Stefan had served as the head of a team of scientists and engineers who had worked to make her whole again. That is how he’d made the acquaintance of a teenager named Archibald Westerly, the most talented among them. They had fashioned a mechanical arm and leg that had been permanently attached to her damaged body. Most impressively, Archie himself had created a face plate, which was attached to Katrinka’s skull on the upper quadrant of her right side. It was a thing of beauty. It even had an eye that could expand and contract like a telescope so that she could see things in minute detail or from a great distance.
Katrinka had always been beautiful, however, she had never been vain. She looked quite different after the procedure, still beautiful but severe looking. She did not mind though, loving the powers the mechanical prosthetics gave her. The only problem was that, like the proverbial tin man, she dared not stray too far from her ‘oil can’. She needed a mechanical expert nearby at all times to treat her maladies should one of her joints rust or her machinery fail. Stefan would serve in that role should she agree to his plan.
While she, the doctors and the scientists had admired the restored Professor Pretzer, the general public did not. The sight of her clomping down the street, her limbs whirring and clicking, her artificial eye extended and rolling about in her head, caused young children to run screaming and grown women to faint dead away. Thus Katrinka basically stayed hidden in the top floor of the large house that held Archibald and his laboratory, doing research and serving as his mentor. Despite appearances, Mrs. Marsh was not the landlady of 51 Windsor Court, just Katrinka’s housekeeper. Katrinka, a wealthy heiress, owned the house as well as the entire city block it sat on.
Lord Cavendish slipped in through the back entrance once he reached 51 Windsor Court, that way he could take the back stairs right up to her doorstep. Ms. Marsh nodded at him as he took the steps two at a time. He rapped sharply on the door at the top of the stairs and waited until he heard clomping approaching. Katrinka pulled it open, knowing Stefan’s knock, and greeted him warmly.
“Stefan! Come in, dear man. Do hurry,” she scolded, as she stepped back from the open door. She did not want any neighbors seeing her.
“And how are you doing, my dear? You look quite well,” Stefan said, leaning over to give her a kiss on the human side of her face. Stefan thrilled at the sight of her, a severe beauty, commanding and intimidating.
“You are too kind, old friend,” Katrinka said coquettishly. “It is good to see you.” Stefan handed her the box of candy he had brought. “Thank you, kind sir,” she said. “Ach, Swiss chocolate, my favorite! You know me too well.” She escorted him to the table where she set out a pot of tea, along with the chocolates. “And so, my dear man, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” she asked.
“Why do I have to have a reason to visit my beautiful friend?” he replied roguishly. “You know, you are the vision of a severe dominatrix brought to life. I find you quite disturbing, my dear.”
“Well, many find me disturbing, but not in a good way.” she replied laughing. “Now come along, Stefan. You have never been one for frivolous small talk, get to the point. What’s on your mind?”
“Are you aware that our Archibald has become involved with a young woman?”
“That right little miss? He speaks of her often, his Marjorie. I have seen her coming and going and overheard her through the heating shaft working her feminine wiles upon the boy. She is a very beautiful young lady, but I do not trust her motives in pursuing our Archie.”
“She comes from a noble background but her family is penniless due to their own vagrancies.” Stefan explained. “I had her background investigated; there is a broken engagement to a physician who does not speak highly of the young lady. He reports that she was rather free with her favors, hoping to trick him into marriage. He was too savvy for the ploy, but our innocent is putty her hands.”
Professor Pretzer leaned forward, her human eye twinkling merrily at him, “A gold digger of the first degree. The young lady needs to be taught a lesson. I hope that is why you are here, to let me be a part of her education?” At Stefan’s nod, she continued. “Tell me, what do you have in mind?”
“I believe that the right little miss needs to be removed from England for a long sea voyage. She will travel as my daughter. I intend to return her to little girl status in order to bring her down a peg or two and teach her some manners.”
“Hmmmm,” Katrinka said tapping her chin with one finger. “Such a young lady would need a nanny with a strong hand to bring her in line.”
