The Apocalypse Four: 93 Million Miles To Gotham

by Timothy Mayer

  “Don’t worry,” Garvey laughed. “You’re not the first white man who refused to shake my hand.” He chuckled and walked out of the building.

  “I need to go back and make sure my special room is still unoccupied,” Hearst spoke to Tesla after Garvey had left.

  “I understand,” Tesla spoke to him as he pulled out a piece of chalk and began to make notations on a blackboard next to the table. “I can’t stand anyone violating my personal space either.”

  “So what do you make of all this?” Hearst asked Crowley as they drove away. The driver was relieved when they came out of the building. He didn’t like the neighborhood.

  “If it was anybody else,” Crowley responded. “I would show a certain amount of skepticism. I’ve had experience with people who make great claims and can’t back them up. People who claimed to be Cleopatra in former lives are a big problem.”

  “So you think he’s telling the truth,” Hearst concluded.

  “He acts as if he believes it’s all true,” Crowley responded. “Babalon believes it true. She wouldn’t manifest to deceive.” He shuddered at the memory of the red-haired woman’s appearance.

  “I think we should proceed as if it’s true,” Hearst spoke. “If he’s right, I’ll have the story of the century from the inside. If wrong, it was an exciting week just the same.” He took out a cigar from a case and offered one to Crowley.

  Garvey encountered the policeman the moment he left the old factory.

  His intent was to head west toward a small black community where a few people he knew lived. Not all the black population had headed up to Harlem after the dust-up with the Italians and Irish years ago. Some refused to move and stayed in place. They tended to have more resilience and fortitude. These were the kind of people he liked to be around. The ones who weren’t intimidated and refused to leave.

  “What are you doing around here?” Garvey heard the voice call to him from behind. He gritted his teeth because he could tell by the accent this was an Irish copper. The sons of Erin had a bad reputation among the colored population of Manhattan. Many of them went out of their way to harass any black man who found himself in the wrong part of town.

  With the people he needed to find and the necessity of protecting Tesla, Garvey really couldn’t afford to stand tall and show the cop he would not be intimidated. Garvey tried to appear meek and turned around to face the policeman.

  “You’re not in your part of town, are you?” The cop spoke to Garvey. He was a tall man with the look of a beat cop who’d spent years on the force. Not the sort of person who would take any lip from someone from the islands.

  “My apologies, officer,” Garvey spoke in his controlled voice. Too late, he realized his accent gave him away.

  “From Jamaica,” the cop grumbled. “Go on about your way and don’t hang out around this part of town. You’re not on the island anymore.” The cop didn’t lecture Garvey on “his place”, but it was implied.

  “Thank you, officer,” Garvey spoke and continued down the street.

  There is so much to be done, he thought to himself. People shouldn’t have to endure such indignation. Even after this is over, it won’t be easy. I only hope word gets out and we can get some credit.

  He continued down the street. Soon, the neighborhood looked more like he did, but it wasn’t much of a comfort. The trash in the streets, the neglect from the city. These people had pride, but it didn’t seem to help them much. There was a building he needed to find. The people he wanted to see would be inside.

  Garvey considered joining their organization once upon a time, but decided against it. There was too much he needed to accomplish. To work his way through their ranks would take him too long. He went to a few open meetings and admired their structure, but he could see no place in it for him. They’d offered to help him out several times. Well, with the future of life on Earth at stake, it was time to call in the offers.

  Chapter 8

  Tesla heard a rap on the sliding door to his workshop and went to see who it was. He thought it might be Garvey. The man seemed to know his way around town, but perhaps he’d found himself lost and returned to get directions. Before Tesla went to the door, he peered out the small hole to one side so that he could see who it was. Two abductions in as many days wasn’t something he cared to experience.

  Tesla paused when he saw the visitors and considered leaving them out there. He had too much to do and the time was too short until the asteroid struck the earth. However, he relented and slid the door away. Tesla shut the door back into place as he stepped outside.

