The Gadgeteer (Arabeth Barnes Book 1)

by Gin Hollan

  "Not really. I mean, I had an errand to run for Frank, but he's always sending me off to do some little thing after work." She paused, then inhaled sharply. "He had me run and get package from storage. It was odd because it was just before supper break, but it was dark when I finally found it and came back out."

  "The package—what was it?"

  "A 'lost and found' item. The owner asked him to have someone drop it off."

  "Keep talking. There must be something interesting about it."

  "Well, it wasn't in the short-term storage. It was out in the Nissen hut."

  She was knocked out in the shed, Arabeth realized. That was where it happened, and when. She wondered if there would there be fingerprints.

  "I recognize that expression. You've had an idea, and it seems plausible, doesn't it?"

  Arabeth nodded. "It may be too soon to know how useful it'll be, but it's a step in the right direction."

  Frank Masters wasn't just a pawn in this—he was a key player. And he was doing it right under the noses of the police. She had to tell Hicks.

  "Don't tell anyone about this, right?" Arabeth said.

  "No, of course not. It's a little embarrassing, sadly."

  "There's no shame in being trusting. They're the ones who should weep from the disgraceful methods they've employed."

  How much would she tell Hicks? Obviously, she'd tell him about the device under Melanie's skull, and warn him about Frank, but.... She sighed.

  "You look exhausted," Melanie said.

  "I am. It's been a long few days."

  "When's the last time you read a book? Played with your horse? Stared at a sunset?" Melanie asked.

  "That all sounds amazing, but I can't slow down right now. I'll have time later."

  "I understand. The world rests on you this week, right?"

  "Sarcasm aside, there are a few things needing my immediate attention." Like Melanie's situation, for example. "You may still be a target, because of the information and people you have access to. They wouldn't try the same thing, and I have no idea what their end game is with you."

  Melanie shivered violently once and sat down. "I think I'll just stay in here for the time being, if you don't mind. My job is not worth my sanity."

  "This isn't exactly a fortress," Arabeth said.

  "Still, it's better than my apartment."

  "What if you were to stay with my family? There is always someone home, and their servants are trustworthy. My room was turned into guest quarters, so I know you can be comfortable."

  "Is it protected, like this room?"

  "No, but they live outside the danger area. And you don't have that 'scrambler' in your head anymore."

  "I don't know," Melanie said, uncertainly.

  A knock on the door frame behind Arabeth startled both of the women and they turned to look. Sam was back. Melanie looked at Arabeth and winked.

  "Thank you for bringing the doctor earlier, Mr. Hicks. I need to head to work."

  "You're welcome, Miss Trelane." He nodded.

  Aarbeth walked out and Melanie shut the door behind her before walking to the exit.

  "Have you had a chance to look the device over?" Sam asked.

  "Not yet. What have you found out?"

  "Your friend Bernie has been a busy man. Everywhere I go, people are asking me to pass you notes." He held out a bundle of loose paper.

  "Anything useful in there?" she wondered.

  "I didn't look."

  "You're a detective."

  "They are not addressed to me."

  She raised her eyebrows. "You can't tell me the police won't bend the rules, even of propriety, to solve a case."

  "I trust you to tell me anything pertinent." He smiled. "And it's more fun this way."

  "Fun?"

  He shrugged. "Why is Bernie working so hard on this, if you don't mind me asking?"

  "We have an agreement," Arabeth said.

  "Agreement?"

  "Business agreement. He helps me out more aggressively and I share profits with him."

  "Brilliant."

  "Not really. He has a skill set that complements my own, filling in gaps."

  "That's what I mean."

  "So, why are you here, aside from the notes?" She pretended to read the top paper, noting it was in Bernie's handwriting.

  "Actually, I have message from your mother."

  "Wait, my mother?" Arabeth paused. Maybe Carol didn't hate Hicks as much as she professed. "What did she say?"

