by J M Bannon
“These were recently delivered. I had them moved here until the Vizier’s return and his instruction as to where he wanted them placed.” said the butler.
“Can you get me a pry bar?” Rose asked.
“Yes Miss,” he said as he left the room.
Burton followed her in and grabbed a pile of wire type forms on the desk, “Have you seen these wire types?”
Rose took the papers and began flipping through the pages.
“Those are all from your Mr. Fletcher. I would say he is a bit obsessed with Azul. I think he is someone we should speak with,” said Burton.
“You didn’t find him at the apartment?”
“No, that room had been let weeks ago. I would say your Mr. Fletcher is in Sheffield based on those wire-types.”
“Hmm,” Rose was flipping through the missives, they were in order by date and as she read them Alfie’s tone swung like a pendulum. There were some that were apologetic, others full of demands and accusations about Azul being ungrateful. All of the wires ended with a request to meet or for Azul to return to Haddon Hall.
“Those read like an obsessed lover. My intuition for crime leads me to think we need to have a chat with Mr. Fletcher,” said Burton.
“I spoke with Mr. Gilchrist, and he confirmed what I also experienced with Mr. Fletcher having a desire to see Azul and questioning me about my work on the object that housed Azul’s spirit. Just before he disappeared Azul mentioned he was up near Sheffield visiting Fletcher and he had rebuffed Fletcher’s offer to improve his design.”
“Let’s take a train up to Sheffield and see what your man has been up to there. Not like I don’t have enough going on here in London,” said Burton.
32
Tuesday the 3rd of September, 1861
5:30 A.M. Palazzo Corsini, Rome, Italy
Gerrard marched into Caiaphas’s chamber. He was suited up in his armor, ready to transit again into the aether. One of the mechanist men carried his helmet. He had a swagger to his walk as his entourage of automatons followed him.
Throwing open the doors he took a moment to center himself as he stepped into the chamber. The clank of the iron boots of his troop echoed through the hall. The blob of flesh and tentacles lurched and moved as he came closer. Azul’s automaton was in the pool with the loathsome blob, covered in slime and wrapped in an embrace of Caiaphas's deformed limbs and tendrils. It appeared that his mentor was obsessed with the old mystic and had been spending all his spare time inside Azul’s gemulet.
< My cadre and I are leaving to explore another set of coordinates,> projected Gerrard.
Gerrard nodded.
This was the first time that Caiaphas referred to the body he possessed in the third person. Gerrard turned to leave.
He was caught off guard.
“No, I find having them close makes them easier to control,” he said out loud.
* * *
6:00 A.M Dimetri’s Labortatory, Palazzo Corsini, Rome, Italy
A crackle and the smell of ozone signified the portal was forming. Before the gate stood Gerrard and four of his guard.
Dimetri was working the controls diligently focusing this gate towards the one in the parliament clock tower. With his alterations to Dennison’s work, he could synchronize the operation of the two gates. As he looked up from the controls, Gerrard’s metal men began to line up.
The Nexus tube, the center of the gate system changed color, the streaming purplish black gas began to streak with yellow and white, then there was a shudder from the gate and the room filled with an almost blinding light. Dimetri turned away. He saw Gerrard don his helmet.
Through the gate there was a spectacular world of light and luminous structures.
“That is, it — my home,” said the Countess.
“It is amazing!” admired Gerrard.
“Now you see why I wish to return. Go and see what you can do,” encouraged the Countess.
Dimetri looked at the coordinates and tried to comprehend the location. This navigation system he had created that included concepts from the number loom did the mathematics and compensated for the variables that he and the Countess had discussed, but his mind could barely fathom what they showed. Power and lens apertures would suggest the location was some unfathomable distance, but the focal length and gas charge was as if it were in the same room. Was he on the edge of understanding the way these planes of existence worked, or was he slipping into delusion. His thoughts went back to the operation of the machine as Gerrard began marching his automatons into the gate.
One after another the mechanist men entered the gate. Those that left were replaced by the ones in the hall outside the workshop. Gerrard made him uncomfortable. He felt the boy was too arrogant and he was concerned that he might try to control him just like one of these mechanist men.
Gerrard stepped into the gate, and his last four guards followed him.
The Countess walked to the gate. She looked as if she was about to step in then crossed her arms staring through the gate.
Dimetri’s eyes went from watching the Countess back to his control panel to be sure that the setting held. No one quite knew how long Gerrard would be on the other side. Time was distorted sometimes, Gerrard would be gone for hours other times minutes. When he did return sometimes he was calm other times out of his mind in fear or anger. From what Gerrard had shared the time the gate was open didn’t correlate to the time he had experienced on the other side. This was confirmed by Dimetri’s navigation system and the time differences he was able to detect from the beacons Gerrard was dropping around the multiverse.
The Countess made her way from the gate to the other side of the control panel. Looking at Dimetri she smiled, “Would you be a dear and close the gate?”