  It was his friends, Nicholas and Helena. They were from Russia, but had traveled all over the world. Nicholas, like Crowley, fancied himself a mystic. He and his wife, Helena, were back from some expedition to Tibet; Tesla was told by a contact he had in the Russian émigré community. Now they were supposed to return to Russia as guests of the new government. At least this was the rumor.

  “We merely wanted to say goodbye before we left,” Nicholas told him. He had a small, pointed beard, which Tesla thought he’d grown to enhance his mysterious persona.

  “You should consider joining us,” Helena told him. “The new government has pulled out of this senseless war. They’re offering to support our own research. I’m sure we could get them to do the same for you.”

  “I appreciate your offer,” Tesla told them. “But I have too much invested in my work here. Besides, the government wouldn’t let me leave the country.”

  Tesla looked up and saw the cab waiting by the curb. He didn’t want to delay them. The air still felt cold for this time of the year.

  “Look me up again when you return,” he told them. “Something tells me I’ll see the both of you again.”

  He engaged with them in small talk, but soon they were back in their cab and headed down the street. Tesla made sure no one else was watching the old factory before he disappeared behind the sliding door and locked it.

  He stopped for a few minutes and thought about the couple. Should he have warned them what was on its way toward earth? Probably not, if he failed it wouldn’t make any difference. Telling others would only cause some kind of panic and hamper his own work. No, let them travel to Russia, or not, it didn’t matter to him.

  Even the words he’d muttered to Crowley in the park where designed to bring him over. He was familiar with the British occultist. Tesla didn’t have much use for people who talked to ghosts, but Crowley had connections or could find them.

  He walked over the table and copied some figures to the blackboard. He was stunned when saw them and redid the calculations to be certain he was right the first time.

  “So, from what you tell me,” Hearst began to speak, “it’s all a matter of Free Will.”

  “Not Free Will,” Crowley corrected him. “True Will, the ultimate Will. That is the only thing that matters.”

  “It seems to me you’re playing games with words,” Hearst replied. “Remember, you’re talking to a newspaperman here. I can do things with words you’d never believe.”

  They were at Hearst’s hideaway in the small apartment building. Crowley drank brandy and smoked one of the best cigars he’d ever had. He couldn’t let Hearst know about it, he wanted to make sure the man knew they were both on the same level. Equals. Only this way could he ensure Hearst would be receptive to the new eon.

  What I could do with this man’s wealth and resources, Crowley thought as she glanced around the room. It was decorated to make a man feel at ease and to impress a woman. How many women had Hearst brought up here?

  They sat across from each other in over-stuffed chairs. There was a table next to each one. Hearst had a special locker in this level just to keep his cigars at the right humidity. He explained to Crowley how it worked, although the explanation had gone in through one side of Crowley’s head and exited the other.

  The phone rang on the table next to Hearst and he picked it up. “Who?” Hearst spoke into the phone. “Of course, you
can send him right up.” He sat the black receiver down in its cradle.

  “Company,” Crowley asked as he lowered his cigar.

  “Yes,” Hearst answered, “It appears our mutual friend, Mr. Garvey has arrived. I thought he was supposed to round up some supporters, but he’s here instead. Best to find out what it is that he wants.”

  There was the sound of the elevator rising up the shaft and then it stopped. Crowley was surprised Hearst didn’t soundproof his little love nest, but then noted a Victrola on the table next to the bed. Still, he’d have to change the disc ever so often. He finally guessed there were limits to what current engineering could perform.

  “Is it locked?” Crowley spoke again when they heard the gate slide back.

  “Not this time,” Hearst replied. “I usually lock it, but didn’t see the reason today.”

  The door from the vestibule opened and Garvey strode into the room. He walked across the floor and admired the paintings on the walls. Garvey stopped when he was six feet away from them.

  “So you have decided what to do to help Tesla?” he asked. “I would’ve been here earlier, but needed to find the men to guard the workshop.”

  “We’re in the process,” Crowley explained. “I first wanted to tell Bill about how he can help the new eon, which began in 1903. I meant to detail it to you, but all of this took place in the meantime.”

