Rye Ironstone: Mother Tesla's Death Ray

by John Wilkerson

  “You’d better pay attention to this ‘luck’ thing, Rye. It could be more than you expect, or want.”

  I picked at a piece of lint on my sweatpants bottoms. “More than I expect? Should I buy lottery tickets?”

  Gael took her time to answer. She sipped her coffee a couple of times and inspected me like I was sitting in a cage at the zoo. “Luck and stupidity tends to go together in this business. If you are lucky, it may be something you need to use sparingly. Otherwise the stupidity takes over and luck runs out.”

  She’d dropped some sage like advice on me. Problem was I’m not good at riddles. “What?”

  “Try not to get shot. It’ll catch up with you in the end. You can’t be lucky forever.”

  I’d already considered why Blondie hadn’t shot me on the quad. Gael could be on to something. I held my tongue.

  She seemed to be waiting for me to respond. When I didn’t, she continued. “One of your powers may be luck. Like in not getting shot.”

  “Heard you the first time.” I continued to flex my fingers. “This changes my definition of me.”

  Gael chuckled softly. “Life changing enlightenment tends to hit hard.” She opened her leather notebook and went to her own mental place.

  I chewed on what she’d said. I could handle the explosions and the weird cult-people running around shooting at folks. I could handle the sweet little lady twisting my finger, but Mother Mary floating around town shooting lightening was too weird. And Blondie’s non-dead corpse freaked me out.

  Muscle dude and Blondie were handcuffed together around a pipe in one of the bed rooms. Big dude was pretty messed up, but still breathing. Gael’s boa constrictor move made the man crap his pants, and popped blood vessels added a red spider web to the man’s neck. Blondie, well, what’s to say? I was freaked. I didn’t know what to do with her. She wasn’t dead, again. I’d even held a mirror in front of her nose to confirm my suspicions.

  The prisoners were not something I could solve at the moment. I moved onto more immediate problems.

  My pistol, Betsy and Blondie’s blue glowing knife rested on the coffee table. The pistol was a goner. When he gave me the gun, Granddad told me to take care of his special girl. I tried to do right, but in the end, she was destined to pass into the night.

  The glow of the knife pulsated.

  “Do you think she was one of the special people, like us?” I asked

  Gael set down her notebook and picked up the blade, inspecting its length. “Most likely. Blondie and her knife are probably a lot like you and your pistols. You know how you name them? It’s a bonding thing some people have with inanimate objects. It’s one ways the essence of the person manifests, but to see this knife still glowing raises some concerns.”

  “Oh?”

  She set the blade back on the table. “It glows blue, Mother Mary glows blue. Didn’t’ you say you thought Mother Mary was Blondie’s mother?”

  I thought back to my chat with Dallas. My granddad was special. Now they thought I was. It was entirely possible Mother Mary and Blondie could both have abilities and be related. “Legacy?” I asked.

  Gael got up and refilled our coffee mugs from the percolator on the counter. “I think there’s a good chance, and I think it all ties back to Tesla somehow.”

  “If they’re related, there could be a whole nest of those crazy girls running around.” Something else was chewing at me. “Tesla never married. No women at all. It was a bit of a scandal. No one understood pretty boy Nicola and his non-active libido. Purity for science he always claimed.”

  She retook my seat. “Now you see why they never found the secret lab. Who would have ever guessed Nicola Tesla was making nightly visits to a dormitory for wayward women.”

  I interrupted. “Wait, wait. Halfway house? Professor Victor said indigent women, nothing about unwed mothers.”

  “True.” Gael replied. “It’s probably a generational thing. He uses his words in a more genteel manner. During the depression the dormitory housed girls who were pregnant.”

  An idea formed. “You want to put money down Tesla met a foxy-hottie while secretly working in the basement of a target-rich environment?”

  “What do you mean?” Gael perked up. Like when a cat hears a mouse skitter across the floor

  “You and Dallas both said these skills may be hereditary. What if Tesla met a girl with enhancements of her own, and Mother Mary and Blondie are of this lineage?

