“Have any of those men trained on picket duty?” the new woman asked. “You don’t want men up on the front with rifles unless they know how to use them. What about the kind of weapons they’ll bring? Did they tell Garvey what caliber of ammunition they’ll need?” Perhaps she wasn’t so innocent.
Tesla was taken back by her forwardness and waited until she finished with the questions.
“You’ll have to talk to Marcus about it," he told her. I have some pistols here, but they’re locked up.”
Crowley and Anita were on their way back to the factory by first light. They walked slowly, as the sun had yet to rise. Before them lay the silent version of Manhattan. The newsboys were already pulling up to the curbs where they would ply their trade through the day. It astounded Crowley how they were able to stand up for such long periods of times and earn a living. He’d noted they had specific corners where they could sell their papers. He wondered why he hadn’t thought of putting the Equinox out in an abbreviated edition and sell it on the common newsstands. He’d wanted to make a prestige publication and the cost of doing it drained his resources.
Anita walked on the inside of the curb and looked at him with a glance. He’d spent the night at her place, although she’d restricted him to the couch. Why had Babalon acted as if Anita was some blameless child? This girl was about as common as the soil on which they strode. The concrete used to make this city flowed through her arteries. Was she above suspicion? Did Babalon take him for a fool?
“Do you make all your gentlemen callers sleep on the sofa?” he asked her.
“Only the ones who don’t have money to pay,” she replied. “The next time we’ll negotiate a price for what you had in mind.”
Crowley had tried to summon up the spirit of Mercury to help them in their quest to keep the asteroid from Earth. To do that he needed the help of a willing woman. Anita was willing, but only if she was paid in advance. Crowley didn’t even have enough money to afford a cab back to the garret room he stayed, so Mercury would have to wait for another night.
“You could have saved the Earth,” Crowley told her. “Once I had the spirit of Mercury bound in that triangle, we could use him to send the deadly rock back into space.”
“I had an army officer tell me once that I could give him the bravery he needed to fight off ten insurrecto's,” Anita sighed in return. “Guess he was shipped to the Philippines a coward because I wouldn’t drop my fee.”
“You have the bargain down to an art form. Few have mastered their subject so well.”
“I’ve got it down to a science. I can spot a cheap bastard from a mile. You didn’t seem to have any cash last night, but you needed a place to stay.”
“For which I am grateful, dear child.”
“Nope, don’t do that one at all.”
As they approached the entrance gates of the factory, the two of them saw the men outside who stood in place. They didn’t seem to have anything to do. A few of them went home each night, but more came as replacements. Crowley attempted to start a conversation with one on the way out last evening, but gave up when he wouldn’t respond.
A black Ford sped through the gates and almost struck them. Crowley pushed Anita away just as the small car roared past. It turned around and came to a stop.
“Bloody hell,” Crowley grumbled as he stopped to see who was behind the wheel. He couldn’t get a good view until the door opened.
A small man with glasses climbed out of the front and turned to face him. “Is this where Nikola Tesla conducts his experiments?” The man shouted out.
“Yes, it is,” Crowley called back. “Do you often run down people with that car of yours?”
“I’m sorry,” the man replied. “I was in town on business and wanted to see his operation. I’m used to driving without much traffic where I live in Pennsylvania.”
Crowley peered at the man and recognized him. He didn’t seem to recognize Crowley.
“Tesla is away on business himself and won’t be back for a few weeks,” Crowley spoke. “I’m a business associate of his. Is there some message you wanted to leave with him?”
“I am Doctor Climber,” the man called back to him. “He knows of my work. Tell him that I’ve finished the main pyramid and others may soon be under construction. I’ll let him know the results later.”
The man popped back in his Ford. Once he started it, the car was out the gate. Cowley watched it vanish down the road. He was glad Climber didn’t recognize him.
“Who was that man?” Anita asked him.
“Someone I would rather not think about. He’s a doctor obsessed with sexual cures for common ailments. He lives in some kind of compound outside Philadelphia with his followers. I don’t know what he does there, but his estate is far enough away to discourage casual visitors. We had a row a few years ago when he wanted me to appoint him as head of my order. When I refused, he spread all kinds of rumors about what I did in private.”
“And what kind of rumors were those?” Anita asked.
“He claimed I was trying to use people to enrich myself and make a vast fortune. As you can see, none of those claims had any basis in truth.”
“Using people or trying to enrich yourself?” Anita tossed back at him. “Seems to me you’ve done a lot of both, just not with any results.”
“A prophet is not without honor in his own land,” Crowley quoted to her. “I do what I can to preach my message. Some listen and learn, but not all.”
“It might help if you had a better example to show them,” Anita spoke as they entered the factory building. “People aren’t impressed by holy men in sackcloth’s and ashes these days. They ‘d like their preachers to drive new cars and eat with a silver spoon.”
“Of which I am aware. Those silver spoons have better uses.”
“Tell it to your flock, preacher.”
