Airship Hunters Read Online Free PDF

way looking for anything odd, any reports of strange occurrences of any stripe, but there were none to be found. Indiana in the spring was much like any other place; there was more to concern people than floating question marks in the skies above them.
    He had spent a few days in Chicago, then returned to Washington. With no real parameters to his orders, Valiantine felt he’d the latitude to move at his own pace, but the tiny voice of compulsion in his head urged him to return to his superiors and make his report in person.
    The report came out lacking certain details of his travels, perhaps most importantly the strange phenomenon of the absence of stars. Thinking back over that evening, of Awanai’s “hospitality,” he could only conclude that he’d been drugged by the bandit. The later situation with the night sky was inconclusive and potentially embarrassing to reveal to his superior. Valiantine had no real proof of what he thought he had seen. None whatsoever.
    He countered his own fears of disobeying orders by reminding himself, again, he’d been given little in the way of a finite end-game to the mission. Thus, the lieutenant decided to hold back on describing much of his encounter until he was more certain of what it had actually entailed. Or if it even happened at all.
    “No, sir, nothing else,” he told Wellington, staring the man down, almost daring him to call him a liar. With his almost spotless service record, it was tantamount to treason to his mind.
    The major did stare back, and for several moments. Valiantine detected no malice in it, only some sort of scrutiny that defied categorization.
    “Think you’ll ever make captain, Valiantine?”
    The question took him by surprise. He couldn’t begin to imagine what was meant by it.
    “With all due respect, sir,” he replied, keeping his voice level, “I’ve no desire to hurry that along. I’m content where I’m at.”
    “One of the oldest lieutenants we have right now,” Wellington noted, unblinking. “Ah, well, that’s not my concern, is it?”
    The major stood up. “Come with me, Lieutenant.”
    He arose, tucking his cap under his arm and, brushing off his uniform and straightening out any wrinkles, followed his superior out the door and into the hallway. From Wellington’s office they made their way to a staircase and up a flight to the next floor.
    “Things are changing, Valiantine,” the major said as they walked. “President’s got much on his mind now, but he wants to foster a spirit of cooperation between departments. All departments.”
    The major waved him over to an unmarked door, but paused before opening it.
    “There’s to be a new venture in town,” Wellington said in low tones. “We’ll be working with the Treasury boys on a few things.”
    Valiantine didn’t precisely know who “we” were supposed to be, but he let that lie as he pondered the significance of the United States Army working with the Treasury Department. So far as he knew, the Service went after counterfeiters and the like; in fact, they may be interested in his notes on the infamous Indiana Bandit. Could that be it? he asked himself. Would he be sent back to the state to run around after Awanai? He could think of much better uses for his abilities...
    “With that in mind,” the major continued, “I have someone for you to meet.”
    He opened the door onto a plush office, with dark carpets and paintings of sea vessels on the walls. On a small red leather couch off to one side of an immense desk sat a young man, a redhead of medium height and build and of neat appearance. The stranger rose from the couch when Wellington and Valiantine stepped into the room.
    “Lieutenant Michael Valiantine, this is Agent Cabot, Treasury Department. Cabot, Valiantine.”
    The two men shook hands. Valiantine felt the strength in Cabot’s grip; firm yet not aggressive. Confused, the lieutenant looked to his superior with a questioning eye.
    “Get to know each