"I doubt it," Lewis said.
"Then we will have to put on a better show," Tesla said. "Something dramatic enough that they will leave Silver Bullet alone forever."
"You could rip out their throats with teeth and claws," Stasi suggested, hopefully tongue in cheek.
"Unhygienic," Tesla said distastefully. "And unlikely. But I do have a few odds and ends around here that might serve the purpose. If I might rely on your help, Mrs. Segura?"
"Absolutely," Alma said.
Somehow, helping Dr. Tesla seemed to have changed very little over the years. Alma trailed after him, collecting the coils of wire and less identifiable objects that he unearthed from various cabinets, then held things in place as he tinkered with objects she barely recognized. Finally, she hoisted the satchel containing the remaining bombs, plus the new boxes that he had built, and followed Tesla back to the device itself. It hadn't gone off since they'd reached the inner chamber, so presumably Tesla's control panel worked as well as he claimed. Even so, Alma couldn't help casting wary glances over her shoulder as she ran strands of wire across the dirt floor.
"Unfortunately, there are only two flash bombs left," Tesla said. "But they are easy to detonate with electricity. Let's put them both in front of the main door — that ought to deter anyone from coming inside."
"It won't do more than discourage them," Alma said, stringing the wire. "Not once they realize that's all there is."
Tesla nodded. "I'm afraid they'll only be warning shots — a shot across the bow, as it were."
"It won't stop them."
"No." For a moment, Tesla looked all of his seventy-three years, but then he straightened. "However, they will buy us time, as will these." He lifted the first of boxes out of the satchel. "It's a pity they won't actually explode, but they should give us a fountain of sparks. I doubt anyone will be eager to run through them, at least not until they're quite sure they'll come to no harm. And I believe I can keep them guessing."
Alma looked up from nestling the first of the flash powder bombs in the hold she'd carved in the floor by the door. "You don't mean to confront them yourself."
"But I must," Tesla said. "They will believe almost anything from me, and that will definitely work in our favor."
"But —" Alma closed her mouth over her automatic protest, less because she thought it would offend Tesla to mention his age than because she remembered how useless either protest or persuasion had been thirty years before. "What exactly do you have in mind?"
"We will place the flash powder bombs by the door, and set them off as soon as these men threaten me. We will also have the Silver Bullet up and running; the discharge will deter them considerably, I believe. We will use the spark fountains to keep them from reaching the mine entrance, and to distract them while Silver Bullet recharges."
"How long does it take to recharge?" Alma attached the wires to the first flash bomb, twisting them neatly into place, and moved on to the second.
"Thirty seconds." Tesla had the second box in hand, looking around as he considered its placement. "Of course, the more time the power has to build, the stronger the discharge, but since it can't easily be directed, the strength doesn't so much matter."
Alma straightened from the second bomb and ran her eyes over the cavernous space. The Silver Bullet would be impressive, but it wouldn't take Pelley's men too long to figure out that it wasn't under Tesla's control, and then there would only be the flash bombs and the fountains of sparks to keep them from rushing him and the entrance to the mine. Of course, they could post Lewis and Mitch in the entrance, but Mitch only had a few shots left, and Lewis, for all he'd brought a box of shells out from town, didn't have unlimited ammunition, either. And, yes, they could retreat to the laboratory and lock the door, but she wouldn't put it past Pelley's men to have dynamite and the experience to use it. Presumably Colonel Sampson was on his way, but he couldn't be there before dawn even if he'd started as soon as Mitch warned him. And the last thing she wanted was to end up trapped in the lab where Pelley's men could conceivably use them as leverage — threaten to blow up the mine shaft or something like that. Even if it was just a bluff, Sampson wouldn't risk it, not for a machine he didn't understand.
She looked up at the Silver Bullet again, the bulbous head and the twisting cables almost invisible in the shadows. "What if we just let them take whatever it is they want from the transmitter? You said the real Silver Bullet was in the lab."
Tesla looked conscious. "I may have exaggerated slightly. There are components here that shouldn't fall into Mr. Pelley's hands."
