"What do you mean to do with us, you scoundrel?" I asked. I was beginning to fear that something terrible must have happened to Gessler and Tap. They were nowhere to be seen. Surely, if Gessler had set out right after me, he would have arrived by now, even injured.
"But it is too late for you, Poe. And for you, too, my lovely. But I will spare you this indignity." He grasped one of the needles piercing Olimpia's chest. "This might sting." Still holding the gun on me, he drew the needle out carefully. It seemed impossibly long. Olimpia clenched her eyes shut and bit her lips. The masked man grabbed the second, and then the third. Soon, he had withdrawn all of the needles, and they lay glinting upon Olimpia's chest like a nest of chromium snakes. "There. That's wasn't so bad, was it? Now you, Poe." He gestured with his pistol. "Move to that table."
I turned my head and saw, propped against the wall, an operating table identical to the one that held Olimpia. Apparently the tables were designed to be tilted up and down and this one stood in the upright position. Two leather restraints hung from the head of the table and I knew the masked man meant to secure me to them. I moved towards it, knowing I had but one last chance for freedom.
"Don't even think about it, Poe," the masked man warned. "I have but to clench my finger to put a ball in you. Much worse will happen to Olimpia. Remember that!"
He grabbed my wrist and slapped it into the first restraint and buckled it tightly. When he did the same to my other wrist, he took a step back. He still held the gun on me, though it was unnecessary. I strained against my bonds to no avail. I was going nowhere. The masked man chuckled at my futile efforts.
He strode to one of the workbenches and began sorting through all the various bottles and vials that crowded the back of the table. He would lift one and either discard it without further ado, or, finding something of interest, hold it up to the light and peer at it closely, only to fling it aside in frustration. Whatever he was looking for, he failed to find it. Finally, with a sweep of his arm, he sent all the glass tubes and vials crashing to the floor. He whirled.
"Where is it, Olimpia?" he shouted. "Where did that crackpot father of yours keep it? The old serum—not the new..."
"I don't know," Olimpia said.
"Oh, come now, Miss Coppelius. Don't think I'm a fool." He walked over to where she lay strapped to the table and thrust the muzzle of his pistol under her chin. "I will find it sooner or later. I'd prefer it to be sooner—and I'd prefer you still have a head on your shoulders when I do."
Olimpia said nothing and the masked man pressed the muzzle into her flesh. He began to squeeze the trigger.
"For God's sake, tell him!" I shouted.
"In the cabinet," Olimpia said at last. "Above the workbench."
The masked man jerked his head up and located the cabinet. He rushed to it and flung open the doors. Though I could not see his eyes, I saw that his head moved slightly back and forth as he scanned the dozens of identical vials and beakers of fluid and variously-hued powders. He turned.
"Which of these is it, Olimpia?"
"I have already told you where it is," she said defiantly.
"Damn you! Show me which it is!"
He rushed to her side and began unbuckling her restraints, first her ankles, then her wrists. He pulled her from the table and shoved her roughly to the cabinet. She was wearing the same dress she had on when I had last seen her at Witherspoon's. The masked man held the pistol to the small of her back as she fingered the vials. She selected one and handed it to him.
"Forgive me, Eddy," she said.
"We’re not finished yet," I replied. I kept glancing into the darkness at the far end of the room. I knew Gessler was out there somewhere. He would not have left me. I remembered that his revolver had been lost in our fight with Dansby, so wherever he was, he was unarmed. Perhaps he was only waiting for an opportunity to spring.
"Oh, but you are finished," said the masked man. He had found a syringe and now filled it with a measure of the serum Olimpia had procured for him. Presumably, the old serum, as he had requested. My mind was a jumble, so I had no conception of what that might mean.
He ordered Olimpia before him as he moved towards me. The needle glistened in the lamplight as a beaded string of red-tinged serum dripped down its length.
"This is not how I wanted this to end, Poe—just so you know. I rather wanted to send you off in a blaze of glory—at the Rue Morgue, in fact. But your friend Billy Burton saved you without even knowing it."
"My friend!" I scoffed.
