The Inspection

Ernest arrived twelve minutes early.

Arthur considered this a miracle. Hollen considered it proof that Ernest had barely slept. Ernest considered both opinions a waste of time.

The Model One rolled down the wide stone avenue toward the royal grounds, its twin-cylinder engine holding a low, steady beat beneath the hood.

Tup-tup-tup-tup-tup.

Ernest sat behind the walnut wheel. Hollen occupied the passenger seat with his ash stick braced between his boots. Arthur sat in the back, guarding a leather case filled with contract forms, balance sheets, and regional sales maps that neither engineer believed anyone would ask to see.

"Slow down," Arthur muttered, leaning over the back of the front seat.

Ernest kept his eyes on the road. "We are traveling at eighteen kilometers per hour."

"Precisely."

"The road is empty, Arthur."

"We are approaching the palace gates."