by Marty Chan
“The House of Qi requires their presence,” Ning Shu declared. “That is not an inconvenience. It is an order.”
“Very well, daughter of Ba Tian,” Xian said, with surprising speed.
Ning Shu nervously grabbed her braid, wondering if she had played into Xian’s hand.
v
The next day, Ehrich and Amina assumed disguises and roamed the Bowery streets to shove handbills into the hands of disinterested New Yorkers. They had left Tesla at the theatre to construct the effects for the upcoming performance. Few pedestrians stopped. Ehrich and Amina were part of a swarm of gnat-like entertainers buzzing for attention.
“This is futile,” Amina said. “How are we supposed to lure Thomas Edison into the theatre when we can’t even wrangle people off the street?”
“We don’t want these audiences. We want one audience. And we know how to contact him. Through the Demon Watch.”
“You’re going to risk being discovered so you can hand out flyers to hunters?”
“My disguise has worked this far.”
“And how do you know they’ll take any interest in our act?”
“I have a plan, but I need something back at the theatre.”
A few hours later, Ehrich was now decked out in his performer’s suit and top hat. He wore a fake beard and he walked with a cane. He strode toward the local police station in the Bowery. The hunters used local constabularies as their base of operations as they often collaborated on cases.
Behind the desk, a bored desk sergeant read the newspaper. With a bent-nose that appeared as if it had been broken a few times, the man seemed more comfortable in a boxing ring than behind the desk. He adjusted his navy blue top, tugging the collar away from his neck. He barely peeked from his newspaper when Ehrich entered.
“Any hunters here?” Ehrich asked.
A thug sat up on the bench nearby. The older man wore a hunter’s duster, and he sported a dynatron pistol at his hip, but he didn’t strike Ehrich as a hunter. Maybe it was his thinning hair or the unshaven face and the bloodshot eyes of someone who had probably spent more time in a tavern than patrolling the streets. In fact, this man reminded Ehrich of the ruffians on Randall’s Island.
“What do you want? Any demon sightings?” the hunter asked.
“You’re with the Demon Watch?” Ehrich asked.
“I work for Thomas Edison. On loan to the Demon Watch. What’s your business?”
“I’m here to warn you that if you incarcerate any Dimensionals at this station, they will not remain for long.”
“Excuse me? I have a perfectly sound jail here,” the desk sergeant said.
“No, you don’t, sir. You have a flaw in your cell, and I’m to expose it before the hunters lose any of their prisoners.”
The thug strolled toward Ehrich. “What’s your name?”
“Harry Houdini,” he lied.
“And why do you think this jail cell isn’t up to standards?”
“Anyone can escape from it, even an ordinary mortal like myself.”
“I can accommodate you,” the desk sergeant said. “Want me to lock you up?”
“You will look the fool when I escape.”
“Off with you,” the beefy desk sergeant barked.
Ehrich winked at the thug. “I’ll wager Commissioner Edison will be curious about how hunters like you risk your lives to round up Dimensionals, only to have them slip out the back door.”
“Okay, I was going to let you walk out, but now you’ve gone and done it,” the desk sergeant said. “You want to make a big deal out of this, you can spend the night in the jail to think things over.”
He walked around the desk and grabbed Ehrich’s shoulder with his massive hands. The man was strong and none too kind. He frisked Ehrich before he slapped Darby handcuffs on his wrists. He pulled out his key and screwed it into the cuff, twisting the key until the latch caught. The copper slapped on leg irons around Ehrich’s ankles.
“Do you think that’s necessary?” Ehrich asked.
“Not at all, but I enjoyed it.”
The desk sergeant frog-marched Ehrich to the cell area at the back of the station. He opened the door to the cells and directed Ehrich to the nearest one. He slammed him against the wall while he fished out the key. He opened the barred door and slammed it shut behind Ehrich.
“I’m going to buy some lunch. When I come back, I expect you’ll still be here.” He closed the door to the cell area, leaving the boy alone.