  "It was outside Farmer's Grocery. She said, 'Tell her she wins,' then walked away."

  Arabeth laughed. "Good. Finally."

  "What does it mean?"

  "I can live in peace again … at least, for a while."

  She needed to change the subject. Blinking rapidly a moment to break his gaze, she turned away and started filing through the notes he had given her. Some of the handwriting was nearly indecipherable.

  One caught her attention. It mentioned the military hospital, the one that Vic had been using for his research. She wasn't keen on the idea of going back out there, but this note listed several purchases that, when put together, would create broadcast equipment … and those purchases had been delivered there.

  Arabeth held that note out for Sam to read. "Did you know about this?"

  He read it, shrugging.

  "That equipment builds broadcast equipment," she said. How could he not know that? Then again, she was the gadgeteer, not him.

  "It what?" He looked closer, frowning. "This has to be wrong. If it was delivered there, somebody immediately moved it."

  "They're making a false trail?"

  "It makes sense. Everything else has involved subterfuge and misdirection."

  "Let's say you're right. They would have to follow the road north; that's the only direction that's left. It would hook up around the top of the city after crossing the river, and be joining the main highway a few miles after that."

  "They would need a secluded area to work on all this. Is it noisy work?" he wondered.

  She shook her head.

  This was bad news … very bad news. It meant the tiny device she was trying to convert would be meaningless if she didn't get it back to them before they finished putting this equipment together.

  They already saw the outcome of that little test—would they care if the test equipment went missing? Probably not, since they’d entrusted it to a young girl and only had one person follow her. Granted, it was a police detective, but Arabeth had no trouble simply picking up the suitcase and walking away.

  "They'll need a large building if this is to be done in secret. We may be several hundred miles from the front line, but spies are everywhere. The war has been going on too long for that to not be true."

  "Agreed." She continued going through the notes. Nothing jumped out at her, but she was distracted by the new information—it was all she could do to keep from racing out and getting her horse. "Are you certain the military is not involved?"

  "I don't know everything they're working on out here, but that would be huge—I would have heard."

  "You need to go ask Vic. While you're doing that, I'm going to find the Fat Man."

  "You're what? Not without me." Sam said.

  Arabeth chuckled. "I'm just going to talk to the man, not threaten him."

  "I'm more concerned that his plan for you is more than just distraction and manipulation. You could be walking into a trap."

  She hadn't thought of that. At moments like this, she wished she were smarter. She considered stubbornness her greatest attribute. The relentless pursuit of the truth wasn't just a hobby, but Sam had a point.

  "I'll go talk to Vic. He may know something about this."

  "Wait for me before going to see your Fat Man."

  She turned without answering. The Fat Man was on the back burner anyway, for now.

  Without warning, Melanie flung the outside door open. Inside, she whipped off her shoes and tossed them into a nearby corner
then stood with her fists at her side.

  "Mel? What happened? Are you all right?"

  Not answering, she went into her bedroom and slammed the door behind her.

  Arabeth looked at Sam who shrugged in response.

  “Should I get the doctor again?” Sam asked.

  “No, I’ll talk to her.”

  “I think I should leave you two ladies to talk,” he said.

  “That’s probably wise,” Arabeth looked hesitantly at Melanie’s door then went to make a pot of tea as Sam made a hasty exit.

  A moment later Melanie whipped the door open, wearing clothes that echoed Arabeth's leather jacket and pants, and holding hiking boots.

  "I'm sick of people constantly telling me who I am. Teach me how you get past that. Let me be your assistant."

  Arabeth's eyebrows shot up. "You want to be my assistant?"

  "Yes. Whatever it is you do, teach me. Let me help."

  "That was fast. Did you even make it to work?"

  She heaved a sigh. "Life is just so... meaningless. It hit me today—my life could end and no one would notice. No husband or kids, easily replaceable at work, a few friends, but no real impact."

  Arabeth scowled, wondering if this was a side effect of Melanie's recent trauma.