So much for that bright idea. Alma picked up the spade again, and began digging a shallow hole for the first of the fountains. "If the Silver Bullet's discharge could be directed — you used to throw sparks in the lab in Colorado Springs."
"That was a much smaller current," Tesla said.
Alma concentrated on her digging, unsure how to phrase her suggestion. The last thing she wanted was for Tesla to dismiss her as a hysterical female — to think she'd become less intelligent as she grew older, to see him view her, not with contempt, he wasn't that sort, but with pity. But. Mitch was all fire, Lewis strongly of air; together they could direct the lightning — possibly Mitch could do it himself, come to that, and maybe they could do it without Tesla realizing what had happened, though a steady run of near-hits would strain a lesser man's credulity.
"You have an idea," Tesla said.
Alma shook her head. Better to talk to Mitch first, be sure he thought he could do it, before she mentioned it to Tesla. "Nothing useful."
"That's a shame," Tesla said. "We could certainly use a more detailed plan."
Alma nodded. It took an hour to finish running the wiring back down to the lab, and then Tesla spent another hour attaching everything to a new section of the control board, laying out the switches so that they mimicked the position of the bombs in the building overhead. The rest of the controls were equally uncomplicated. There was the main power switch, now safely in the "off" position, and then a locked switched labeled "Discharge."
"Flip that," Tesla said, "and the device will emit a sizable spark. Once the power is turned on, however, you'll need to discharge the device within the next hour and forty minutes, or the machine will discharge itself rather than risk overload. As you've seen."
"Right." Alma studied the panel, not quite able to believe that such a simple set of controls could master the machine in the chamber above them.
"This side board controls the flash bombs and the spark fountains," Tesla continued. "All of which I have labeled."
"Right," Alma said again. Yes, everything made sense, and once she'd talked to Mitch, she might have something to add, but there was one obvious problem. "But how do I know what's happening up there? Won't Silver Bullet scramble the radio?"
"It would, if we were using radio," Tesla answered. "I'm afraid we had to resort to more mundane methods." He opened a wooden panel set into the wall beside the control boards, revealing a cylinder set with an eyepiece and twin handles. It looked, Alma thought, like a submarine's periscope.
"Trench periscope?" Jerry said, in the same moment, and Tesla gave a pleased nod.
"A bit more elaborate, but, yes, the same principle."
Jerry stepped across to peer through the eyepiece, using the handles to swivel it from side to side, then stepped back, nodding. "I can spot for you, if you'd like."
"For Mrs. Segura," Tesla answered. "I'm relying on her to man the controls."
Alma peeked through the eyepiece herself, amazed that she could make out anything in the darkness. But there was the open door, the snow reflecting pale beyond it, and the shadows that were the device's legs.
"That's impressive," Mitch said. "But we'll need to post a watch."
Tesla smiled. "I believe that's taken care of already." He bent over the control board and flipped a series of switches running along the top. A light flickered, a quaver of yellow, then strengthened slowly. "It's always important to know whe
n one had visitors. Particularly uninvited ones."
"What is that?" Alma asked.
"There's a pressure plate buried under the access road, spanning the entire roadway." Tesla looked distinctly smug. "When a car or truck crosses it, it deforms just enough to close a radio circuit, and a bell rings in here. I expect it was quite loud earlier, in fact. When the signal goes off, we have approximately ten minutes to get ready."
"Do we know it still works?" Lewis asked, coming to stand at Alma's side. She leaned against him for an instant, grateful for his warm strength.
"Oh, yes," Tesla said. "If it didn't, we wouldn't have any signal here."
"That's good enough for me," Mitch said, and Alma felt Lewis relax slightly. "So now what?"
"I suggest we all attempt to get a good night's sleep," Tesla said. "Because I'm very much afraid those men will be back, and sooner rather than later."
"That's an excellent idea," Alma said. "If I could just have a quick word with you two first…"
She drew Mitch and Lewis away from the controls, leaving Jerry still testing the periscope under Tesla's supervision, while Stasi busied herself replenishing the stove. Lewis shook his head, keeping his voice low.
