Dawn's Early Light

by Pip Ballantine

  Felicity Lovelace’s smile matched her outfit. It was bright, cheerful, and a picture of sweet perfection. Decked in spotless pastel pink and green and liberal accents of lace and bow, she looked absolutely darling. So darling, in fact, that Eliza longed to punch her square in the nose.

  What was more, Felicity was carrying a tray bearing orange juice, the miracle of proper tea, ham, eggs, toast, and as a centrepiece a modest vase, a single red rose in it. A proper breakfast to be sure.

  For one.

  “Good morning, Wellington!” Felicity said cheerily. “I was bringing you breakfast, and on the way I intercepted the bellhop; he had a message for you.” She nodded to the slip of paper tucked under the glass of juice. “It simply reads: ‘Come at once if convenient. Breakthrough. N.T.’ Pretty safe assumption that we are now needed at the five-and-dime.”

  “A lovely meal you have there,” Eliza said, drawing closer to the door, almost like a panther bearing down on a deer.

  “Oh dear me,” Wellington spoke suddenly. “Your arms must be tiring. Please, do come in.”

  Eliza continued to locate any and all vulnerable points on Felicity’s person as the American made her way across the suite. “No matter. I made the bold assumption you were awake as I heard movement.” She looked over to Eliza as she set the tray down. “The walls here are so thin.”

  You. Bitch.

  “Breakfast is served, and by the time you finish and Eliza”—Felicity looked over to her, motioning a hand from her head to her feet—“dresses, we can all be off to the safe house, yes?”

  “Of course,” Wellington said with a sigh.

  Eliza gave the librarian a tight smile as she walked over to the breakfast. “Give us—”

  “Twenty minutes,” Wellington interrupted her.

  “Excellent!” Felicity beamed. “Bill and I will meet you downstairs.”

  She turned to leave with a rustle of silk, but Wellington stopped her. “Felicity?”

  “Yes?” the American asked softly. “You need me?”

  Eliza was now looking for objects to throw.

  “I am in need of a favour,” he began, and then motioned to Eliza. “As we are on official business now, I am in a state, and time is a luxury, would you mind fetching a hotel maid? My partner is in need of assistance in getting ready.” Her smile faltered for a moment. Wellington appeared not to notice, but Eliza did. “It would mean a great deal to me if you would do so.”

  “But of course, Wellington,” Felicity said, her cheeriness now sounding slightly forced. “I shan’t be long.” With a glance to Eliza, she turned and disappeared out the door.

  As soon as she was gone Eliza spun on him. “In the field you usually make sure I am laced up.”

  “I don’t think that is very appropriate at the moment,” Wellington muttered, snatching up the glass of orange juice.

  “Welly—” She hated the tone of her own voice immediately.

  “Eliza, I suggest partaking of breakfast,” he interrupted, motioning to the meal intended for him. “Your maid will be here in a few moments.”

  Wellington gave his hands another wipe down, gingerly grabbed a fresh shirt and vest, and disappeared into the washroom.

  This was, most certainly, not over.

  She had only made it two steps when a soft rap sounded at the door. Eliza nearly tore the door free from its frame, her free hand cocked back and ready to indulge that earlier urge—

  Her fist remained locked and suspended by her head when she saw the Royal maid, her bright, pleasant demeanour suddenly replaced by abject terror.

  “My apologies,” Eliza muttered, dropping the fist to her side. “I’m not a morning person.”

  The young lady who came up to tend to Eliza was waifish but had the pull of a team of oxen. On the third pull, Eliza gave a sharp grunt. She thought absently how this girl could give her maid back home, Alice, a run for her money. On the fifth tug, she wondered if Felicity had paid the woman extra for this abuse.

  Once dressed, Eliza stepped out and met Wellington in the parlour. Just behind the archivist was a valet. The attendant must have come in while she and the maid were engaged in suiting up for the day. Slipping what appeared to be a generous tip to the valet, Wellington discharged the man and turned to offer his arm to Eliza. He was, much to her delight, dressed impeccably, as usual.

