The Gadgeteer (Arabeth Barnes Book 1)

by Gin Hollan

  This was a bad idea. Really, really bad. Leaning back in her seat, Arabeth glared at her sister. Maralise's expression was currently hard to read. Her expression was surprising, though—was she jealous? Or was she angry? Did Maralise fancy Graham? That was a surprise—Maralise seemed to hate everything and everyone with an interest in invention or innovation. She wasn't the brightest light on the deck.

  Maralise looked back at the man sitting opposite her—Howard, if Arabeth remembered right. He seemed oblivious to the more subtle aspects of dinner going on around him, preferring to continue to talk about his job, about his family, and about his life, all the while assuming someone at the table was listening. Oh, joy—a narcissist. Howard was good-looking and reasonably bright, or at least he thought he was. He'd be impossible to live with for more than a week.

  Arabeth sighed, returning her attention to Graham. "Can you explain the chemistry, in general terms? What proportions of which chemicals, and so on?"

  "You're going to want to stop by my house and see my notes on it, since everything boils down to accuracy. It's very finicky."

  Odd that his simple invitation would have seemed innocent an hour ago. Now it made her squeamish. Maybe she was reading into what he said.

  "I'm working on an amateur radio system that will make it simple to communicate directly over a great distance. I'll show you that, too," he suggested. He was never straightforward, always layering his thoughts and actions. Granted, that was why he stayed interesting at times. But more often than not, it annoyed her.

  "That's what cabs are missing—amateur radio. Getting a cab would be easy, then. Maybe Graham can show me how they work and we can go into business together. We can start a factory. There are hundreds of cabs here, and thousands across the country." Arabeth smiled.

  "What else are you working on, since you brought up inventing?" he asked.

  There was a glint in his eye, as though he thought she was just playing hard to get. The thought unsettled Arabeth a bit more than she already was, and she started to feel the need to get up and walk it off.

  Graham was not a good match for her. Only proper love would change him into someone you could live with, and right now science was his first love, then himself. Poor Daisy ... Graham didn't even notice her as a woman.

  The unsettled feeling from her stomach spread quickly through her, causing her hand to shake, rattling the glass she put down.

  "I'm … I'm sorry. I'm not feeling well. I should go." She picked the case up as she stood. "Maralise, apologize to Mother for me."

  "You do look pale." Maralise frowned. "I'll help you out."

  The kind sister act was a smart move, but then again, Maralise was good with people. She glanced Sam's way, but he was not in his seat.

  When they'd reached the hall near the exit, Maralise chuckled. "You know why Mother invited Mr. Hicks, don't you?"

  Arabeth said nothing as she put her shoes on.

  "It was to show you his pedigree. Or lack of one, to be blunt. He didn't measure up to any one of the men in there."

  Again, Arabeth bit her tongue. She'd defended Sam plenty of times, but her mother and sister were deaf to it.

  "Anyway, Mother will want to do this all again once you're feeling better. You didn't really meet anyone new."

  Marble met her at the coatroom, having napped there while waiting. Arabeth picked the fox up and held her close for a moment.

  "I'll have someone get you a cab," Maralise offered.

  "No thank you. I need to walk." Arabeth pushed the door open, then set Marble down to walk.

  "You do that. Good luck." Maralise said as she twirled away, heading back to the party.

  Arabeth pulled the door shut and walked away, turning her mind to a more immediate concern: the Maddening Device. The key to the device was chemistry, of course, but it was a modulated oil with other elements, presumably, produced by the human brain. That wouldn't be easy to come by, and probably quite illegal. She sighed.

  About halfway home she heard footsteps behind her, catching up a little at a time. It was still light out, but the sun would set before she made it home. She figured it was Sam and kept walking, slowing a little so he could catch up. Marble whimpered and hurried ahead, raising Arabeth’s awareness. As the steps neared she realized the gait was odd. She glanced up just in time to see a short, thick, wooden stick coming at her head. Ducking, she turned and struck her assailant with a closed fist to the face.

