The Gadgeteer (Arabeth Barnes Book 1)

by Gin Hollan

  "I read some, and he's been teaching me, but he's so busy. And his vision isn't what it was. You heard about his ... transformation?"

  Arabeth shook her head.

  "You had a possessive, isolationist former husband."

  Arabeth frowned, but nodded.

  "This will come as something of a shock then." She sighed. "He can't see. I mean, without his lenses, he's says he’s blind. It’s not true, but with them, he sees better than the rest of us. Light spectrum manipulation, he calls it. He sees through walls. It's scary, and all way beyond my understanding."

  "He's really done something like that? Why isn't that in the Science Journal?"

  "It's too easy to exploit for nefarious purposes, he says."

  Arabeth chuckled. That sounded like something Graham would say, all right. He was as honest as the dawn, believing the greater good needed defenders.

  "Can you read this?" Daisy asked.

  Arabeth leaned forward to read the area Daisy stared at.

  "This?" she asked. "What about it?"

  Daisy paused. "What language is that?"

  "It's Italian, Graham’s native language."

  "Why doesn't he have an accent?"

  Arabeth shrugged. "I presume he's worked on having the correct accent for whichever language he speaks in."

  Daisy nodded. "So, I have to learn that too." She looked into Arabeth's eyes. "Do you read it? Can you teach me?"

  "No, Italian is not one of the ones I speak."

  "Which do you speak? I had no idea rich people knew so many languages, or is that a tinker's thing?"

  "That's of no concern. When can I see Graham?" Arabeth was starting to see why this woman fit into Graham's world.

  Behind them, Graham's guests walked out, glancing their way but ignoring them otherwise. Arabeth took a long side glance, curious. Top hats and expensive suits. Bankers, or posers. Excited ones, at that. Either way, she didn't recognize them.

  "Arabeth, what brings you by?" Graham said, walking over.

  Daisy's comment about his new lenses hadn't prepared Arabeth for what they actually were. She had assumed they were simple spectacles, with a different kind of lens in them. They weren’t. These were a sort of goggle, with a series of stacked lenses, each with a separate toggle so that they could be moved in and out of view. They were a work of art.

  "I knew you'd appreciate them on a different level." He grinned as he pulled them off, adjusted all but one lens to be in use, then the handed them to her.

  Arabeth put them in front of her eyes, not quite touching her face. The change in her perception was dramatic, almost shocking. Lowering each lever to see what the result was caused her to gasp as it suddenly seemed she could see through walls, people, seeing instead a myriad of framework. Buildings had bracers and beams; people were living skeletons.

  "I see you've shifted specialties. This is beyond words. Explain," she said, handing the goggles back.

  "Another time, perhaps. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

  She dropped her head a moment, disappointed. She'd be back now, for sure.

  "I'm sure you've noticed the city-wide increase in attacks, people who were non-violent suddenly turning on each other. I suspect there's a cause. A radio-wave-based form of mind control. Well, mind disruption, really."

  He nodded. "Henry Walsh's device. I helped him build the prototype. No time to help refine, though."

  Arabeth frowned, glancing at Daisy before responding in a whisper. "Why would you do that?"

  "There will be an initial cost of life, but Arabeth, don't you think the war has gone on long enough? It's a waste of life, resources, effort."

  "I understand the logic; it's the ethics of it I don't like. What if the enemy finds out it was manipulation? They'll find a way to block it and rain hell on us all."

  "As opposed to what? A thirty-eight-year political war against people we've never met, and can't possibly hate except that they killed our relatives? Not good enough."

  "Henry Walsh ... his name is familiar."

  "You know him. He was the king's gadgeteer, until he got this idea."

  "The king was opposed?"

  "He didn't tell him. He sees the power in it, just like you see the power in these lenses. He left, saying he needed a sabbatical, for his nerves."

  "And the king agreed?"

  "This war has been going for ten years. He said he needed the time to recharge, to regain his energy. The king sees the tinker's department as a blend of science, art, and magic, so he agreed to give him a short break."