  "I know what you're thinking—I'm panicking. I am. And it's okay. If that's what it takes to pick my life up and turn it in a different direction."

  "You didn't quit your job, right?"

  Melanie laughed. "They probably think I did. I walked in, looked around, and left."

  “And you want to be my assistant?”

  She laughed again. "Your kind of crazy is fun. What are we doing this afternoon?" She raised the boots up. "I'm ready."

  It was Arabeth's turn to laugh. "Fine. We’ll go do some footwork." Melanie wanted to help. How do you turn down someone wanting to impact the world? Arabeth sighed. She should never have agreed, or should have agreed on a trial basis, or suggested any number of other things Mel could do, like charity work. She wasn’t ready for it. She still needed time to deal with her recent trauma, and Aarbeth needed to know her attention was where it needed to be. She’d be at risk, otherwise. They both would.

  "Mel, have you thought about the Women's League? They need volunteers. It's not only a worthy cause, it's eminently pertinent."

  "Pertinent? It may be, but it feels different. I'm faceless and nameless in a group. I need legacy."

  Arabeth understood that a little. Legacy hadn't been a problem for her, but people constantly trying to take away her independence, her right to self-determination ... that she understood. Melanie needed to choose her own path. Arabeth, if she was a true friend, wouldn't stand in the way of that.

  "I won't put you in danger for that legacy."

  "I'm putting myself in. You may argue with your shadow, but you can't stay out of the light," Melanie said.

  "What is that supposed to mean?" Arabeth laughed. "You're helping, whether or not I want it?"

  Mel nodded. "I didn't dress like this for comfort, you know." She pulled at the pant legs. "Seriously, you wear this on purpose?"

  "You'll see why, soon enough."

  Melanie paused, then started giggling.

  "And now you're delirious. Did you eat at all today?"

  "Sure. Of course. What should I do?"

  "I was about to ride out to—"

  "Ride? Like, on a horse?"

  "Yes, on a horse."

  "Okay, what can I do, here in the city?"

  "Find Bernie. Find him and tell him there's been a change of plans. He needs to go to Lacey's Photography Shop. I need any photos they have of traffic around this warehouse." She wrote the address on a slip of paper. "I know it seems incidental, but I need names and faces."

  "She'll do that? Aren't there laws?"

  "She won't give me copies, just let me look at them. I'm on the register as an employee, so it's legal."

  "Right. Interesting loophole. When's the last time you worked there?"

  "Last week. I covered for her when she needed to go somewhere during business hours."

  "Oh," she blushed.

  "That is part of this business—we do favours, intelligently. You have to maintain relationships." She handed the paper to Melanie. "And I'm not going to break the law, for anyone."

  "I understand.” She smiled. "I can see there's a lot I'm going to be learning."

  Arabeth shrugged. Most of it was common sense. Common to her didn't mean common to everyone, though.

  "I'm sure you'll catch on more quickly than you expect." It was weird, to suddenly be the mentor. She'd had plenty of her own mentors, over time. Maybe that was why this felt odd. And Mel was a friend. Now she was both friend and subordinate. How long could that last?

  "What should I do after that?" Melanie asked.

  "One step at a time."

  "I'll go take the pictures myself, with your camera. Then they will legally be yours. I mean, to keep, not just see."

  "That's a good idea, if you can keep from being seen. I expect those coming and going from that warehouse will be sensitive about having their identities captured."

  "Good to know." She went to the spot on the bookshelf where Arabeth's camera sat and picked it up. "Is there film inside, or do I need to load it?"

  "It's ready to go. You should have at least ten shots left on that film roll. Do you know how to change the film out?"

  "Um, all I know is that you have to use a darkroom. Do you have one of those?"

  "Yes, but let's worry about that later. Take your time with this first batch."

  "So, I don't need these clothes after all."

  "You'll stick out like a sore thumb."