"I'm not sure I like this plan a whole lot, Al. That device, Silver Bullet, it's not going to scare them off forever."
Mitch nodded. "And Sampson — assuming he's on his way, which I can't promise, I don't see how he can get here until after daybreak."
"I know," Alma said. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Lightning is fire and air —"
As always, Mitch was with her instantly. He was quicker than he looked, a good brain hidden behind the lazy facade. "You mean, use — occult methods — to steer it?"
"Is it possible?" Out of the corner of her eyes, Alma saw Lewis grimace, bur she kept her attention on Mitch. She was all earth, her talents were antithetical to what was needed, but Mitch was fire through and through. She saw him take a breath, considering, working out the possibilities before he answered.
"I can't control it," he said. "It's too big, too powerful. I'd have to make it attractive — make the target literally attractive to the lightning, and that's — another charge, maybe? Path of least resistance? Something like that."
Lewis shook his head. "I'd worry about drawing it down on us by mistake."
"No," Mitch said slowly. "I think I can see how not to do that, anyway. And maybe how to direct it? But it's a big risk, Al."
"It's a bigger risk if we don't try it," Alma said, and the others nodded in solemn agreement.
Chapter Fifteen
The Silver Bullet Mine
December 21, 1932
"Well," Stasi said. "This time I'm down a mineshaft in the middle of the night with a mad scientist. You do take me the loveliest places, darling."
Mitch glanced over at the other side of the lab where Alma and Tesla had their heads together. "Better than a mausoleum in New Orleans? We've got lights and food."
"There is that," she said. Stasi leaned back on his arm and the wall, sort of comfortably cuddling up on him as though he were her own personal sofa, which was nice. It was after midnight. She looked drowsy, as well she might since he'd woken her up at 3:45. He was kind of tired himself. And there wasn't anything that either of them needed to do right that minute. It might be time for a nap. Mitch closed his eyes and leaned his head back.
"There's never a dull moment around here," Stasi said contemplatively after a long silence. "You wouldn't think small town life would be so exciting. Plane crashes and rings of international antiquities conspirators and strange occult happenings."
"You don't miss LA?" He didn't open his eyes.
"Darling, I can't set foot in LA," Stasi said. "You do realize that it's positively full of people who either want to kill me or arrest me."
"I can see that's a drawback," Mitch said. He felt like a weight had lifted and it took a minute to figure out why.
"No, I'm far better off out of that," she said.
"Henry offered me a job in LA," he said. He felt her stiffen against him, her shoulders suddenly getting tight against his arm. "Top test pilot for Republic, with a blank check to run things however I want."
"How very nice for you." Her voice was suddenly cool.
"I've decided to turn it down," Mitch said. It felt good to say it, to have the decision made for better or worse.
At that she craned her neck to look up at him and he opened his eyes. "What?"
Mitch shrugged. "I wouldn't like it. And there are things that are more important than money."
"Don't you want to be Republic's top test pilot?"
He did. And he didn't. "Not more than I want some other things." It was hard to put into words, but he looked for them anyway. "You've got to decide what's most important in life. I've got a good job here and people who count on me. I've got the search and rescue flying and the Reserves. I like living here. I belong here. And if you aren't hankering to go back to LA either…"
"There's nothing I need in LA," Stasi said. Now all he could see was the top of her head.
"It's just money," Mitch said.
"And respect."
"I reckon the people who count respect me right here."
"I think they do," Stasi said. She put her head down on his shoulder and didn't say anything for long enough that he dozed off.
Lewis was almost asleep stretched out on a blanket on the floor when Alma stepped over him for about the fourteenth time ducking behind the curtain to use the facilities. He rolled over, frowning. When she came out he got up, drawing her aside into the corner away from Jerry napping on the cot, Tesla hunched over the control panel, and Mitch and Stasi curled up all over each other in the corner. "Are you ok, Al?" If she was getting sick…. "You've been in the lavatory a lot…."
