He considered the latest offer from George Viveck to edit his newspaper, The International. George was tied in with the Germans; there was no question about it. His association with him gave Crowley an outlet, but it also brought him up on charges of treason by his enemies in England. At the time, it was steady money and a way to worm his way into the German spy network in the United States. The last turned out to be a waste of time. They’d laughed at him at the British embassy when he tried to approach them with what he knew. The schoolboys behind the desks couldn’t believe that anyone would trust Mr. Aleister Crowley with sensitive information.
Now the United States was at war with Germany. Probably a good idea to keep as much distance between him and George as possible. Didn’t he hear someone mention on the street the other day of the federal government rounding up German supporters and anti-war pacifists?
“So where did your latest lady friend go?” Tesla asked him as he looked up at Crowley from his mechanical drawings on the table. “I thought you wanted her to stay around for a while.” Tesla busied himself with the diagrams, as he made a few notations and corrections.
“She left,” Crowley told him. “For some reason, women don’t stay with me for any length of time.” He placed his hat on the stand next to the sliding door.
Crowley noted the air changed on the main factory floor when he entered. Tesla had one of his electrical contraptions at work. Crowley looked up to see a discharge flash overhead between two poles. It startled him for a moment, but he wasn’t surprised to see it take place in Tesla’s workshop.
“What are you doing up there?” Crowley asked the inventor. “I thought we were about to get this rocket of yours off the ground and save the world.”
As Crowley watched the arc flash again, he saw a small blob of light detach itself from one pole and float down toward the ground. It glowed, which was easy to see, even with all the lights focused on the interior of the factory.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tesla drop his pencil on the table and dash to one side of the floor. The tall inventor grabbed a pair of dark glasses, slapped them on over his face, and then picked up an object from the ground. It was a large cylinder, about the size of a paint can, but lacked any lid or label. Crowley noticed Tesla had a pair of thick rubber gloves on as he ran with the container to just below the drifting globe. Tesla followed it as the luminescent blob floated across the floor. He carried the lid for it in one hand.
Crowley watched as he held the container under the blob, which formed itself into a sphere. The sphere pulsed with a shine from inside. It drifted down into the container. Tesla waited a few seconds, and then slapped a lid on top of it.
“Got it!” Tesla announced with pride. He walked over to the generator that powered the arc and shut it off. Crowley heard the dynamos of the generator whine down.
“What did you do just do?” the Englishman demanded. “And what was that willow-the-wisp you captured?”
“Power,” Tesla explained as he walked over to where the rocket stood in the middle of the floor. “Raw and pure. What I need to make this angel soar into the sky.” Crowley watched as Tesla opened a door in one side of the rocket and placed the container inside.
“Your rocket is powered by a glow worm?” Crowley asked. “I thought it needed black powder.” He seemed confused.
“As I tried to explain to you,” Tesla responded. “This is not a chemical rocket. It works on the principle of sympathetic vibrations. I needed a condensed form of electricity to make it work. The ball of lightning I generated will take it to its destination.” Tesla didn’t bother to look up as he worked to configure something inside the rocket.
“What would’ve happened if that ball of electricity had reached the ground?” Crowley asked him. He walked closer to Tesla.
“There would have been a big flash,” Tesla explained. “Possibly an explosion as it grounded. I nearly set the Long Island place on fire with one of these things. It’s why I have to catch them in an insulated jar.”
Crowley was appalled. “You nearly set this building on fire so you could catch a lighting ball in a jar?” he gasped. “What would happen if this building went up in flames?
“We’d all be dead. The same result as what happens when the asteroid reaches Earth. This was a chance I had to take.”
Crowley shook his head. People called him a menace to polite society, but he never played with a ball of lightning.
Crowley heard a commotion outside the factory and went over to the door. He slid it back far enough to have a look. There was something ready to happen out there. He wanted to make sure the door was closable if anything attacked the building.
He peered out the slit in the door opening and saw John, Hearst’s chauffer, standing at the gate. On the other side, he saw a group of men with rifles in their hands. This scene did not look promising and Crowley considered locking the door. Instead, he kept it open and looked out to see what they were up to outside.
It was Garvey. He had his men from the lodge out there with him. Crowley shoved the door open and went out into the yard to join them.
As he walked out into the yard, it hit Crowley that he hadn’t seen Hearst or Marion since their arrival that day. They were likely out back, but the pigeons were already fed. He didn’t fully understand the relationship between Hearst and the woman, but the man appeared to go through young women a lot.
“It’s almost as if he takes them off a shelf,” Crowley grumbled to himself as he walked toward the gate.
John finished with his key. The gate was unlocked by the time Crowley arrived. Garvey and his men filed into the yard in a column of one. Once they were inside, John snapped the gate’s lock shut again.
Crowley found out why John was so quick to lock it when he looked to the other side.
The mob of aimless men grew a lot from this morning. The other day there were only a few dozen out there, now it amounted to close to a hundred. Worse, the mob had some kind of personality. Crowley watched as they began to move toward the gate. They stood a few feet from it. It sent a cold ray of fear down him to realize that all those men stared at him from the other side. As they stood in place, the men began to shift from side to side.