Ehrich grunted as he crouched low and flipped the heel of his shoe open and pulled out his lock pick. He worked first on the leg irons, raking the pick inside the lock mechanism. With no one watching, he felt totally confident and at ease. And he was able to free himself from the irons in short order. The D-shaped Darby handcuffs were harder to pick because they were behind his back.
He angled his hand to reach the hole at the cuff’s bottom. If he could dig the pick deep enough, he might spring the mechanism, but to do that he needed a better angle. He kicked off his shoes and crouched into a ball with his arms behind his back. He lowered them past his rear until the chain pressed against the back of his calves. He rolled back and used the momentum to drive his arms up and around his feet. The cuffs cleared his feet. His arms had nearly popped out of their sockets, but he had brought the shackles in front.
He slid the pick into the lock and raked the mechanism until the latch detached from the cuff’s thick shaft. Within moments, the Darby handcuffs laid on the cell floor as Ehrich examined the cell door lock.
Outside, the two men chatted. They were curious about the strange man who had entered the police station, and they wagered whether Ehrich was insane or drunk. They finally decided he was insane as they walked out of the station to grab a bite.
Ehrich inserted the hook pick, probing for the pins in the mechanism. After a few attempts, the satisfying click of the lock giving way resounded in the cell. Ehrich turned the tension wrench. Click. The door opened. He placed the lock pick set in the heel of his right shoe, then slipped into his shoes and walked out. The station was empty.
Ehrich peeked out the door and spotted the copper and the thug strolling down the street toward an oyster vendor. Ehrich followed the pair.
He waited until the copper had picked up an oyster from the vendor’s cart. Then he sidled beside the burly man and said, “I’ll have what he’s having. I think he’ll be paying.”
The copper dropped the oyster, juices still dribbling down his chin. “How? What? But—!”
Ehrich bowed low. “No jail can hold me,” he announced.
“What? How? You couldn’t have—” the desk sergeant sputtered.
The hunter chuckled. “You’ll have to teach me that trick. Spent a few nights in a cell myself and could do with a way out. Say…who are you?”
“Harry Houdini, Master of Manacles, The Handcuff King. And I’m playing at the Bijou tomorrow night and every night for the next two weeks. If you want to witness more of my amazing feats, come to the Bijou, where I will be performing the Last Day of the Condemned Man…which might be your story, copper.”
The big man sputtered, “This was all a part of a publicity stunt! I ought to throw you in the clinker again.”
Ehrich smirked. “Then you’ll have to explain how a man escaped twice from your cell.”
The hunter laughed.
“Remember— the Last Day of the Condemned Man.”
v
Amina joined Ehrich at the next police station to witness the repeat of his escape act, but this time the sour desk sergeant tossed him out of the station instead of into a cell. Ehrich didn’t quit. With only a day before his first public performance, he had hoped to drum up an audience that included Thomas Edison.
The pair tramped around the city to play their act for different desk sergeants and demon hunters. Some were tickled by the bravado; others irritated. With every stop, Ehrich refined his patter and discovered something new about how to escape from the cells. He gain
ed confidence every time he was thrown into another cell.
In between escapes, Amina plastered posters around the area, and Ehrich procured materials for Tesla to finish constructing their props. For the first time in weeks, Ehrich wanted to be spotted. Not as himself, but as Harry Houdini. He adopted the persona of a relentless huckster, a showman who loved the limelight. In essence, by drawing attention to himself, he was hiding in plain sight. They didn’t see Ehrich Weisz; they only saw Harry Houdini, The Handcuff King.
He joined Amina as they headed to a police station near the Hudson River. He wanted to check on the mood. More Dimensionals crowded around the gate. His stomach lurched from the heavy tension in the air. These Dimensionals had lost their jobs. Many had lost their homes. A few had lost loved ones. He wasn’t surprised that their anger was spilling over.
A pair of sentries broke away from the fence and split up a group of Dimensionals talking to a blonde vendor, hawking corn. She flirted with the travellers as she tried to entice them to buy her roasted corn.
