by Daco
Sigfred kneeled down and felt Chin’s neck for a pulse. He was alive. But he was bleeding profusely from the scalp—head cuts, the worst. Sigfred patted Chin’s cheek. “Wake up, Dr. Chin.”
Chin blinked his eyes several times and awoke. “Sigfred Sawyer? Is that you? What happened?”
“That’s precisely what I was going to ask you, old chap.”
Chin’s head flopped back and forth, and Sigfred feared that the man would pass out, but Chin opened his eyes again and struggled to a sitting position. He looked as if he were calculating a physics equation that could solve the mysteries of quantum mechanics. “They attacked me on the way in. Two came this way ... I think. No, three. Then two more ... Maybe they were the same men. It was hard to keep track.” Chin rubbed the side of his head.
“Where’s Ms. Manchester?”
Chin’s eyes widened in fear and then cleared. “The Magpie,” he rasped.
Sigfred sprung up and sprinted through the generator room toward The Magpie. He was careful to travel along the backside of the goliath-size generators so that he couldn’t be seen by anyone lying in wait. Once he passed several generators, he had a direct line of sight inside the control room. No one was there—another sign of trouble. Sigfred crept up the stairs to the room. There was a worker lying on the floor inside. He checked for a pulse. To Sigfred’s relief, the man was alive.
He moved on until he reached The Magpie. It had been badly damaged, its surface riddled with cracks. Sigfred circled around to the far end of it, holding his breath, and there she was.
“Ms. Manchester!” he cried.
She lay on the floor, limp and lifeless. But through the horror of it all, he also noticed something very strange—she was naked, and her honey-blond hair had turned white and lengthened, cascading in waves to her waist.
Yet it was unmistakably Alexa Manchester. He gaped at his employer, paralyzed. Then he shook himself out of it—he had to do something to help, if there was anything left to do.
She moaned, so he quickly kneeled down and scooped her into his arms. Alexa opened her eyes and mumbled, “Sigfred?”
“Are you all right, madame?”
“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Alexa?” She blinked a few times and gave him a wan smile.
And that’s when he really looked at her. His eyes were drawn almost against his will to her breasts. They were full and round, and her waist was so tiny that he could put his large hands around it with a six-pence to spare. Her limbs, especially her shapely legs, were certainly longer and more muscular than any woman’s he’d ever seen. Her hair wasn’t really white, but platinum blond; he could see that now. And her crystal blue eyes had changed to a pale blue, almost translucent. She was utterly gorgeous. A goddess. Not of this world. She was simultaneously the Alexa he’d known for years and a creature unlike any he’d ever laid eyes upon. Utter confusion threatened to take hold, but he shook his head. He had to focus.
“Can you sit up, madame?” he asked. “We have to get you to a doctor.”
She nodded, and as soon as she made a move to sit, her physique began to change right before his eyes. Instead of full protruding breasts with tips like tulips, she now had rose buds more suited to the petite form he’d imagined belonged to the real Alexa Manchester. Her hair color darkened to its natural honey blond. Her eyes were once again blue like the sky. The whole thing was simply astonishing.
Once the transformation was complete, Alexa sat upright, still dazed. “Electromancer?” she asked.
“I beg your pardon, madame?”
She brought her hands to her face, rubbed her eyes, and looked at him. Then she glanced down at her naked body, and her face contorted with surprise and flushed beet red.
Sigfred averted his eyes, removed his jacket, and handed it her. As she covered herself, he asked, “What happened here?”
“I was just about to ask you the same thing.”
“Did anyone harm you?”
“Not a person. The Magpie was ... Never mind. What happened to my clothes?”
“I really don’t—”
Alexa screamed.
Sigfred turned to see two men in gargoyle masks looming over him. He tried reaching for his umbrella, but one of the thugs kicked it away and slammed his fist into Sigfred’s jaw. The other man grabbed him from behind and held a dagger to his throat.
