Chapter Twenty-three
The meeting of the Legacy Company was not nearly so happy. A frantic search was being made for Dodge and for the security guards who had accompanied Oliver Twist but there was no good news to report. There was also no trace of Professor Polidori, Twist’s old instructor. The meeting was held in Oliver Twist’s bedchamber, at his insistence, and everyone clamored to know why Kera and I had gone alone and not shared our plan with the group.
“I cannot defend it,” I admitted. “Except that Kera decided me upon what I had not yet fully formed in my own mind, and knew the way, and we simply went. I apologize. I did not mean to act as a loner, when I have certainly been taught the lesson that we are a company.”
“There’s no need for Florizel to apologize,” Madame Phoebe said. “All of us have followed the Lord’s leading which came to us through the mouth of the partner God gave us in this company. Fun See and I have put our heads together, as have Mowgli and Sue, and Edward and Zambo. If anyone acted wrongly, it was Doctor Twist, who went off essentially alone. His mission we must call a failure, while Florizel and Kera succeeded because they had each other to rely on.”
Uneasy murmurs ran through the company and Oliver stared hard at Phoebe. “So who’ll be my partner from now on?” he demanded.
“You will not be going out again soon.” Madame Phoebe put a gentle hand on his shoulder and his trembling passion melted away. “I would suggest to you that you might at least make an apprentice out of a certain naughty young man who would happily consider himself your partner.”
Oliver considered the possibility with a glance at Sararati’s uncharacteristically worried-looking father. “I think I’ll do that.”
Mowgli sighed with resignation. “He has chattered on, ‘Doctor Twist’ this, ‘invisible gliders’ that, and I have hardly been able to keep him from storming these quarters to have a look at the fabled metal head. Bagheera has told me many times that the boy is not meant to spend his life in the jungle. So has his mother, for that matter.”
We finished with a prayer session, all of us putting a hand on Oliver. Kera’s eyes positively glowed when I opened mine again.
“What has filled you up with joy now, little vessel?” I asked.
“The circle of prayer was for Doctor Twist, but God has sent me a message all the same. I think I know where to find this Professor Polidori. He is in Switzerland.”
“Of course!” Twist crowed. “There is a sort of camp -- It’s hidden beneath Reichenbach Falls -- and it’s for promising young inventors. Doctor Polidori took us there while it was under construction. He said he was going to expand the thing and make it a whole separate school.”
“I did not like to say so in front of Spring-heeled Jack, but I heard that his boots came from there,” Kera continued. “And then it slipped my mind, with everything else that happened. If I had remembered it earlier--” She went pale.
“Wouldn’t have changed anything,” Oliver said abruptly. “Don’t punish yourself. I’d’ve still gone looking for Polly-wolly-doodle here in London before thinking of Switzerland, and had the same outcome.” He fell silent, then began to speak again, but in a very altered tone.
“This head, by the way, is just a remote viewer. It was -- it was meant to do nothing but watch. I wasn’t -- I don’t remember when Dodge -- When he left off -- or when he left the place, but he could still -- He must have been able to see me, and see you--”
He was having a great deal of difficulty getting this out. The broken snatches forced themselves out between shudders and silences and we all ached for him. “When you arrived, he’d have seen you through this panel -- here at the top of the faceplate. I wonder -- I think it might have been intended to lure you into following it someplace--”
“It did go back into the rear of the warehouse,” Kera nodded. “I don’t know where it as headed. I was just angry at it, and wanted to stop it.”
Twist nodded. “I wonder -- if Kera hadn’t beheaded it -- Maybe it would have -- would have led her -- into some more trouble…” Twist trailed, and looked up at me and my little vessel with a world of meaning in his expression.
He averted his eyes and stared at the pieces of the head spread over his improvised worktable. “Too bad you couldn’t bring me back the body. It might have had a preprogrammed course guide, something that could have shown us where it would have gone if it hadn’t been -- well -- interrupted.” He gave Kera another searching look and I took her hand and held it tightly.