  “I think we need to table this discussion of Will and Destiny until we stop the celestial object from destroying the earth,” Garvey spoke. His voice was firm and determined.

  “You mean the asteroid,” Hearst corrected. “At least this is what Tesla wants to call it.”

  “I mean you two are doing little to help at the moment,” Garvey accused. “From what I can see, you busy yourself with fine food and drink while the planet is about to explode. A fine pair of mankind saviors the lot of you are.”

  “You talk big for a little man,” Hearst sniped. “You’ve been in the country less than a year and assume you can give directions?” He sat his snuffer down on the table and glared at Garvey.

  “I see a man born to wealth,” Garvey spoke again. “And another one who squandered his. We don’t have the time to argue over who has the right to privilege and who doesn’t.”

  “Oh, ye of little faith,” Crowley laughed. “I have done what I needed to do to bring in this new eon, the one of the Crowned and Conquering Child. Does the approach of the asteroid not demonstrate I was right all along? We’ve entered a new way of existence and I was selected as the one to deliver the message.”

  “Is that so?” Garvey asked him. “You truly believe you are the one to lead humanity to a glorious future?”

  “I see no other one who is capable of the job,” Crowley answered. This time, even Hearst turned and looked at him in dismay.

  “What happened to the troops you were supposed to rally?” Hearst asked Garvey, as he tried to change the subject. He had a bad feeling about what might happen if Garvey and Crowley came to blows.

  “They will be around later,” Garvey responded. “Many of my people are forced to work long and hard hours. They don’t fit into the white social registry. However, I trust they’ll be around when I need them. They promised me support today.”

  “If need be,” Crowley spoke, “I can summon all manner of spectral support we need. They will help keep the worst elements at bay.”

  “Can you summon one of your spirits this very minute?” Garvey asked. “I would very much like to see an example of your powers.”

  Crowley was taken back. He didn’t know how to respond. Finally, he decided to delay the request.

  “These things take time,” Crowley responded. “I can’t just snap my fingers and Baratzabel will appear. I did get us some help when Tesla was freed.”

  “So you claim,” Garvey snorted. “You remind me of the conjure men from my own country. They take money from the poor to promise fame and love. When it never comes, they always have a reason why it didn’t work. There’s always a bad omen, the person who paid them didn’t follow the right instructions, they have new knowledge, and it goes on and on. Never once have I ever heard a conjure man admit he lacked skill. Not once.”

  Crowley was quiet.

  “So tell me no more about your extraordinary powers,” Garvey spoke to Crowley, “unless you are ready to offer some instant proof.”

  Crowley, outraged, was on the verge of issuing a response when the phone rang again. Hearst picked up the receiver and listened for a few seconds. “Of course,” he spoke to the person on the other side. “He can come up too. Her as well.” He placed the receiver back on its cradle again.

  “We have more company today,” he spoke to the other two men.

  Garvey found a chair next to the overstuffed ones and seated himself. He tried to hide the way he checked it for cleanliness, but they caught it. Where he came from, it was a good idea to examine what you sat on before you did it, as most people only possessed one good set of clothes.

  This time when the door from the vestibule opened, two people entered. One was a short man in his fifties, the other a thin woman with dark, short hair. She appeared to be in her early twenties. It was obvious to Crowley that they were together, but not as a couple. She followed him and showed no attraction to the man in front of her.

  “So what have you for me today, Ted?” Hearst asked the man. “I see you’ve brought a friend along. Do you care to introduce her to us? By the way, these are my good friends, Sir Aleister Crowley and Mr. Marcus Garvey.” Crowley winced as the title stuck him with. He’d hoped people didn’t remember that stunt, although it appeared they did.

  “This is Anita,” Ted spoke to them. “She’s here with me because she wanted to see the famous hideaway. I told her you wouldn’t mind, but she might have to perform.”

  “Perform?” Hearst asked. “What did you expect her to perform?”

