Clockwork Universe

by John W Dennehy

“Niles, these are exceptional lodgings,” Cunningham said. “And the service is top-notch. You’ve outdone yourself this time.”

  “Don’t thank me,” Niles replied. “The Honorable East India Trading Company made all of the arrangements.”

  “Perhaps a side benefit of an assignment such as this.”

  “Expect they will get their monies worth.”

  “Suppose they will,” Cunningham added, finally sitting down in the empty chair near Sarah. Half a sandwich already devoured, he reached for his spot of tea and gulped most of it down, seemingly unaffected by the hot brew.

  “You seem to be enjoying your lunch,” Sarah commented to Cunningham.

  Niles snickered.

  “These sandwiches are excellent,” Cunningham said, reaching for another.

  Sarah noticed that the teapot and cups were made from exquisite bone china. Nibbling on a sandwich, Sarah took a sip of tea and watched Kevin. He seemed preoccupied, as though pondering what he’d do for food and shelter when this hunting gig ran out.

  “You’ve grown quiet, son,” Cunningham commented to Kevin.

  “He’s been quiet all along,” Niles said, “only talking when spoken to directly. Would make a fine recruit, I’d say.”

  “Anything on your mind?” Cunningham asked.

  “Well, I was wondering what sort of animal we’re after.”

  “Expect that you would be thinking like that,” Cunningham said, taking another sandwich from the tray.

  “Jolly good question,” Niles added.

  Cunningham took a large bite. Everyone waited patiently for him to chew, understanding that he had more to add. Holding up a finger, Cunningham signaled that it would be just another second. Then, he took a large sip of tea and looked at Kevin quizzically.

  “These creatures are most unusual,” Cunningham explained, “most unusual indeed.”

  He took another large bite of sandwich and everyone waited for him to finish chewing. Cunningham held up a finger to signal it would only be a moment, finished chewing, and then washed it down with more tea.

  “As I was saying,” he continued, “the creatures are like nothing we’ve gone after before. Never hunted anything like them, actually.”

  “What are they?” Sarah asked. “We’ve all heard about the terrible deaths, and I escaped one, but we don’t know a whole lot about the creatures themselves.”

  “Slaughter is more like it,” Niles interjected. “Tore the poor bastards to bits, pardon my language.”

  “As you will,” Sarah said, patting down her dress.

  “We are facing Rhino-pards,” Cunningham explained. “They are part rhino and part leopard. Some sort of vivisection done on the Ivory Coast. A mad French scientist shacked up in a village doing unusual experiments on animals.”

  “A most disturbing chap,” Niles added. “Most disturbing indeed. The intelligence on these creatures is alarming. The bodies are stout rhino skin and the heads are tantamount to oversized leopards, fangs—”

  “With a horn jutting from the top of its nose,” Cunningham interrupted. “And they’re flesh-eating carnivores, with a rhino’s hind legs and menacing claws on the front.”

  “Skin so dense the typical bullet won’t penetrate it,” Niles said, “which is not uncommon with some big game. They often have thick hides and solid bones, impenetrable skulls.”

  “Sounds quite dangerous,” Sarah said, excited.

  “Quite so,” Cunningham responded, “quite so.”

  “How many are there?” Kevin said.

  “We understand that there are two of them. But we’ve just arrived and haven’t done our own investigation.”

  “Do you know how they got here?” Sarah asked.

  “Transported over the ocean like anything else,” Cunningham said. “Apparently, they were sent from Cote de Dents by a ship that sailed into Boston Harbor. The hoist gave way while unloading, breaking an enormous crate wide-open on the dock. The beasts scampered for shore and have been terrorizing the city ever since.”

  “And nobody has been connected to the receipt of this cargo,” Niles added. “The bill of lading includes only an obscure limited liability company, which doesn’t seem to exist.”

  “Why would anyone go through the trouble of shipping them here?” said Kevin.

  “That’s another good question, lad,” Cunningham replied. “We expect the creatures were being sent into your western territories. Either to be used in some sort of zoo for a profit, or to drive out indigenous inhabitants, and claim land.”

  “In any event,” Niles concluded, “we cannot have them roaming around Massachusetts Bay Colony.”