“Clear off,” the sentry with a pockmarked face shouted.
“We’re not doing anything wrong,” a Dimensional with a third eye retorted.
“Bachelor demons aren’t allowed to fraternize with our women,” he said, waving his hand at the predominantly male group.
“She’s selling us corn,” another Dimensional piped up.
The sentry waved her off. “Take your business someplace else.”
She placed her hands on her hips and refused to budge. “These men haven’t eaten in days.”
“You’re not selling to them.”
“You going to stop me?” she threatened. “How?”
The sentry brought out his baton and smashed it across the face of the nearest Dimensional. “Can’t eat corn with no teeth.”
The other Dimensionals rushed to help their friend. More sentries converged on the scene. The corn vendor screamed at the sentries to back off, but they ignored her. More soldiers poured out from the gate to quell the disturbance. Newspaper reporters hovered around the edges of the crowd, eager for a riot to report.
Amina nudged him. “I think someone is watching us.”
He spun around, scanning the faces in the crowd, but he didn’t notice anyone suspicious. “Who?”
“To your left.”
He craned his head until he set his gaze on a copper with a handlebar moustache and a barrel chest. The police officer stared at Ehrich. He instinctively reached up to check that his beard was still on.
“Know him?” she asked.
“No, but he seems to know me.”
“We should go,” Amina said.
She slipped into the mob. The mass of bodies was almost impossible to push through. Ehrich shoved one traveller out of the way, and another filled his place. Some of the people pushed back. A whistle shrieked. Ehrich glanced back.
The copper charged after him. Ehrich surged ahead, slipping through a crush of people. He scanned the faces for Amina. No sign of her. Behind him, three more coppers had joined the chase.
A hand snaked out of the crowd and grabbed his arm. Amina yanked him toward a break in the crowd.
“This way,” she said.
They zigzagged around the dwindling protestors and sprinted down the cobblestone street, away from the crowd and the police officers in pursuit. Ehrich was nearly out of breath.
“Who was that?”
“I don’t know,” Ehrich said, panting. “I think word of our stunt has been spreading. I did embarrass a few desk sergeants. Maybe they mean to return the favour.”
“Well, at least they’re paying attention.”
Ehrich nodded. “Now if only the hunters are talking to each other.”
“I think we are done for the day,” Amina said.
He shook his head. “One last one.”
“I’m tired.”
“Do you think Kifo is resting his feet? This is a race to find Edison, and we have to finish first.”
Amina said, “All right. One more.”
v
That same evening, outside Thomas Edison’s West Orange facilities, the two sentinels patrolling the perimeter detected something suspicious outside the stonewall fence. The woman narrowed her blue eyes at footprints on the ground, leading up to the stone barrier. She motioned to her partner, who drew his teslatron. She drew her dynatron pistol and peeked over the fence. The tracks led toward the laboratory in the middle of the compound.
“Sound the alert,” she whispered. Then she climbed over into the yard.
Her partner placed a whistle to his lips and blew sharply three times. His alarm was picked up across the compound. Other whistles cut through the night air and sentinels rushed from all areas of the compound, aiming their weapons and scanning the area for intruders.
The woman waved at her colleagues to follow the set of footprints to the laboratory. Nearly a dozen armed men and women converged on the building and flushed out a man in a raggedy black suit and top hat hiding in the bushes beside the building.
Kifo aimed his metal arm at the nearest sentinel and unleashed a volley of darts into the man’s chest. A firefight erupted. Energy blasts lit up the night. Sentinels fell to the ground clutching darts in their chest.
Kifo rushed across the bushes, sprinting at the first sentinel. She took aim with her pistol. Her shot hit the assassin dead centre in the chest. He howled in pain as electricity coursed up and down his body, but he didn’t fall. He staggered to one side, took aim with his arm, and brought down the sentinel with four darts flying out of his fingertips. He then sprinted toward the stonewall fence, scrambled up and over it, and ran off into the night.
