He fumbled for words. “Me?”
“The one in the papers. The one behind the mask. Oh, it’s you. I should have known. How could I have missed it? You’re the one running around the city stopping petty crimes and protecting people. It’s really you. What do you call yourself?”
“I-I-I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, don’t play coy, Jack. I could smell the oil and electricity inside your jacket. You’re great with gadgets and building things.”
She opened his coat despite his flailing arms. She pulled out the two halves of his mask.
“Betsy!”
“Jack, you’re a hero. A hero. This is amazing.”
“Betsy—”
“Don’t you Betsy me, Mr. Kane. Here you are gallivanting around the city at night in a mask, rescuing people from crime. Without me. How do you think that makes me feel?”
“Well…”
“Exactly. I feel left out. I’ve let you into every part of my life.”
That wasn’t exactly true. She was like an onion—lots of layers. But she was like an onion secured inside a thick, lead-lined box with a giant tiger guarding it. There was plenty Jack didn’t know about Betsy.
“Well—”
“Mr. Kane, you need to take on a protégée. An apprentice. Someone with your ambition to stop evil in the city. Someone you can trust with your secret. Someone just. Like. Me.” She accentuated the last words with prods from her now collapsed parasol.
He couldn’t close his mouth. He gaped at her as he tried his best to keep from laughing. Betsy was, after all, a woman. She had no business running around at night trying to stop crime. She had no business fighting the evil underbelly of the city. He couldn’t be dragging her around and keeping an eye on her—.
The loud sound was more surprising than the slap itself. Jack blinked several times. She dropped his mask and slapped him. Hard. Far harder than he would have thought she could hit.
“Betsy?”
“Don’t you ‘Betsy’ me. The offer is on the table. You let me in on this hero business of yours or we’re done, and your secret will be out there for all to know. I’ve got my pamphlet, and I can use it to help you, or harm you. It’s your choice. I can use it to chronicle your…our adventures!”
“Betsy!”
“We’re either partners or we’re through.”
“Betsy.”
“What?”
She had him between a rock and a hard place. She was strong-willed, and up until the point where she slapped him, he hadn’t thought she was all that strong. Perhaps he’d been wrong about her. He was certain she could take care of herself during the day, but what about at night? She wasn’t leaving him any other option other than to give her a chance.
“Let’s go see if I have another mask at my place.”
Eight
Felonious sat in his chair and wondered where things had started falling apart. Every time he tried to execute a plan, something went awry. The more he thought about it, the more frustrated he became.
Bennington stepped into the room. “Master Felonious. Do you require anything of me? A cold drink perhaps? Champagne served in a dirty boot?”
Felonious waved his hand. “No, Bennington. I do not require a drink.” He prowled around the room. “I need answers, not refreshment.”
“My lord, whenever I have a vexing problem, I ask my ancestors for guidance,” Bennington said. “Perhaps if you were to visit the Hall of Patriots, an idea would come to you.”
Felonious thought for a few more moments. “You know, I may find an answer in the Hall of Patriots,” he said.
“Excellent idea, my lord. You’ve done it again,” Bennington said in a wry tone.
Felonious strode the short distance from his office to the Hall of Patriots. He stepped through the double doors into a sanctuary of sorts. A statue sat guarding the door. The placard read, Benedict Arnold. The dimly lit hall was lined on both sides with statuary. There were statues of King Edward I, Captain William Bligh, King John Lackland, and Genghis Khan.
Felonious ambled around the hall searching the carved faces. He stopped in front of Genghis Khan.
“What should I do? I am being thwarted at every turn. It’s as if someone knows my plans before I do and is there to stop me.”
The statue stared impassively at him. He wandered more, pausing to flip on a switch. A single beam of light shone onto an extremely unlikely hero: Guy Fawkes. Felonious snorted. He was no hero in England but maybe he could be a good role model for Felonious.
He considered the image. Guy was notorious for trying to blow up the British House of Lords on November 5th, 1605. Maybe that was the answer. If Felonious couldn’t destroy the Statue of Liberty, he could plant explosives and kill the politicians. Perhaps the mayor and his toadies.
But what to do in the meantime? He certainly didn’t want to suffer the same fate as Fawkes and gunpowder wasn’t good enough either. The explosive would need to be something…stronger. And it wouldn’t hurt to have a flashier delivery.
That thought made him smile. He had just the thing.
Bennington waited in the hallway. “Did you find your answer, my lord?”
“Yes, Bennington, I believe I have. I’ll be in laboratory number three if you need me.”
“Very good, my lord. Shall I bring you lunch later?”
“Yes, Bennington. I would like an omelet. Make it out of caviar, there’s a good fellow. I’ve heard caviar is a very expensive type of egg, and I’m feeling expensive right now.”
Bennington sighed then answered, “Yes, my lord. Will there be anything else? Perhaps you would like me to stuff and roast a bald eagle?”
“No, but that might be a fine idea for dinner later on. I will ring you on the house communicator if I require anything.”
“Very good, my lord.” Bennington turned and marched off, his back stiff and straight.