Alexa jumped to her feet. A white mist whirled around her like a mini tornado, covering her from view for only a moment, but in those few seconds, she was transformed back into the platinum goddess. Electricity shot out of her fingertips, undirected and crackling wildly.
The man holding Sigfred lowered his knife, released his grip, and backed away in obvious terror. His accomplice stumbled backward like a skid-row drunk. Sigfred made a dash for his umbrella, careful to avoid the currents of electricity. Seconds later, the platinum warrior seemed to gain some control over these beams shooting from her fingers, because she purposefully zapped the two men, who fell to the floor in convulsions. She continued striking the men with bolts of electricity, and it was clear that if she continued punishing them much longer, there would be nothing left of them except terribly charred flesh.
“Ms. Manchester, stop!” Sigfred shouted. “Don’t kill them.”
But she didn’t seem to hear him, nor did she recognize her name.
“Alexa!”
Still no recognition from her.
“Electromancer!” he shouted, though he had no clue why he thought to use that strange word that she’d uttered a few moments earlier.
She immediately lowered her hands and looked at Sigfred. Her eyes were angry, blazing with electricity. A moment later, her eyes dimmed. The mist of white reappeared, a cyclone around her body. When it fully dissipated, the Alexa whom Sigfred knew once again stood in front of him, unclad. She seemed dazed, unaware of her present state.
“Those men,” she said. “They attacked you.”
Averting his eyes, he quickly handed her his shirt.
“You saved me, Sigfred.”
“In a manner of speaking.” He’d saved her from murder charges perhaps, but it was she who’d saved him from those thugs. “I do have a question, Ms. Manchester, if I’m not being impertinent. Does the word Electromancer mean anything to you?”
Chapter 3
Later that night ...
Mayor Bobby Baumgartner sat in his cook’s kitchen, tapping his foot against the floor as he downed his fourth cup of coffee. It was nine o’clock. He probably wouldn’t be able to get to sleep later but couldn’t stop the coffee binge. In any case, it wasn’t the caffeine overdose that was giving him the jitters. It was because he was waiting on Zachary Zero.
Until now, everything had gone according to plan. But where was that buffoon Zero? The Mayor had been reluctant to use Zero for the task, but he’d had no choice. No one else would take on such a dirty job.
Zero, though, owed him and would do his bidding. The man had been Kensington City’s comptroller until he was caught embezzling funds that had been earmarked for WEEDS, the city’s society of the Women for Education, Edification, and Decoration of Sidewalks. The Mayor convinced District Attorney Stumpy Stellar to reduce the charges to the misdemeanor of negligent defalcation of funds, so Zero avoided serving time as a felon, but nevertheless was forced to resign as comptroller and now had the job of planting and maintaining all of the city’s flower beds. The beds lined every single sidewalk in the city and also adorned the parks. Zero had to perform this work at the supervision and direction of the ladies themselves. He had often said that the punishment was far crueler and more unusual than any time he would’ve spent behind bars. In a short time, the once-adamant teetotaler had been driven to drink. Nowadays, he could be found loitering in back alleys with winos on his days off. But not today, The Mayor prayed.
At last, there was a sharp rap on the servant’s entrance. The Mayor sprang from his seat and opened the door. He grabbed Zero by the collar and jerked him inside the k
itchen so they wouldn’t be seen together—no respectable mayor could afford to be seen associating with an ex-convict.
“Where in the blazes have you been, Zero?” The Mayor asked. “You’re two hours late.”
When The Mayor let go, Zero brushed the lapels down on his jacket. “Seems we ran into some trouble.”
The Mayor’s already stern face turned fire-engine red. “Didn’t you get it?”
“No need to blow a gasket, Mayor.”
He scowled. “Did ... you ... get it!?”
“It’s right outside the door,” Zero said, beaming with pride.
“You left it outside? You fool! Are you drunk again?”
“I beg your pardon, Mayor. Never! Oh, maybe I had a bit of a nip to calm my nerves, but—”
The Major rushed out the back door, practically pulling it off its hinges. Zero staggered after him.
“It’s right there, Mayor. Inside the black steel case.”