Stefan nodded, “Exactly, as well as a commanding guardian.”
“That goes without saying.” Katrinka agreed. “And tell me dear Stefan, your interest in the young lady’s abduction is purely to protect our innocent Archibald from her unscrupulous advances?”
“What are you implying, my dear?” Stefan said, taken aback.
“What do you think I’m implying, you scoundrel? What other lessons do you intend to teach the young lady?”
Stefan smiled and decided to take Professor Pretzer into his confidence. He admitted his attraction for the beautiful young woman. “Katrinka, you know I have wanted a little one for a very long time; a young lady to turn into my own little miss; someone that I can be both a father figure and spouse to.”
“And you think Lady Marjorie is the one?” she asked.
“I do.” Stefan replied emphatically.
“Well, we will quickly find out. As you know, bringing spoiled young ladies to heel is a special passion of mine. As long as your intentions towards her are ultimately honorable, I will go along with the plan. I intend to serve as both her nanny and her chaperone.”
“Well, it’s settled then. I thought you might be up for an adventure. I suggest that you speak minimal English with the girl in your heaviest German accent and pretend not to understand when she speaks more than a few words to you at a time. It would free you from culpability. You were simply hired help who did not understand much English.”
“I am not the least bit concerned about legal action, Stefan. After all, no bars could hold me.” She demonstrated why by picking up her china teacup and draining it. Then she squeezed her mechanical fingers around it until it shattered into pieces. Stefan threw his head back and laughed.
“So tell me, what exactly are we looking at? What is the game plan?” she said, urging him on.
“A woman gone missing, a visit to the Dragon’s Crypt and a long sea voyage taken by a noble Lord, his young ward and her implacable nanny. What say you?”
“When do we set sail?” Katrinka replied, without hesitation.
“You have two weeks to prepare. Be fitted for a nanny uniform and have the seamstress create some little girl apparel for young Marjorie. Then pack for a long trip. We will not meet again before our departure. Further instructions will be forwarded soon.” Stefan stood and bowed, kissing Professor Pretzer’s human hand as he took his leave.
Stefan stopped by the laboratory on his way back downstairs. He found Archibald hard at work on the Time Trekker. Stefan stared at it with admiration. It looked like a carriage of sorts but without wheels. It had a large glass window with a velvet seat inside and a wheel to steer the contraption. It gleamed like bronze and had a new improvement. The young man appeared to have padded the interior, perhaps due to Miss Hamilton’s assumptions that the ride would be difficult. He looked around for Archibald. He could hear hammering, but where was it coming from?
“Archibald, are you there? It is I, Stefan,” he called out.
“Lord Cavendish! It is good to see you.” Archibald said, sliding out from underneath the vehicle. “I recognized your spats, even from under this thing.”
Stefan took the proffered hand and smiled at the young man. “I was just upstairs visiting with Professor Pretzer and wanted to drop by and see how you are doing.”
“Well, sir, the Time Trekker is beginning to take shape, as you can see.”
“Have you finish
ed the goggles?” Stefan asked eagerly.
“Ah, no sir, I am going to need some stronger metal than the iron I have currently been using. Have you heard, the Americans have created a new method of forging steel?”
“Yes, I have, Archibald and do you think you need some of this steel?”
“Oh yes, sir. It would be just the thing to fix the goggles and once they are ready, I should be close to taking the Time Trekker out on its maiden voyage.”
‘I will see to it that the steel is sent to you immediately. And where will you go, young man?” Archibald looked confused. “On the Time Trekker’s maiden voyage, where will you take it?” Stefan asked, amused. He could not imagine what Archibald’s answer would be.
“Why I don’t know. I haven’t given it a thought.” Archibald looked so stunned at the question that Stefan had to laugh. He decided it was time to warn the young man of his upcoming departure.
