“What? No!” Felonious growled with a mixture of surprise and anger.
“It’s that Betsy and I were so sure someone was trying to damage the piano industry. It seems a shame to waste all that effort.”
A quiet, “Oh brother!” came from the corner where Bennington stood.
“Pianos? Pfft! Where is the glory in pianos? No, I think I will continue with my plan. I will leave the piano industry to someone less capable.”
“So, what happens now?” the woman, Betsy, asked.
“Now, we have a duel. Naturally, I will be the victor. You will die, and I will continue with my diabolical plan,” Felonious said matter-of-factly. “Since I am a gentleman, I will, of course, give you choice of weapons.”
“That’s it then?” Jack said with a sigh. “A duel to the death?”
Felonious laughed. “Certainly! It is how gentlemen deal with such things, and while you are hardly a gentleman, I will give you that honor. Now, chose your weapon.”
Jack cupped his chin and paced. He went back and forth six times before he answered. “I suppose it would be too much to hope you have a steam-powered battle mech?”
“Steam-powered battle mech?” Felonious chuckled and thrust out his hand. “Done! I challenge you to a duel to the death. Say two o’clock in Central Park?”
“Mister, this is the United States of America. We do our duels at high noon or sundown. And being that two o’clock has come and gone…”
“How colonial of you,” Felonious said. “As it is your last day on Earth, I shall acquiesce to your request. Since I am in a bit of a hurry, and the noon high has passed us by as you say, the battle shall be at sundown.”
“Sundown is at precisely 9:17 p.m., sir,” Bennington supplied helpfully. “Might I suggest using Battery Park? It would seem most appropriate.”
“I will see you at 9:17 p.m. at Battery Park, sir,” Jack said. “Shall we go, Betsy?”
“Oh, the girl will not be going with you,” Felonious said. “She shall remain here with me until the duel. Call it a guarantee you will come.”
His minions walked forward, each grabbing the girl by an arm. She struggled against them before giving up.
“Perhaps I could ask a boon. One gentleman to another.”
“A boon? You dare ask me a boon?”
“It is quite within his rights to request a boon prior to a duel of this nature, my lord,” Bennington said.
Felonious frowned. Curse Bennington holding to formality! “Very well. You may have one thing and one thing only.”
“I require the assistance of Ms. Wilkes to prepare my battle mech. Once preparations have been made, she shall return as your prisoner until our duel is concluded.”
“Done. Be gone.”
Fifteen
“Bennington, I will be retiring to my workshop to prepare for the duel. See that I’m not disturbed, there’s a good chap,” Felonious said.
“The girl, my lord?” Bennington asked, stepping forward. “What shall I do with her upon her return?”
“Hmm? Oh yes, the girl.” He considered the problem. “When she returns, throw her into the dungeon until I have need of her.”
Bennington cleared his throat.
“Dash it all, Bennington, what is it? I’m a busy man!”
“Yes, my lord. Sorry, my lord,” Bennington said without any hint of apology.
“Well?”
“It’s just, that… Well, we don’t actually have a dungeon as such, my lord.”
“No dungeon?” Felonious shook his head. “I am certain I told you to put a dungeon in a while ago.”
“You did indeed, my lord,” Bennington affirmed. “However, when confronted with the cost of doing so, you decided to build a wine cellar instead.”
“Is it at least a dark, dank wine cellar,” Felonious asked.
“Oh, most definitely, my lord. Her stay will be most uncomfortable since it is also quite chilly down there.”
“Well…good,” Felonious said. “You may manacle her near the Californian red wine.” He corrected himself. “No, that won’t do. We are not barbarians, after all. You had better make it near the Spanish Pinot Blanc. Not the finest in my cellar, but better by far than the domestic.”
Bennington nodded. “Very good, sir. Any other instructions for the young lady’s impending imprisonment?”