  “She’s a talented musician,” Ted replied, as the woman named Anita blushed. “But she doesn’t have her violin with her today. I’m sure you’ll have no issue finding one. Can’t you have one brought up here in one minute with a mere phone call?”

  “Crowley?” Anita spoke suddenly. “Are you Mr. Aleister Crowley?” Her eyes lit up and contrasted with the thick Brooklyn accent she spoke with.

  “I am he,” Crowley spoke. “I see my reputation has spread far and wide.”

  “I’ve read some of your books,” she told him. “A good friend let me see your publications.”

  “The Equinox?” he asked her. “I had to quit publishing it, but plan to start again when I have the funds. It was something I wanted to bring up with Mr. Hearst.”

  Anita walked over Crowley and sat on his lap. Crowley didn’t know what to do, for once. He knew the American women could be forward, but this was something he’d never expected. He looked over at the others and tried to smile. Ted and Hearst returned the smile; Garvey shook his head.

  “Hokum,” Garvey muttered. “It’s all hokum.”

  “I merely wanted to let you know that the book is still in process,” Ted replied. “It will expose the hypocrisy of the moneyed classes and the plight of the urban poor. It will make my last book resemble a chapter from the bible. I’m sure it will be banned from Boston to Portsmouth as well.” He took out a flask and had a sip of it before he returned the silver bottle to his hip pocket.

  “Then why write it if you can’t get it published?” Crowley asked as Anita leaned back on his chest and looked up at him with her brown eyes.

  “Oh, I will get it published,” the writer returned. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Hearst?”

  “I’m sure there’s a way,” Hearst replied. He looked over at Crowley. “I know that the more they puritans ban it, the more the book will sell. I have a silent interest in a small book-publishing house that handles his other books. We’ll both do well in the end after the lawyers are paid.”

  “I have another engagement today,” Ted spoke to the group in front of him. “So, pard
on me, but I need to twenty-three skidoo.” He looked to Anita with a “time to go” expression.

  “Oh, please,” Anita, begged. “Can I stay for a bit? I’m sure these fine gentlemen would like to be entertained.” She looked at Hearst with her big eyes.

  “I suppose it can’t hurt,” the publisher said. “No harm in keeping her around.”

  “Indeed,” Ted spoke as he headed for the door. “She might even get to see the swing.” He chuckled on his way out as the door closed behind him.

  “Swing?” asked Anita in her most innocent voice.

  Crowley enjoyed the warm sensation of the small woman on his lap. He looked around the room. The swing was nowhere to be found. Hearst probably brought it out only for special occasions.

  Hearst reached over and picked up the phone again. “Yes, send the man up to get Ted, he’s ready to leave. On his way, even better. What? Thanks for telling me that. When did the messenger arrive? Have him come back up for all three of us.” Hearst sat the phone receiver on the cradle one more time and threw back a slug of brandy.

  “Bad news?” Crowley asked as he ran his hand over the thin arm of Anita. She cooed. For a minute, he worried this might be a trap, but how could she have known he was here?

  “There’s a mob gathering outside the old factory where we left Tesla,” Hearst informed them as he rose up from his chair. “We need to get over there and find out what’s going on. I had my driver park in a special place outside this building. We can be on our way back once we’re out on the street.

  Anita jumped off Crowley and let him rise up from the chair.

  “Can I come along?” she asked.

  Hearst was about to say “no”, Crowley could tell, but Anita batted her eyes at him a few seconds. It hit Crowley that this woman appeared to be a similar age to the nude girl from the Follies that he’d found Hearst with when they’d entered the hideaway the last time. It appeared the crusading publisher appreciated the presence of younger women. This was something both men had in common.

  It was a quick ride down the elevator and a silent one too. Hearst agreed to allow Anita to tag along, although Crowley didn’t think it was a good idea. Not that he really minded, Anita hung onto his arm in the crowded elevator on the way to the ground floor. She wore a loose coat that belted in the middle. Crowley didn’t know what to make of her, but he appreciated the attention of a young woman.