  Backing up to see what his next attack would be, she caught him laughing.

  "They told me you were wily." He came at her, full strength, swinging the stick at her head then her torso and continuing to swing as he charged forward. Dodging, ducking, rolling—In a dress, she grumbled. Great timing on this guy's part. She had her satchel, though, and reached quickly in for something to knock him out with. Marble leapt up, grabbing his coat, sleeves, and hair, adding to his confusion. Arabeth should have been an easy target — a young female, parading around at dusk in a long skirt and coat.

  Finding her knock-out spray aspirator, she reached up, jumping to avoid his knee strike, and sprayed him full in the face. Two minutes. That was all he had left before he crumpled to the ground. Then it was off to jail for him. Sighing, she thought about how she missed her bounty hunter days. This was her kind of fun.

  The man wobbled a bit to one side, then fell over. Smiling, Arabeth slapped a set of wrist restraints on him. He groaned as if to wake, so she slapped a set of ankle restraints on as well.

  // Chapter 18 //

  Another pair of feet jogged up. Turning, she raised her arms as if to block another attack. It was Sam Hicks this time.

  "Out for an evening stroll, are we?" he asked, trying to hide the edge of concern in his voice. "Who have we got here?"

  "I don't recognize him." She gave the prone man a nudge with her foot to roll him over onto his back. "But shoot me if I show up for anything in a skirt again."

  "You were quite graceful. It was almost artistic, the way the skirt swung as you dodged. It reminded me of the shows in the Chinese theatre."

  "Really? I suppose that's why you came running over after he was down."

  He chuckled. "Well, I didn't realize I'd miss all the fun. You can handle yourself. This is your occupation, after all."

  Laughing, she shrugged. She wasn't the only female on the planet with this playful approach to serious battle, and Hicks seemed comfortable with her choices. Society considered women that could fight to be emotionally unbalanced, unladylike, and sometimes coarse, but it was also a good challenge for both body and brain. It got her blood moving, to out-think and out-maneuver an opponent. The survival aspect gave it a nice edge, but she wasn't a violent person. It wasn’t like she went around punching people.

  "So, super squirrel, let's get him booked, then talk about tomorrow," Hicks said, reaching down to lift the man into a fireman's carry across his shoulders. He started for the police station.

  "Wait, I want to question this one. This was a targeted attack."

  He stopped, eyebrows raised. "You're sure of this?"

  "He was leaning against a wall on the other side of the street, smoking, when I walked out. He didn't follow immediately, but he was waiting for me."

  "Where would you have him taken?"

  She thought about it, and the only place was her house. She didn't want the man in her house.

  "I know a spot," Sam volunteered.

  A couple blocks away, Sam stopped in front of a tin door at the back of an abandoned apartment building. Arabeth reached out and pulled the handle. The door wasn't locked. Looking at Hicks, she wondered if he'd used this building for questioning people often. She pulled it open the rest of the way and waited for him to walk in.

  The dimness of the interior took a moment to adjust to. She heard the thump of a body on concrete as Hicks unloaded the man.

  "Is he waking yet?" she wondered.

  "I don't think so. There should be a lantern near the door—can you see it?"


  She turned and spotted it, glad her eyes adjusted quickly to dim light. Pulling a small matchbox out of her satchel, she lit the lantern and carried it over. They were on a loading dock, on the interior section.

  "I need to know why I was his target. Who sent him and what was it related to? I've got too many mysteries going on right now for it to be an easy guess."

  "No reflection on your skill, but he seems amateur. Couldn't be military-related."

  "No offense taken. I agree, so is it related to an old bounty, or something new? I had an old hunter tell me I shouldn't be doing bounties in my own town."

  "There is wisdom in that."

  "But that defeats the purpose. I'm doing it to keep my own town safe." She sighed. "Time to wake him up."

  She pulled a small leather case out of her satchel and opened it, revealing a row of seven small vials. Pulling one out, she uncorked it and waved it under the man's nose.

