Railroad! Collection 3 (The Three Volume Ombinus)

by Tonia Brown

  “Huge things?”

  “Sure. Al has told us all about your skills and talents. He has a lot of faith in you. I daresay you might be the best field agent he has ever trained.”

  “He mentioned that, but I think he says that to all the kids.”

  “Nonsense. Even if he does, we at the home office feel you have the potential to be the best field agent to ever work for us. Even better than Al was in his heyday. With Al’s training, and my help, you will become a legend.”

  “A legend?” Rodger reckoned he could’ve set a small fire with the heat coming off of his face. “I don’t know about that, sir. I just do my best.”

  “And that is the point. From what I hear, your best is amazing. It’s ten times my best. Probably ten times Al’s best too. I wouldn’t even blame him if he got jealous of you. Might be already.”

  “Mr. Jackson, jealous of me? You think?” It had been some time since Rodger felt that old pride crawling up his spine. He bit back the notion with a shake of his head. “Even so, I’m just doing my best. Nothing to be proud of.”

  Crank raised his eyebrows. “I see Aloysius has been feeding you full of his garbage.” The man patted Rodger on the shoulder. “No worries. I’ll break you of that nonsense. And all of his other pithy sayings too. When I am done with you, you will understand what the job is really all about.”

  “Yes, sir,” Rodger said, because he didn’t really know what else to say.

  “All right, then,” Crank said as he stood again. “You get your stuff together and meet me at the wagon outside. We have a long trip to the capital. There we will get you signed in and started. Sound good?”

  “Sounds great! Thanks!”

  Amused by Rodger’s enthusiasm, Crank set to chuckling as he left Rodger alone again.

  “Better than Al?” Rodger asked himself. He shook his head, not convinced it was possible. He finished his packing as fast as he could, anxious to get back to Crank and hear more about how amazing he was going to be. Through the door there came the muffled sounds of a rising argument. Rodger knew Al despised eavesdropping, but something about the situation—or maybe all the praise Crank just laid on him—made him crack the door and listen anyway.

  “I said no,” Al said. “And I meant it. I am out of all of that now.”

  “It’s just one more job,” Crank said. “One hit, and you can get out for good.”

  “It’s never one hit with you people! It’s never one man, one life. It’s always about collateral damage. Someone innocent always gets hurt.”

  Rodger slipped out of his room, suitcase in hand, and snuck up the hallway, waiting for the argument to end so he could make his goodbyes with Al.

  “That’s why we need you in on this,” Crank said. “So no one else gets hurt.”

  “Oh, no,” Al said, stomping around. “You ain’t layin’ a guilt trip on me. I said I was done with all that, and I meant it. Now, I don’t mind showin’ your kids how to fire and fight and take care of themselves, but I’ll be damned if I get back into the killin’ game.”

  “Just one quick trip to China. You sneak in, do the deed, and you’re done. There and back again. Easy as pie”

  “No. I said no, and I meant it. I’ve given thirty years to you idjeets, and I ain’t givin’ no more.”

  “Al, we appreciate all you have done for us, but it isn’t enough. You signed on to this job for life. There is no retirement from this sort of thing-”

  “That’s because folks usually die young doing that sort of thing.”

  Crank chuckled again. Now that Rodger thought about it, Crank seemed to smile and laugh far too much for a grown man. “True. Very true. But you still don’t get to just leave. You can’t quit.”

  “I still work for you. I still train ‘em. They said that was enough!”

  “They changed their minds.”

  “Well how God damned convenient of them!”

  Rodger gasped at the curse word, covering his mouth as he did. But it was too late. Al turned to the darkened hallway where Rodger hid.

  “Rodger?” Al asked.

  “Come on, Dodger,” Crank said as he doffed his hat. “It’s time for you to go.”

  “Yes, sir,” Rodger said.

  As he walked into the room, Al got that worried look again.

  “Give us a minute to say goodbye,” Al said. “Wont you?”

  Crank pursed his lips as he considered the request. “Well, all right. But don’t linger forever. We have a long ride and a schedule to keep.” The government man headed out the door, leaving them alone to say farewell.