“Did they give you any trouble on your way in?” John asked Garvey, who stood at the front of the group he’d brought along.
“They started to,” Garvey told him. “But they saw our guns and moved back. Who are these men? They don’t appear to want anything other than to keep people out of the factory.” Garvey glanced along the fence line and tried to find the best places to deploy the group with him.
The cluster with him was black and carried hunting rifles, Crowley observed. Everyone was dressed in their finest clothes and stood at attention. It hit Crowley they reminded him of soldiers.
“A fine group of men,” Crowley commented. “Where do they come from?”
“I am pleased to present the honor guard of the St. Cyprian Lodge,” Garvey announced. “This gentleman is the Right Worshipful Master Lester Tukins.”
The man he indicated bowed slightly, and then returned to his stance.
“We told Mr. Garvey he could count on us if he ever needed help,” the lodge master explained. He turned and looked at the mob staring at them from the fence line. “I think he’s going to need a lot of help before this day is over.”
“Maybe the police will notice the mob and clear them off,” Crowley spoke to him. “They’ll not want any unauthorized gatherings with the country at war.”
“Provided they see us,” Garvey added. “Look about you. This old factory is at the end of a narrow road. I don’t think the two factories on other side are in use. The only reason someone would travel down this road is that they want to be here.”
Chapter 12
John looked out at the mob and fingered his own gun. He looked back at Crowley and Garvey. “Were you planning on going inside?” he asked them. “Mr. Hearst didn’t say how long we’d be here.”
&
nbsp; “I need to talk to him and Tesla,” Garvey responded. “This mob changes a lot of things.”
“Do any of you men have military training?” John asked the lodge members. “I was with the Marines in China.”
The lodge master snickered. “We all have, son,” he replied. “Half of us were buffalo soldiers.”
Crowley looked at the line and noted many of them were middle-aged, if not older. He saw the look of steel in their eyes. Small wonder they’d created this lodge. It was one way for old war comrades to stay in touch with each other.
“Then I don’t have to tell you what to do,” John spoke to the men. “I’ll be here with the car if you need any backup.” He walked back to the Packard and sat down in the front seat.
“We’ll deploy along the fence line,” the lodge master spoke to Garvey. “Can you hear us if we yell inside there?”
“Why,” he asked. “Are you worried about that mob? The fence should hold them back?”
“There might be more on the way,” he returned. “They don’t have any guns we can see. What happens if the next group brings them?”
“Make sure you scream loud enough,” Crowley advised. “With all that electrical equipment inside there, it’s hard to hear sometimes.”
The lodge master nodded and sent his men along the fence line to face off against the group across from them.
Crowley noted the sky darkened as they walked back to the factory. It was an ominous mood for the day.
“It might rain,” Garvey spoke.
“I didn’t have anything to do with it,” Crowley replied.
Garvey didn’t laugh.
Back inside the old factory, Hearst sat across from the table with Marion. Neither one of them said a word. Tesla ignored them as he had a small machine part in front of him. He measured it with a steel ruler while he performed calculations on a slide rule.
“I think,” Hearst spoke, when Crowley and Garvey arrived. “I need some peace and quiet. He turned to Marion. “Let’s go back and visit the pigeons again.” Marion, who was radiant, took Hearst by the hand and led him through the back of the factory.
A few minutes later, they heard a door open and close. This was the only other entrance to the old factory.
“They’ve returned to the bench,” Tesla grumbled.
Hearst, Crowley soon discovered, arrived that morning with Marion and went to the back of the building to be alone with her. He gave no reason for his behavior, but Tesla seemed to think he was worse than a schoolboy when it came to his infatuation.
“He’s chosen this moment to act as a fool,” Tesla complained. “What about the people he was supposed to bring out and help us?”
“I took care of it,” Garvey explained. “We have twelve good men out there protecting the grounds.”
“They’ll do for now,” Crowley observed. “What might happen if the mob grows? I don’t see twelve men holding them back. Not even with guns. Furthermore, from where did this mob come? I see no banners, no placards, and no strike organizers. What are they striking over, anyway? Did you have employees here at one time, Nikola?”
“No,” Tesla replied. “It’s always been I. I’ve had things built elsewhere and delivered here, but I don’t trust anyone to come and work for me. Too many patents were lost by that method.”
“You never did tell us,” Crowley spoke to Tesla, “how you came by the money to outfit both of these laboratories. From what I understand, you have more.”
“I have a silent partner in this concern,” Tesla fired back. “The matter is not open for discussion.” He returned to the metal part, which had his attention.
“So you expect us to guard this place from those men outside,” Garvey spoke to him. “And don’t tell us who is providing you with money?”
“My benefactor has nothing to do with the immediate threat faced by this planet,” Tesla sent back, as he looked up again from the part.
Garvey and Crowley were silent, but didn’t move.
“Those men out there,” Crowley spoke. “They remind me of ghouls, those creatures from Arab folk tales that prey on the living.”
A few minutes past and still no word from Tesla.