  In fact, he appeared taller. The outfit was lying quite handsomely on him.

  “Wellington—”

  “As you told me, this is an assignment, not a holiday.” He motioned in the direction of the exiting valet. “This morning, I thought to indulge. Shall we?”

  She’d been so close to getting a straight answer from him. If it had not been for . . .

  “There you are!” Felicity declared brightly from the base of the staircase. Bill stood behind the librarian, loosing a stunning smile at Eliza. “I take it the maid I sent up was satisfactory?” she asked. With a wry grin, Felicity then added, “I wanted to make sure you were properly attended.”

  And there was the confirmation. “Well,” Eliza said, running her hands along her stomach. “I feel quite secure. While I can normally take a bullet wearing this thing, I believe now I could take a cannonball.”

  “And you look great in it too.” Bill delivered the compliment so easily as he hooked his thumbs in his belt. “Belle of the ball, you are.”

  At her side, Eliza could feel Wellington shift uncomfortably. She needed to disarm this straightaway, let Wellington know where Bill stood in her eyes.

  Before she could reply properly, Bill spoke. “Edison’s here. After we left Tesla with the death ray, I took a night watch, keeping an eye on the station and all. Not sure where he caught the train, but it wasn’t a hypersteam. The Wizard, the Usher fellah, and the Pinks all shuffled off the train at four this morning. I overheard him say something about limited range and next time they’ll find a hypersteam station.”

  Wellington nodded. “I’m surmising that clever escape craft of his has restrictions.”

  “You could be right about that,” Bill said, rubbing his beard. “He didn’t look none too pleased when he checked into the Concord hotel across town.”

  “So he’s still keeping the pretence of a tour?” Eliza asked.

  Bill held up a local newspaper. “Front-page news. He’s talking tonight at the Town Hall. No announcement of any cancellation.”

  “So we know where Edison is: his hotel, asleep. Bill, keep an eye on the Concord. Anything changes, come get us.”

  He nodded. “Sounds good, Lizzie.”

  Eliza motioned to the doors, slipping on a pair of sun spectacles. “Let’s get going. Tesla’s waiting on us.”

  The three of them were soon strolling in Flagstaff’s morning light. Wellington leading Eliza on one arm, Felicity on the other. To curious eyes they must have just appeared as one lucky man with two attractive ladies, but Eliza instinctively kept her eyes moving from building to building. Casing the town was the only thing keeping Eliza from throttling the librarian.

  “A death ray able to pick off ships from the sky,” Wellington mused, “a portable dynamo powering this weapon, and one of America’s most innovative minds at the centre of it all.” He looked at Felicity. “We’re missing something.”

  “Well, yes,” she said, “intent.”

  “No, I mean, we’re missing something that could help us draw a conclusion and decipher Edison’s intent,” Wellington said as they reached the five-and-dime. “If we could just find that missing piece, we may be able to have a stronger grasp on this investigation. We still don’t know why he’s in Flagstaff.”

  Felicity chuckled softly as she pulled out the small key and disengaged the lock. “You make it sound as if the clue is right in front of us.”

  “There is a good possibility it is,” Eliza said, still checking corners and side paths.
“Personalities like Edison tend to show off. We have dealt with our fair share of maniacs with the flair for the dramatic,” she added as they entered the dim general store, its display windows still covered and interior illuminated with lanterns.

  “You got my message? Excellent.” Tesla was standing at the counter, his gaze focused on a small component no longer than his hand. He was fastening the two parts together. When a hard click sounded, he said, “Follow me.”

  He strode to the back of the five-and-dime where three lanterns were casting more concentrated light for the table. The array’s components were displayed in precise rows. Eliza strolled over to the dismantled array for a closer look, picking up one of the death ray’s mechanisms—perhaps this was a timing disc of some fashion—for a closer look. The hiss escaping from Tesla froze everyone in place, making it easy for the scientist to slip between them to snatch the part from Eliza’s hand. It was as if he were handling a piece of Ming Dynasty china how Tesla returned the palm-sized disc back to where it had been originally placed.