“Come downstairs for tea, Archibald. I have something to tell you.” As they descended the stairs and entered the kitchen, Mrs. Marsh greeted them warmly. She was accustomed to Archibald making an appearance in her kitchen at odd times and quickly set out a repast of sliced meats and cheese biscuits. The gentlemen sat down at the kitchen table and Archie tucked in like he hadn’t eaten in quite some time, which he probably hadn’t.
Stefan sat back and watched Archibald stave off his hunger. As he ate, he chatted about time travel.
“I don’t know if I should head into the past and try to avert some great tragedy. Or perhaps I could look up some historical figure. Can you imagine watching the first production of some Shakespearean play with the author himself appearing in it? Or should I head into the future to see the technology and hear about the scientific discoveries that have been made? What would you do?” he asked no one in particular. Mrs. Marsh and Stefan looked at him, both at a loss for words having never given the matter any thought. Stefan found his voice first.
“Have you thought of the repercussions of changing a past event? It might change the world we now inhabit. If I were you, young man, I would head into the future. It might be safer.” As Archibald pondered his advice, Stefan brought the conversation back around to his news.
“What I’ve come to tell you, my man, is that I am leaving soon on an extensive sea voyage. Towards that end, I have set up an account for you with the Royal Bank of London on Dowling Street. Tap into it judiciously as I am not certain when I will return.”
“I will be most sorry to see you go, Lord Cavendish. I hope you have a wonderful trip, though and I promise that when my inventions begin to pay off, I will repay you every last ha’penny and much, much more.”
“I have not the slightest doubt about that, Archibald,” Lord Cavendish assured him fondly.
“In case we don’t speak for awhile, my lord, I just want to say thank you again for believing in me and for sponsoring my work. I shall never forget it,” Archibald promised, his voice becoming choked with emotion. Stefan graciously accepted his tribute and then took his leave.
Chapter Three
Lord Cavendish was a man on a mission. His errand entailed a visit to the East End to call on a rather shady gentleman who was reportedly quite skilled in the art of forgery. He had ordered paperwork from this fellow—various passports and identification cards under assumed names for he and Marjorie and Professor Pretzer, as well as guardianship papers, since he and Lady Marjorie would be traveling as ward and guardian. He made his way to a dusty little shop in a busy shopping district, almost invisible among similar shops. He rang a buzzer and was allowed entry after a few moments.
“Mr. Mulvey, are you Dustin Mulvey?” he asked the stoop-shouldered gentleman hidden away in the dusty recesses of the shop. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he saw the man standing behind a counter. Stefan was dismayed, the gentleman had been referred to him by a reliable source but he looked like a street person with his unkempt, bedraggled appearance. Stefan wondered how this person could possibly produce the legitimate-looking legal documents that he needed.
“Mr…er…White?” the fellow replied, smirking at the fake name he’d been given. The man standing in front of him was clearly one of the landed gentry, the type of person who was usually one of his clients. Only someone of great wealth could afford the quality of the documents Dustin produced. “Yer order is ready.” He reached under the counter and produced a grimy cloth which he used to wipe the countertop. Then he set out a clean sheet and, donning white gloves, produced the documents, spreading them out for Stefan’s perusal.
Lord Cavendish was stunned into silence as he looked through them, the work was top of the line.
“This all appears to be in order, thank you my good man. I say, how did you achieve the watermark on the passport?”
“Tricks of the trade, m’lord,” Dustin bowed, laying his finger aside of his nose and winking, his dirty, stained teeth making an unfortunate appearance as he smiled with delight. “A magician never reveals his secrets.”
“And your work is magic, my good man.” Stefan assured him, admiring the passports. He handed the miracle worker an envelope. “Enclosed is your fee and an additional sum to ensure your silence.
“I have no knowledge of the incident of which we are speaking,” Mulvey assured him, lapsing into a rather stunted persona that he apparently donned whenever questioned by the authorities. “I hope you will keep my humble establishment in mind for future necessities.” He packed up the documents in a plain brown parcel which he handed to the gentleman standing before him.
“You may count on it, my good man.” Stefan replied, tipping his hat and taking the package and his leave.