“I suppose you should take her some fine cheeses and crackers. And a table and chair. And a candle. Oh, and a violinist. We must have a certain level of refinement, after all.”
“As you say, my lord. I will make the appropriate arrangements.”
As the two men had been talking, Lenny and Squiggy had been making inconspicuous movements toward the door.
Felonious didn’t even turn his head to look at them. “Now, what shall I do with you two?”
They froze.
“I am quite cross you did not mention this Jack Kane fellow worked for me.”
“We didn’t know until just now, Boss. Honest,” Lenny protested.
“You are poor excuses for minions,” Felonious replied. “Still, no harm done, I suppose.”
“So what do ya want us to do then, Boss?” Squiggy asked.
“Follow Mr. Kane and Ms. Wilkes. See that they speak to no one.”
~ * ~
“…and do you even think that, what did you call it? Battle mech, will even work? I mean, Jack, really. You’re dealing with a mastermind here. Someone with a lot of money and far more resources. I think you’re jumping into a foolish situation, and I don’t know what you’re trying to prove. You’ll only end up getting yourself killed.”
Jack stopped outside the junkyard entrance, the familiar vibrations of the devices in his pockets charging as he stood there. Betsy was right in many aspects. He’d built a battle mech, sure. He’d done some simple tests with picking up items and ran simulations with the onboard weapons. He’d even got the boiler pressure to hold up with the double thick wall. But the fact remained he’d never had to use it in an actual battle. How was he supposed to know that Felonious, his boss of all people, was not only behind a plot Jack failed to see, but also had a battle mech and was happy to use it?
“Betsy.”
“No, you need to think about this. It’s better to run away and fight him another day. There’s no shame in staying alive.”
“Betsy.”
“Seriously, what do you think you’ll gain from this fight? Even if you win, and I’m not saying you’ll lose, but what happens if you win? Do you think you’ll suddenly be able to keep crime in this city under your thumb? You’ll be a target! Others will come looking for you only to prove a point. And what about these British ninjas? Surely they’ll come looking for you.”
“Betsy.”
“And those henchmen! Did you see how big they were? I mean, sure they’re not smart, but they’re Americans working for a British agent. What if there are more of them?”
“Betsy!”
“Jack, I insist, you can’t do this. You can’t. Because—”
He ran the back of his hand across her cheek. Tears streamed down her face. As she had done earlier in the day to him, he placed one finger on her lips. She opened her mouth and took in a breath as if she were going to say something, but remained silent.
With his hands on her checks, he dragged her head toward his and kissed her on the forehead. “This is something I must do.”
Letting her stand there with her thoughts was difficult. He had to get prepared. He couldn’t be burdened with worry and concern. Hopefully she would see fit to help him, but even if she didn’t, he would be able to get himself ready. The first thing he needed to do was to get his damaged mask out and repair it. He couldn’t go into battle without it. It would take—.
A hand on his shoulder whipped him around. She yanked on his hair, pulling his face to hers. His eyes widened. Her lips, though soft, pressed hard into his.
When she drew back, she wore a new look of determination. “You can do this, but you’
re not doing a thing without me. From now on, we’re partners.”
She backed up and smoothed her dress. For the first time, he noticed how beautiful it appeared on her despite the many tears, snags, and smears. Her hairdo, once high and perfect, now hung about her shoulders. How could he have overlooked her for so long? All along she’d been the person he needed to help him.
He held his hand out. “Partners.”
She looked at his hand before gripping it and shaking. “Partners.”
“We’ve got work to do…partner.”
Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. If he wasn’t worried enough about getting ready for the upcoming battle, he would be frantic about Betsy. Sure she’d been right about the British conspiracy, but could she handle herself in battle? There was only room for one person inside the battle mech, and being that he built it, he had to be the one to operate it. If they had some communication device to use during the battle it would have been far better.
He’d have to dwell on that later. The battle mech would take time to get started and to get its weapons prepared, additional fuel loaded, and figure out the best route to take to Battery Park. So much to do, and so little time to get it all done. He continued into the yard’s main building.