Twist went back to his work and we departed from his room, letting Sararati in and enjoying his ability to draw a smile from the little inventor as the boy skipped in, devouring the dismembered automaton head with his eyes.
I stopped in to have a word with Trevor, who was obliviously preparing to go out to a speaking engagement.
“Florrie! I came by to see you earlier and they told me you were still abed! So you’ve already slipped into the life of the idle rich, have you?”
I forced a smile and drew Kera under my arm. “I came to ask you to be my best man,” I said, the words dropping from my mouth before I even thought. “I have asked this enchantress to be my wife, and she has accepted. We have not told anyone else. You are the first.”
Trevor gaped at us both. “Don’t that beat everything!” he finally managed to say. “Well, I’m glad I can be the first to wish you joy, Florrie. I’d be honored to stand up with you. That I would. Just please wait until after the election?”
“I think we can arrange that,” I smiled. “And be careful, Trevor. No dealings with Dodge or any of his people, remember?”
“It’s a pleasure to obey that order, believe me.” Trevor shuddered. “Talk to you later, Florrie. I really must be off.”
Security guards had orders to shadow Trevor and his people, and to exercise additional caution and protect each other as well. Madame Phoebe and I had spoken to Zambo privately about the missing guards.
“Our business is not such that we expect to stay free from risk and danger,” Zambo said. “My people will employ our own means to find the missing ones. We do not blame you, Madame Phoebe, and all of my team are honored to consider themselves partners in your quest.”
The Legacy Company could not immediately go to Switzerland, of course. Madame Phoebe agonized over Twist’s physical and mental fitness to me.
“It’s all good and well for Kera to claim that God has healed him, and to see him smile at Sararati and tinker with that automaton’s head, but it has not even been twenty-four hours,” she fretted. “We must put off the journey, surely, till we can be more certain of his real state. Dodge is here in London. Do we not certainly know that? Why follow a trail to Switzerland that surely takes us far afield? Do we even know that finding this Doctor Polidori is important?”
“Dodge considered the Doctor Polidori thread to be important enough to set up that trap to snare Twist,” I reasoned. “But he also taunted us with that note about Trevor and his campaign. I resolved not to neglect that avenue, and here I have brushed it aside again. Has your husband access to Trevor’s speaking schedule? I know he has just gone out within the last hour.”
Madame Phoebe and I had been sitting in a window seat looking out over London. She abruptly rose to her feet and sent me shooting up as well. “What will you do? Appear at his side again and continue an exchange of taunts that will end in your sharing Doctor Twist’s fate or in your -- your death?” Her voice trembled as she hesitated over that last.
“Wounds and death are faithful companions of the righteously resolute, to deliver them into God’s comfort or His presence,” I said quietly. “We have two of our number missing, since I reckon that Zambo’s people serve as equals alongside us, and some others of us bear the marks of our resolve thus far, but this does not mean we falter or stop. This means we push to shorten the battle, to end the war quickly. Drawing out a conflict only increases the casualties and the potential for more casualties.”
“We are not all sold
iers.” Her eyes were very large and filled with tears. “Our hearts are not all bound with iron bands as yours seems to be, Florizel. Can you not understand?”
“My heart--” I paused and drew in a deep breath. “If I tell you that I have asked Kera Mion to be my wife, and have even gone so far as to beg Trevor to be my best man, would that help you to better understand the real state of my heart?”
She gasped short and sharp and then dabbed her eyes and smiled. “If nothing else comes out of this, our first adventure as the Alexander Legacy Company, we both shall take a better measure of each other, shall we not? There are two weddings to be planned, then, and before that a benefit concert for Trevor Newsome’s campaign.”
“Indeed, the concert will be an event we can plan and execute on our own terms,” I exclaimed, glad to sidestep the issue of wedding planning. “You were concerned, perhaps rightly so, about me thrusting myself into the unknown by tagging along on Trevor’s engagements. We shall choose the location and the timing. Surely that will put us at an advantage.”