Chapter 11
“I see you had an encounter with our friend Climber,” Tesla spoke to Crowley. He’d emerged from the factory the moment Climber’s Ford disappeared down the street.
“Not the first one I’ve had with him,” Crowley explained. “Years ago I tried to talk to him at a hotel when he stayed in New York. I went up to his room and he tossed me out, the ratbag.”
“Climber has some particular theories about the way the cosmos functions,” Tesla continued. “I tried to talk to him before, but he felt his theories didn’t need to be tested since they were delivered from God. He kept chattering on and on about Cradock, Pascal, and Randolph. I’m not sure who those people are, but it seemed important to him.”
“He has a compound over in Pennsylvania,” Crowley spoke again. “Outside Philadelphia. I’ve never had a chance to see it, but I’ve talked with those that did.”
Climber’s compound was built in a rocky, inaccessible part of the hills between Philadelphia and Allentown. Too rocky to farm and too remote for dairy cows, a few enterprises attempted to raise goats on the land. This proved to be a bad idea as the goats would leave and freely end up in someone else’s land. Because the hills were scattered with large rocks and boulders, it was impossible to follow their trails. Most of the goat farms failed the first year.
For Climber, this proved to be a great opportunity as he sought a remote spot for his mystical order. He purchased the land from the banks that foreclosed on the property. They needed someone to take it off their hands. Climber purchased all of it on the cheap and proceeded to build his complex of temples and meeting halls.
Isolated from the rest of the state, his grand scheme never reached fruition, as no one wanted to venture out to the rocky place. As he was a practicing doctor, Climber could count on his regular patients to supplement his grand dream. People did show up and help, but they didn’t stay for long. The inhospitable landscape made it difficult for anyone to enjoy the life of the mind and spirit. He depended on his followers help to move the large stones that littered the property. Since all he had to help them were large draft horses, this was not an easy t
ask. After a few years, only the most committed disciples stayed.
Still, he labored on and the initial buildings were completed in the first ten years. Some ideas he had, such as a large wall around the compound, were abandoned as impractical. The pond on the property was expanded into a small lake. He built multiple pyramids as memorials to the enlightened masters who came before him. A large garden was put into operation when the stones were cleared from the field. He had a publishing house with its own printing press after the first wave of building was finished.
“He talked to me about his theory of the hollow earth,” Tesla said. “I don’t think it’s worth pursuing, but he was certain there was an entrance near the North Pole. Perhaps there is, but it would take more money than I possess to find it. I sent him away the last time he came by. I don’t know how he found the address of my current workshop.”
“He might’ve asked around,” Crowley offered. “Let’s go inside.”
The three of them walked back into the building. Garvey had yet to return, but he was punctual. They expected him at any moment.
Crowley noted the rocket was still in place, but there was a difference in its appearance. The side panel toward the bottom was open and countless wires hung out of it. He walked over and looked inside. There was an empty gap where something should occupy a space.
“I’ve removed the engine,” Tesla explained. He waved his right hand to a corner in the factory.
In the corner, a complicated arrangement of pipes and discs sat on top of a brass cabinet. Several meters were hooked up to it and a semicircle of chairs blocked access to it. Crowley looked back at Tesla for an explanation.
“It’s not dangerous,” the inventor explained, “but I don’t want anyone touching it for the time being. In this state it’s delicate and it would be easy to maladjusted a setting on the motor.”
“Why do you want our help with it?” Crowley asked. “I’m not an engineer, but I do understand the basics of physics and chemistry.”
“This motor works on an advanced version of what I learned,” Tesla explained. “I don’t have the time to describe how it works, but, trust me, I’ve used the motor to send the rocket into interplanetary space and back again several times.”
“And the bomb it’s supposed to carry to destroy the asteroid?” Crowley asked.
“Safely stored away where no one will trigger it. Another incident I can’t risk. If the bomb were detonated now, it would destroy the greater New York City area. I can’t allow that to happen when we need it to stop the asteroid.”
Crowley nodded in agreement. He might not know about the function of the rocket and bomb it would carry, but he didn’t have to. So long as Tesla handled that part, he could do whatever was needed to see the project through to completion. Still, it would’ve been nice to have a spirit to help them.
“So where is Hearst?” Crowley asked. “I saw his driver and Packard outside. The driver even unlocked the gate to let us into the lot. I’m glad the driver is out there, those men are back again and the mob is growing.”
“He showed this morning with Marion, that woman you told me about. “They’re out back feeding the pigeons for me.” He returned to the diagrams on the table in front of him.
Crowley knew about Tesla’s obsession with pigeons, but couldn’t see what harm it would bring them. He thought back to what happened earlier in the day after they arrived.
‘I need to go,” Anita told Crowley. “I’ve seen enough on the inside. Time to leave.”
The two of them had just finished feeding Tesla’s pigeons in the back of the old factory.