Her mouth opened and closed, and then instead of saying that she thought she was getting a touch of something but she was sure she'd be fine, her entire face lit up. "I'm wonderful," she said. "I just need to go a lot. It's perfectly normal."
And then he knew. He knew for sure and he was certain it was written all over him. "Al," he said. He couldn't think of anything else to say. "When?"
"June," she said. "Midsummer." Her eyes were bright as stars, her whole face alight. "Everything is fine."
He gathered her into his arms, heart too full for words, too full of thanksgiving, as though his entire being were transformed into prayer. "June."
"June 20, if you want to be specific. Give or take a few days." She didn't take her eyes off his. "You knew?"
"I guessed," Lewis said. "And Stasi's reading…."
Tears started at the corners of her eyes. "Said what?"
Sorrow and pain along the way, but there was time enough for that. "The page of cups," he said. "Summer's child with a fish in her hand, the child of love and light."
Alma's voice was choked. "The page of cups is the card for a Cancer, June 21 to July 20. That's exactly right."
"Our child." It was strange to say the words, but it was time. "Our son or daughter."
The sound of the bell jolted them all awake. Jerry rolled upright on the cot as Dr. Tesla flipped on the rest of the lights, and shrugged himself back into the topcoat he'd been using as a blanket. Ten minutes from the sound of the bell to the mine buildings, Tesla had said, though Jerry was willing to bet Kirsch and his men would take a little longer. After yesterday, they had no idea what else might be up here, and Kirsch wasn't stupid enough to rush in blind.
The others were up and moving, too, Alma already at the control console, frowning as she adjusted settings under Tesla's last minute instructions, Lewis loading his rifle. Mitch and Stasi had disentangled themselves and now Mitch was checking his revolver while Stasi hunched herself further into her inadequate coat. She had to be freezing, Jerry thought. He was none too warm himself in spite of the furnace, and there wasn't a lot of coal left to keep it going. On the other hand, surely they weren't going to be down here more than another day,
not with Sampson on his way, and Jerry limped quickly across to open the door and feed in two more shovelfuls of the crumbling coal.
"Thank you, darling," Stasi said, with what sounded like genuine gratitude, and Tesla nodded his approval.
"Yes, there's no need to be uncomfortable."
"Dr. Tesla," Lewis said. "Are you sure you won't let me or Mitch do the talking?"
"Neither of you is familiar with the device," Tesla answered, straightening his tie before pulling on his overcoat. "Nor do you know where all the safe spots are. And besides, Kirsch is much more likely to believe anything I say. No matter how improbable."
"True enough," Mitch said, and Lewis gave a little shrug.
"But you'll let us cover you from just inside the tunnel."
Tesla nodded. "In fact, I insist."
Lewis grinned at that, and Jerry glanced at his watch. Four thirty-five in the morning, and maybe six or seven minutes before Kirsch's men arrived. He took his place at the trench periscope, pressing his forehead against the cold metal. The room above was dark and empty; the door showed brighter, fingers of snow drifting in from the opening, and he could just distinguish the door of the office at one extreme and the legs of the device at the other.
"Mrs. Segura, if you would switch on the power now?" Tesla said.
"Right." Alma unlocked the main switch and moved it to the on position. There was an odd deep sound, almost like a groan, and Jerry felt the hairs prickle on the back of his neck. Tesla's device was working, drawing power from its mysterious source somewhere deep in the mine.
"We should go up now," Mitch said.
Tesla nodded. "When they reach the door, turn on the lights — the switch is just inside the tunnel entrance."
"Good thought," Lewis said, shouldering his rifle.
"Yes, you'll be even more deeply in shadow." Tesla looked over his shoulder. "You remember our signals, Miss — Mrs. Segura? Dr. Ballard?"
"Oh, yes," Alma answered, and Jerry nodded. Mitch unbarred the door.
"Close it most of the way behind us," he said, to Stasi, "but leave the bar ready in case we need to make a quick exit."
Order of the Air Omnibus: Books 1-3 Page 102