  Al stared at Rodger in silence for a few moments.

  Rodger didn’t know what to say. He’d thought this would be easy. He’d thought he would be eager to go and get his life started now that Al had taught him everything he needed to know.

  “Crank says that I might be the best-” Rodger started.

  “You ain’t gotta go, boy,” Al said over him.

  “What?” Rodger asked, furrowing his brow.

  “You don’t gotta. If you wanna stay here, I’d be glad to keep you on as an assistant. No one would blame ya. I might even turn the whole training thing over to ya one day. How would you like that? You can teach other agents what ya know.”

  Rodger shook his head. What was this about? Maybe Crank was right? Maybe Al was already jealous of Rodger, and that was why he didn’t want the kid to become a full-fledged agent. Al wanted Rodger to waste his whole life at the ranch, showing other hopeful candidates how to shoot and throw and track. How boring. Not when there was a whole world at his feet out there!

  “I don’t wanna stay,” Rodger said. Only, it wasn’t what he meant to say, or rather, not how he meant for it to sound.

  Yet the words were there, pricking both of their ears, and stinging both of their hearts.

  “I understand,” Al said.

  Rodger hissed at his carelessness. “I mean I wish I could stay, but … I gotta go. Ya know?”

  “I know.” Al’s eyes grew damp. In all of the time they were together, four long and hard years, Rodger had never seen Aloysius Jackson shed a single tear. But now the old man stood in the middle of his parlor, staring in silence at Rodger Dodger, tears filling his sad eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Al,” Rodger said. “I just gotta go. I gotta.” Before he knew what was happening, his face was hot with tears of his own.

  “I know exactly what you mean, son,” Al said. “I can’t say as I blame you. But will you answer me one question?”

  Rodger knew he wasn’t going to get away without one more riddle. He grinned. “Sure. Ask.”

  Al stepped in close and took Rodger by the shoulders. “What’s a man left with when he has lost everything else? When everyone abandons him and life turns its back on him. What’s he got left that no one can take, but that he can still lose?”

  This wasn’t just another riddle. Rodger sensed a deeper meaning to the question. It sounded like something it would take a whole lifetime to figure out. “I don’t know, sir. I just don’t know.”

  Al smiled softly and answered, “Your integrity. Don’t compromise your beliefs, son. Don’t forget what I taught you.”

  Now that confused Rodger. What was the point in spending so long under Al’s apprenticeship if Rodger just planned on forgetting all he was taught? “I ain’t gonna forget. Sir. I’ll always remember what you showed me.”

  “I don’t just mean the way of the gun, or those other things. I mean the real stuff I taught you. Don’t forget. Please. Because they are gonna try and change you. They are gonna take every inch of moral fiber and-”

  “Dodger!” Crank shouted from the doorway. “It is time.”

  Al jumped at the sound of Crank’s shout, and stepped back from Rodger, letting him go.

  “I’ll be right there,” Rodger said. He looked back to Al and smiled. “Don’t worry, sir. I’m gonna make you proud. You’ll see.”

  “I’m already proud of ya,” Al said. “Just be true to you
rself, son, and you will always make me proud.”

  “I will. Goodbye, sir.” Rodger stuck out his hand.

  Al grabbed it firmly and gave it one good shake. “Goodbye, Rodger.”

  Unable to stay a moment longer without bursting into the weeping wails, Rodger ducked under Crank’s outstretched hand, through the door to wait on the porch.

  “Good day, Al,” Crank said. “You shall get your new recruit in a fortnight. Good luck.” As Crank led Rodger to the wagon, he asked, “You ever been to China, Dodger?”

  Rodger sniffled. “No, sir.”

  Crank grinned again and asked, “You want to go?”

  Rodger’s mood brightened a bit. “Sure. I would love to.”

  “Excellent. Because I have your first assignment.”

  Rodger climbed into the wagon without looking back, because he knew that, if he did, he would start to cry. And he didn’t want Crank to think he was just a big crybaby, weeping over the loss of his father all over again.

  ****

  back to toc

  ****

  Chapter Nine

  Pressing Question

  In which Dodger solves an important riddle

  “What is that thing?” Al asked as Dodger held the cylinder between them.

