The Gadgeteer

by Gin Hollan

  "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 26 //

  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."

  As her great-godfather walked away, Arabeth breathed a sigh of relief. She really did have places to go. Smoothing her jacket, she turned to walk toward the photography studio.

  Hicks caught up to Arabeth, matching her stride.

  "I thought he'd never leave. Where are we off to?" he said. His hands were in his pockets and he seemed unusually casual.

  "Lily has something for me," Arabeth said.

  "Ah, Lily … wait, who is she?"

  "A photographer."

  She caught the sound of footsteps behind them and looked back. She couldn’t see anyone there, but caution was rarely the wrong choice. "Let’s take a less direct route. Follow me." One last glance revealed a tall, dark-haired man in what looked like a uniform watching them a little too closely.

  “Here,” she said. They ducked into a bakery, bought a bag of buns, and went out the back door. The bell over that door rang as they went out. Next she went into a creamery shop and got a small container of milk. Again they went out the back door, setting a bell ringing. The next shop was a meat shop. This time she dawdled, hoping to time things right. The man spotted her through the window and scowled before disappearing around the back. Laughing, Arabeth paid for two pounds of dried chicken and went out the front.

  "Ready?" She looked at Sam with a twinkle in her eye.

  He nodded and they hurried to the nearest alley. She led them to a narrow door behind a staircase and pushed it open. Standing, they waited to see if they were followed. Five minutes passed and there was no sign of the man who’d been following them. Smirking, she walked slowly in the dimly lit space until she saw a door outlined with light.

  Arabeth knocked three times quickly, then slow, then quick again. A lock slid on the other side and Lily peered through a small panel to see who knocked. A snap on the other side indicated a latch had been released. Arabeth pushed the door open, leading Hicks into the back of Lily's shop and put her purchases on a narrow counter in the dark end of the store.

  When Lily saw Sam, she scowled and hesitated.

  "He's with me, Lily. It's okay."

  "I'm not a police detective anymore," Sam said.

  Lily shrugged and went to pull a medium-size black envelope out of a narrow, black slot. Passing it to Arabeth, she looked over her shoulder, toward the curtain that acted as a door to the front counter of the photography studio.

  Arabeth opened the envelope and pulled two pictures out. The first showed an a
rmy of the automatons in a large open valley. These machines were different—wider, better balanced from top to bottom. The second picture was a group of men posing. Two wearing suits, the others in lab coats or overalls, each face expressing a form of victory or pride, except one man. He stood on the end and back a bit from the others. His posture implied "unnamed master," Arabeth thought. She recognized a couple of the overall-wearers as gadgeteers that had gone missing. Their specialties meant these automatons would not go down easy, like the first one had, and that they were a front-line machine.

  A bell over the front door rang.

  "Quick, out!" Lily whispered as she grabbed the edge of the door. "And hide those things. I don't favour dying today."

  If Arabeth's nerves hadn't already been on alert, that would have done it. Lily rarely overreacted.

  Arabeth grabbed Sam’s arm and dragged him back out as Lily quickly eased the door shut. Hurrying through the dark tunnel toward the only light source—the other door—Arabeth made two decisions. First, she would need a copy of these photos so she could put the originals in a safe place. Second, she was in over her head. She had to get these to her father immediately. The people meeting at his house may have dispersed to their various locations, but he'd know what to do with the information.

  She paused at the exit, hoping no one had seen them come in. Running around like this in broad daylight had that downside.

  What they needed was a disguise. The only thing she could do was take her jacket off and pray they passed a clothesline along the way. There was no real point, though. Marble would be all the tip any pursuers needed. Speed, then. They should get quickly into a carriage.

  "They're looking for me and if they see you alone, they may think I've given you the slip as well," Arabeth told Hicks.

  "You want me to get a carriage?" he asked.

  How did he do that? It was as though he read her mind. "Yes … my father may be able to identify some of these people."

  "Stay here until I come for you." He pushed out, closing the door quickly behind him.

  In the sudden silent dark, Arabeth wrapped her arms around her body. Hicks was back in less than five minutes, but the chill Arabeth felt stayed with her as she ran to the carriage. She squished herself into the darkest corner as Hicks took the opposite seat. They were at least a twenty-minute ride from their destination, so she pulled the pictures out again.