Thomas Edison emerged from the building Kifo had been staking out. He rubbed his grimy hands off on his grey suit and signalled the sentinels to gather around. “Triple the security details around the perimeter. Whatever the demons are after must be valuable.”
A few hundred yards away from the West Orange facilities, the injured Kifo staggered through the woods. Now that he knew with certainty where Thomas Edison was stationed, he vowed he wouldn’t underestimate the man’s defences again.
v
The next morning, Ehrich and Amina stood in the offices of the New York World—one of three newspaper outlets in the city. He had one last scheme to drum up an audience. The place hummed with activity as reporters pecked at typewriters. None of them showed any interest until Ehrich cleared his throat.
“Can I help you?” the woman asked.
“I have a story for you, Ms.…” Ehrich started.
“Bly. Nellie Bly,” the woman in the smart dress answered. She had a keen gaze and little patience.
“I’ve read about you,” Ehrich said. “You’ve travelled around the world.”
She grunted. “That’s yesterday’s news. I’m interested in today’s.”
“Uh, yes. Did you know there is a flaw in the police system? Namely, the cells they use to hold prisoners.”
This caught Bly’s attention. She lifted her hands from the keys of her typewriter and reached for a notepad.
“And how do you know this?”
“Might be better if I show you. Where’s the nearest police station?”
She stood up, grabbed her hat, and led the pair out of the office. Ehrich grinned at Amina as they headed into the street. A few minutes later, Ehrich launched into his usual patter to goad the desk sergeant to lock him up.
This one didn’t bite. “I was wondering when you’d come around to me. Everyone’s talking about the man who can’t be imprisoned.”
Ehrich winked at Bly. “My reputation precedes me.”
The desk sergeant laughed. “The huckster who will do anything to drum up an audience for his magic show.”
She shook her head. “I don’t have time for flams.”
Amina backed up Ehrich. “He’s very good.”
“This is the stuff for the Herald, maybe, but at the World we do important stories. We don’t give ink to huckste
rs.”
Ehrich couldn’t lose the reporter. He pleaded, “You have a story here. Harry Houdini is The King of Handcuffs. Nothing can hold me. Not even the sturdiest police cell. Not even Devil’s Island. Throw me in the cell, sergeant, and you’ll see for yourself.”
The chubby sergeant chuckled. “Oh don’t you worry about that. And I have just the cuffs for you.”
The man lumbered from behind his desk and frisked Ehrich. Then he slapped a pair of Irish 8s on Ehrich’s wrists.
Bly jotted notes and asked, “Have you only escaped from the standard issue handcuffs?”
“Yes,” Ehrich answered.
“Nothing standard about these shackles,” the copper declared.
Ehrich heard a faint squish after the copper had twisted the key to lock the cuffs. Something was afoot. Before Ehrich could inspect anything, the copper spun him around and marched him to the cell in the back of the stationhouse. Bly followed. The copper slammed the door shut, crossed his arms and watched.
“I can’t do this while you’re watching me,” Ehrich protested.
“All the more reason for me to stay and watch,” the copper said, grinning.
Bly jotted notes.
“This will take some time.”
“It’ll seem longer for you than it will for me, boy.”
There was no getting rid of the copper or Bly. Ehrich paced back and forth in the cell, trying to concoct a scheme to retrieve his tools without anyone noticing, but the witnesses weren’t leaving any time soon.
“Tell you what, give me ten minutes alone. That’s half the time it took for me to escape from the other jails. If I fail to get out in those ten minutes, I’ll pay you one hundred dollars.”
“Why the secrecy?” Bly asked.
“I prefer not to give away my methods in the event real criminals use your article as a manual on how to do the same.”
“Fair enough,” Bly replied, closing her notebook.
The chubby desk sergeant cocked his head to one side and stroked his chin. “A hundred dollars for ten minutes, eh? I like the sound of two hundred better.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have that kind of money.”
“Then I’ll give you five minutes.”