“Gerrard has played his part. Now you will play yours. Close the gate.”
Dimetri looked down at the controls and began the process to shut down the portal. He had a small tinge of guilt that they were abandoning Gerrard.
“Dimetri, if you knew what he was capable of — if you saw what happened at Haddon Hall you wouldn’t feel so guilty,” she said.
Dimetri turned to look at him,
“Don’t you worry Dimetri. Your safe from him now.”
* * *
4:50 P.M. Haddon Hall, Bakewell, England
The sheriff drove Detective Burton and Rose to Haddon Hall. He picked them up at the Sheffield train station in a Hilton steamer sedan. They had an hour drive to Haddon Hall from the Sheffield Station. The carriage was driven by the sheriff himself, so Rose and Burton chose to ride on the front bench with him to have time to get acquainted.
“While the mill has always attracted attention, this last year there had been a steady stream of Mechanists and tinkerers coming up here, most visit but quite a few have now set up shop. Makes it hard to learn the new faces,” said the Sheriff.
“Did you see the fellow with the mechanical arm?” asked Burton.
“You mean the mechanist, Fletcher? No, he has been holed up at the hall with the other savants. Word is that Bessemer and his guild cronies are working on a special project that’s to do with that mechanist
man from the papers,” said the Sheriff adjusting a needle valve on the console.
“The townsfolk talk. I would guess you hear a thing or two over a pint?” asked Burton.
“I wouldn’t be a respectable Sheriff if the good folk didn’t trust me enough to share a rumor or two. Of course, those up to no good steer clear of me. But the talk has been about the quantity of materials being transported to the Hall. They’ve turned the place into a fancy workshop; Fletcher, and that Italian have been running the show.”
“So, the last time you saw Mr. Fletcher?” asked Rose wanting to get back on the subject of her friend.
“Never.”
“But, you knew he had a mechanical arm,” she followed up.
“I read the papers, Miss Caldwell. I know you’re a country lass from north of here, so you know as well as anyone that news from London travels fast and when your county will be host to a celebrity of his level it’s the talk of the town,” he slowed the carriage to turn off the road, “We’re here.”
The carriage idled up to manor. The building featured a tower that looked over the large gravel parking area. Rose was closest to the passenger door, so she hopped out and straightened out her jacket.
“That’s strange, no staff to meet us,” mentioned the Sheriff.
Rose stopped and unbuttoned her Jacket revealing her waistcoat and belt. To the side of the building closer to the garden was a truck. The back was open, and it had crates. Rose made her way over to the truck. No one was in the back, so she proceeded towards the cab. “Hello!” she called. Rose’s hand went to the boiler drum between the cargo bed and the cab. It wasn’t hot. She knew that their firebox was extinguished as there was no plume from the smokestack but to let the boiler go this cold meant it would be hours before it had the pressure to move. No respectable stoker or driver would let that happen.
Rose stepped up on the runner board to look in the cab. She got a shock to see the driver dead. He was covered in blood. With a scream, she fell back off the step.
Burton ran over, “What is it, Rose?”
“He’s dead. I wasn’t prepared for it,” Rose replied getting up with a hand from Burton.
Burton hopped up and looked in. He grimaced, “Looks as if his neck was broken and his throat ripped out,” He jumped down, “Sheriff, you know this fellow?”
Now it was the Sheriff’s turn to look, “Good God, what a way to go. I’d say he’s one of the foundry workers, but I couldn’t tell you who,” offered the Sheriff. “I’d say this happened a day or two ago.”
“The boiler is cold, it has been at least twelve hours or more for the coal to burn off and the water and metal to cool,” said Rose as she drew out the Rod of Raziel from the leather holster on her belt.
Burton Followed suit by drawing his pistol from his shoulder holster.
“You think who did this is still here?” asked the Sheriff.
Rose shrugged, “I just want to be prepared.”
“one tick…” said the sheriff jogging back to the Hilton and opening the boot. He removed an over and under shotgun.
As he was making his way back, Rose quietly asked Burton, “Do you have any of the bullets I gave you loaded?”
“I do.”
“Then if I were you, I’d make sure one of those is next to fire,” she said.
“If you’re so keen on me carrying these magic bullets of yours why don’t you request a firearm, yourself?” asked Burton.
“Not my style Detective, besides if we should get into circumstances where you need that, I’ve found this to be far more effective,” said Rose as she held up the Rod.
The three stepped up to the door and stopped. Rose looked to Burton who then looked at the Sheriff.
“You want me to go first? I’m the country sheriff, and you two are the big London inspectors who feel we need to go in armed, but I should go in first?” said the Sheriff.
Burton tipped his head to the side and tightened his face. Rose knew he was taking a pause to provide an appropriate answer, “Fair enough Sheriff, how about you open the door and announce us as you are the local authority and Rose and I will take it from there?”