Betsy cleared her throat. “Excuse me, Mr. Kane. Could you please direct me to where a lady might…clean up? If you don’t mind.”
He stood with his mouth open trying to figure out what to say, then bowed. “My Lady Wilkes. If you would allow me to escort you inside, I shall show you the facilities before I get to work preparing for my upcoming battle.”
“Why, Mr. Kane. Don’t you mean our upcoming battle? I do think we shook hands solidifying our position as partners.”
Once again he stood with his mouth open trying to think of how to respond.
She assisted by placing her fingers under his chin and closing his mouth.
“I stand corrected, Ms. Wilkes. Your assistance will be most appreciated.”
“Now, if you’ll lead the way, Mr. Kane. I shall take care of my business then we’ll get prepared.” She smiled then leaned in and kissed Jack softly on the cheek.
She took interminably long ‘washing up’, and he found himself fidgeting with the tools on the table. He took out the two halves of his damaged mask and laid them on the workbench.
The dent in the back of the helmet matched up with the large bump on the back of his head. He scratched it and got a nagging feeling once again he was forgetting something. He tried to play through the events of the day from the explosion, to the next explosion, to Sohmer and Company, but there was something about the day that eluded him.
He shook his head, picked up a mallet, and pounded out the damage to the helmet. He couldn’t have been more than three or four blows into the repairs when someone grabbed his arm.
Betsy put a hand to her head. “Please stop that. I’ve got quite a headache. Surely there must be a quieter way to repair your mask than with such a crude implement.”
“Well, there is.” He held up a bigger hammer.
“Perhaps you can fix that later. Let’s get your battle mech ready.” She turned to head into the back of the workshop.
“Well, the helmet is an important part,” he argued.
“Then we’ll fix it after I see the battle mech.”
“Well then, Ms. Wilkes, please follow me.” He left the mask and hammer on the table and led Betsy through the maze of rooms to the furthest one in the back. It was also the largest. The one that held the battle mech. Jack’s pride and joy. So much of himself had gone into its making.
He flung the door open. Even under the pale lights of the workroom, the mech was magnificent. He was proud of the work he’d done building and testing it. Surely there wasn’t a better mech in all the city.
With a chassis patch worked together from seven pot-bellied stoves, four for the outside layer and three for the inside, and a set of tracks taken from a broken-down track loader, the battle mech was an impressive twelve feet in height.
On the right side it had a long, thin arm with cutting claws at the end. On the left, a shorter arm held a length of chain with a wrecking ball. In the center of the pot-bellied exterior Jack set up the control center. He couldn’t help but be proud of his masterpiece.
“What is that?” she asked, shaking her head.
“That,” he put special emphasis on the word, “is my battle mech.”
“Jack, please don’t tell me you’re serious. This isn’t the battle mech you’re about to take up against Felonious.”
“Do you see an error in my design? I assure it’s quite sturdy. I even installed a cast iron dome that covered the control center in case something happens.”
“You’re serious? It looks like I could kick this, this thing and it would fall apart.”
Her words hurt and deflated him, but he needed to explain to her how wrong she was. “Oh, I assure you all the bolts are properly in place. It’s quite sturdy.”
“Couldn’t you have at least, I don’t know, cleaned it? Polished it? Made it out of something shinier?” She shrugged and shook her head.
“It’s made from cast iron. It’s quite solid.” He pounded his fist on its side to demonstrate how sturdy.
She wrinkled her nose. “But, Jack. It’s not like your mask at all. This thing… It’s, well, it’s ugly.”
He cocked his head and squinted at his battle mech. “It’s mostly symmetrical. I guess I don’t understand.”
“You’re out there trying to be a hero, right? Well, what will people think of a hero who goes into battle driving that?” She motioned to the mech with both hands.