  ****

  They finished up the sandwiches and tea, and then Kevin sat back as Alice came to take the empty tray away. Cunningham lit up a cigar and headed to the liquor cabinet. “Would anyone care for a drink?” he said. “There appears to be a fine stock of American whiskey.”

  “Will do,” Niles said, lighting a corncob pipe.

  “My lady?” Cunningham said.

  “Thank you for offering, but I’ll pass.”

  Cunningham reached for a shiny bottle and pulled a large cork from the top, whiffed the cork, and then poured three fingers into two Old-Fashioned glasses. He spilled a couple fingers worth into a third glass.

  Then, he dropped a small cube of sugar into each glass, followed by a slice of orange peel he’d commandeered from a fruit bowl. Cunningham reached for a wooden Muddler and ground the peel and cube of sugar in each glass.

  Picking up two glasses, he walked over and handed one to Niles and the other to Kevin. “That will grow hair on your chest, lad.”

  Sarah giggled at the comment.

  Kevin sniffed the whiskey, inhaling a sweet, nutty, citrus aroma. Taking a small sip, he was surprised how smooth it tasted. He had expected strong, harsh liquor. Accustomed to beer, Kevin had never tried straight whiskey, except once chugging it from a cheap bottle with a twist-off cap.

  He took a bigger sip and looked over at Cunningham. The glass in the big man’s hand was near empty. Niles nursed his drink, just a few sips taken, so Kevin didn’t feel completely embarrassed.

  “Good whiskey,” Cunningham said, smiling at Kevin.

  Kevin nodded in agreement.

  “We’ll wrap this up soon, and best get a start on earning our wages.”

  ****

  Finishing up the rest of his whiskey, Kevin stood and felt a little dizzy from the drink. He placed the glass on the tea table and stepped over to the leather portmanteau. Picking it up, he turned to Niles. “Best get cleaned up,” Kevin said.

  “The lavatory is down the hall under the stairs,” said Niles.

  “Thank you,” Kevin replied, heading for the hall.

  “Why in Blazes do you need a suitcase to go to a water closet?” Cunningham griped.

  “Just to freshen up,” Kevin offered, not even sure what was in the bag.

  “Freshen up,” Cunningham said, quizzically. “Like a lady powdering her nose. I thought that you were going to be our gun bearer. Toughen up!”

  “Only going to wash up, brush my teeth. That sort of thing.”

  “Brush your teeth?” Cunningham said. “It’s not even nighttime, yet.”

  “Ease up on the lad,” Niles intervened. “He’s obviously trying to clean up for the lady before we take her home.”

  “Right,” Cunningham said, slightly chagrinned. “But toughen up anyway.”

  Turning down the hall, Kevin heard Sarah laugh at the bickering older men. He opened the bathroom door and used the facilities.

  After washing up, Kevin opened the portmanteau on the floor. It had two separate compartments, each held shut with canvas flaps. He turned a couple of brass knobs and opened one side. Grey wool trousers and a matching suit jacket lay inside.

  He turned the brass knobs of the other side and found a crisp white shirt and black tie. Something bulky lay beneath the shirt. Peeling back the garment, he expected to see a pair of dress boots
or shoes.

  An odd-looking weapon lay inside the suitcase, about the size of a pistol. It resembled a Ray-gun from science fiction television shows, except it was comprised of outdated parts. A polished wooden handle and forearm, the workings were brass, and the muzzle seemed to be fabricated from dark iron that flared out at the end.

  Kevin inspected it carefully and sensed that it was a real weapon. He changed into the Victorian suit, and put his jackboots back on. Tucking the Ray-gun inside his wool jacket, he glanced in the mirror and noticed the weapon bulged slightly. Kevin slipped on his leather coat, further concealing the Ray-gun.

  Returning, he found Niles missing from the crew. Sarah stood to leave, brushing at her dress to straighten it out. He looked at Cunningham. High caliber rounds were stuffed in the loops above Cunningham’s right breast pocket. The hunter reached for the rifle case that Kevin had carried inside, and held an even bigger case in the other hand.

  “Grab that knapsack over by the dining room,” Cunningham said.