  If Tesla had not done that, Eliza would have never caught the pattern.

  The items removed from the targeting array were lined up in three long rows extending from either side of the array’s case. From the edge of the table, the three rows were only three items deep in width.

  “Welly?” she whispered.

  “Yes, the pattern,” Wellington replied. “I think you’re looking at the price of brilliance.”

  “Mr. Tesla,” Felicity began, her hand hovering over the three-by-three pattern of mechanical devices and parts, “have you . . . slept?”

  Tesla blinked, and then gave a forced grin, perhaps an attempt to appear civil. “I . . .” He blinked again, seeming to notice Felicity as if for the very first time. “Miss Lovelace, I sometimes prefer not to sleep in matters of importance such as this.”

  The three agents looked to one another, the silence threatening to smother them all before Wellington spoke up with a slight cough. “So . . . you said you had a breakthrough of some kind here?”

  “Yes, I did.” Tesla walked over to the opposite side of the table where the parts had been arranged and held out a hand over a group of rows. Eliza swallowed hard as she noted the three rows and columns had also been segregated into three groupings. She took a deep breath, pushing back her own impulsive thoughts, as Tesla began. “This group controlled the input of power. The second group here was more centric to calibration, coordinates, and targeting. And this group,” he said, holding his hand over the final group of components, “is for regulating output. Based on Mr. Books’ notes, I can attest that Edison has a fairly impressive but rather inelegant replica of my design.”

  Eliza stiffened. “That’s your breakthrough?”

  “No,” Tesla said, returning to the husk. “This prototype is Edison’s ridiculous method of operation realised. He loves to say, ‘If I find ten thousand ways something won’t work, I haven’t failed. I am not discouraged, because every wrong attempt discarded is another step forward.’ A rather slapdash approach to science,” he scoffed. “Therefore if we make the assumption that Edison is remaining true to his past methods, I believe the Currituck death ray was meant to be broken. Test it to an inch beyond its endurance, then build on the failure. The final test, according to your accounts, Mr. Books, was more about power levels. You will note here,” Tesla said, motioning to several of the devices in the “output” group, “the pitted and scorched condition?”

  Wellington adjusted his spectacles and nodded. “These components are burned out.”

  “The death ray was only sustainable for one small, concentrated burst,” Tesla said, tapping on a small stack of papers next to the death ray casing, his eyes wildly darting over each component, each grouping. “One short burst of energy, while impressive, is hardly worth the risk of discovery. He now needs to sustain the beam’s integrity.”

  “So Edison has a targeting mechanism,” she repeated. “He also has a better dynamo for increased output. What are we missing?”

  “Better optics,” Felicity whispered suddenly, looking over to Tesla.

  “Exactly,” Tesla said.

  “That’s why we’re here in Flagstaff,” she added, her pale skin now turning an unhealthy shade of green.

  Eliza leaned forwards. “Care to enlighten your guests?”

  “A pair of scientists—Lowell and Douglass, I believe their names are—petitioned a few years ago to build an observatory in the A.T. The designs were ambitious, and they got their wish. The observatory went active just two years ago.” Felicity looked at both Eliza and Wellington. “Care to guess where it is?”

  “And that’s why we’re here,” Wellington said. “The optics of a telescope are hardly the same cut or curvature as the lenses used with a lighthouse. However . . .”

  Eliza drew to his conclusion quickly. “Those optics could easily be manipulated and modified. We’re talking about Edison and he has been looking to increase everything. Efficiency. Output. With the right optics and the proper mods, he could easily increase range.”

  Wellington shook his head. “We are still no nearer in deducing exactly what his ultimate plan is with the House of Usher.”

  “You could always ask him.” All eyes now turned to Tesla as he took them all in, one at a time. “He established an office here not more than a year ago. The other end of town. Edison has never been very concerned with secrecy.”