“Since you seem determined to find out my benefactor,” Tesla informed him, “I will let you in on her identity. Actually, I can’t let you in on her identity, but I don’t know who she is.”
“You don’t know who provided you with the money for these operations?” Crowley asked, with a degree of outrage in his voice.
“I met her,” Tesla explained, “but she wouldn’t give me her name. After I’d lost the property on Long Island, I received a message that someone wanted to contact me about a line of research I hadn’t considered. The investor turned out to be a woman of means. I had dinner with her. She wanted me to build an engine that employed the principles of sympathetic vibration. I was broke and she wrote me the largest check I’d ever seen. What was I supposed to do? Of course, I accepted the money.”
“And she never gave you a name?” Garvey asked.
“No,” Tesla replied. ”She told me it wasn’t important and handed me a bank check. The check cleared with no issue and I started to work.”
“Has she contacted you since then?” Crowley asked.
“I’ve only heard from her agents,” Tesla explained. “They seem satisfied with what little progress I’ve made.”
“And what did you learn about this new technology?” Crowley asked him. “I don’t see many examples of it.” He looked around the bare lab.
“The rocket,” Tesla spoke. “I learned how to power the rocket as soon as I began my research on it. It was obvious to me that the principles matched the needs of rocketry. It was during one of the test flights that I discovered the asteroid moving toward Earth. I haven’t had any visits from her people since then.”
Crowley had a sudden thought. “This woman,’ he asked. “The one who’s provided you with so much money,” he began. “What did she look like?”
“Tall,” Tesla answered. “Red hair, pale skin. Didn’t seem that old, but she knew all about my work. I had the strange feeling she’d read everything I published and knew my experimental work as well.”
Crowley and Garvey looked at each other. A thought passed between them.
“Alright,” Garvey spoke to Tesla. “We need to go out front and check on the sentries. When we return, we’ll see if we can help you with this rocket.”
Once outside, Garvey lit a cigar. He handed one to Crowley who accepted with glee. He’d been all day without a smoke.
“A red-haired benefactor,” Garvey spoke to Crowley. “What does that sound like to you? Or, should I say, who does that sound like?”
“In any other case,” Crowley spoke. “I’d say it wouldn’t matter. But this time I’d say it sounds like Babalon.” He took a long drag on the cigar and enjoyed the taste of the tobacco.
“And you don’t know much about her,” Garvey spoke between puffs.
“She comes and goes,” Crowley answered. “You saw how she left without a trace. I don’t have any control over her.”
“I must ask one question,” Garvey probed. ”Where do you think she comes from? This woman seems too much like a fever dream. I don’t put much faith in fever dreams.”
“I wish I knew,” Crowley sighed. “Once upon a time, I thought I understood her. I thought she was the one from the Book of Revelations. I thought she was the power of lust, designed to sweep away all veiled ignorance. But, now, I don’t know what she is.”
“If she’s the Mother of Whores,” Garvey spoke. “Where is the dragon she rides upon? Have you seen one of those in your visions?”
Crowley was silent. He’d witnessed a lot worse than a dragon when he was in the desert with Viktor.
“No,” Crowley lied once more. “I haven’t.”
“Then we must deal with the fact that our Babalon is some kind of woman who preys on your own fears,” Garvey spoke. “I’ve seen it with the conjure men. They find
out what scares a person and claim to take it away. However, they never really get rid of all their fears; just enough to make sure the victim will come back for more medicine. I think your Babalon is someone who’s found a way to manipulate you, Aleister.” He took another drag on the cigar and sent a cloud of smoke up into the air.
By now, the pickets from the lodge where formed into a defensive perimeter across from where Crowley and Garvey stood. The fence would keep the ghouls out for now, but it might not last should they began to rush it. Given enough bodies, any barricade would break. It wouldn’t be that hard to climb over it either.
“Gentlemen!” a voice yelled from the factory door. “I need you both to come back here this instant!” It was Tesla and he looked scared.
Both Crowley and Garvey tamped out their cigars. Then they placed them on a ledge. Neither one knew how long they’d be at the factory. Good cigars were not easy to find and they didn’t want to waste the ones they’d started.
They walked back into the factory to find Tesla with Hearst around the drawing table in the factory. Marion’s was nowhere to be found, but she wasn’t a prime concern at the moment. Tesla stood over the table and made a few final notes with a pencil on a sheet of paper below him.
“I won’t trouble you with how I determined it,” Tesla informed them, “but I have some bad news about the asteroid.”
“How bad?” Crowley asked him.
“It’s increased its speed again,” Tesla, informed them. “At least the velocity appears steady. I believe who or whatever controls it decided the current angle of approach is the optimum one for reaching Earth.”
“How long before it reaches Earth?” Garvey asked.
“Less than a week,” Tesla let him know. “We may only have a few days.” He walked over to the rocket. “This means we have to work around the clock to get this ready.”
“Do we have enough time?” Hearst spoke up.
“We have no other options,” Tesla spoke.
The Apocalypse Four: 93 Million Miles To Gotham Page 12