  He sputtered awake and a stream of foul language tumbled out, as complex and practiced as any second language.

  Arabeth pulled out a pair of short, wide candles and lit them. Setting them on a nearby shelf, she turned to stare at their captive. Silent now, he simply glared.

  "Who sent you after me?" she asked in a conversational tone.

  The man kicked at the chair he was tied to, testing the restraint.

  "Clearly you've never been held by one of Arabeth's devices before. I wouldn't fight them if I were you. That just makes them tighter." Sam leaned back against a large crate.

  "Like quicksand. Have you heard of quicksand?" She smiled, head tilted to one side. "The more you struggle, the faster you fail."

  "What do you want?" The man spat, hitting the ground next to her.

  "Who hired you to attack me? Don't pretend this was part of the random violence—that would be an insult to the intelligence of everyone in this room."

  The man looked at her, frowning.

  "You may as well say—they are going to assume you talked. They know Arabeth," Hicks added. "And the only way to get protective custody is to talk."

  Arabeth joined Sam, leaning to half-sit on the table. "What should we talk about while this guy connects the dots?" She was killing time.

  "Have you had time to consider my proposal?" Hicks asked, not looking at her.

  Chuckling, she shrugged. "I thought about it, but I have doubts."

  "About me?" He turned, looking into her eyes.

  She sighed. "No, about me. I am flattered that you are interested, but you really don't want to get close."

  "Hey!" their captive called out.

  "What?" she snapped. "Are you done wasting our time?"

  The thug looked from her to Sam, confused.

  "I guess he's not," Sam said. Standing, he turned to face her. "I know you, Abby. You've been in my heart for over a decade. If you can learn to trust me, I won't let you down."

  As he talked, he moved closer and her heart started to race. Why was she so light-headed? More blood moving should mean better circulation. She was holding her breath, she realized. Exhaling slowly, she fought to meet his eyes, knowing he was sincere.

  "You are persistent, I'll say that," she whispered, pushing him back.

  "I only make a mistake once," he said, turning to sit again.

  "Oh, for the love of God," the man sputtered. "I'll talk if you two stop this badly scripted play."

  She gave a half-smirk, standing. "We're listening."

  "I was hired by a half-blind man paying cash at the bar in Donny's Grill."

  There was a pause as all three considered what to do or say next. Arabeth tugged on Sam’s sleeve. "How do I know your feelings won't change? My husband seemed sincere, until our wedding night when he went out to sleep with his mistress instead of me."

  "Are you serious?" Sam seemed angry.

  "Oh, for the love of.... I'll describe him," the man yelled out. "He's about your height, miss, but quite fat. Middle-aged. He's not from here. He's from Batadone. He was chatting people up, seeing who would care to make a few easy coins." He spat on the ground again. "Easy, my ass."

  Sam winked at Arabeth, smiling.

  Arabeth addressed the captive. "So, then, if you were to be successful, what were you to do?" she asked. "With me."

  "He didn't say." He paused. "Hey, you think he knew I would fail, don't you. It's like with that woman—he put the radio bug in her head and she went crazy."

  Arabeth stared, wondering what woman he was talking about, and hoping it wasn't who she thought.

  "To what end, though? Why toss coins out the window, as it were?" Sam asked.

  Suddenly it made sense to her. She walked over and unlatched the restraints holding their captive. "Here's what you're going to do. Go back to the bar, tell him you couldn't find me. It'll be the only way to keep your head on your shoulders."

  "What are you thinking?" Sam asked.

  She waited until the man had left, checking outside to ensure he wasn't eavesdropping.

  "We head back to my place. I have a feeling this was a distraction, targeting both of us."

  "What's at your house?"

  "Not what … who. Melanie." She stepped out and looked for a cab.

  "Why?" Sam asked.

  "She's being used." They could talk once they found Mel. Right now, it was time to run. It was odd that Melanie was the only one in her building reacting to the device. Were they attempting to have her flip out at work, be a distraction? "We need a doctor—a surgeon, to be specific."