  “Something I can help with,” the doc said from the doorway.

  “You mean something I can help with,” Mr. Torque said. “That is, if I felt so inclined.”

  “Yes, it is a good thing you escorted me back. Though you must remember, you don’t have much runtime so far from the line-”

  “Don’t you think I know that? Sir. Don’t lecture me about my makeup. I don’t lecture you on why you’re such a tub of lard.”

  The doc gasped, then stamped a foot in irritation. “Mr. Torque! Why do you always have to misbehave in front of new people?”

  “Or in front of any people,” Boon added with a snicker.

  “Gentlemen, please,” Dodger said. “If you don’t mind holding your bickering for a few minutes, I would like to introduce you to …” Dodger paused as he turned to Al, or rather the empty chair where Al had been moments before. “Where’d he go?”

  “He’s behind the table,” Boon whispered.

  Dodger peered over the edge of the overturned table to find Al cowering against the wall. “Al? Are you all right?”

  “Please, keep it away,” Al begged, his eyes wide with terror.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Keep it away from me!”

  “Who?”

  “That metal monster. Please, I don’t know why you lied about working with that crazy little dog, but can’t y’all just go away and leave an old man be?” Al covered his head and rocked back and forth. A sob arose from his quivering form.

  Dodger looked up to Torque. “I think he’s frightened of you.”

  “Who?” Mr. Torque asked.

  “You.”

  “Me?” Mr. Torque held a metal hand to his copper chest, aghast at the idea. “What on earth would he have to be afraid of me for?”

  “Because Rex had his mechanical servant mess Al up pretty bad.”

  Mr. Torque’s whiskers bristled at the news. “Well then, I’ll have plenty to say when we meet up with this so-called Mr. Grinder.”

  Al whimpered at the name.

  “Giving clockwork kind such a bad reputation,” Mr. Torque said.

  “Yes,” the doc said. “I understand why you are so upset. That’s your job isn’t it? Fouling the name of clockwork creations all over the world?”

  “Oh, ha ha. Sir.”

  Dodger ignored the bickering pair and stepped behind the table. He lowered himself to Al’s cowering height and tapped the shivering man on the arm. “Mr. Jackson, sir, you don’t have to be scared of them. They don’t work for Rex, and neither do I.”

  Al raised his face to Dodger. In his sudden and unfamiliar cowardice, the man looked every bit of ninety, maybe more. “They don’t?”

  “No, sir. The doc is a good man. So is his assistant. They are here to help you and the kids. I promise.”

  “You promise?”

  Dodger smiled. “Yes, sir.”

  Al scowled. “Ain’t that just Jim dandy, ‘cause we both know what your promises are worth, Rodger.” He waved a hand at Dodger. “Come on, help an old man to his feet.”

  Dodger gave Al the requested help, and though his ego stung from the offhand remark, he was glad to see Al come around again. “Doc, this is my mentor, Aloysius Jackson.”

  The professor tipped his hat in greeting. “Well met, good sir. My name is Professor Hieronymus J. Dittmeyer, PhD, MD and DGE.”

  Al nodded to the doc with a grin. “Damn good egg, are ya?”

  Dodger wasn’t surprised that Al had figured that one out.

  The doc giggled. “Why yes! Thank you for noticing. Allow me to introduce my manservant, Mr. Torque. Please excuse his manners. Or rather lack of manners. Or rather lack of everything.”

  “Sorry if I don’t trust your walking bucket of bolts,” Al said.

  “Bucket of what?” Mr. Torque cried.

  “Torque,” the doc scolded. “Calm down. Can’t you see this man has been through enough? He doesn’t need your attitude right now. And Mr. Jackson, I can assure you that although my manservant appears cold and lifeless, he is, in fact, cold and useless.”

  “Shove it up your coal chute, sir,” Mr. Torque said.

  “If it is all the same,” Al said, “I’d rather it not be in my house.”

  “It?” Mr. Torque asked. He began to grumble about the rudeness of people in the world today.

  “It ain’t dangerous?” Al asked. “Is it?”