  “Right then,” Felicity said, “I’ll fetch Bill at the Concord, and we can pay Edison a visit.”

  “Just a moment,” urged Wellington, “if we go in with guns blazing, we may very well fail in discovering Edison’s ultimate intentions for this death ray.”

  “Which is why we are going to go collect Edison properly,” she replied. Felicity then turned to Eliza. In the woman’s eyes, that rivalry had been set aside. She was all business. “I know you understand what needs to be done, Eliza, yes?”

  “I think Wellington is right,” she insisted.

  “You do?” Felicity asked, stunned.

  “You do?” Wellington asked, equally stunned.

  Ye gods, Eliza swore silently, I cannot afford to do anything else stupid from here on out! “Yes,” she repeated through clenched teeth, “I think Welly is right. All we know is Edison has a death ray and that he’s come to Flagstaff for improved optics. This means he’s building an even better one, yes? Where? We need to proceed carefully.

  “Felicity, if you and Bill help Tesla here pack up the death ray prototype, Wellington and I will case the Red Rock Theatre, where Edison is speaking tonight. We will note known entrances, exits, possible abduction spots.” Felicity went to contradict her, but Eliza immediately cut her off. “You are a clever girl, I would never question that”—Felicity arched a single eyebrow on those words—“but this is the mission and you are quite green concerning spycraft. Four people are far more likely to be spotted in a simple casing of the location.”

  She looked between the two of them, and then gave a reluctant nod. “Fair point.”

  That must have been painful.

  “We will meet you and Bill at the Royal”—Eliza checked her pocket watch—“at three? We have the upper hand at present. Best not to lose it.”

  “Agreed,” Felicity admitted.

  Eliza gave a nod, then motioned to Wellington. “Let’s go take a closer look at this theatre, shall we?” she asked as she replaced her sun spectacles over her eyes. “See you at the Royal, Felicity.”

  Once outside, Wellington offered Eliza his arm, and they began a slow stroll along the main street of Flagstaff. They continued in the shade of shop awnings until the cover ceased, stepping into the sunlight and open space before a grand building advertising tonight’s audience with Thomas Edison. Eliza smiled up to her partner, and then gave his arm a light tug. They continued past the wide building and took a moment underneath the awning
of another row of storefronts.

  “There’s the Red Rock Theatre,” Wellington said, motioning with his head.

  He didn’t point. Good. He was learning.

  Still, he had a bit to go before he was ready to be out by himself. “Excellent observation. Now, follow me.”

  His head bobbed between the building and Eliza. “I thought we were going to the theatre to case all access points?”

  “We will,” she said with a little smile. “Once we return from Edison’s workshop, the only other establishment in a town like Flagstaff that would hold the interest of a cad like Edison.”

  Eliza had just made it to the front of a hardware store when from behind her, she heard the rhythmic thump-thump-thump of Wellington’s feet against wooden planks.

  “Aren’t we trying to keep the peace with our American counterparts?” Wellington asked under his breath. “You told Felicity—”

  “I know what I told her.” Yes, their goodwill presence was supposed to be as only “observers” in this investigation. Considering everything up to this point, some New Zealand initiative and British ingenuity was needed. “I think that the Americans are ready to charge in with guns blazing, as Americans are wont to do. We need a closer look at this workshop.”

  Wellington blinked. “Eliza, these sorts of decisions should be cleared with the director.”

  “Well, he’s back in London,” she hissed. “And how long do you think it will be before Edison decides to turn this invention against the Empire? One man should not have that much destructive capability at his whim.”

  “A noble thought,” Wellington said, looking around them for a moment. He leaned in closer, unsettling Eliza for a brief second. “So how are we to go about doing this?”

  Now they were firmly in her territory. “Follow my lead. I should be able to get us in and out without anyone noticing, not even our delightful American companions.”

  Eliza then slipped her arm into the crook of Wellington’s and gave him a tug. Together, they made for Edison’s workshop, the time for protest behind them. The time for action, ahead.