  "Implants?"

  "Exactly."

  Hopefully Mel had locked the door when she got off work and went to the shielded room. If they’d managed to implant something in her head while she was sleeping, that would explain her extra-sensitivity. They would think it was broken now that she was sane again.

  Melanie was in the room. It was not locked, so Arabeth tripped the lock and started to pull the door shut.

  "Arabeth," Melanie said, sitting up. "I think I need a doctor."

  "Sam has gone to fetch one. Have you eaten?"

  Melanie nodded. "I helped myself to some of the casserole you left from yesterday."

  "Has anyone been here today?" Arabeth asked.

  "Why? What's going on?"

  "We'll let the doctor check you over. I have a theory, but it's not something we need to worry about unless the doctor says."

  Melanie nodded and lay back down. Arabeth slid the door shut and went to look around the house. She was sure the attack was just a way to keep her from getting home before they finished what they were doing here. What if they figured out the bedroom was the dead spot and had altered it? That check would have to wait. She couldn't be thorough while Melanie was resting.

  Moments later Sam returned.

  "This is Dr. Pennings. He's a surgical specialist." He introduced an older man, carrying a medical bag.

  "Where is our patient?" asked the doctor.

  "Doctor, before you go in, she thinks you're here to check her health. She doesn't know we suspect she's been physically tampered with."

  He nodded. "I will be discreet."

  She introduced the doctor to Melanie and left them to work.

  "You are sure which side of this battle he's on, right?"

  "He's military, but he puts patients first," Sam said.

  That surprised Arabeth. "Military?"

  "Relax, he's not on the project."

  "That you know of." She exhaled sharply. "This is me, trusting you, so you'd—"

  "Quiet." He put a finger to her lips. "I know."

  Jerking her head away, she clenched her teeth. "Don't shush me."

  "Now you're mumbling."

  Waiting would be hard with him distracting her. She needed to think. The fat man was a patron of Donny's Grill, and a resident of Batadone. She walked to the door and pulled her boots on.

  "Where are we going?" Sam pulled his boots on as well.

  "Hey, you wait for the doctor," she said.

  "I don't t
hink so. You're the one wading into trouble, intentionally."

  "Well, at least tell him you're going."

  Sam frowned. "You wait for me."

  She didn't answer. She didn't need him for a bit of tracking. She pointed to Melanie's room. "He'll need help if he has to do surgery to extract anything."

  "You're getting this backwards. You are better suited to assisting him, and I am better trained to catch the fat man."

  "I can't stand still here, waiting to be useful," Arabeth said.

  "Then work on the device," Hicks suggested.

  She hated it when he thought more logically than she did, but he had valid points.

  "Fine, but I expect a full report."

  "Don't worry so much, Abby. We'll figure this out. Let me do this part. It's minor, I'm sure. It may not even be related."

  "Fine." She poked his chest with her forefinger. "No more secrets, though. You tell me what you find out."

  He narrowed his eyes at her momentarily, then he gave a half-smile. "I think the doctor is calling you."

  She turned and walked back to the bedroom, shaking her head. Could she believe him, trust him?

  "What are we going to do about him, Marble?" she asked her ever-present companion.

  // Chapter 19 //

  Melanie sat up, looking surprised when Arabeth explained she'd had a receiver embedded in her scalp. Its minuscule size was what impressed Arabeth. It apparently used the electricity of the brain to power it. The good news was that this would tell her precisely which frequency she needed to hijack.

  "So, the implant is gone. That means I don't need to sleep in here anymore… and I won’t be whiskey dependent at home… Do you mind if I stay anyway? Just for a few days."

  "I don't mind, no. There is more strangeness going on in our city than usual lately," Arabeth replied.

  Now they knew why Melanie was acting violent in general, not only towards people. She was a failed prototype, so to speak. But how had they gotten that device in her head without her knowledge?

  "Melanie, when did you first notice a behaviour change? More specifically, what had you been doing the day before? Did you go anywhere you don't normally?"