake huffed and put his hands on his hips below his coat, his pistols in evidence.

Yardley held up his hands in defence. “I did my best to cover them up, but getting it running was of paramount importance you said!”

“Calm down, Tom,” Wake screwed up his face. “I ain’t gonna shoot you. But you gotta get it done. If the Turks spies see—”

“I will take care,” a deep voice said from behind them.

Beechworth spun in shock, his hand at his weapon. “What in the—”

Before them stood a tall, dark haired figure with a curled moustache, dressed in much the same manner as the engineer. He was solid, seeming to be of all muscle. His eyes sharp, taking in the strangers with a sweep, blinking as they met Angelique.

“Ah, there you are!” Yardley flapped his hands at the man.

Angelique returned the man’s open stare, who turned away and scooped up a handful of mud from the side of the tracks which the hulking machine rested on.

The man slapped the mud on the exposed parts. “Fix.” With a flick of his hand, he removed the excess before wiping it on his apron.

“Sully here is Yardley’s cloak and dagger,” Wake clapped the newcomer on the shoulder. “He’s the reason that all this was possible.”

“Sully?” Angelique questioned with a slight turn of her head toward the American, her eyes unwavering.

“Süleyman Reis,” the man said with a bow of his head, placing his right hand on his chest.

“You were the ships captain?” Hideyoshi’s surprise was barely hidden as he heard the word. Reis, the Turkish word denoting him a military naval commander. It was unheard of, an Ottoman steamship captain defecting. The shock was registered clearly on Angelique and Beechworth’s faces also.

“Sully here didn’t like the way things were bein’ run from the palace,” Wake added, as way of explanation.

“I do not understand.” Angelique shook her head. News from Istanbul was not a common thing, relegated only to the earth shattering, and nothing of that sort had recently been brought to light.

“There is much you not know about how things are in Türkiye,” the Turk said gravely.

Wake broke the confused silence with a clap. “Come on, let’s get you all aboard. Plenty of time to talk in comfort with food and drink.”

“Comfort?” Beechworth’s incredulous tone rose as he walked to the cabin Yardley had emerged from, taking in the juggernaut as he went. There was no sign of comfort there.

“If you’ll allow me?” the engineer beamed. He beckoned for the Turk to join him, and together they entered the locomotive.

They watched the machine move. It chuffed and hissed, the heavy metal rails and the thick slabs of wood beneath them creaking and groaning under its weight as it inched away.

Wake grinned as the three of them backed away, as if they expected the thing to topple on them at any moment. “Let’s meet them there, shall we?”

He directed them to a building, inside which they were greeted with the sight of three gleaming carriages the likes of which they’d never seen. Each as long as a house, they were painted and polished, and sparkled in that way of something new that had not seen the naked elements.

As they walked down the line, they found the carriages furnished as a luxury hotel might be. Red velvet seats lined the cabins, with were all polished wood with gleaming brass fittings. Huge windows draped with curtains shone even in the dark. They even had tables and chairs for dining, along with a well stocked liquor cabinet. One of them was set solely as sleeping quarters, another storage of equipment and food in a larder.

Angelique turned about, taking in the interior. “This is all very impressive, but so far I have not witnessed the express in your pony.”

Wake seemed to take umbrage at her comment, frowning at her for a change. “While I admit she’s not at full capacity like the Ottoman Silk Road Express, I think you will find that as opposed to taking the usual months to reach the other side of our fair continent,” his dour expression lifted a little, “she’ll get you there in little over a week.”

“That,” Beechworth exclaimed, “really would be an amazing feat.”

#

Jacob and Miriam Lapp sat in their open buggy, pulled by their one horse, on their way back from trading crop in town for essentials that their community couldn’t grow or make themselves.

Miriam clutched her husband’s arm as they were assaulted by a noise that she thought was the very devil himself, followed by a rushing beast that resembled a serpent, roaring and spewing black smoke from its head. Neither she nor her husband were so ignorant that they didn’t recognise it as a construct of man, and they had most certainly passed the metal lines constructed some time ago and seen the very men that had laid them.

When she and her Jacob crossed themselves and prayed to the Almighty, it was not because of the conveyance and its hellish ways. It was the jezebel that hung from its rear, hair and skirts flying as she hollered like the brothel house women in town, and blew them a kiss.

Miriam clapped her hand over her husbands eyes and re-crossed herself as the harlot’s legs, covered in lace stocking, became exposed to her knees.

Jacob opened one eye and peaked, getting a goodly eyeful of ankle and calf before shutting it tight lest his wife catch him out.

#

The group sat at a table in the main car, its surface laden with maps and documents as Wake prepared to brief them. Süleyman Reis stood to the side, having left Yardley at Wake’s request to fill in information where needed.

“This is the Ottoman Empire’s territory as it stands today.” Wake drew his finger from Turkey to it’s immediate surrounds, which were coloured maroon. His finger dragged eastward through the Arab countries and Asia to where it met a small expanse of bright red. “And here’s your folk,” he jerked his head at Hideyoshi as he came to the the Japanese controlled portions of the continent, and the Japanese islands.

The land above the line he traced was the same maroon indicating the Ottoman empire. The demarkation itself was in tatters, the area below it grey, marking out the Chinese empire, which spilled into the northern points of Australia. The Ottoman maroon washed east to cover parts of Europe, and northern Africa.

Angelique knew Sultan Osman the Third had been the changing factor in Ottoman decline, which seemed fitting as he was the second in the line of their leaders named for their founder. Süleyman Reis seemed to know a great deal more thought and outlined the history for them.