  “You mean she’s actually Mother Mary Tesla with Blondie as the granddaughter?”

  “Bingo,” I said.

  Gale’s face went pale. “I would say we have a real problem. Powers can increase if two of the specially gifted produce children. Such pregnancies are rare, but it could happen.”

  **

  After breakfast, Gael sped away in the car, leaving me alone at the fallout shelter.

  I’d helped to load the two prisoners into the back of the car before she left to go meet Mr. Dallas. The dude Gael choked-out last night was still unconscious. She didn’t seem concerned about him.

  The curvy bombshell in the back seat, let’s just say Blondie was still warm. I hogtied her with my cuffs.

  It screwed with my head. How many times did I shot her? Five, six, a dozen? This new job was real freaky-tiki and I was choking on the pu-pu platter.

  There was little I could do. Not wanting to dwell on something I couldn’t fathom, I did what any reasonable man would. I buried my worries and forgot about them.

  Come on, I thought. It’s a new day, a new adventure.

  The morning was crisp, the rain passed, and a spring was in my step. Even seeing my old home as a pile of smoldering ruin didn’t bother me. Charred wood was spread around the area. Mother Mary or more correctly, Mother Tesla’s last salvo blew the roof off the garage. It could have been depressing, but I saw the happy side. My safe was sitting out in the open. I wouldn’t have to dig though layers of hot rubble to retrieve it.

  My walk to the campus was interrupted by several neighbors who were curious about last night electrical storm. I played dumb to the facts and just nodded along with their assumptions.

  “Hey Chad,” I said as I approached the quad to flag him down.

  Chad bobbed his head with an eye flash in greeting. “Hey, Rye. What was the fire out your way last night?”

  “My house burned down.”

  Chad lowered his clipboard. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. It got a little crazy for a while, but all is good.”

  Football captain scanned his work crew. “You need a place to stay. We got room.”

  I laughed. “No, no. I’ve got a place, thanks.”

  A bright-yellow tractor slowed. Chad checked what was on the trailer waving it to continue a moment later.

  “I need some equipment,” I said.

  “Anything you need, Mr. Security. Oh, and thanks for the keys.” Chad rapped his pencil against his chest. “What kind of equipment?”

  “Front loader with some chains and pry bars. I’m going to move a big heavy box, a safe actually.”

  My new buddy broke into a toothy grin. “Moved up to stealing from all those empty houses have you, sport?”

  “Look who’s talking? You’re robbing the University blind.” I slapped him on the back and matched his smile.

  We chatted for a few more minutes while one of his guys went to get the chains and bars from the tool shack.

  “Thanks man,” I said, and don’t forget about the warehouse district. The town’s counting on you.”

  As I left, Chad gave me a thumbs up.

  Gael and Mr. Dallas were already at the fallout shelter when I drove the front loader into the yard. I set the safe under Gael’s covered workout space.

  The safe was singed and now heavily scratched from its ride in the bucket. I didn’t think it was too damaged to open. Though the big issue was the tumbler, and I crossed my fingers as I tried the dial. It was stiff but turned.

  Hot dog, I thought, and q
uickly spun through the combination. A resounding click responded as I threw the locking lever. I was in.

  The rifle smelled like gun oil.

  Two ammo cans were at the bottom of the safe along with some backup gear.

  Dallas appeared at my side. “You planning to go somewhere?”

  He was spooky quiet. I never saw or heard him till he spoke.

  “I’m getting ready to go find the lab and the blue-glowing crazy woman.” I cycled the bolt to check the action.

  Dallas held the safe door open while I continued to pull my equipment out. “We’ll talk more shortly. Doctor Gale is finishing up lunch now.”

  It took a couple of loads to get everything into the shelter, even with Dallas’ help. It’s amazing what one collects in a safe. All the paperwork and mementos gain more value once they’re the last things you own.

  I sat at the table and sorted my gear. The weapons got a thorough cleaning. I loaded up a few more magazines, and finally succumbed to a late lunch.

