by Gin Hollan
"Excuse me, sir, I don't mean to interrupt your lunch but a friend of mine is hurt. I need to get him to a hospital."
"Just finished." The tall blond man wiped his hands on his sleeves and jumped down.
“Where is he?”
“Inside. Can you help me carry him out?”
He nodded and followed her in.
They arrived at the hospital not long after and carried him in. Leaving him in the nurse's care and paying the driver double his usual fare, Arabeth asked if he could wait to give her a ride to the precinct afterwards.
That constables in the employ of any detachment would do this to someone had her blood boiling. If they couldn’t properly explain how this happened, she’d get the politicians involved. That made Harbertrope more nervous than an enquiry board.
If the police still refused to admit a mind-altering device was being used in the city, she'd catch the builders herself. If it wasn't detectives under the influence of the device, why target Bernie? He was one of their informants, too.
The listening device couldn't wait but somehow she had to ensure Bernie’s recovery was under way, and get the officers under arrest or at least confined until their mental state could be addressed. She could hire specialists to help with the device, but that meant hiring Graham Halister for at least a small part of it. Well, she'd coerce him if she had to. He owed her now, if only as a moral obligation for keeping his secret about the Maddening Device.
Bernie was sedated and resting under the care of a nurse she knew as Peggy Wentworth, a former elementary school classmate of hers. She was professional, sharing Arabeth's desire to be respected in her work. The prognosis she was given was grave, cautious and measured, but hopeful. Satisfied that Bernie had the best possible care, she left. This wouldn't take long, and she'd be back before he knew different.
When she stepped outside, the same curly-haired blond cab driver waited. Pleasantly surprised, Arabeth walked over.
He tipped his hat. "Where to now, ma'am? We still headed to the detachment? I presume we have someone that needs locking up."
Smiling but grave, she nodded. "Indeed." She could feel her teeth grind as she spoke and forced her jaw to relax. "However, our first stop is to see Graham Halister."
"He's not at his house, ma'am, but I'll take you to him."
"Not home?" Who was this cab driver and how did he know Graham’s whereabouts? "Where is he? And do you know who did that to Bernie?"
"A suspicion, miss. Nothing more."
"Tell me, and I will find the truth of it," she demanded.
"There are a pair of upstarts in the detachment, pushing their weight around and trying to stop the informants network."
She felt her blood start to boil just thinking about it. Policemen did that? Were they the ones that killed Dawson, then? How could they turn on one of their own? They would pay, she vowed. There was no good excuse for bad behaviour, and this was the worst sort.
"Mr. Halister first," the cab driver said. He practically launched himself up onto the driving seat, barely waiting until she shut the door before he started going.
She'd have to get his name. He drove like a man with divine purpose. Focused, fast, and only a little crazy.
// Chapter 27 //
ARABETH NEEDED THREE experts, including Graham. He, more than any of them, understood what was going on, what he was helping fight. He would do the miniature transmitter, with the biggest challenge being its size.
"It can't be bigger than a nickel, smaller if you can," she said, redrawing how she imagined it on a scrap of newsprint.
"That's going to be difficult given the time constraints," Graham replied.
"I have every faith in you, Graham. If anyone can do this, it's you. I'll be back tomorrow to see. Will you be here, still?" She looked around at the strange accommodations he'd chosen, not trusting his safety at home. A remote barn, actively used for its intended purpose, he'd cleared out the equipment room and restocked it to continue his work.
"If I don't burn the place down, it should be ready in two days."
"I need five of them, if you can." It seemed that everyone saw this war coming except her. That was irritating.
He nodded, his usual upbeat attitude dampened by circumstance. Just today, he seemed a little less crazy - a little less himself.
"We'll end this war threat. They may try to start in our city, but their calculations are off if they think we're easy targets, easy pawns," she said.
"I know." Graham sighed. "Bring a decanter of sherry when you come back out, would you?" He smiled weakly and turned away.
The next expert was Adam, for the magnetic but insulated case. It had to stick in hidden places, but not impede the signal.
"I'm not sure that is possible, but I've been playing with a new alloy that may work. It's not field-tested." He was a young, ambitious maker, with talent unlike any she'd seen when it came to alloy manipulation and metallurgy.
For the third part, she approached Amber. Ideally, she would have tasked Graham with this, but time constraints made it impossible. Amber was her second choice. When designing the remote listening device, there were a few concerns. In fact, Amber may have the hardest part. Fortunately, she was clever and liked a puzzle.
The signal had to be detectable through metal, through heavily mineralized stone, and through other people. It had to be able to be manually tuned to different frequencies so that devices didn't interfere with each other. She had Marble's collar and receiver in her satchel still, and used that to demonstrate, although Marble's frequency was always the same one.
"I can do it. I've been toying with something similar," the woman said.
"I love working with specialists." Arabeth laughed. "But I need it in two days. Is that something you can do?"
