by Richard Dee
“I see,” he said carefully. “She hinted as much, but then, her words and deeds often seem at odds. Her mood changes like the wind.”
Alyious nodded. “That’s the pleasure and the pain of women,” he said. “My words are not meant in a cruel way, just from my experience. I had the same feelings, for one of the women in the group, when I first started. Patching warned me, as I warn you, that if I were forced to sacrifice her wellbeing for the greater good, I would hesitate if I were involved with her. And he was right, although I told him to mind his own business at the time. I found out, the hard way, the truth of his advice.”
He looked so sad at the memory. Alyious shook his head and continued. “It’s a cruel game, this one of subterfuge that we play, Jackson. You only know the half of it, females have to do much worse things than we menfolk can imagine.”
Jackson understood; when Clarry had suggested harming Jessamine, the feeling of desperation was more than that which he might feel if Alyious, or Vyner, had been threatened. Which was strange, as he knew Jessamine could take care of herself as well as any.
“What do you mean?”
Alyious took a swallow of his ale. “A woman is a powerful weapon, she has wiles and things that men want. She can barter them for secrets, favours and the like. But it often leaves them in a bad place. And it can make them unattractive, once it’s known what they have done.”
“Does Jessamine…?” Jackson didn’t feel able to say the words. He knew what men and women did in private; there was ribald and boastful talk in the orphanage and some of the girls who were known for offering themselves. Jackson had been too shy to experiment much, largely as a result of the things he had heard his mother say, dire warnings of the results of such activities. Still, he knew of those who did, or at least claimed to. They seemed to be hale and untroubled by the act. He hadn’t considered the implications of being a woman in Langdon’s world.
“If you knew what Jessamine has done,” said Alyious, “will you think any the less of her?”
Jackson was stuck, it was all new to him, he had no right to control her behaviour; the fact that she was willing to do such things in the service of her country made her more of a special person to him. He said nothing. But he remembered what she had said to him, in the Cofé house.
“I have soured the mood, I’m sorry,” said Alyious. “I think none of us actually realise the full import of what we do.”
This was safer ground for Jackson. “I confess, I thought it a game, until I learned of Enoch,” he said. “That was the first time that I thought about it as a serious matter.”
“Enoch was the first for some time,” Alyious replied. “And from what I hear, more bad luck than mischance. Vyner is distraught, he blames himself.” He stopped for a moment. “No that’s not right; it’s more that he feels guilt for surviving.”
“I understand that,” said Jackson. “My parents died, not an hour before I would have been with them. I felt the same, that I should have been there.” He paused, feeling himself about to sob. “That it was somehow wrong to have survived.”
“It’s a natural emotion, so I’ve been told,” said Alyious, who also seemed affected by their conversation. “Which is why he wanted to be involved in the hunt. He will be given the time to recover, Patching will talk to him, he has experience from the wars, leading people into battle who have a much worse time of it than us.”
At least there was the care, the responsibility of command, Jackson thought. It reinforced his decision to remain.
“Anyway,” said Alyious, drinking again. “To other matters, I marked the walls, then doubled back and watched you as you followed. You did well. What did the Watchman want?”
“He thought I had taken an apple, but he was mistaken.”
“Good, we are not thieves, though you will find that the opportunity often presents itself to have something with no risk of reprisal. Do not succumb.”
“I will not.” Jackson was about to ask him about his belt, but Alyious continued.
“And the frippery merchant, you took something from him?”
“No, he offered it to me. A sample, he called it.”
Alyious smiled. “May I see?”
Jackson pulled the garment from his pocket and Alyious took it. He turned it over in his hands and whistled approvingly.
“Yes, a fine piece, it will look good on Jessamine, or any lady. When will you give it to her?”
Jackson could feel himself flush. “I don’t know,” he stammered.
“Jackson, you have been with a lady?”
Jackson shook his head. “Never.”
“Well, there is another part of your education that is lacking then, we can remedy that deficiency today, should you wish.” He glanced over at the serving girl, who waved back.
Jackson shook his head and returned the garment to his pocket. “Thank you but no, I will come to that in my own time.”
“As you wish,” said Alyious. “But take my advice, don’t wait forever. When you do, you will wish you had earlier. In that case, we are finished here. Let’s get back; drink your ale, Jackson.”
“One more thing,” Jackson asked the question that the Watchman’s search had prompted. “I did wonder, what would you do if a Watchman searched you and found your quip-belt?”
Alyious thought for a moment, then he pulled his jacket aside and opened one of the pockets in his belt. He produced a card, which he showed to Jackson. It carried a drawn likeness of fine quality, clearly produced by a clever artist. Underneath it stated that the bearer was an agent of Sir Mortimer Langdon and should be offered every assistance. If in doubt, it said, the reader should call the following number. “You will have one,” Alyious said, “in your belt. The drawing has already been made by Capricia; she has been closely observing you. She has artistic talents.”
Jackson pondered that on the journey. Had that been the reason for her attention?