  Gael is a great cook. I never doubted it. The gal is a whiz. Cooking was no exception.

  “Here’s my plan,” I said as we all sat around the dining table. “Go find lab. Go kill Mother Tesla. Shut down death ray.” I paused for dramatic effect. “Any questions?”

  Gael smiled her granny-smile at me while Dallas gave a snort.

  “Want company?” Gael asked and winked at Mr. Dallas.

  “You bet, cookie. I’m counting on it,” I said.

  Dallas’ eyes jumped between me and Gael, shaking his head. “No discussion, no arguing, you’re just going to eat lunch and go kick-butt.”

  “Are you in or out?” I asked.

  “I’m out and you are too.” Dallas shook his head. “You are not authorized to make those decisions.”

  It felt like someone stole my puppy. “But?”

  Dallas sat up straight. I think he was trying to look important, maybe authoritative. “Finding the lab is approved. Nothing further, understand?”

  “No bug-hunt?”

  Dallas shook his head in disbelief. “What’s a bug-hunt?”

  “You know. Storm the castle. Search and destroy. Engage the enemy.”

  “Alright, alright.” Dallas held up his hand to stop me. “I get it. You’re eager to get moving. We can work with that.”

  I glanced at Gael. She seemed to be having a great time watching me and Dallas.

  “Gael, you up for an adventure?” I asked, enjoying the pinched look on Dallas’ face as he realized I was playing him.

  “I’m in, kiddo.” Gail replied.

  Dallas shifted his gaze between me and Gael. The man should not play poker. His face went through about five different contortions.

  I couldn’t take it any longer and gave him a way out. “Are you coming with us?”

  Dallas shook his head. The disapproving smirk on his face was priceless. “I’m out. You and Doctor Gale will be doing this alone.”

  “Too bad,” I said. “It’s going to be history making fun. She and I are going to find Tesla’s lost lab. Think of the headlines?” I waved my hands above my head to accentuate the imaginary headline.

  Dallas went pale. “There will be no headlines. No reporters. No deviating from the plan. Got it.”

  Gael placed her hand on Dallas’ hand, like an old friend would do. “I’ll keep him in line. Agent Ironstone can be a bit hard to take. Let me handle him. You go deal with the town officials. We’ll meet back here in a few hours.”

  Dallas’ voice reverberated with a small growl as he reached down to brush her hand away from his. “We talked about the hand thing. You keep Ironstone in line.”

  “I will,” Gael said.

  Gael placed her hands back in her lap. “Rye, do you have enough equipment to do this mission?”

  It was my turn to do the big-cheese grin. “What do the six orange binders say?”

  Chapter Eight

  I suited up in my faded blue jeans, black boots, and black-leather jacket. I knew I looked good.

  Dallas took off after lunch to meet with some uppity-up from the town council.

  I checked my gear again. This mission was for real. Joyriding around with Gael yesterday was fun, but today we knew who the bad guys were and what we needed to accomplish.

  Dallas left a bundle for me. Inside was a ballistic vest. I felt cool with a foreboding undercurrent of uncertainty.

  The weather was holding with midday autumn sunshine warming the previous night’s chill. The bank was easy to find. It was located on the corner of Main and College. Ya’ gotta’ love small-town life.

  The streets weren’t empty. More people wandered about today. I figured the worst of the shock was wearing off. Pretty soon the food and water would run out and we’d have riots or full-scale panic on our hands. It added a level of urgency to our quest.

  I drove around the Appalachian Bank building a couple of times looking for the secret door. Yeah, it was a long shot, but you never know unless you try. I parked the car near the front entrance, retrieved my tire iron from the trunk, and slung the rifle over my shoulder.

  The bank was closed, probably for years. Overgrown trees, patchy grass, and the chain around the front door handle clinched it.

  “You got a guess where we’re headed?” I asked as I locked my car door.

  Gael slipped out, graceful as ever. “Let’s back up fifty years and imagine how the building looked.