"I'm sure I can." Her lightly furrowed brow was concentration, not worry, Arabeth hoped. "It'll cost you more to rush it, but I know you're good for it."
"Nice. I'll be back to see if there's anything you need tomorrow, okay?" Arabeth said.
Amber nodded and walked away, already thinking the design through.
Outside, Arabeth saw the cab driver talking to a young teen. He slipped them a coin before they took off running. Turning, he gave a slight bow.
"Where to now, ma'am?" His expression was a little odd, but she wrote it off as related to the conversation he'd just had.
She smiled. "Call me Arabeth, please. Next stop is the main police precinct, if you're still on the clock."
He nodded and held the door for her. She passed him the next payment and climbed in.
*****
Melanie shuffled through a stack of papers on a desk two rows back but turned to see who had entered. Spotting Arabeth, she quickly motioned for her to duck down. Taking Melanie's hint, she crouched down and moved to hide in the corner away from the door next to the coat rack Marble liked to hang out behind. Leaning back against the wall, she waited for an explanation.
A moment later Melanie peered over the top to confirm her location, then backed away.
"There is something wrong with Harbertrope. He's gone mad or something,” Melanie said as though talking to herself.
"Like what happened to you?" Arabeth asked.
"No, he's singing. It’s odd. Wait until his door opens again. He's got a terrible voice, and he's attempting all the parts from some opera I don't recognize."
“That does seem odd.” Arabeth stood up, staying in the shadows beside the coat rack. One more reason to be self-employed. "Hey, did you hear about Bernie?" she asked.
"Bernie? No, what happened?"
"A couple men in police uniforms came out of here after him and beat him to a pulp. He's in the hospital."
"That's a serious allegation. Do you know who it was?"
"They're new."
"But why pick on Bernie?" Melanie's confusion grew. "I've met the two you must be talking about. They're not technically new. They were sent from the south-most detachment."
"What
are their names?" Arabeth asked.
"I can't really give out personal information on detachment staff, just names. You know that," Melanie said as she wrote their names and addresses on a scrap of paper and slid it to Arabeth. "They're not good at making friends. You’d better go. Things here are chaotic, and Hicks isn't here to protect you anymore."
"What do you mean?"
"He didn't tell you? He was excused from his position, for walking you out of the building without permission."
"No, he didn't say."
The outside door opened and an officer pushed a short, elderly man in ahead of him.
"What's he in for?" Melanie asked, looking shocked. Arabeth recognized her great godfather, Clement Ballantine, as they led him inside in handcuffs. He was a readerly man with a taste for good wine. What was going on?
The door to Harbertrope's office opened and he pointed at Melanie.
"Lock the door. I have an announcement," he yelled her way.
Melanie hurried around to comply then stayed by the door.
"The war is shifting to our area. It took ten years, but it's finally happening. A small foreign army will be passing the city on the west and people may panic. We must keep the peace at all costs. If someone opposes this army or gets in their way, you move them. Use your police sticks if you have to. Is that understood?" he said.
A murmur of assent crossed the room.
"Good. Their battle is not with us. Anyone impeding them may give the impression we have joined against them. They must believe we are neutral or allied. That is the mayor's decision."
The noise in the room rumbled low after his announcement. The officers’ faces were somber.
This day was getting stranger by the minute. Arabeth looked up at Melanie, confused. Why was he acting like this when his family was no longer in danger? Was the mayor's family in trouble now? Melanie shrugged and made a confused face in response.
The door behind Melanie rattled as someone tried to open it, making her jump. Harbertrope looked her way and nodded.
"Back on the job, everyone," he said as he walked back to his office and shut the door.
Melanie unlocked the outside door and apologized to the constable that pushed the door open.
Arabeth looked slowly, checking expressions in the room. None of them looked surprised. There must have been rumours. Did they see her as someone working for or against the foreign military?
"He missed a lot of facts in that so-called briefing," Arabeth said.
Melanie shrugged. "The Eltanians are heading north, through here. That's all I know."
Not surprised, Arabeth nodded. Thinking hard for a moment, she realized she'd have to go talk to her father.
"That part I got. What am I missing?" She leaned forward to speak softly.
Melanie smiled and reached under the counter. "I thought you might ask. Here is a list of the things I've been able to pick out of conversations I’ve overheard." She slipped a folded sheet of paper to her.
"It's a good thing you like to write." Arabeth smiled back.
Clement walked past, giving Arabeth a wink as he left unescorted.
"Why did they bring him in?" she asked.
"Maybe he's a spy." Melanie shrugged. "I can't tell who is or isn't anymore. Why don't you go ask?"
"That's not funny," Arabeth said as she turned to follow Clement out, ensuring Marble got out before shutting the door.
If she could catch up to him, she could make small talk and see if he volunteered anything. It couldn't hurt to try.
// Chapter 28//
THE OLD MAN moved fast and by the time Arabeth walked out of the police station he was already a full block ahead. Walking quickly, her mother's words chose an odd time to echo through her head: 'a lady may walk quickly, but must never be seen to be in a hurry.' As usual, she ignored them.