The Sheriff nodded, “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate your help, and I’d rather be called up here with you than in a week’s time on my own,” the Sheriff put his weight against the door and check the lock. The door opened.
“Hello, this is Sheriff Charlie Lane, is anyone about?”
Silence.
Rose pushed in and made her way through the arch and into a courtyard. This old hall had been built in the Tudor dynasty and had several additions. Rose stopped; across the courtyard to see at the foot of the steps, another corpse lying in a pool of blood. The three moved close and looked at the victim. Another one who looked as if his head had been nearly twisted off.
“Sheriff would you mind going out to your carriage and fetching me that square case I brought with me?” asked Rose.
“Yes miss,” said the Sheriff who began to scamper off, then he stopped, “Do you think it’s safe for us to be going separate ways?”
“Be quick about it,” ordered Rose.
The door atop the stairs was ajar. Burton advanced up and peaked in, He pushed the door in making the hinges groan, “Detective Caldwell, you need to see this.”
The body was unmistakable. Rose knew his build, the hair color, she even remembered the scars at his shoulder where his arm had been amputated. It was Alfie Fletcher, and he lay on the ground dead.
The room stank as he had been there some time. Rose put the crook of her elbow over her mouth and nose to cover the stink as she moved around to confirm the face. It was a bit hard to tell given the bloating, swollen tongue and the strangle marks.
“This your bloke?” asked Burton.
“Yes.”
“Looks like he was done different. Strangled versus his neck being snapped, or ripped,” said Burton.
“Do you think an animal did this to them?” asked Rose.
“Oh, whoever did this was an animal but not like you mean, no its too clean,”
“Then there is the fact that this man’s mechanical arm showed up in a castle in Prussia,” Rose followed. She was looking for assurance that there weren’t going to be stampeding metal clad beasts coming through portals.
Burton laid down getting into an awkward posture, “His shirt has been torn off, and I would swear…” Burton adjusted himself, so his arm mimicked Fletcher’s mechanical arm and rested his hand around Fletcher’s neck, “I’ve seen a few black necks in my time, and this is strange, the angle is as if he did it himself.”
Burton jumped up then pantomiming a strangulation. When I had a White Chapel beat it was common to find the working girls strangled, but even a young girl requires the use of two hands when she is fighting for her life. You see the markings are only one hand,” Burton finished.
“I can do a preliminary visioning, but I’ll need my kit from London, the camera obscura and more of my alchemical fumigants,” said Rose.
“Fletcher’s not going anywhere so let’s make sure there are no surprises here. Nothing tells me yet that the culprit has left the premises,” cautioned Burton.
Burton led the way down the long gallery that was converted to a workshop. It was familiar to Rose as it replicated the automaton work she and Alfie had collaborated on. Here and there were portions of automatons in various stages of completion. Knowing what went into the building of Azul made her wonder about the resources this group had to have made these parts so fast and in such quantities. Rose snapped out of her daze when they found several more bodies. They were like the first two, almost identical; throats torn, and their heads nearly twisted off.
As Burton and Rose made their way out of the building and back into second courtyard, they heard the Sheriff call, “Detectives, where are you?”
“Not quite sure — it appears to be another courtyard,” Burton yelled back.
“Right, right. Stay there, I’ll be with you in a mom
ent.” The Sheriff came through an archway into the courtyard huffing and sweating with Rose’s case in one hand and his shotgun in the other.
The three now crossed the stone courtyard. The complex had been built over hundreds of years and was an amalgam of buildings; all connected together.
“What did I miss?” asked the Sheriff.
“More dead, same as the others scattered about the property. Who might know how many were lodging and working here?” asked Burton.
The Sheriff looked up thinking, “I’d say that will take some work, but my first stop would be the Mechanist Chapter and then the Sheffield Foundry.
“Let’s finish up having a look around,” said Rose. She was desperate to confirm the involvement of Caiaphas and his group. Then scry Alfie’s murder scene to glean what Rose could about his demise. She struggled to stay focused on the present and keep a keen eye peeled like Dolly had taught her. When that happened, it was best to draw on what Rose had learned from Enzo about getting centered and focusing on the now. As she walked, she paid close attention to hand-hewn stone and wood, her footfalls, her breathing trying to not think of Alfie lay rotting on the other side of the manor.
The group made their way into the row of rooms south of the chapel then down stairs to the basement. Burton led the way, opening them with his gun drawn. Rose was close behind, and the sheriff seemed happy to be carrying her bag, behind them both.
This was another laboratory. Different than where they found Alfie, this space, while about the same size was packed filled with tanks and scientific equipment. Rose's thoughts went to what she saw in the caverns below the Necronist monastery. She moved past Burton to get a closer look at the equipment and from a cursory review none of the vats seemed to have a substance similar to the ichor used by the Necronists. Rose was genuinely shocked by what she saw next. There on the wall was a portal door like the one she had seen in the Nexus and in the basement in Oklahoma. Haddon Hall was part of Caiaphas’s network.