"You see, I had grown tired of Coppelius' little game. 'Why not just finish it?' I wondered. But, no, Coppelius wanted to test his machines, pitting them against your wit. He was a vain man. He read your stories and fancied you a master of deductive reasoning. I tried to tell him that anyone can solve a crime that he himself has concocted. 'Oh, but to solve them so cleverly! Truly this Poe is a genius!' Coppelius gushed. It was enough to make you retch. But then it struck me. What if Poe really did commit the crimes? How would the genius solve them then, when his life was on the line? I admit, there was some amusement in the affair, at least initially."
"You!" I gasped. "Who are you?"
"Oh, I am Coppelius' little clockwork man, his marionette." The masked man raised his arms. Bending his wrists, he waggled his hands making it appear as though they were being manipulated by strings. "Or so he believed. He wanted to inject me with his new serum, forever making me his slave. But I would not allow it. The process that has already begun in me will continue. With this." He indicated the syringe as he moved it closer to my neck. "If you prick my finger today, a little machine oil might spill out, but that's about it. You see, I long for blood, Mr. Poe. In fact, I long for your blood." I tugged at my restraints and thrashed my head to avoid the needle as it drew closer. I could feel it pressing cold and wet against my skin. "All I have to do is inject this into your neck. Then wait a day or so, letting the serum mix with your blood. Then it's just a matter of extracting Coppelius' vile cocktail from your veins and loading it into that infernal contraption over there. Of course, the same process that confers life upon me will, I'm afraid, kill you quite dead—and you will spend your short afterlife as a savage revenant strapped to this table. In the meantime, however, I will have to find some way of amusing myself in this dreary old house. That's where Olimpia comes in. Goodbye, Mr. Poe—"
I closed my eyes, waiting to feel the cold prick of the needle, but heard only a scream instead. It came from the mouth of my tormentor, for Olimpia had delivered a hard kick to the back of the man's legs. His knees buckled and he dropped the syringe. It fell with a chink of broken glass to the floor.
"No!" the man cried in anguish, his precious serum lost. He swung the hand that held the pistol, catching Olimpia with a backhanded blow that sent her flying across the room. She landed on her back near her father's body, dazed. The clockwork man rushed after her.
"Olimpia!" I shouted, hoping the sound of my voice might rouse her. In fury, the masked man raised his pistol, preparing to shoot. I tried to wrench my wrists free and felt one of the restraints give a little. I craned my neck and saw that a tear had appeared in the leather. I tugged with all my might, but it held me fast.
Olimpia rose onto her elbows and when she lifted her head, her nose nearly touched the muzzle of the blunderbuss pistol. I did not believe she was even aware of it. I could tell by the look in her eye that she had not yet fully regained her senses. The flared barrel seemed as large as her head. I dreaded what I would be forced to witness when the man pulled the trigger. But to my astonishment, Coppelius, who had been lying prone on his back, suddenly reached up and grasped his clockwork creation's wrist, jarring the pistol from the man's fingers. It clattered to the floor at his feet. In the next instant, Coppelius was up and on his feet. He rammed his misshapen shoulder into the automaton's chest, staggering him.
"Olimpia, run!" I cried. But Coppelius had already grabbed her by the arm. He lifted her to her feet and looked like he was prepari
ng to flee. But the clockwork man had, in turn, grasped his shoulder and whirled him around. Coppelius' frock coat flew open and to my amazement I saw that he was wearing what looked to be an armored waistcoat of some sort. The wound in his chest that I had taken to be fatal was in fact nothing more than a shiny crater of bare metal in his vest. The velocity of the ball had perhaps stunned him or rendered him unconscious temporarily, but it did not kill.
He spun around, flailing at his clockwork creation. He of all men should have known the futility of fighting one of these machines unarmed. His blows to the man's head and chest fell virtually without notice. The clockwork man wrapped his fingers around Coppelius' throat. I could see his good eye widen in terror. His vulture's eye bulged as always, cloudy and blue. He thrashed at his assailant, his blows falling harmlessly. One of his hands had whisked away the man's mask. From behind, I saw a wild shock of black hair. Then, to my horror, as the two turned about in their struggles, it was revealed to me who the clockwork man was.