Felonious ignored the butler’s departure and left for his workshop. He used the underground tunnel to avoid leaving the building. The tunnel led to a massive brass door carved with a map of the United States with a giant foot on it.
Giant brass hinges connected the door to the concrete wall. Felonious strode to the door and turned his butt to face it. He stuck his bottom against the state of Washington D.C. then slapped the state of New York.
A grinding sound began, and the door slowly swung open.
Brass lanterns flared to life, illuminating a massive humanoid figure. Felonious strode into the room and donned a leather apron and pair of clear goggles.
He stepped up to the bench where a massive golden helmet sat partially finished. Pulling out an acetylene torch, he tinkered with the helmet. As he worked, the giant robot loomed under the bright lights. Felonious could hardly wait to try it out.
His mind wandered a bit as he fabricated the helmet. What could the baron be sending over? Did he somehow know there were problems with the plan?
That thought gave Felonious a start. If the baron suspected something was wrong, what would he do and how would he have found out? There was no one in the manor who could have told the man. Bennington was absolutely loyal. The man had been with the family since before Felonious’ birth. Besides, he adored Felonious. The man was stiff and proper but he was always coming up with new and interesting things for Felonious to try. No, it wasn’t Bennington.
The minions, maybe? That idea made Felonious laugh. He had to sit, head between his knees, as the belly laugh overwhelmed him. No, those two were too stupid to come up with anything on their own. They barely remembered their own names. How could they even know the baron? And what could they possibly use to communicate with him?
The baron used a device that was tuned to only contact one person in the world: Felonious. Granted, the baron could have other devices connected to other people, but Felonious knew he was the only one of importance.
So, who did that leave? There was the yard caretaker, but the man was a simpleton. He didn
’t have an intelligent bone in his body.
Felonious waved his hands in the air and smiled. “I’m just being silly,” he said to no one in particular. “It’s natural for a man of my incredible abilities to occasionally have doubts, I suppose.”
With a chuckle, he held up the helmet. It gleamed golden under the workshop lights and appeared vaguely humanoid. Large glass orbs made up the eyes and a grill covered the area where a mouth would be. Twin antenna decorated the sides, each approximately in the location of ears.
Rotating the helmet, he searched it carefully for any imperfection. There were none. He giggled. This would catch the attention of New York and the world. He huffed a breath on it and rubbed a fingerprint out with his sleeve. They wouldn’t know what hit them. When the dust settled, he’d be a lord again.
At that thought, he looked up. Paintings of his ancestors were mounted on the ceiling of the workshop. They would be so proud of him getting the family back into the royal registers instead of the disgrace the Filcher family currently suffered. Then… He rubbed his hands together. Then he would remove those families responsible for his ancestors’ fall.
It would be glorious!
He winched the newly completed helmet up to the top of the robot. He gazed critically at the exposed parts on the robot’s head. Ocular sensors and a speaker filled the metal “skull” along with a variety of wires, gears, crystals, and one very cramped pilot’s chair. Gears to allow the head to turn and move attached the skull to the reinforced neck of the machine.
The machine had several surprises, most powered by very expensive, difficult to acquire crystals. Those surprises will make everyone run for cover. It has the ability to be able to “see” and report back to Felonious wherever he might be. Yes, this machine will be a force to contend with.
Destroying parts of New York is going to be so much fun!
Felonious placed the helmet over the metal skull and secured it. Naturally, it fit perfectly.
He scurried down the steps and over to his workbench where a control station had been setup. He flipped a lever and a hum started to emit from the robot. A screen warmed up on the bench, static running across it. He twisted a dial, and the robot straightened ever so slightly. A red glow appeared behind the smoked glass orbs of the newly installed eyes.
Now for the real test.
Felonious toggled a switch. The glow of the eyes intensified, and an image cleared on the screen revealing a man in a white lab coat leaning over a worktable covered with control equipment.
As he raised his right hand, the figure mimicked his actions. When Felonious faced the robot, it was his visage that stared out of the screen. The robot could see! The image on the screen and the man began a manic dance around the workshop. Everything was coming together.
Now to test the autonomous movement systems.
He powered up the robot’s boilers and worked to get all the systems ready. The hum coming from the robot intensified, and the automaton straightened. Just as Felonious was about to start the test, there was a muffled pop. A gush of black liquid streamed from the nether regions of the robot then it went dark. The entire machine hunched down.
“Drat! Not again. It must have popped another rivet,” he muttered, tugging on a pair of rubber, insulated gloves and thick goggles. “There has got to be a better way to do this.”
Entering the robot via a service hatch set in the posterior, Felonious placed a lighted miner’s helmet on top his head. If luck were with him, the repair would be a simple one.
~ * ~
Jack looked at his chronometer and put it back in to his pocket. He hadn’t said anything to Betsy since she managed to figure out his secret. It was awkward having a secret exposed in such a manner. He’d gone to such great lengths to make sure no one would find out he was the man behind the mask. It was due to the risk of what he did that caused him to protect his identity.
Now she wanted a mask of her own?
