Chapter Twenty-one
We waited more than two hours before we were finally ushered into the sitting room of Trevor’s private suite. We heard Trevor shouting from the inner office just before he burst out and wrung my hand.
“I swear by all that’s holy they didn’t tell me it was you, or you never would have waited one moment!” Trevor’s words exploded from him. I was shocked at the change in him. He looked like a china doll, so painted and primped he was. Nothing about him seemed real to me save the warmth of the hand clasping my own. “Florrie, Florrie, it’s good to see you among the living again. Truly, truly it’s good. And what’s all this?” He plucked at the gold-trimmed sleeve of my coat and fingered the jeweled design. “Is that real? Where did you get such an outfit?” He had to do a double-take when he saw Zambo standing by the door with the chest.
“Florrie, what is that? Are we in the Thousand and One Nights? Is he your djinn, or something? If that’s a wishing-chest, I’ve got to say, above all else, I wish you had as much money as it looks like you do.”
“Open it,” I smiled. Zambo surrendered the chest and Trevor set it on a side-table and opened it with hands that positively shook. When he saw the mound of gold coins, pearls, rubies, and emeralds he almost fainted. I grabbed him and set him down in a chair.
“What -- where -- how -- ? Is that yours?”
“It’s yours, Trevor. I know, I could have just brought you a cheque, but I couldn’t resist playing out this little drama. You always said I could just claim my throne and have all of Bohemia’s treasures. So I have brought you a tiny sample of the treasure I now possess.
“Apparently my father’s family smuggled most of their fortune out of Bohemia years ago, and an English-born cousin has just died and left me more than I could possibly want or need. Trevor, you said you needed money for your campaign. How much? I am prepared to help you in any way I can. England needs you, and I intend to see that she gets you.”
“Florrie, you are a man!” Trevor burst into tears and hugged me. The ridiculous makeup he wore ran down his cheeks and smeared on my shoulder. Zambo and Kera caught my eye and I ignored their astonishment and disgust as I clumsily patted Trevor’s back and whispered to him to compose himself. Finally Trevor broke away and giggled like an idiot.
“You’ve no idea the pressure I’ve been under -- From Mater and her kin, from the printers, the wireless people -- I’d no way to pay for more of anything. I was dead in the water, and I was hearing from Dodge by the hour, demanding that I must somehow do something to get the machinery turning again.
“I thought Dodge was my financier, Florrie, but he’s nothing but a slaver. He sends the most terrifying messengers demanding action, and I had no idea how to take action. But now everything’s all right, thanks to you.” He pressed my hand again. “You’ve no idea. You’ve saved my life, pure and simple, my dear friend. I think Dodge would have killed me by the end of the day. He -- he owns me, Florrie. I have to get elected to get free of him. Once I have some influence, and some protection, I’m shaking his dust off of me. I swear I am.”
“When is the next messenger due?” I asked, trying to sound casual. I produced a chequebook. Trevor was still ogling the jewels and I tore the paper out of the book with extra force. The noise got Trevor’s attention off the chest. “Here, this should be oil enough to get your machinery cranking once more, shouldn’t it?”
Trevor looked at the amount of the cheque and burst into tears again. “Trevor, please,” I begged. “Do calm yourself. All is well. When does Dodge send his messenger next?”
“Well, it’s not really an hour,” Trevor glanced up at the wall clock. “It’s three now, and he’ll be here before teatime’s over, I daresay. I should get that to the bank -- Will it clear quickly, Florrie? Today?”
“Yes, of course,” I reassured him. A messenger took it and vanished. A young woman carrying brushes and a tray of makeup had appeared and begun to hover behind Trevor. “Have you an appearance to make?”
“Yes, well, the press are coming in a few minutes,” Trevor admitted.
“Let this young lady work her magic and have the reporters in,” I said firmly. “You will announce to everyone that your campaign is not just rolling again but is a steamroller to flatten your opposition. You will introduce me as your new benefactor. You cannot make too much of my ability to help you, Trevor. Dodge shall have no mention, no part in any of this from now on. I am here and you need no one else. Be sure that you tell them that.”
“He won’t like that.” Trevor’s lip quivered.
“He already doesn’t like me,” I laughed carelessly. “Trevor, he thinks I am a foreign spy. I stole his Poison Maiden from him.” I gestured broadly in Kera’s direction and she curtsied but her expression was strained. “I have been your real friend and protector. And I will go on being those things, plus you shall never want for money again. You can tell Dodge’s messenger I said so, if you wish.”
Trevor withdrew to the tender ministrations of his makeup artist and Kera and Zambo both gave me looks that brought me into a private conference.
“I am not certain Madame Phoebe meant for you to expose yourself so directly to Dodge’s wrath,” Zambo said uneasily.
“How could you do that?” Kera hissed. “Are you mad?”
“Madame Phoebe is very fond of using bait,” I shrugged. “We must stop Dodge as quickly as possible. While we falter, he surges forward, enslaving, killing, building the empire that must not be. This accomplishes the goal of deflecting his attention from the rest of the Legacy, especially Doctor Twist, and of forcing him to stop hiding and take me on if he wants to keep control of Trevor’s campaign. We all knew this would be dangerous. Why wait for Dodge to creep up on us unawares?”