“What about the ceramic casing it was inside of?”
“It was all cracked up. I ditched it down at the city dump to hide the evidence. You said you only wanted the rock.”
“Did anyone see you?”
“Nah. Not a chance.”
The Mayor grabbed the handle of the metal case and headed back into his kitchen. Zero followed. After The Mayor placed the case on the kitchen table, he opened it, peered inside, and quickly shut the lid. He took a lock from his pocket and secured the case.
“She’s a beauty,” Zero said.
“What happened tonight? There wasn’t supposed to be any trouble.”
“After I sent the boys in, they ran into a nosy worker, and then there was trouble in the generator room when they tried to extract the goods.”
“Get to the point, Zero. What kind of trouble?”
“One of the boys might’ve gone too far with the guy in the control room.”
“What do you mean, ‘too far’? Killed him?”
“A nasty bump on the noggin. He’ll be fine when he wakes up.”
“I said no one gets hurt, you bumbling boob!”
“What do you expect, Mayor? I’m an accountant, not a soldier.”
The Mayor sat down at the table and rested his head in his hands. Earlier that evening, the chief constable of Kensington City, Pete Petaud, had telephoned, but The Mayor had refused to take the call, feigning pressing government business. He’d suspected the phone call meant there was trouble, but he needed to get the lowdown from Zero before speaking with the coppers. He had no inkling that an innocent person would get hurt.
Zero shrugged helplessly. “Apologies, Mayor. I specifically told the men that there was to be no violence. Intimidation but not assault and battery, is what I told them. Those were my words. Evidently, the employee tried to play hero.”
“So, you had to knock him on the head? He was one man against what, five? Six?”
“Pardon me, Mayor, but we acquired the Electromite just as you asked. That was no simple feat.”
“Did the cops arrive before you got out of there?”
“No, no.”
The Mayor shoved Zero toward the back door. The inebriated man lost his balance and landed on his rump. “Get out of here before I have you arrested for burglary and assault,” The Mayor said. “I can do it, too. No one will believe I had anything to do with this.”
Zero scrambled to get to his feet. “We had a deal, we did, Mayor. I know you’re a man of your word.”
The Mayor reached inside his smoking jacket, retrieved a sealed envelope, and tossed it to Zero. “One whisper of this and you’ll be six feet under.”
“Mayor, there’s something else,” Zero stammered.
“Isn’t it enough to have to deal with this mess you’ve created?”
“It’s the Manchester girl.”
The Mayor took a menacing step forward. “If you harmed her, I’ll break you in two with my own bare hands.”
“No, Mayor. She’s fine. Fine and dandy. As far as I know. I think so. Maybe.”
The Mayor grabbed Zero by his lapels and lifted him off the floor. “Speak English, man.”
“Something strange happened at The Magpie. Something real strange. I was hiding, waiting for the right moment to nab the Electromite. When the coast was clear, I headed over to The Magpie, and that’s when I saw Ms. Manchester. I don’t know how she got there.”
The Mayor tightened his grip.
Zero gagged. “Mayor, I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re strangling me.”
The Mayor forced himself to loosen his fingers.
“Honestly, I never touched a hair on her head. I saw her lying on the floor. She was all covered in some shiny stuff. I don’t know what it was. Then her butler, that Sawyer fellow, showed up. And suddenly, she was all back to normal, only she wasn’t wearing any clothes, except, well, eventually the butler’s jacket.”
The Mayor felt a surge of jealousy. “Did Sawyer hurt her?”
“No, no. He was trying to protect her, I think. I ducked out of sight. I couldn’t afford to be seen, not when I needed to get you your product.”
Finally, The Mayor released his grip. Zero gasped for breath. “Where is she now?”
Zero brushed his sweaty forehead with the sleeve of his jacket. “That butler must have seen her home. She was pretty shaken up.”
The Mayor had had enough. “Get out of here.”