Somehow he’d have to try and talk her out of the life he’d chosen. Sure she was tough and could handle herself when it came to selling papers, but surely she wouldn’t be able to take care of herself in a fight. If they were to encounter real criminals he would have to do double duty with fighting off attackers and defending Betsy.
“Bet…”
“…and I was thinking we should head over to the piano place and interview the employees. Perhaps someone was recently let go and had a grudge against the company.”
He hadn’t been listening. “That sounds like a good idea.”
“What were you going to say?”
“I…” What had he been about to say? “I think we’re almost here. Have you thought about your mask?”
He couldn’t bring himself to keep her from getting her own mask. Even if he was going to need to protect her, he didn’t want to dash her hopes now. She had gotten so excited about the possibility. He had to follow through now.
She continued to talk all the way to the junkyard. Jack paid little attention. He tried to think of what he could use for her mask. It would take too long to build one from scratch so he’d have to refit one of his previous models. Since she worked with him on a few machines, he was confident she’d be able to assist with some of the work and speed up the process. The day was wearing on, and they had to get back out there and try to figure out where this mad serial bomber might strike next.
Before he knew it, they were at the yard. Now instead of looking at the piles of twisted metal and wrecked hulks with joy and anticipation, he looked at them with disdain. They were a source of not only his income from the job he did for Felonious, but also the place where he could scavenge anything he needed for his inventions. His days were filled with work, but his nights were filled with creation and adventure. Betsy threatening to expose what he did unless he allowed her inside made the yard somewhat daunting.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“Um, yes. Wonderful idea.”
They crossed the yard to his living quarters, and he felt the tingle in his pocket as his energy cells recharged. Several items, including his mask, clicked on as the power source came near. He’d arranged it so they wouldn’t need to be turned on if running on energy cells, but would be on and active in the presence of the power source.
“So how you do think we could accomplish that?”
“What?”
“Jack, have you bothered to listen to a thing I said?”
Brother. He was caught now. “I’m sorry. My mind must’ve wandered.”
“Indeed. I wanted to know what you thought about giving our partnership a name and what color you think my mask should be.”
“Well, I’ve told you before I’m no good with names. That’s why I’ve been waiting for the paper to come up with a good one for me. I don’t know that I can come up with two names and a team name. That’s a lot to ask for. As for the color of your mask, well, why don’t you make it match that dress you’re wearing. It’s a great color.”
“Finally an answer out of you. Thank you. Now what will I be using for a mask? It needs to be quick. We’ve got an investigation to get on with.”
Once again he checked his chronometer. “Right.”
Inside his living area Betsy gasped. “You live like this? This place definitely needs a woman’s touch.”
He cringed. Everything was exactly how he wanted it. That last thing it needed was a woman’s touch to rearrange the shelves. Jack hung his satchel by the door.
“The prototype masks and older model masks are right here on this rack.” He motioned to a rack on the far side of the workbench. “Tools are in the drawers of the workbench here. Any bigger tools are in the other room.”
“Just the two rooms?”
“There are more, but that’s all you should need.”
“All I should need? What about you?”
“Well, while you’re working on your mask, I wanted to get under water and get a look at the sunken ships. I figured I’d dig up any clues I can.”
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“The first time you invite me to your place you’re going to leave me here while you go gallivanting off again? I thought we were a team now.”
Her pout nearly crushed his heart. “I know, I know. But my submersible is only able to handle one person. I never anticipated having a partner.”
“Well, for any future projects, you’ll have to start planning better. Understand?”
“I understand.” Why did he suddenly feel as though he gained more than a partner?
Betsy rolled up her sleeves and dug into work. Jack, seeing she was well occupied, slipped away before she could come at him with more questions or demands.
Underneath the junkyard lay a large number of tunnels. He was unsure where many of them led, or of their intended usage. But he knew of one tunnel that suited his needs—a sewage pipe that led straight to the bay’s deepest part. His submersible, slightly larger than he led her to believe, sat above a hatch he cut into the pipe.
The black, angular beauty was still a roughed-out project. He only tested it once to ensure it would go in the direction he intended and that it was watertight. It mostly worked. He’d have at least fifteen or twenty minutes of air before he’d have to return to the surface.
The ship, all twenty-five feet of her, hung suspended from the ceiling by a number of cables and pulleys. These would lower the vessel into the pipe. Jack climbed the ladder that led up into a small hole in the belly of the submersible. He had to crawl to the front, flicking multiple switches and pressing several buttons along the way to engage all the systems. He donned a pair of earmuffs to drown out the sound of the engines. Despite being electrical in nature, he hadn’t been able to dampen their turbine whine.
One final switch to flick and the trap door on the bottom snapped closed and a panel slid back to reveal the front view port. Two lobster-like arms protruded from the front. Jack placed his arms on the controllers and retracted them as the cable and pulley system lowered the vessel. With a loud clang the submersible came to an abrupt halt.
He sighed. With his foot he tapped the switch to the up position, and the ship rose once again. With his other foot he flicked the open switch for the hatch then flicked the other switch to the down position.
Jack Kane and the Statue of Liberty Page 9