He was me!
The automaton was my twin, identical in every regard. Now it came clear. The man seen dragging Burton down the hallway in the Amontillado boarding house; the intruder in the garden carrying a bagful of teeth. It was me. A clockwork me.
Coppelius broke free from his—my—strangling clutches, but he would not relinquish his grasp of Olimpia. The doctor had her by one arm and the clockwork Poe—for what else could I now call him?—had her by the other. Olimpia was crying out as they tugged. I feared they would tear her in half and some twisted version of Solomon's horrifying wisdom would play out before my very eyes.
At that moment, I spied Gessler peeking out from around the corner. Finally! How long he had been there watching, I could not say. But I dared not cry out for fear of ruining whatever plan I supposed he had in mind. I reflexively tried to raise my hand to attract his attention, but my restraints held me fast. When he saw the struggle that was occurring for possession of Olimpia, he immediately bolted from his hiding place—and, screaming like a madman, dashed straight at Coppelius.
He delivered a blow into the old man's back. But Coppelius was stocky and solid and even when attacked by surprise could not be knocked from his feet. Nor could Olimpia's hand be wrested from his grasp. Gessler reached under his arm and up and around the back of his neck, clutching him in some kind of arm lock, forcing his head low and his arm high in an awkward, painful-looking contortion. Coppelius cried out but could not be compelled to release Olimpia. Her head thrashed as the two men yanked her from side to side.
"That's it, Inspector," the clockwork Poe shouted. "Lay the dog low!"
"Take Olimpia and run, Poe!" Gessler shouted back, straining with his effort to control Coppelius. "I've got the devil by the tail now—and I've no mind to give him up!"
I suddenly realized that Gessler believed he had intervened in a struggle between Coppelius and me, for that was exactly how it appeared. He must not have been able to see me where I stood bound against the wall. For my part, I now considered the clockwork Poe the greater evil. However horrifying the choice, if it was Olimpia's fate to be seized by one of them, I would prefer it to be Coppelius. Gessler was attacking the wrong man.
I shouted to him, but could not make myself heard over the din of the struggle. I thrashed against my bonds and again could feel a give in the leather band securing my left wrist. If I kept struggling, perhaps I could free myself entirely.
"Hold still, for cryin' out loud!"
I looked to my left and there was Tap. He was clutching the side of the table and, holding himself sideways, began tearing at the leather restraint with his sharp beak. I could feel the tear in the leather begin to expand. Using all my strength, I applied steady pressure at the same time that Tap tore at the band. At length, it ripped clean through and my hand broke free. With my free left hand, I quickly unbuckled the strap holding my right.
I stepped away from the table. "You're welcome," I heard Tap cry after me, as I began shouting at Gessler at the top of my lungs.
"It's me, Inspector! I am the real Poe. This man is an impostor!"
"Don't listen to him," the clockwork Poe cried. "He is an automaton, like Dansby!"
Gessler experienced a moment of confusion that seemed to ripple all the way through Coppelius. Both of their grips slackened at once, Gessler's on the doctor, and Coppelius' on Olimpia. The clockwork Poe seized the moment and wrested her away from her father once and for all.
I feared Olimpia was injured, for she seemed limp in the automaton's grasp. She may even have fallen unconscious. But I did not have time to dwell on the matter, for the clockwork Poe, sweeping Olimpia along beside him, was making a dash right past me. For where he was bound, I did not know. I only knew that if I did not act fast, I would lose them both forever.
From somewhere behind me, Tap shouted encouragement. "Get him, Eddy! Ninja kick!"
Not knowing what that meant, I instead threw my body at Poe's legs as he attempted to dart past me. I felt a sharp pain in my side—ew Roman" s 12an artificial knee, perhaps, striking my all too real ribcage. The next thing I knew, I was tumbling uncontrollably across the floor. When I came to a halt, I found myself staring at Coppelius' loaded pistol. It was laying on the floor where it had fallen. Chance had put it within my grasp. I grabbed it, rolled over and, assuming a kneeling posture, pointed it where I had last seen clockwork Poe. I remembered that only a headshot had finally killed Burton and I had only one shot available to me. I would have to make it count. I aimed high.