  "The war over in less than a year. It seems unreal."

  "Right? Amazing. Our kids could grow up in a different world," Graham said. There was a weird emphasis on the "our kids" part, but Arabeth ignored it.

  "I won't be having kids—I'm not remarrying. Once was more than enough," she said.

  He stood frozen in place a moment, then nodded. "Of course. The concept of marriage will soon be outdated anyway. Culture is forcing that shift. You always were a forward thinker."

  Momentarily tongue-tied, Arabeth cleared her throat. She forced her mind back to the goal she’d come for. She now had someone to track. She was good at that. Comfortable with it, even. That was the complete opposite of how she felt about marriage and offspring. Even if she was, Graham wouldn't be her first choice. It wasn't his age, although he was ten years older than she. It was ... he wasn't ... well, she wasn't attracted to him that way. His arrogance was not something she could live around. Not for long. Daisy looked mildly surprised and highly amused.

  "I need to get going. Thank you for your time, Graham." She held her hand out, for a handshake. He took it in one of his and raised it to his lips, brushing it lightly in a kiss. A suggestion of a kiss, it seemed. Pulling her hand back, she turned to leave, hiding the rush of colour that flooded her face. His warm, accepting chuckle behind her as she went did not comfort her.

  As she walked out, her anger started to flare up. What was with all these people who thought she needed a mate? Did she need to put a sign up in front of her house saying, "Suitors need not apply"? Did they think she couldn't keep a job?

  She'd forgotten to ask for Graham's help, she realized. Should she go back in? As she stood outside, the door opened, startling her. Daisy leaned out.

  "I'm assuming you want to talk to Mr. Walsh." She held out a scrap of paper. "This is the only address I have for him. Good luck."

  Henry Walsh, 2138 Bartlet Street. The warehouse district?

  "Thanks, Daisy. I appreciate this." Arabeth held the note up, smiling.

  "You're welcome, and good luck," Daisy said. "I want this war over too."

  Arabeth nodded. She wanted to see the war end as well, but there had to be a moral way to end it. Henry Walsh's device had to be stopped.

  // Chapter 16 //

  Arabeth pulled herself up, slowly climbing up the only stack of crates outside the warehouse. Why were the windows all on the second storey? She just wanted a peek in. Even in the middle of the day, this area 'felt' dark.

  Climbing, the crate she held onto wobbled a moment then steadied. She pulled herself up to the next one. It seemed convenient. A single, stacked but slightly staggered line of crates, going just to the line of windows and no higher. Looking around, she saw this was the only Whatever was through that window was staged. Fake. She needed the truth. She needed to find Henry Walsh, and this was her best lead. Deflated by this burst of logic, she climbed back down.

  She looked around for Marble, but the fox was missing. Maybe she'd smelled something worth pursuing. Arabeth pulled the collar tracker out and flipped the switch. She was close. And she was stationary.

  Arabeth started walking, half watching the tracking display, half watching where she walked. As she went, she noticed there was a slight smell of tar, and it was getting a little stronger as she went. That wouldn't lure a fox, and unless it was related to something Marble believed Arabeth was chasing, it wouldn't draw her.

  P
eeking around the warehouse corner, she spotted Marble sitting to one side of a group of men. A little too close. They were ignoring her, so that was good.

  "Marble," she called at a whisper. One of the men looked her way. She pulled back around the corner. Maybe a little cover would be better. She looked for something to hide behind. She was sure the man saw her. The alley was bare, empty. This was a newer warehouse, newer neighbourhood. Off to the other side a pile of loose wood and metal sat. Construction leftovers. It wasn't much, but it'd do.

  Daisy was on to something, but this felt more like criminal activity than investment bankers. She should report it, not sneak around risking her neck. She wanted to laugh. Her, not investigate? That was unlikely.

  She was the one acting suspicious. If she were to act smart, she should boldly walk over, calling out for Marble, and be surprised to find her there.