  Kevin saw it across the room and headed over to fetch it. “Where did Niles go?” he asked Cunningham.

  “Went out to stoke the furnace of the steam Rover,” Cunningham replied. “Are you all set, my lady?”

  “Perfectly ready to depart,” Sarah replied. “But I’d love to join you on this adventure.”

  “We’d very much appreciate having you along,” Cunningham said. “But this is our first tracking of the creatures, and it’s likely to be a bit muddy where we are headed. Perhaps another time.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.” She smiled and curtsied.

  “Expect that we’ll be seeing you again soon,” Cunningham chuckled, and then winked at Kevin.

  Chapter Seven

  Outside, the temperature felt crisp as the day settled into a fall New England afternoon. Niles already had the Rover running. The furnace was stoked, and smoke emitted from the exhaust pipe protruding from the hood. Kevin and Sarah climbed into a warm vehicle and he had plenty of room without the luggage.

  He focused on the task at hand, and so there wasn’t much thought about his predicament. Somehow, the prospect of facing highly dangerous creatures seemed less daunting than contemplating what had happened to bring him into this strange world.

  Niles backed the Rover onto the cobblestone road, and then headed uphill towards the finer neighborhoods in Boston. He sat quietly slumped behind the wheel, while Cunningham perused a map.

  “Where are you headed?” Sarah inquired.

  “Down to Boston Harbor where it all began,” Cunningham said. “We’ll track this hunt from the docks and head inland.”

  “Wouldn’t that area have already been covered?” Sarah said.

  Cunningham chuckled and rubbed his walrus mustache. “Not by us, and we cannot count on the efforts of others.”

  “Seems slightly presumptuous,” Sarah chided Cunningham. “Perhaps you’ve earned a reputation of being the best, and may find something they overlooked.”

  Niles laughed as Cunningham’s face grew red with chagrin.

  “I’m sure they know what they’re doing,” Kevin said.

  “Right you are, lad,” Cunningham said. “This will give us a chance to track them, confirm the size and number of the beasts. And perhaps determine where they’re bedding.”

  “But you don’t trust the judgment of others, who have already been on the scene?” Sarah asked.

  “This is not a question of someone’s poor judgment,” Cunningham explained apologetically. “It’s more a matter of experience.”

  “Do you feel that the 10th Royal Hussars are inexperienced?”

  “They are a fine military outfit,” Cunningham responded. “But they’re not big game hunters.”

  Sarah nodded, conceding to Cunningham’s point.

  After making a few turns, the Rover splashed over muddy roads and then turned back onto a cobblestone lane. Kevin recognized the area as Louisburg Square, and Sarah had already given Niles her address.

  The neighborhood was comprised of ornate Greek Revival townhouses, towering over the public street. Most were three stories tall with a fourth level for servants. The façades were clay brick. Many of the houses had a turret protruding from the living area. Windows were flanked by black shutters, and the rooftops were made of slate. Dormers jutted from the servant quarters, breaking up the roofline.

  “Fine bit of architecture,” Niles commented.

  “Why thank you,” Sarah replied. “Do you have an interest in architecture?”

  “That’s his bloody degree from University,” Cunningham said.

  “Really?”

  “A member of RIBA and all,” Niles explained. “But I haven’t worked in the field terribly much due to military services and adventures with Silas.”

  “RIBA?” Sarah asked.

  “Blazes, he’s modest,” Cunningham interjected. “Royal Institute of British Architects. Niles designed a barracks for SAS troops, and developed an addition to the Royal Palace.”

  “Quite impressive,” Sarah said. “Quite impressive indeed.”

  Everyone fell quiet as the Rover cut around a square located in the middle of the posh neighborhood.

  Wrought-iron fencing ran around the square: a grassy patch of land with a scattering of trees and a statue of William Pepperell, who led the fighting during the 1745 Battle of Louisburg against the French.

  A few Hansom Cabs bounced over the cobblestone streets. The cabs were pulled by trotting horses that required little direction. Drivers perched themselves upon a strung-seat located behind the cab. They sat up high and drew the reins over the black, leather rooftops. The smell of manure wafted from the lane.