  “Sounds like a plan,” I said

  The building was solidly built from local stone, and towered six stories into the blue sky. I stood on Main Street inspecting the front door, around the corner, College was on the lower end of a hill. I started walking toward the lower level. Loading docks and back doors always worked for me in the past. I figured why break a winning streak.

  “Hey, why that way?” Gael asked.

  I pointed at the front door as I kept going. “The vestibule looks classic early seventies. We need older. We need to start where they would’ve moved a coal boiler into the building. The death ray has to be a big object.”

  “It won’t be that easy,” Gael said.” The Bureau has been all over this town for years.”

  She was right. The loading dock was a bust. It was all steel doors and poured concrete, but at least I was moving. I can think better when I was moving.

  I scratched my head and refocused on the problem. “You have the pictures I asked Dallas to develop?”

  Gael reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a bundle of four-by-sixes. “He said the guys looked them over all night. They didn’t get any further than the key. The stained glass window is old news to the archivist.”

  I quickly leafed through the stack and agreed with her assessment. “We need to work our strengths.”

  Gael slipped off her rucksack. “I agree. I have tape. Let’s hang the pictures on the wall, in order. It might help with a clue.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” I hung the prints on the gray loading dock door.

  Gael leaned in close. “I’ve looked at them several times. I still don’t see a clue.” She took a step back, and focused across the street. “Tell me what you see from left to right.”

  I took position and held my hand up over part of the first image. This let me see each piece individually. “The key diagram is in the upper left of the window. There’s a border before the key with a stalk, some kind of grain with a bow. It frames the key image. Next is a hammer and anvil, the sun, earth, moon, stars and planet earth all linked by bolts of lightning. Finally a long sickle is cutting down a field of wheat, ending with another border of the single stalk ribbon.”

  Gael hummed a little ditty. She was doing her thinking thing again.

  I kept staring at the photos. “We’re doing this wrong. What were some of the main industries in the area in the 1930’s?”

  Gael came to stand beside me. “Why is that important?”

  “Stop thinking like a college professor and think like a working man. Tesla came from a working class fami
ly. He had vices. What industry supported those vices?”

  “He drank, maybe. He kept changing his answer. He liked billiards and cards.”

  I covered the middle sections of the stained glass with my fingers. “Where would a grown man of considerable wealth and prestige drink without being seen?”

  “During prohibition or a little after, there wasn’t any liquor. This was a dry county till a few years ago.”

  I shook my head. “You’re sitting in the middle of bootlegger central up here in the mountains. Stop thinking like a bureaucrat. Where would they sell booze to research engineers wanting to keep a low profile?”

  Gael spoke softly to the wind. “A speakeasy, an underground speakeasy.”

  I nodded. “We’re not looking for a door connected to the bank. We’re looking for a tunnel under the bank.”

  Gael tapped one the pictures with a finger. “I think you may be right. This single stalk of grain with the ribbon looks like the symbol for Bacchus.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “No. Who,” she said.

  “Who, what?”

  Gael shook her head at me. “Bacchus, he was the Roman God of wine, among other fun stuff.”

  “Okay, okay. Now we’re getting somewhere.” I leaned in close to the first picture. “A university town, home for wayward women, and illegal liquor. How would these things relate?”

  Gael turned and pointed to the upper façade of the buildings across the street. “Let’s look at the building, the old names at the top.”

  We stood there for a minute or two and read off the names. It was a who’s who of early town business owners. I recognized many of them. They matched several of the downtown streets.

  “Thomas, Carpenter, Fitzgerald...” I read them off one by one.

  Gael pointed out a detail I’d missed. “We’re looking for more than a name. It should be a symbol, maybe.” See the stars on the cornice work. They’re decorative, and I bet we’re looking for a building with a stalk and ribbon.”

  “Pretty big leap,” I said.

  “You play your hunches and I’ll play mine.”

  We restarted our search. Gael pointed directly across the street. “Dewey, with stalks on either side of the name.”