  Standing, she walked back to the edge of the warehouse, thinking she'd walk confidently over and retrieve Marble, using the fox as the reason. If things went bad from there, she had skills. Tools. Illusionist's flash-bombs, things like that.

  "Marble, where did you go?" she called out, rounding the corner.

  The men were gone. Did they go inside? Marble sat, looking disappointed with Arabeth. Projecting. Arabeth was projecting again. She was disappointed with herself.

  "All right, sweetie, where did they go?"

  Marble stood up and walked to a metal door. Arabeth stopped there, common sense threatening to kick in. How could she explain walking in? She cracked the door open, a little surprised that it wasn't locked. Marble was about to go in but Arabeth quickly scooped her up. She wasn't risking her. After the damage Marble had taken at the checkerboard houses, this was a "detectors first" scenario. She tucked the fox into the crook of one arm and pulled out her detector with the other hand.

  The readings started mid-range, then fluctuated all over the display. It was worth a try, maybe. She put it away, planning to tweak it when she got home.

  Stepping inside the warehouse, she waited for her eyes to adjust. The lights were out, which was strange enough, but there were voices at the other end of the building. Calm, quiet voices. She felt her way along the right wall, thinking to ease her way back close enough to hear.

  Marble wiggled to be set down. Arabeth held her anyway. Better to know how Marble was doing, in case she needed help. Marble started grumbling and pushing to be put down, getting a bit too loud for the task at hand.

  "Okay, but you get out of here if you start to feel bad again, right?" she said, setting the animal down.

  This was the part Arabeth loved. The adrenaline. The discovery. The chase. As she moved forward, she listened for voices to hear what they were talking about.

  Inside, darkness filled the space, giving the shapes illuminated by the upper windows an eerie cast. They looked like more automatons, but taller, thinner. Moving along, she saw a light on at the far end of the wall.

  She wanted to hear what the voices were saying before she made a move. If only Marble's collar could transmit voice, like radio did. She'd have to work on that. If she ever got time. The wall was a good 300 feet long. Don't hold your breath, she reminded herself. Easier said than done.

  "You'll know it's working when only the men react," said a male voice. "Go immediately. Be gentle with that—it's highly sensitive."

  "All right, sir," a young female voice responded. "Do you want me to come straight back here after the ten minutes are up?" she asked.

  "Yes." His voice was dismissive, as if it was beneath him to repeat instructions.

  An ethical criminal in that he had gender boundaries … was that how he justified his actions?

  A light set of footsteps headed her way and she ducked down against the wall. A teenage girl walked past carrying a small, dark wood suitcase and a lantern. Arabeth waited for her to pass, intending to follow her. As the girl neared the exit, voices started up in the other room again.

  "You're not following her?"

  "No need. The Maddening Device will record the outcome. I'll play it back when she gets here."

  "But you trust her?"

  There was a pause. "You go, but stay fifty paces back. There's no saying which way she'll point the thing."

  "Yes, sir."

  A set of footsteps and a lantern headed for the exit, after the girl. This time Arabeth recognized the person. It was the same police officer that had reported Betsy's death to her. Frank Masters. The realization caused a small itch on the side of Arabeth's neck.

  Was this corruption, collusion, or sanctioned? And 'Maddening Device'? Could he be less imaginative? She tsked softly.

  Again, she was tempted to follow. Not soon, though. Violence was the goal, and that would be the outcome. This time they were targeting a part of the brain that was more active in men than women. At least, that was her guess. The target wasn't the issue, for her. Its very existence was the threat. But who was behind it?

  She inched closer to the room, but only seconds after Frank went past, the light went out, leaving the area darker than ever. There was no way to see who it was now … and where did he go? A door clicked from within the room and she realized he must have gone out the other side.

  Following now would be stupid. Changing her plan, she decided it would be good to get a look inside that suitcase. How hard would it be to get it stolen away from the girl?

  With Frank Masters close behind, the snatch might be easy but the escape would be difficult. She'd have to hire three or four people to confuse the situation. And fast.