He didn’t know what to say. She was complaining that he hadn’t built something flashy enough? “It’s a vehicle built from scraps from the yard. I didn’t have anything shiny.”
“Isn’t there any paint or anything?” She looked around.
“Betsy, we don’t have time to paint it.”
She paced and peered into all corners of the room, looking under each sheet and poking into each pile in the room with many mutters under her breath.
“I don’t see what’s the matter with it. It’s a machine built from scraps people have dropped off at the yard. By all rights, it’s as much their battle mech as mine.”
That stopped her in her tracks. “Jack, you’re brilliant. I know exactly what to do now. Get it started. I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”
“But aren’t Felonious’ men coming here to pick you up before the battle?”
“Oh, I’ll be here in time for that. And I’ll have a little surprise.”
With that she ran from the room and, Jack was quite certain, from the yard. He would have stayed there and waited for her to return, but he had to prepare for battle and there wasn’t much daylight left.
Sixteen
With an ample load of coal getting the engine running hot, Jack tugged a cord from the ceiling to open the side door before too much smoke filled the room. He had spent a great deal of time getting the battle mech prepared, but it truly didn’t have any practical field experience. Even though the park lay only a couple blocks away, he would be able to put the mech through its paces and make sure everything operated properly.
Betsy most likely wouldn’t be returning. He hoped in the hour that passed she was able to accomplish what she set out to do. He also wished she was far away from the battle. Least of all he didn’t want her in the hands of Felonious’ goons. That was the deal they had made, though.
Black smoke belched from the rear of the mech as Jack pushed two side levers forward. Each lever controlled the speed of the track on that side. This gave him the ability to turn in place. The weapons were a combination of foot pedals and hand switches. As the mech idled, he took out his repaired mask and clamped it on his head, setting his hat on top.
The sun hadn’t dipped beneath the horizon. Glad to have the sun at his back as he made his way down the street to the park, he prepared to close off the top of his me
ch, but as he did a brilliant flash of light blossomed from his right.
~ * ~
Felonious hunched in the pilot’s chair of his mech and peered through the cockpit screen. His instruments warned him Jack’s mech approached. Now it was time to wait in ambush. He hid in among some trees beside the main street to the park.
He rubbed his hands together, his mech mimicking the movements with a loud screeching of metal. Felonious jerked and scanned around to see if anyone heard.
He was in luck. Nothing gave him away except a small flock of birds squawking into the sky.
Anticipation was hard, especially when victory was assured.
How best to destroy the meddling boy? Blunt force?
No, that would damage the boy’s mech too much, and there might be some technology worth claiming after the battle. Felonious shrugged and tossed a tree over the mech’s shoulder, narrowly missing a duck and her ducklings in a small pond.
What about…No. A gun would be noisy and attract unwanted attention.
He spied a gas lamp burning to his right and remembered the flamethrower attachment on the right arm. He’d been itching to try that particular gizmo. There simply hadn’t been a good opportunity before. Today would be the perfect time. Cook the boy a little until he surrendered, and then capture the technology.
Felonious’ audio pick-ups detected the heavy tread of Jack’s mech as it approached. Perfect timing.
Felonious aimed the flamethrower and waited until Jack appeared before he pressed the fire control button.
~ * ~
Jack slammed his hand on the button to close the clamshell cover and dropped to the floor. The inside heated immediately, and the dials for the boiler rose as well. He turned the turret so the boiler would be away from the source of the flame, but this also exposed the viewport directly to the flame.
Taking a quick inventory of the controls, he tried to figure out what his best defense was. If he ran, Felonious would only follow Jack and continue to spray flame. If he stayed he would be cooked alive. He didn’t have any extinguisher of any kind on board.
Something on the control panel pinged. The temperature of the boiler continued to rise. He had only moments to decide what to do. He twisted a knob then pulled a lever. The mech bucked and rocked, and something crashed on top. The flame had gone out.
Jack Kane and the Statue of Liberty Page 17