  Melanie breathed out in relief. "Good. I'm going to change."

  "And I'm going to find my great-godfather."

  "Wait, really? Isn't he a bit ... crazy?"

  Arabeth laughed. "Only the best kind."

  // Chapter 20 //

  Arabeth turned to get her satchel. What would she need for this excursion? Clement was a short visit. After a few moments with him, she'd need to head out to the hospital again. She replenished her usual hand and ankle cuffs, knock-out sprays, and fox snacks. Imagining where she might wind up, she decided to bring a few candles and matches. Her portable lantern stood only four inches high, but it drank kerosene like it was dying of thirst.

  This barely counted as reconnaissance. It would be a conversation, nothing more. She closed her bag. There were answers to be had, and it seemed she was the right person to ask them. No one else cared. No one else saw the trends and contradictions she did. Noble friends said they'd help, but they either didn't believe her, or didn't have the full picture.

  Clement was in his garden, staring at a particularly tall rose bush.

  "I'm going to find the secret of that hospital," Arabeth said as she walked up.

  "Are you sure that's the best use of your time?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Harbertrope's got a problem. If we fix that, he’ll owe us, so the other problems will keep," he said. "His wife and daughter have been kidnapped."

  "What? How? Who would be stupid enough to kidnap the police chief’s family?"

  "The war is shifting. War… well, it was a war. Now it’s a power-hungry madman living in a cave. He’s trying to influence the police chief and kidnapped his family to manipulate him. They were rescued early today and I want you to pick them up and get them safely back here. Would you be up to that sort of task? It's a little different than bounty hunting in that you have to do this in complete secrecy."

  “Of course I’ll help. And I am not a glory hound. There are a couple reports that stalk me, that‘s all.”

  "Sure, sure." The old man started walking at a livelier gait than Arabeth thought possible. "I'm actually quite disappointed with you, Arabeth. You should have found a way into your grandfather's lab by now. The books he has in there are akin to the thinking of Davinci and Galeleo, but centuries forward."


  "Where are you going?" she said, hurrying to keep up.

  "To let you in."

  They walked south. Her house was west.

  "To grandfather’s lab?"

  “No, I have no idea where that is.”

  Suddenly Marble whimpered and stopped, walking in a small, worried circle before sitting. Arabeth turned to pick her up, then realized why she'd acted that way.

  "We're headed to the checkerboard?" she sputtered. "Why?"

  "To bring back Wilma and Camilla."

  “I can’t bring Marble.”

  “The sonics are shut off for now. We use them to keep the area empty.”

  “Ah, I knew that area was too strange to not have a greater purpose. Most people I talk to think it’s a rich man throwing his money away to make a statement.”

  "A secret only stays that way if it's well hidden, and when it's hidden in plain sight, it is overlooked the most."

  "It also explains Larry's interest in the area."

  "Who?"

  "There's a young reporter who gives me information on some of the more dangerous happenings in our city. I can only guess that he's heard rumours about that place and figured I knew its secrets. He got pretty steamed when nothing happened." She shook her head. "I suspect he thinks I have a death wish. It’s that or he's trying to get rid of me."

  "Everyone seems to know a little about everything that’s going on, but no one has the big picture. That, my dear, is about to become your job."

  "How do you mean?"

  "Do you think your family sat back and ignored your sneaking out to be a bail enforcement specialist?"

  "They don’t care, as long as I’m not embarrassing the family."

  He shook his head, laughing. "No, sweetie. Your father wanted to see how much you could learn on your own. Your grandfather was right—you should be my next protégé."

  "Why is everyone deciding I need higher-level guidance? What if I'm happy as I am?"

  He laughed louder. "You won't be for long."

  She clamped her jaw shut, not wanting to take his bait. She was happy. Why did everyone assume she wasn't? Her parents, Sam, and now her great-godfather all seemed to be under the impression she was less than content. No matter what she said or did, they couldn't see she was fine the way she was.