The cab was still waiting outside. Arabeth held a finger up in front of her lips to signal the driver to silence as she jogged to catch up to her target. He nodded in response and pulled another sandwich out of a box under his seat.
She slowed as she came to walk beside her great godfather. "Good afternoon, Mr. Ballantine."
"Good afternoon, Arabeth. What business are we engaged in today?"
"That is always a good question. I was going to ask you that precise thing."
He chuckled. "I moved here over fifty years ago. Have I told you that story?"
"You have, sir. Five times, but it's never the same twice."
"Retelling affords one the opportunity to add without obsequious attention to detail," he said.
"I've seen. The layering sometimes shifts the entire meaning of a story. Which details would you add today?"
They were nearing a park and he pointed at the grass. "Let's recumb here. I have had quite enough excitement for one day." He immediately sat and leaned back on his elbows. "Perfect."
Arabeth made a mental note to donate a bench to this park later. She had nothing against sitting on the grass, but she was tired. If she sat for long, she'd need a nap.
Clement sat up.
"No story today, I think. How is my god granddaughter? Why do you look distressed?" he said, softly patting her hands.
"You were at the station on purpose," she said. "Could we be looking for information on the same thing?"
"It's a good place to catch up on area politics without getting involved in them. You just have to scrub out their slant. Tell me, what's on your mind?"
"I know why someone killed Dawson," she blurted. "But I don't know who or how to prove it."
"Oh? Was he being nosey or something?"
"He was a policeman. It's his job to be nosey." She defended Dawson’s choice. He was doing his job, and he was good at it.
"Fine, nosey without being smart at the same time."
"No, I think he found out about the automaton."
"That seems fairly obvious. Where's the question in this?" Clement said.
"He died not long before that automaton started terrorizing Blastborn. Afterwards, it tried to drop itself in the sea, but I stopped it. It didn’t have anything that could have killed Dawson attached to it. Who would bring farm equipment into the city to kill him?"
"You did what?"
"Oh, right. I decapitated one of the automatons. That's how I know what they do," she explained.
Clement stared, his expression unreadable.
She shook her head and continued. "Then I found where they're being made."
"I am assuming you've come up with a plan of some sort." He smiled.
"Between the people it's already hurt and the bigger scheme to push us all into war, there is a solution. I can stop them, but I need to build a few things."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Why were you at the police station? Honestly, this time."
He looked away. "I don't think that's any way to speak to your elders, my dear." He looked back at her. "All right, I was looking for you."
He was lying, but she ignored it.
"And?"
"There's a project that someone needs your input on. I said I'd check your availability."
"I'm a little busy," she said.
"And never home these days. I've noticed," he grumbled.
"What is the project?" she asked.
"Head home. I'll be by with instructions. That new gadgeteer of yours, the former highwayman - bring him and Melanie as well. She's been exposed to enough of your work to be useful as an assistant, right?"
"Sure, but why? What are you planning?"
He waved a hand at her. "Nothing. I'm here as an ambassador of sorts."
"Tell me. We've known each other too long for this sort of secret."
Clement looked away, saying nothing.
"Don't make me send my mother after you," she threatened.
He visibly blanched at that, giving Arabeth the clue she needed.
"You've talked about how much this war has hurt our country, and you. Friends, family, other significant
people in your life have been lost. That's why you convinced my family to move here ten years ago."
"What are you getting at, child?"
Arabeth bit her lip. "I will help you, on one condition."
"You don't even know what I need two gadgeteers for," Clement reminded her.
"You trusted me enough to ask for my help. That means I only ask one thing in exchange."
"You're repeating yourself."
"I'm serious."
He was silent for a moment. "What is your condition?"
"That this will keep the war out of our city."
He stood a moment, brow furrowed.
"I can agree to that. The war should be stopped, and that means we'll be safe too. I will require your perfect silence on this, though. Only the four of you can know. Not even your mother or sister can find out, understood?"
"That's a tall order. This isn't going to be something I spend my life apologizing to foreign families for, is it?" After Graham's 'by any means necessary' talk, she was leery.
"I will let you be the judge of that. Don't talk around, though. I can't trust many people right now," Clement said.
"That means you're working with or for people you shouldn't be."
"No, that means it's interesting work. Are you in or not?" he snapped.
Frowning, she nodded. "If you give me more details, I'll decide then. I have a fair number of my own things going on." She realized how arrogant her words must sound, but they couldn't be helped. "Sorry, I have a commitment that cannot be put off. I'll have to consider how and where yours fits in." She shrugged. There was no other way to say it.
"Don't mollycoddle me, girl." He smiled broadly. "You'll like this project, I'm thinking."
She hoped so.
"Still, I can't speak to what engagements Melanie or Nate have. Bring me your project and I'll see what we're up against."
He nodded. "Fine. There will be guards at your house next time I come to talk about this. Don’t hurt them. They’ll stay outside."