I posed with Trevor for pictures, interviews, and even a brief filming session. The reporters were clamoring to know more about me but I had perfected a mysterious smile and simply diverted the focus back to Trevor, his campaign, what he meant to do for England and the world. Trevor had fully regained his composure in front of the reporters and cameras and he looked every inch the charismatic, trustworthy candidate. Several reporters tried to stay after the session, pressuring me to tell more about myself.
We had been standing on the mezzanine outside Trevor’s suite, overlooking the lobby of the hotel. Someone entered through the front doors and, incredibly, began to jump like some possessed kangaroo, across the marble lobby and then up the grand, spiraling staircase. Reporters and hotel guests scattered in every direction. An extraordinarily tall, pale man dressed in some sort of white leather close-fitting tunic and pieces of marred and distressed steel armor landed in front of Trevor, who backpedaled into me.
He had a pair of steel bat wings half-unfurled attached to a kind of corset resembling a skeleton’s ribcage around his midsection and rising above his head. Clouds of steam enveloped anyone unfortunate enough to be in his wake, emitting from huge, heavy, clawed steel boots that made him nearly eight feet tall and rocked when he first landed as if they had springs built into them. Finger armor shaped like steel claws waved languidly in Trevor’s direction. Trevor quailed and I quickly placed myself between them. He cast a curious glance at me.
“Who’s your friend, Newsome?”
“I am Florizel of Bohemia and Trevor and I have been friends for many years. I came to make a donation to his campaign. May I ask who you are?”
“Spring-heeled Jack, some folks like to call me.” The man vaulted into the air and deliberately came down so that I was forced to retreat or be landed upon. He casually shredding a costly silver satin curtain and raked the glass behind it with his claws. He rocked wildly on his hissing boots and laughed. “You look pretty well-heeled yourself, Florizel of Bohemia. Trevor never mentioned you.”
“You are the representative, I take it, of the foundation that pretended to support Trevor some time ago but has lately only bedeviled him?”
The man glowered at me. “Trevor’s been falling in th
e polls. The boss thought he might be slacking off, only wasting money and time. I was sent to make sure he was serious.”
“He is serious, and so am I. Tell your employer Trevor has no need of his help or his harassment. He may withdraw. Trevor will do very well with my support from now on.”
“Yeah, Dodge don’t ‘withdraw,’ Princey. He’ll be watching Trevor real close and maybe he’ll be watching you, too.”
I had been affecting boredom and impatience but was actually studying the mechanism that operated “Spring-heeled Jack’s” boots. I realized how much time I had spent watching my mechanically-minded comrades work on the various devices that had impacted our mission and suddenly thrust out the toe of my boot and poked a lever near the right knee of the armored intruder.
A shriek of escaping steam filled the air and Spring-heeled Jack catapulted into the air, whizzed around like a pricked balloon, raking gashes in any surface his vicious claws impacted, and spiraled downward to crash onto the lobby floor below. We ran to the mezzanine rail and watched him pick himself up. The flattened boot-lift would not bear his weight, and though he tried to rocket back up he failed to do more than whiz sideways and crash into the banister.
“Comin’ back for you, Princey!” He bellowed, and stormed out, though it was with a most irregular stride, gripping the failed lift boot with both hands and pulling it alongside the good one. Trevor enveloped me in another embarrassing hug and I could hear Kera tittering behind me.
“Trevor, we need to talk.” I pushed Trevor back into the private suite. “You must sever ties with Dodge. You have to get out of this hotel. Why don’t you come with us to the Bronze Cascade? You can set up your campaign headquarters there, live there, whatever you need to do.”
“I suppose you’re right, Florrie,” Trevor conceded. “I started out just with a simple idea to do some good in office. It’s gotten all blown out of proportion, but I still want to win and try to make this work. You’ll help me, won’t you?”
“Of course, Trevor. Come with us now, and have your people pack up your things and bring them along.”
I saw Trevor settled in suites in our hotel. I was more than a little concerned about the money Madame Phoebe had provided for Trevor’s campaign. Mr. Campbell, however, took charge of Trevor and his team as soon as they arrived and reassured me that there was no need for concern.
“Don’t fret about the money,” he chuckled. “The box of jewels and the bank account are mostly for show. I’ll make sure Trevor doesn’t bankrupt our coffers. He can’t object to your financial advisor overseeing how he spends your money. Twisty’s having a visit with Charley Bates and trying to learn what he wants so badly to tell him. You might want to sit in.”
I quietly entered the sickroom where Oliver sat beside Charley’s bed. The man looked terrible, with his whole right side sagging and lifeless. I dropped a hand gently on Oliver’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry. I should have tried harder to spare him.”
“Mrs. Rose is blaming herself for feeding him soap. You’re regretting saving all those lives at the county estate. Tod said he was trying to shoot down the airship, with Tatiana and Elinor inside, and cut you up with those disks.” Oliver shook his head. “You didn’t have any choice. He surely doesn’t hold it against you. Look at him. He looks glad to see you. I just wish he could tell us whatever it is that’s burning a hole in his soul.”