  She waited no more than a minute before moving to follow. The girl would be out of sight by now, but she only had to follow Frank to find her. Too bad she hadn't heard which way they were headed in the first place.

  Hesitating at that door may have cost her, cost the city. If she could notify the police somehow, or Hicks ... but no. She had no patience for homing pigeons. Besides, how do you carry one around comfortably for both you and bird, hoping you'd need it? She couldn't just stuff a pigeon in her satchel.

  Frank was easier to follow, not even trying to be subtle. They neared the city centre. It was busy as the lunch meetings ended and people went to eat. Hundreds of people, busily not paying attention to what was around them. The girl set the suitcase on a bench and sat beside it. Arabeth hadn't had a chance to enlist help along the way. Pondering, she considered walking up and absconding with the case herself. She could use the flash bomb she'd stashed, pick the suitcase up, and take off.

  Frank had set up watch from the outside corner of a bakery, pretending to look in the window. The girl nervously opened the case and reached inside to toggle the device on, but hesitated. Shaking her head, she looked around at the moving crowds. Was she looking for anyone specific, making sure they weren't around? There was no way to know. She pushed down on something in the case and leaned back, sighing.

  Arabeth started to walk over. Even a peek inside would be better information than what she currently knew about it. Guessed about it, she corrected herself. A scream to one side drew her attention. She ignored it. The girl didn't, though, and started to run away, without the case.

  The chaos widened, giving Arabeth the cover she needed. She walked as calmly as she could toward the case, moving as though it was hers and she had every right to it. Taking it up, she pushed the only toggle inside, closed it and sat down, stowing it under the bench until she thought it would be safe to pull it out and leave.

  She should disappear before the police arrived. Frank will have seen her take the case, but odds were he wouldn’t come out in the open to confront her. She might need a way to explain her apparently random act of taking the unattended suitcase, but Frank was no where to be seen now.

  Where could she take the suitcase to dissect it? She stood, thinking to use the somehow increasing chaos as cover. She made it about twenty feet when a hand took her arm and pulled her. Turning, she saw Sam. She frowned. What was he doing here?

  "Follow me," he said,
pulling her toward an alley.

  "What are you doing?" she snapped. "Let me go."

  "What's in the case?" he asked.

  "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "That case. What's in it?"

  "Can we go somewhere less accidentally discoverable?" Arabeth said.

  He tilted his head and made a face.

  "I'm interrupting an experiment," she said.

  "You're interrupting, not participating?"

  She gave him what she hoped was a scathing look. "You claim to know me, so what do you think?"

  He shrugged. "So, all right. What's going on?"

  Arabeth patted the case. "I need to get this to my workshop. I have to stop them." She turned and hurried towards the other end of the alley. He could follow if he needed to, but she'd lost enough time as it was.

  "Stop who?" he called out as he followed. A few alleys and turns later she'd lost him. He'd think she was going to the lab in her house, and that he could get in easy. He wouldn't feel motivated to hurry.

  // Chapter 17 //

  Under her microscope, the mechanisms were so small that Arabeth was amazed. The fact that it took a microscope to see them clearly in the first place was testament to the breakthrough in technology that it represented. Something about it reminded her of the automaton's head wiring.

  "Can you explain?" Hicks was trying to look as close as he could, not having a microscope of his own to look through. "What are we looking at?"

  Arabeth stood back, crossing her arms and looking smug. "You're helping the military. This would be right up your alley. The rumour is that it’s supposed to stop the war."

  "By causing them to turn on each other, instead of us."

  She nodded, unsure if he saw the ethical dilemma, or was amongst those who felt it was a fair price to pay in the long run.

  "I take it you would rather find a different solution," he said.

  "I haven't given it much thought, but yes. There must be a better way."

  "What do you have in mind?" he asked.

  She paused, knowing what she was thinking seemed anticlimactic. Dull by comparison. And there might not be a lot of support for it, being as it was so undramatic.