“But, Mayor, that’s not all ... the boys ... I don’t know what happened, but they were out cold ... like stiffs ... like they’d died of fright, a heart attack. I don’t know. There was nothing to do. When they woke, they were babbling nonsense. They didn’t know who they were or why they were there. It was all I could do to get them out of there.”
“Consider yourself lucky, Zero. If your boys would have been caught, you would’ve taken the rap. Now, get out of here.”
As soon as Zero was gone, The Mayor retreated to his office. He set the metal case containing the Electromite on top of his desk and stood staring at it, breathing heavily. It was his—his alone to use to carry out his plans. Mickey Manchester had promised to share the benefits of it with the citizens of the world. He said he’d only use the meteorite for good endeavors. Bobby Baumgartner took Mickey at this word—the Electromite belonged to everyone, which meant having it in his possession wasn’t technically stealing.
The Mayor opened the lock and raised the lid on top of the case to have another look at the silver substance. It resembled a large, glistening piece of quartz. He turned on the desk lamp and looked inside again. The Electromite began emitting silver sparks—the reflection of the light against its surface. Or so it seemed. When The Mayor held his hands above the case, a soft heat radiated from the stone. That’s odd, he thought. Mickey had claimed that the meteorite’s properties were unique, full of unleashed power, but safe—not like plutonium, nor any other element on this planet. But he’d been around Mickey for years. The man was always making grandiose claims about his research. As far as The Mayor was concerned, the Electromite was just a rock. But if people were willing to pay millions for it, that was their problem.
The Mayor reached inside the case and touched the Electromite. It was no longer warm, but now cool to the touch. He lifted the mineral out of the case and held it up to the light. Beams of silver reflected from its surface. He stood transfixed.
The telephone rang. At first, he didn’t react, but the fourth ring jarred him back to reality, and he dropped the Electromite. He reached down to pick up the rock and then placed it safely back inside the steel case. Then he set the case on top of his dresser. The ringing phone had now stopped. Reaching for the phone, he dialed Bigelow “Biggie” Bitterman’s telephone number.
Bitterman answered on the first ring. In a guttural voice, he asked, “Do you have it?”
“Good evening to you, too, Mr. Bitterman,” The Mayor said.
Bitterman made an odd sound, not exactly a grunt.
The Mayor detested dealing with Bitterman. At four foot e
leven inches tall, Bitterman was a small man with a big inferiority complex. But again, The Mayor had no choice. No one on the outer circle of The Momaxita organization ever dealt with its elusive kingpin, who went by the moniker Momo. The Momaxita was a tightly controlled organization engaged in nefarious activities throughout the world.
Many of the news pundits didn’t believe that The Momaxita existed at all, calling it a creation of the Internet tabloids. The authorities never doubted its existence, however. If you were foolish enough to go looking for the organization, you couldn’t find it no matter how hard you looked. But it could always find you—sometimes to your everlasting grief. The Momaxita had found Mayor Bobby Baumgartner. This was unusual, because The Momaxita rarely did business in Britannia. But The Momaxita wanted the Electromite and was willing to pay a bloody fortune for it.
After a long pause, Bitterman said, “Good evening to you, too, Mr. Mayor. May I kindly ask whether you have the product?” The words were obviously forced, his voice the sound of metal on concrete.
“I do have the product, Mr. Bitterman. Now, the more important question is whether you have my money?”
“No problem. When do we make the exchange?”
“You’ll get it as soon as the banks are open and I have my trunk of gold.” The Mayor had made sure that half the proceeds would go to his secured offshore account. The other half would be paid in gold bars.
“Where is it?” Biggie asked.
“You don’t need to worry about that. It’s all safe and sound. I’ll see you in the morning down at the Sugar Express Train Depot. Alone.” The Sugar Express Train Depot was an abandoned facility that The Mayor had set his sights on acquiring just as soon as he could convince the Town Council to agree to put it up for sale.
“One slip, Mayor Baumgartner, and you’ll be very sorry.”
The Mayor kept his voice calm. “You’re not really threatening me now, are you, Biggie?”
Bitterman laughed—or was it a snarl? “I’m afraid you don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