I drew nearer and Bates seized my coattail in his feeble left hand. “Can he write?” I asked.
“Last I knew, Charley never could read or write,” Oliver sighed. “But it’s worth a try.” He fished in the bedside table as I propped Bates up in a sitting position, pressing extra pillows into service. Oliver got out paper and a pencil and put them under his hand. We angled him so he could see the paper and he appeared to be straining just to make any marks on the paper at all. Finally four scrawled letters appeared in the scratches under his pencil.
“AD -- JD”
“What does that mean?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth I saw that Oliver had no more idea than I did. Charley had sunk down on the pillows and the pencil fell from his hand. His eyes closed and he fell asleep.
“What are these lines all around the letters?” Oliver mused. “They look a bit like thorns.”
“Well, I preached Charley a sermon about thorns,” I recalled with a smile. “He’s trying to tell us who Dodge is. I’m certain of it. Can these be initials? Do you know anyone who has these initials? It must be someone you both knew at one time.”
“Four initials? I don’t know anyone who has four initials. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”
“Perhaps it’s two people with the same last name -- a married couple, even. Think hard, Twist. There must be some way to know who Charley is pointing us to.”
“I just can’t imagine anyone so evil,” Oliver muttered. “I really thought of some of us as victims of society. We had no choice, almost, except to run away, to find someone who seemed to care about us. Other people had so much, and we were hungry, and filthy, and without even a roof under which to sleep. None of them seemed evil, the boys who lived with Fagin. They were survivors, taking things rich people had lots more of than they needed. People like Sykes were violent and cruel and controlling but the others -- I just pitied them.”
“Do you not see what Dodge has made of these people you knew? Charlotte and Noah, and Charley before he came to Christ -- They hardly deserve pity. Violence and self-absorption have become part of their nature. These are not victims, not any more. They have made choices.”
“Of course you’re right.” Twist sighed and rose from the bedside. “I’m still having my tablet go through any people I have recorded. Something might turn up. And if I can complete my analysis of the glider and the stealth material it might give us a clue about where to look for the maker. How’s your politician friend?”
“Terrified of Dodge but willing to take my help and continue his campaign. I brought him here. He has removed his campaign headquarters from Dodge’s hotel and promised to have no further dealings with him.”
“That doesn’t mean Dodge won’t want to have more to do with him,” Oliver frowned. “Has anybody considered the danger this puts you in, Florizel? Dodge will come after your supposed money, won’t he, and you as well?”
I shrugged. “Nothing would please me more than to force the creature to show himself, to confront me for having stolen what he considers his. He has had all the successes and we have barely pricked him. We have had to stand and watch his plan go forward and his slave empire grow. It cannot end too quickly for me, and if dangling myself in his reach will make him reach out of his den to be snared, so be it.”
“Mightn’t it be best if Newsome withdraws or flat-out loses the election? Wouldn’t that be striking another blow to Dodge’s plan?”
“We considered that possibility when Madame Phoebe suggested this plan. But at least for the time being, Trevor’s campaign is also bait to lure Dodge out. He will want to get it back under his control.”
“Why’s all the risk falling on you?” Oliver blurted out suddenly. “Everybody’s saying Dodge wants me. Why can’t I be the bait to draw him out?”
I grabbed the younger man by the shoulders. “Go back to your laboratory. Perform your experiments. Do your research. These are the things God made you to do. They involve little risk and will more likely help us identify Dodge, and then no one will have to dangle.”
“I feel like I’m not accomplishing anything. I made all these gadgets and what do they do? Nothing. You walk out of the hotel in a diamond-studded dinner jacket and come back with all sorts of new possibilities for catching Dodge.”
“Please, Doctor Twist.” I racked my brains for something that would send Twist back to some safe work. “Here is another person for you to research. He called himself Spring-heeled Jack, and he came to Trevor as Dodge’s representative.” I described him. Oliver reluctantly drew out his tablet and began entering the information
.
“Those boots had to be made somewhere,” he mused. “Dodge has almost as many gadgets as I do. I wonder ... You know what, Florrie, I do have to go out.”
“I strongly advise you not to.”
“No, really, I knew a steam and clockwork power expert, Doctor Polidori, a professor of mine at Cambridge. He was more than a bit crazy, and I thought he’d passed away. But maybe these toys of Dodge’s are one of his other students’ work. I have to go find the place where he had his workshop. He had shielding up to keep people from detecting his stuff, and if I try to search for him or track him with my tools he’ll know right away. I’ll have to go there in person.”
“But not alone, surely,” I pleaded.
“I promise I’ll talk to Lady Phoebe about it,” Twist grunted. “Maybe I’ll get a djinn and a sword-maiden to bodyguard like you did. ‘Course my old prof believed in nothing but cold, hard reason and science. I’d never get near his place dragging fairytale characters. Anyway, I’m off to consult our fearless leader. Take a break from saving everybody and solving everything, Florizel. Give the rest of us a chance to do something.”
A Dodge, a Twist and a Tobacconist Page 24