In the early morning, the place was a mess. Bottles left over from the previous workers were tossed next to the gate, which overlooked the harbor. It wasn’t a scenic view as buildings from the other industrial plants blocked most of the breezes that came from the ocean. The stream that ran down the hill from them might’ve been clear a long time ago, but it was filled with brackish remains and trailing’s from the factories around them. What sickened Crowley the most was the way the local children swam in the river where the stream dumped its daily load of pollutants.
Of course, the back of the factory was covered in bird droppings. Crowley speculated that the number of pigeon droppings in this back lot would provide fertilizer for six large farms, if not a big combine. Tesla hadn’t rented this place very long and Crowley could only imagine how bad it would look the day he moved out.
Assuming the Earth was still around.
“You don’t want to stay and see the end of the world?” Crowley asked her. “I’m told it will be quite a spectacular event if we don’t prevent it.”
“You really believe that old fool, don’t you?” Anita asked him. She sat on the bench next to Crowley and rested one foot on his leg.
“Why not?” he returned. “You did get to see Babalon, didn’t you?”
“I’ve seen Houdini do better miracles,” she sniped. “Had a man tell me he could turn all my five dollar bills into twenties, I didn’t believe him. He offered to take one and show me how it worked. Came by with a special box that took the five out of one side and made it into a twenty. I took the twenty and kicked him out.”
“You’re a cold-hearted one,” Crowley spoke as he placed one hand on her knee.
“I know better than to let some bamboozler use his slick words to get into my oven,” she told him. Anita picked up his hand and moved it away.
“Time to go,” she announced and stood up from the bench. “All these birds are fed. This one has to fly.” Crowley watched as she marched around to the front of the old factory. He thought about it and followed her.
“How are you getting back?” Crowley called to her as Anita walked up to the gate.
John the driver stood next to the Packard with a rifle. He saw her approach and went to the gate. As she came closer, he unlocked it and held the gate open for her.
Anita stopped for a few seconds, looked back at Crowley, and smiled. “It’s all been arranged, Uncle Al,” she called to him.
The men who stood by the gate where still there. As before, they didn’t seem to know where they were. None of them attempted to speak, so there was no reason worry. Yet.
There was enough English gentleman in Crowley to offer Anita an escort to wherever she needed to go. He didn’t like the idea of her crossing the line of sleepwalkers. He was about to make the offer when the car drove up.
This was a plain black Ford, but he couldn’t see the driver. It moved slowly through the small crowd of men at the gate and came to rest in front of the form of Anita.
She turned, waved at him, and stepped into the back of the car. It circled around slow enough for the sleepwalkers to move out of the way, and then it drove back the same direction from which it came.
Crowley walked up the Packard, where the lone form of John stood. He’d returned to his post once he locked the gate.
“One that got away?” John asked him.
“One that I avoided,” Crowley answered. “Although I think I was lucky. Had she stuck around a few hours longer, I’d have neglected my duties here. So, at least I can go back to focusing on the problems at hand.”
Crowley adjusted his hat and looked at the chauffeur. He had an edge to him you wouldn’t expect to find in the average serving man. Didn’t Hearst say something about his driver being a former sheriff?
“How long have you served Mr. Hearst?” he asked. For some reason, a cold breeze materialized from the south.
“Four years,” he told him. “Ever since I got back from the west. I was in China before they hired me as a lawman.” John produced a cloth and began to polish the windshield of the Packard. Crowley noticed his rifle was never far away.
“I’ve traveled through China as well,” Crowley pointed out. “Whereabouts were you in China?”
“Up north,” he replied. “Near Peking. I was part of the Marines when we rescued all those people from the boxers.” He didn’t look up as he polished.
“I thought the armies were recalled,” Crowley spoke to him. “You stayed?”
“My term was up on the last day we were there,” he explained. “I decided not to re-enlist and stayed in China.”
“What made you want to stay?”
“A woman.”
This told him all he needed to know. Then Crowley had a second thought.
“Why did you leave if it was because of a woman you stayed?” he asked him.
“She died,” John spoke and turned his back to him. He continued to work on the windshield.
John was a man of few words.
As he walked back to the factory building, Crowley thought about his trip out west and what a mess resulted from it. All these supposed followers and supporters who used his words to justify their own inadequacies. For some reason, he was hounded by them at every step. Either they thought he was some wild anarchist ready to pull everything down, or a sexual libertine who could justify every inclination. Perhaps his early years hadn’t prepared him for the duties of a prophet, but he refused to use his background as an excuse.
Not after the physical manifestation of Babalon. If he ever needed proof, there it was.
But why didn’t She tell him what to do, other than help Tesla? Did it take the immediate destruction of Earth to bring Her around? When he first saw her in the desert, years ago, Crowley thought her a hallucination. Now he knew better.
He remembered the lodge in Vancouver. Crowley doubted it would last much longer. Already he’d received letters from the faithful that troubled him. For a while, he received telegraphs sent by the group every day. They pleaded for guidance and wanted to know what to do. He was tired of their inability to run a lodge. They spent their energies arguing over trivial matters.
The Apocalypse Four: 93 Million Miles To Gotham Page 11