~~~~
When they went upstairs to their rooms, Jackson toyed with the idea of giving the garment to Jessamine, but he could hear conversation from behind her door, from the braying it sounded as if Capricia was inside, in full flow. He passed on.
To give her the garment required more of his courage than he had needed to face Clarry. How ridiculous was that?
Chapter 10
“I hear you did well, Jackson,” said Fairview when they met the next morning, “in your test yesterday.”
Jackson looked pleased to be mentioned. “Yes, sir, I think I did.”
“Good, you are progressing well in your training; however, that has to stop for a while. There is a matter which requires your special knowledge. Go with Alyious and Jessamine to see Langdon and he will explain. He is with Oswald.”
“We have a problem,” Langdon said to the assembled group. “A situation has come to light and we need some people to investigate. Jackson, you have the honour of being included. Although you are not completely trained, Alyious and others say that you are ready and we are in need of your knowledge.”
“Thank you,” Jackson replied, although he was unsure what he could know that would help. “I’ll do my best.”
“What’s amiss?” asked Alyious.
“I was contacted, a while ago,” Langdon said, “by a technician, connected with artificial limbs. This man knows a little of my interest in mystery and has stumbled upon one. I have been researching it ever since, with some of your help.” He uncovered the object on the table. “Gather around,” he invited. Everyone who was present stood and formed a group around the table.
The thing was an artificial arm. Seen apart from a body it was strange, it had parts of its case removed, inside were springs, levers and all sorts of mechanisms.
Jackson had seen artificial limbs before, but never one like this. When his parents had worked in the Prosthesium, the limbs they produced were rigid, the joints locked into place as required to perform each task. This one appeared to be filled with clockworks, springs, rods and pulleys. �
�It is the same as a human limb,” explained Oswald, who seemed uneasy at the presence of so many in his laboratorium. “Save that instead of a bone, the case provides the strength. The workings replicate muscle and sinew. Their motion is controlled by nerve impulses, the same as in a real arm.”
“Thank you, Oswald,” Langdon said. “Allow me to continue. Scientists at the Institute of Medical Statics have discovered, through research on injured soldiers, how the body works and have replicated it in metal. Professor Woolon has perfected the work in this version of the limb. Now, with advanced techniques, they are to be made available to all, not just the monied few. This limb was returned for repair, as it had stopped working. Oswald, can you tell us what you have discovered?”
“Gladly.” Oswald took off his glasses and polished them furiously on his coat before taking up the story. “Under examination, all that could be found amiss was a piece that should not be there. A filament of some strange material encased in a padded brass tube. Placed where it would not be seen by a casual inspection. Even then, one would have to be an expert, or very observant, to realise that it was not part of the original design. It appeared to control the whole thing. The filament was unbroken but once it had been removed, the limb functioned perfectly.”
Oswald pointed to the offending item, a short bright metallic connector, not unlike the cartridge from a gas-gun. It joined two of the wires that made a web around the metallic workings of the arm.
“And what is the mystery?” asked Alyious.
“This filament is not part of the original design, according to experts we have spoken to. It has been added, probably when the limb received its last service and inspection. The fact that it was functioning and suddenly stopped, suggests that the filament has some part in that. We need to find out what that might be.”
Jessamine and Alyious exchanged excited glances. “Another interesting affair,” said Jessamine. Jackson suddenly understood why he was here; they needed his knowledge of the factory. But that was years ago, and never making something as complex as this. Langdon spoke again.
“The limbs are manufactured by a company in the city. Jackson, I think you know where we are leading with this. We need to investigate; it would appear that the owner is a man who we now suspect of being involved in some unsavoury enterprises. He seems to have some associations that are dubious. In fact, we believe him to be a danger to the state.”
“Can you not merely get the Watch to detain him?” asked Jessamine.
“And take away all the fun of the chase?” queried Alyious. Langdon shot him a cautioning look.
“While that is the logical solution,” he said, “we know not how deep his dealings lead. If he has accomplices or is himself under a master. We need a lot more information. If there is a conspiracy here, we need to know about it before we act. The factory in question is the Prosthesium, in Cobblebottom. You have a connection, do you not, Jackson?”
“Yes, sir. I know where it is. We used to live close by, I played in the streets around the factory, my parents worked there, I attended the factory school and I know the insides of the buildings.”
“That is why you will be perfect,” he said. “The people we want to know about are a Mister Rodney Nethersole, the owner and manager and his associate, a Mr Winstanley.”
Jackson gasped. “I remember that man, Nethersole. He was my father’s manager, before the accident. He tried to save people, at his own risk, or so I heard. But he was not the manager. A Mr Clynes was in charge of the whole place. Winstanley I have never heard of.”
“Clynes seems to have disappeared,” said Langdon. “We know very little about the Prosthesium, it never gave us any cause to be interested. It worked for the government and seemed to be a normal company. Their products were licensed and useful. There was no scientist in the works, they merely manufactured and assembled the parts, under the direction of the Institute. This new discovery has changed things. We need to look into the whole operation. Nethersole has the ownership and all that goes with it. We think that Winstanley is little more than a hired thug. Our real interest is in their scientific capability. Do they have one and are they able to make such a device as this? If there is a scientist employed there, then we know nothing about them. It may be that he is kept prisoner and forced to work on this scheme against his will.”