  “Dangerous?” the doc asked, then giggled again. “He’s no more dangerous than … than … well, I think I can settle this with a quick fact.” The doc snapped his fingers at Torque. “Torque, tell him what you do in your spare time.”

  “No,” Mr. Torque said.

  “Tell him.”

  “I solve crimes.”

  Al snorted a short laugh.

  “Tell him the truth,” the doc said.

  “No,” Mr. Torque said.

  “Tell him, you pompous metal mistake!”

  Mr. Torque sighed with a tin hiss. “I write.”

  “You write what?”

  “Romance.”

  “You mean trash.” The doc tutted and glanced to Al again. “You see, he writes all right, but all this bucket of bolts produces is filth, Mr. Jackson. Pure and utter filth. Bodices bursting apart at the seams with merely a look from the leading man. Heaving bosoms and tightening trousers. Intimacy of the most inappropriate nature. That sort of thing.”

  “It is called erotic literature, sir, and my publisher assures me it will be the next big thing.”

  “Yes, well, your publisher thinks you are a nineteen-year-old girl from Alabama, so how clever can he be?”

  “The point is,” Dodger said, “Mr. Torque is as gentle as a baby doe. He couldn’t hurt a fly, much less a human being. Isn’t that right, Torque?”

  Thankfully, the clockwork man agreed rather than arguing further. “Yes. I suppose so.” He narrowed his copper eyelids at the doc. “Unless it was a particularly annoying and very fat fly.”

  Al laughed at that. “All right, all right. I reckon I’ve seen enough. There is no way y’all work for that awful mutt. Not a chance. Come on in and make yourselves at home, as it were. I apologize for the mess. My last houseguests weren’t as gentle natured as you all.”

  The doc and his manservant crossed the threshold and closed the door behind them.

  “My,” the doc said, looking about the ruined house. “That animal certainly has no manners.”

  “Either that,” Mr. Torque said, “or you need to fire the maid.”

  “Mr. Torque,” Dodger said. “Can you play this back for us?” He handed the cylinder to the manservant. “It might have the whereabouts of some missing kids on it.”

  “Missing children?” the doc asked
. “Dear, oh dear. I hope they are all right.”

  “So do we. That recording should help us find them. Will you please play it for us?”

  “I suppose so,” Mr. Torque said. “If there are children involved. And because you said please. And because he didn’t ask.” Torque tipped his head to his master.

  “Thank you,” Dodger said. “Doc, can you take a look at Al? He’s pretty banged up.”

  “Of course.” The doc made his way over the debris of the living room with his bag in tow.

  “What shall I do?” Boon asked.

  Patrol the perimeter, Dodger said. Keep an eye out for trouble.

  “Will do.” The spirit slipped out through the closed front door.

  The mechanical man set to prepping his inner workings to play the cylinder while Dodger assisted the doc with mending Al.

  “I hope I have enough compounds,” the doc said.

  “I don’t need any fancy medicine,” Al said, smacking away the doc’s hands. “Just need some rest.”

  “True,” Dodger said, laying his hands on Al to hold him still, “but we need you with us. And you can’t travel in this state.”

  Al cut his eyes at Dodger. “Whatcha mean, travel? You think I’m getting aboard that behemoth sitting in my yard, you got another think coming.”

  The strains of Vivaldi cut the argument short.

  “Mr. Dodger!” Rex’s recorded voice shouted from Torque’s mouthpiece. “It is so good to speak with you again. Perhaps ‘with you’ isn’t quite the right phrase here. At you?” Rex laughed.

  Al trembled again under Dodger’s hands.

  “If I am right about our schedule,” Rex continued, “you are on the afternoon or perhaps eve of our second day. Only twelve days left, Mr. Dodger. Better put them to good use. I am certain your precious mentor has given you some details as to what occurred here. If not, then a simple glance around should tell you what you need to know. I have taken Patricia’s children, and I would’ve had her too, if it weren’t for her untimely demise. Shame, don’t you think? Such a beautiful thing, only to be cut down in her prime. Then again, perhaps it serves her right for being a whore in the first place. Yes?”