But there was no Poe.
Olimpia lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. I swung my aim to the right, and then the left. But I saw only empty space where I supposed the automaton should have been. I whirled to aim behind me. But the creature had vanished, seemingly into thin air.
I was about to get up when I heard Coppelius' cackling laughter. I glimpsed only his hideous blue eye in exquisite detail as he dashed past me. The rest of him was a black-garbed blur.
"Stop him, Poe!" Gessler shouted. "Don't let him get away! He's taking Olimpia!"
But I myself was confused now. I watched helplessly as Coppelius scooped up Olimpia and raced away. Gessler dashed past me next, hot on the old man's heels. Coming to my senses, I clambered to my feet and followed, thinking I would be forced to use my single shot on Coppelius now. I would have to take my chances with the clockwork Poe later—wherever he had disappeared to.
I turned the corner in pursuit and saw Coppelius, carrying Olimpia, disappear into a space occupied by a dusty old bookcase which had swung open on a hinge like a door. He slammed it shut after him. Gessler, expecting to yank it open and follow Coppelius inside, was surprised to find that it would not budge. Vainly, he yanked again and then ran his hands frantically along the outside of the frame, feeling for a latch. I caught up with him and quickly scanned the bookcase for the means of opening it. I spied a thick tome that stood out from the rest. Finger marks on its dusty spine told me that it alone, of all the books in the case, had been recently handled. I pulled it as though to remove it from the shelf and felt it catch. At once, a sharp click issued from the frame. The bookcase then swung open easily.
Gessler hobbled inside and I followed. We found ourselves in a small room that housed some type of complicated machine upon which Coppelius sat with Olimpia draped across his lap. To my eye, it appeared to be nothing more than a jumble of brass tubes and copper plating. If any of this mass of metal had been arranged to comport to some meaningful design, its form was lost on me. It recalled the guts of the clockwork Pluto, only at a much larger scale. If sheer incomprehensibility is a mark of great intellect, then here Coppelius had surpassed even his own baffling genius.
I do not believe he was even aware of our presence as he turned dials and pulled levers. His hands moved from one to the next with practiced dexterity. Then he pulled a final lever and sat back in his upholstered seat, bracing himself. All at once, a great cloud of steam burst from a valve and the machine began to vibrate wildl
y. Whatever the contraption did, it was on the verge of doing it.
That was when I heard the bookcase swing open. I turned and saw Poe standing in the opening. He wore a wild expression and in his hand was Coppelius' pistol which, in my haste to open the bookcase, I had carelessly left outside. I don't know if he even noticed me, but Coppelius saw him. He looked back over his shoulder with fear in his eye as the clockwork Poe leveled the barrel of the pistol at the height of Coppelius' head.
I did not know what to think. But once again I was consumed by the idea that Olimpia was in greater danger from Coppelius' creation than from Coppelius himself. Who knew what effect the death of Coppelius would have on the operation of his incomprehensible machine? With Olimpia unconscious upon it, I could take no chances. I grabbed my twin's hand and thrust the muzzle of the gun towards the ceiling just as the shot rang out.
Clockwork Poe's fury erupted and he violently thrashed his arm to free it of my grasp. But I would not let go. I forced him back, slamming him into the wall.
I feared he would kill me on the spot, but our attention was suddenly seized by the action of the machine. It had begun to hum loudly, the pitch increasing with every passing second. I was dumbfounded. Even if I had tried to cry out for help, I would not have been able to make myself heard, though Gessler stood just feet from me. I could see the fear in his eyes and my own blood ran cold when I witnessed the forms of the passengers on the machine begin to waver. Sparks of electricity shot all around them. In another second, I found that they had become translucent, that I could see through them to the wall on the other side. The humming grew to intolerable levels. I covered my ears. The vibrations increased in intensity. The machine's bronze feet began to clatter on the stone floor. I feared the whole thing was about to explode and that we would be torn apart by searing shrapnel. Transfixed, Poe had forgotten about me. Not knowing what else to do, I turned to flee, but stopped when I saw Gessler begin to move.
My Clockwork Muse Page 24