A week later Katrinka went through the mail that Mrs. Marsh had brought up to her. One of the packets contained a thin envelope with familiar handwriting. She sliced it open with a retractable blade on her mechanical finger. It was further instructions from Stefan. A carriage would pick her up Tuesday next, shortly after dark and transport her to the Royal Docks in East London.
When Tuesday arrived, Archibald was distracted by the sound of large objects being moved up and down the back staircase next to his laboratory. He poked his head out of the door. “Oh, Professor Pretzer, is it already time to embark on your trip?” He knew the professor was heading to Germany to visit with family. He chatted with her as her trunks were taken downstairs by two hack drivers.
“Yes, young man, I shall be gone for a lengthy visit.”
“Whatever shall I do without your wise counsel?” Archibald asked, surprised at how bereft he felt at the thought of the professor no longer being upstairs at his disposal. She was his secret weapon, the wind beneath his wings. Even his fiancée did not know of her existence.
“You will be just fine, my boy.” Professor Pretzer assured him. She smiled kindly at him. “You truly do possess one of the most gifted minds it has ever been my pleasure to make the acquaintance of, you know.”
“You are too kind, Professor. Do take care and travel safely.” Archibald replied, giving her a fond kiss on the cheek. He watched Katrinka clomp on down the stairs, glad that she would be getting out. Even though she was reclusive by nature, everybody needed a spot of adventure once in awhile.
Archibald went back to tinkering with the Time Trekker goggles. While allowing Marjorie to glimpse the future, a crucial element had melted, fusing the starting mechanism. He had just received the steel that Lord Cavendish had promised and was hard at work. After a while, he was startled by the voice of Mrs. Marsh standing in the doorway of his laboratory.
“Archibald dear, Miss Marjorie is overdue. Didn’t she say she’d be here by five?” Archie raised his head and looked out the window. It was already dark out.
“How late is she?” he asked.
“Why it’s almost six, dear, and dinner is all dried out.”
“I’m sure she’ll arrive at any moment. If she wasn’t going to make it, she’d have sent word,” Archie assured Mrs. Marsh. He went back to tinkering, expecting to hear th
e front door chime at any moment. As usual, Archie got lost in his work and the next time he paused, he realized it was past nine. He went downstairs to find that Mrs. Marsh had fallen asleep, her head on her arms at the dining room table, the dinner sitting on the kitchen counter, cold.
Archie went out on the front steps and looked up and down the street, not knowing what he expected to see. The fog had settled in looking like thick pea soup. There was a young punk kid, probably a runaway, sitting on the stoop, bent over and nodding off.
“I say, boy, how long have you been there?”
The lad looked up at Archie, startled. He tried to rise but had stiffened from the cold. “I’m moving on, sir, I meant no ‘arm. Don’t mind me,” he said, raising his arm overhead to ward off any blows that might be coming his way.
“No, no, my good fellow, I don’t mind if you stay on the stoop,” Archie assured him. “I am just wondering if you saw a young woman earlier this evening walking down this street? A beautiful young woman, with blond curls?”
“I’m so ‘ungry I can’t even think straight,” the lad replied, looking up at him hopefully through his long dark bangs. “Might you ‘ave some wee bite to eat, sir?”
“Oh, you poor boy, of course.” Archie ran into the house and brought out the dinner sitting on the kitchen counter. He sat next to the boy and watched him attack the food, getting grease on his fingerless gloves in the process. He gobbled down stuffing and beans, cleaning every last bit off the carcass of the chicken. When he had finished, he looked up at Archie.
“Thank ‘ee kindly. Most kind, sir.” Archie waited impatiently as the boy wiped his mouth on the back of his threadbare sleeve and gave a satisfied belch. He looked at Archie who was waiting expectantly.
“Sorry sir, what was the question again?”
“Did you see a young woman this night, perhaps right before dark? Walking down the street? Very beautiful, small with blond curls?
The Science of Submission Page 3