Madame Phoebe actually managed a smile. “We need not stay entirely idle here concerning Doctor Polidori, though. Fun See is studying shipping records. We could discover a route by which these inventions have gotten into Dodge’s hands. Kera told us they came from Switzerland, and, knowing the location of Reichenbach Falls gives us a starting point. I will once more delve into the gossip columns and see if these deliveries merit a mention in the coded messages.”
“An excellent thought,” I agreed. “And it has occurred to me that we have an untapped resource that might give us insight into what Charley Bates has been trying to tell us about Dodge’s identity. Who among us has experience in understanding and communicating with the paralytic?”
“Of course! Sue and Dobbs! That is a splendid idea! And it is high time Charley became acquainted with Pecos Bill. He has been so frustrated, so depressed. Surely even if we glean no information, this contact must do him good.”
Madame Phoebe took it upon herself to prepare Bates for his interview with Sluefoot Sue, Pecos Bill and Dobbs. Once again I was stunned by her chameleon-like ability to shift from leader to servant. She saw to it that Bates was carefully looked after, read to, and kept company at all times, but for this occasion she washed, shaved and dressed him personally, all the while singing to him in her lovely voice. I came in near the end of her ministrations and saw the glow on Bates’ face just from experiencing her sweet spirit and sweeter voice. Sluefoot Sue and Dobbs arrived a few moments later with Pecos Bill. Bates’ expression changed to very uneasy as he saw the company entering his room.
“There’s no need to fret, Charley,” Madame Phoebe said, sitting down beside him and squeezing his good hand. “I have told you about our company member, Sue, and this is her husband Bill, and their man Dobbs. They are going to help us try to understand what you wanted so much to tell Oliver.”
Sluefoot Sue stepped up to the bed and shook Bates’ hand with a firm grip. “Howdy, Charley. It’s a roundabout way a’ doin’ things, but we’ll see how it goes.” She sat opposite Madame Phoebe. I retired to a corner but was somewhat uneasy myself. Charley’s eyes roamed around the room and he seemed to be making no attempt to talk at all.
“Whatcha lookin’ for, Charley?” Sue asked finally.
“Boss reckons he wants to know where th’ little doc is,” Dobbs said. He sat beside Bill, with a hand on his shoulder, his face angled to give him the best view of both men. “Anybody told him what happened yet?”
Bates’ agitation increased tenfold as Dobbs spoke those words. He was neither deaf nor blind and could see the looks on all our faces, hear our shuffling feet.
“Tell him, Florizel,” Madame Phoebe said softly.
“Doctor Twist went to find Doctor Polidori, his old instructor, last night,” I said. “It seems that Dodge intercepted him at the warehouse and -- he attacked and sodomized him. He nearly killed him, and left an automaton there on guard, possibly to lure us into another trap when we came to look for him. Doctor Twist is all right, Charley, but--”
I stopped, because Charley had gone into a paroxysm, flailing and frothing. Doctor Mac was called in at once but nothing could be done to calm the poor wretch. Madame Phoebe stayed to assist with Charley while the rest of us huddled in the outer room. Praying seemed the right thing to do, and we all clasped hands and took turns asking God for grace and peace for that tormented man.
An hour passed before Doctor Mac and Madame Phoebe emerged. We all saw that Bates’ struggles had ended. Doctor Mac passed us without saying anything except, “I’ll go make arrangements.”
Madame Phoebe burst into tears. Sue drew her into a rough but womanly embrace. “It were a good plan, Miz Phoebe,” she consoled. “I reckon that feller gave his all tryin’ to tell us what God ain’t ready for us t’ know yet.”
The mortician who came to collect Bates’ body was a woman. That did not startle me half as much as the fact that she was clearly of Jewish heritage, a striking woman in darkly rich garments of black velvet and blue and silver satin. Muted sapphire stones and silver chasing trimmed her costume and she wore an oriental sort of cap and veil over her coppery hair.