  Niles came to a halt behind a stationary Hansom Cab. A newly acquired passenger gave the driver instructions through a trap door in the roof. Then, the cab eased into motion, with large wheels churning over the cobblestones. Each cab was fitted with brass lanterns and the spokes of the big wheels were painted a colorful yellow.

  The Rover pressed ahead. “Such a lovely neighborhood,” Niles said.

  “A fine colony,” Cunningham added, twisting the tip of his mustache.

  “Thank you,” Sarah replied. “I’m sure that London has its fair share of splendid neighborhoods.”

  “Indeed,” Cunningham said. “But you won’t find me living in one.”

  Niles snickered, but Sarah didn’t quite seem to follow.

  Similar wrought-iron fencing ran along the sidewalks, sealing the upper crust from pedestrian travelers. Many front doors had granite pediments, and some were flanked by cream pillars set on granite steps, descending to the sidewalks. Gardens occupied the area between the fencing and homes; small fruit trees, and an array of flowers filled the confined space. Planter’s boxes hung from windows on the lower levels.

  “Why this is a fine neighborhood,” Cunningham repeated, cheerily. “Very fine indeed.”

  “Mr. Howells, the editor, lives next door,” Sarah said. “And Charles Bulfinch, the architect, owns the property around the corner. My friend Louisa lived just beyond him, until they moved to a farm. When I was a little girl, I used to wish Mr. Alcott had purchased a property closer to my house, making it easier to play with Louisa. Now that she lives in the country, I’m afraid I do not see her very often.”

  “Appears to be a splendid place for a childhood,” Niles added.

  Kevin looked around and seemed to recognize the neighborhood, maybe from walking tours of Boston. In modern times, Kevin expected that Louisburg Square would be considered one of the most expensive neighborhoods in America. Listening to her description of the neighborhood, made Kevin realize that it would always be unattainable to most of society.

  The Rover came to a stop and rumbled idling. Sarah remained seated in the back next to Kevin, staring ahead patiently.

  Niles cleared his throat with exaggeration.

  Eventually understanding that he’d held things up, Kevin climbed from the Rover and hurried to the other side o
f the vehicle. He opened the door and Sarah reached out with a gloved hand. Keven took hold of her hand, and then assisted her in alighting from the vehicle.

  They walked up the sidewalk to her front door. Sarah turned to face Kevin. Uncertain of what to do, he froze staring at her, confused. Raising her gloved hand with a giggle, Sarah looked at Kevin flirtatiously.

  He took her hand and kissed the back of it.

  “My, you do catch on, Mr. Barnes.”

  “Shall I call on you tomorrow?”

  “You may indeed,” she replied. “And don’t forget that I’ll eventually be joining your little hunting party.”

  Kevin gulped nervously.

  “Don’t be concerned about me,” Sarah said. “I’ll be perfectly fine. I’ve faced one of those beasts before… the only person to live and talk about it.”

  She smiled at him and then turned to go inside.

  Kevin stood on the bottom step, watching as she ascended the granite stairs, her dress flowing wide. Sarah likely sensed that he hadn’t left to return to the Rover. Then, she entered a dark hallway and shut the door behind her without looking back at him, a tease.

  Chapter Eight

  Kevin hastily walked to the Rover. He climbed inside and met rebuke. “Blazes, lad,” Cunningham snorted. “We understand she’s a beauty, but we’ve got work to do. There’s no time to stand around looking at skirts flowing upstairs.”

  “Didn’t know we were in such a rush,” Kevin said.

  “Move along,” Cunningham said to Niles, waving a hand. The Rover rumbled over the cobblestones. “Of course there’s a rush. We can’t sit around waiting for the 10th Hussars to take the beasts down. The clock is ticking, son.”

  Kevin didn’t understand the comment. Cunningham had described the 10th Hussars as incompetent huntsmen. “But wouldn’t it be a good thing…” he asked meekly, “whoever takes them down.”

  “My God!” Cunningham expostulated. “Whose side are you on?”

  The Rover fell into silence, except for rumbling from the steam boiler. Kevin bounced occasionally from the rough cobblestone road, and each time the suspension creaked.

  Niles cut around a few slow moving carts, as they traveled downhill toward the harbor.