Jackson had never heard of a scientist at the works. “There were no scientists that I recall my father ever mentioning,” he said. “They had no need, the limbs were crude and merely pieces of shaped wood and metal, fixed to the body by a harness of leather.”
Langdon nodded. “I know, Jackson, that was then. Since you have been with us, things have moved on considerably. Those limbs did not need harnesses, they attach directly to the body by some means. You will not have heard of Professor Woolon at the Institute of Medical Statics, a government facility.”
Jackson shook his head. “No, sir.”
“Hardly surprising, many of the general population have not heard of him either. It’s the place where the army doctors test the latest theories, building articulated limbs for wounded soldiers. Woolon has learned the body’s own methods and made a mechanised copy.” He gestured at the arm.
Oswald joined in. “Woolon found that a form of statics, not unlike the Wasperton-Byler effect, controls the muscles. He has replicated it in a system of gears and clockworks. By studying animals such as the Urodeles, the fabled giant Sal-y-mand from the Western Isles, who can grow new limbs in nature, he has perfected a method of attachment that requires no harness. The new limb becomes a part of the body. All that is required is a winding of the clockworks at intervals to provide the power to move the joints at the brain’s command.”
“Thank you, Oswald,” said Langdon. “I have more details to review, hence I will brief you all in the morning, but this is my rough plan. I will set some of you to find out what you can about Mr Winstanley. We will go to all his haunts and find his every secret. Jackson, you and Jessamine will be visiting the factory. We will have to think of a suitable story for you. Jackson, did you ever meet Mr Nethersole?”
Jackson thought for a moment. “No, sir.”
“That is good news; you would not be recognised then. To be sure, we will give you a different name, let me ponder it.”
“There is one more thing we will need to know,” Oswald said as they left the room. “If the filament can control the arm, how does the signal get to the filament?”
They returned to the classroom and Fairview presented Jackson with his own quip-belt and backpack. “Mark the contents well, Jackson,” he said, “so you can find any of them in an instant. Someone will show you how to wear and use it.”
“Do you remember the torch? The one we saw at the Palais?” Jessamine asked. “Oswald has prevailed on the manufacturers to supply us with them; you will find it with the other large pieces of equipment.”
Jackson sat in his room that evening; he would be going on a real spying mission. He felt both excited and scared. The contents of the pack had been examined, as well as the torch and the hobble balls, there were several other things, a bi-ocular glass, a lodestone and a strange sort of hat. Made of wool, it pulled down to hide his face.
There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” he called.
Capricia was outside; she entered and shut the door behind her. Jackson thought that he heard the lock click.
“Now, Jackson,” she said. “I’ve come to show you how to wear your quip-belt.” She picked it up from his desk, where he had left it, intending to inspect it after his bath.
Jackson took it from her and looked at it properly for the first time. Close up, it was two layers of leather, one fixed inside the other. The inner was secured with a fastening that Jackson recognised. It was the same as his gloves on one side, and the opposite on the other. The top layer, the one with the pockets, was secured in the usual way, with a pin and a hasp.
“Take off your shirt,” Capricia commanded. Thinking it a part of the prepara
tion Jackson did so, remembering that he was not wearing a singlet.
Capricia licked her lips. She ran an appreciative eye over his new musculature, then she reached forward and traced the line of his stomach.
“What are you doing?” he asked, he was beginning to feel uncomfortable.
“Come, Jackson, we are all friends together, there is much we could enjoy.”
“I thought you were helping me with my belt?”
“There will be time for that, you have passed your tests and are one of us, a celebration is in order, a reward for all your efforts.” Her meaning was made even clearer as she fiddled with her skirts. Jackson had a feeling that it wasn’t just to show him how the belt was worn.
He was in a quandary; on the one hand, he remembered Alyious’s words, on the other he felt little desire for Capricia but knew not how to say it without causing offence. Perhaps he could imagine himself with Jessamine? No, that was perverse; he might call out the wrong name, and that would be mortifying.
Just as he was about to say that he was tired and needed sleep, the door rattled, “Jackson,” called Jessamine.
Capricia stopped her fiddling and embraced him. “Ignore that,” she whispered, biting at his ear and running her hands over his naked back.
He had been saved. “Come in,” he replied before she could say anything.
The door rattled again. “I can’t, it’s locked.” Jackson unwound himself from Capricia’s embrace and triumphant look. He went to the door. “What is it?” he asked.
“Jackson, I need to talk to you, let me in for a moment,” she insisted.
Hiding his half naked body behind the door, he unlocked it and opened it a fraction. “What do you want?” he asked.
Jessamine pushed past him and came into the room. “I’ve come to help you with your quip-belt… Oh!”
Jackson turned at the noise, he looked at the bed. Capricia was under the covers, her head and hands the only parts showing. Her skirts lay on the ground.