Osman the Third had somehow orchestrated the collection of both the innovations that would bring the second rise of the Ottoman, and the support of others in an internal coup. The coup was to oust the Sultan of the time, his uncle Ahmed the Third, with the help of the yeniçeri.

“The what?” Beechworth said.

“What we call the Jannisary. They were the Sultan’s loyal, personal armed force, practically a small army,” Wake answered. “They were comprised mostly of captured Christian boys converted to Islam.” Wake’s face twitched and his nose wrinkled at this last.

“Over the hundreds years since they created,” the Reis continued, “the yeniçeri… the Jannisary, become more powerful. First they obey to the Sultan, with no power. Then, they are given titles and power that go from father to son.”

“Quite a feat,” Beechworth said, breaking out of contemplation. “Going from what amounted to slaves to being given hereditary titles.”

The Turk nodded. “Before Sultan Osman, the Sultan only listen to their family, usually number one wife, mother, other adviser. But Osman…” He shook his head.

The other mens brows furrowed in thought.

“The rumours were,” Angelique spoke softly, “he hated women and music. Once he took power, he banished them all from the palace.” Her face screwed up in disgust. “He sent many of the previous Sultan’s wives— his uncle’s wives, favourites, and all their children and staff, to various allies to appease them.”

“Is true,” Süleyman nodded. “He take out harem, music, wife and childrens, send them to other small palace as prison, or away. Before he Sultan, when boy and growing, he held in one of the same small palace, like prisoner inside harem.”

“What does this have to do with the present?” Hideyoshi asked. “This was almost a century ago.”

Wake cleared his throat. “With no one else to listen to, as Sully has told it to me, Osman—” he pronounced the name oz-muhn, “—relied more heavily on the Jannisary that helped him take power, and in turn gave them more and more.”

“Now there is Sultan in Topkapı, yes,” the Turk said gruffly. “But the yeniçeri are the ones ruling.”

They all sat quietly for a few moments before Hideyoshi spoke up. “It was Osman that brokered an alliance with the then Emperor of Japan. Gave him ships and Greek Fire so we could spread to the mainland and maintain it for him.”

“That’s right,” Angelique nodded. “Only with the backing of the Muslim Chinese population were the Ottoman’s able to proliferate through Asia. Under the proviso that the Japanese were not given too much.”

“What’s your point?” Wake sat up, moving away and to the liquor cabinet.

Angelique crossed her arms and pursed her lips in thought. “More than anything, we need allies on this mission.”

“Can’t any of you just say what it is on your dashed minds?” Beechworth stood and walked to the window. “The shaking about and speed of this blasted train of yours is making me—”

“No pork and eggs, constable?” Hideyoshi smiled.

Beechworth turned green at the mention of the food.

“What we are trying to say,” now she too rose to pace, “is that the help we need may not readily come from within Japan. They are steadfast allies with the Turks.”

“Well, if the British empire has chosen you three for this task, there must be a reason behind it.” Wake gulped down whiskey.

“What is America’s involvement in all of this, Mister Wake?” Angelique’s eyes narrowed as she took the man in.

“Simple, Angie.”

“I do wish you would not call me that.”

Wake smiled. “How about, angel?” That annoyed her all the more, but she bit her tongue. “The good ol’ U.S. of A can’t just sit by and allow the continuing spread of such an empire.”

“You fear they will encroach on American soil?” Beechworth uncovered his pale lips long enough to speak the words.

“They’ve been encroaching, as you say, plenty enough on the high seas. Ottoman Corsairs and privateers have been interferin’ with trade ships, interceptin’ our naval vessels between here and Asia.”

Beechworth sat again and hung his head over his knees, elbows on his thighs. “Piracy is nothing new.”

Hideyoshi nodded. “He is right. Pirates come and go. Up and down, side to side…” He watched in amusement as Beechworth ran, excusing himself with a mumble, from the carriage.

“No, it’s nothin’ new.” Wake poured himself another. “But usually when it escalates, it only means one thing.”

Angelique frowned. “Expansion.”

“That’s right. And we aim to be ready for ‘em. Have been for some time. That’s why we had our spies get the specifications of their rails and have been layin’ them out for the past thirty or so years. In preparation for what’s to come.”

“Do you really think they would start a war, though?” She looked incredulous, the idea seeming ludicrous.

“Not today, or soon, maybe,” the reis said. “But they will?” He turned his head to her with determined surety. “Yes.”

“And that’s why the countries of Europe, and America, would be ever so grateful if you kind folk could sneak us out the plans for their steam vehicles. And, most importantly, the formula for Greek Fire.” He held his glass out, index finger jutting out as he waggled it side to side. “Because without that, you can be assured that we will not win any war against the might of the Ottoman’s.”

Hideyoshi scoffed. “Is that all?”

Angelique shook her head. “You are putting all of this weight on us three? We can not possibly succeed.”

“If you can’t get your hands on the plans and the formula, then there is also a secondary mission which you three are more likely to accomplish, given your skill-sets.”

“Which is?” Hideyoshi asked, suspicious of the answer.

Süleyman Reis supplied the answer, his voice low and grave. “You must to find and assassin the yeniçeri ağa… commander.”

The carriage door opened and Beechworth re-entered, his sleeves rolled up, towelling his face with a wet washcloth. He looked at the grave faces around him. “What did I miss?”

Next Chapter: Chapter Four