She brought with her two black-clad attendants who went in ahead of her to prepare the body for transport. The men were dressed in long tunics divided from knee to hip, with loose trousers and soft, soundless boots. Black fabric was wound loosely around their heads, partly revealing strikingly similar young men. They trundled between them a large pushcart-like apparatus of enameled black wood, curtained around the top with fabrics matching the woman’s garments. They disappeared into the room where Bates lay while she stopped in the outer room before Edward, Doctor Mac and myself. Sue had taken Madame Phoebe to her quarters and her husband’s comforting arms and Edward had agreed to assist with seeing that Bates’ body was properly cared for.
“Has the deceased any relatives who should be contacted?” The mortician asked.
“We know of no one living who is related to him.” I had consulted with Doctor Twist but his opinion was that Bates, like so many of Fagin’s boys, had been an orphan.
“Perhaps it is indelicate of me to ask,” the mortician murmured, “but this man is, then, more or less a stranger to you? Yet you have summoned me, I am told, for no pauper’s grave burial. There is to be a burial in consecrated ground, and a Christian service? I must question this, you see, because it makes a considerable difference in the preparations, the equipage--” she hesitated -- “the cost.”
“All that is understood,” Edward nodded. “He became our friend, our brother in Christ, and we want to treat him respectfully.”
“If you need to think of us along the lines of Joseph of Aramathea, or Nicodemus,” Doctor Mac drawled, “that may help you understand. Or perhaps you don’t know about them?”
“They were wealthy, influential members of the synagogue until they were cast out for burying Jesus Christ, so tradition reports,” the woman responded without hesitation. “I have chosen to let my work bring me into contact with all manner of beliefs, unlike many morticians who only practice for certain faiths. I am not observant of the beliefs of my ancestors. Instead, I have been fascinated by the study of the treatment of death by all faiths. This has served me well in my profession, so that I can be respectful and knowledgeable about practices surrounding all dead.”
“I have never encountered someone like you,” I blurted out. She turned and looked blandly at me. “Pardon me, I pray you, but you deal every day with questions of faith arising around death, and yet have found no faith persuasive in your own soul?”
She seemed about to reply, fixing her rich, dark brown eyes on me for a long moment, but instead turned and left us standing open-mouthed to join her attendants, shutting the door behind her.
“I know there are plenty of sons and daughters of Israel who don’t subscribe to Judaism,” Edward whistled, “but she beats anything I’ve ever seen. A woman, a mortician, and a student of deat
h?”
“How did you come to call upon her services?” I asked.
“The hotel sent for her.” Doctor Mac gave a glance at the closed door. “She doesn’t seem creepy or morbid. Rather lovely and pleasant, but still, burials and funerals are hard enough for ordinary people. For doctors they’re doubly hard.”
Edward and I both clasped his shoulders and we stood together in silence. The mortician emerged before very long and approached as her assistants followed with Bates’ closely-wrapped form just visible on the bronze trundle apparatus when it jostled and the curtains parted slightly. A heady fragrance wafted up and filled our nostrils as the carrier passed us. The body was elaborately-wrapped in strips of pure white linen and had obviously already been treated with perfumes and spices, an unusual practice for any funeral I had seen. From a beautifully-decorated reticule she produced a card.
“Please feel free to attend the visitation hours this evening,” the mortician invited. “I do not use caskets. I hope that does not offend you, but it is my practice to weave these wrappings about the dead, the wrappings and spices which I apply as quickly as possible to seal the body against corruption to the extent that such can be done. Some faiths desire to have contact with the body, and anyone will be permitted to handle the wrapped form during the service this evening. After all the mourning ceremonies are complete we will seal the body in a shell of essences that will be heated into a hard shell, preserving the body for many years, before it is interred as you have specified. I understand you have a minister who will speak?”
“Yes, I have that honor,” Edward nodded. Doctor Mac absent-mindedly started to stuffed the card in his pocket as the procession retreated from the room but I intercepted it, eaten up with curiosity about this woman.
“Good heavens!” I blurted out. She stopped as her attendants went out the door and turned back toward me.
“Sir?” I stared at the card, then at her.
“Your name is Fagin.”
“Yes. Jessica Fagin is my name.”
Are you -- did you have a father who lived in London?”
“I was born in London,” she responded. “My father ... Why do you ask about him?”
“I beg your pardon. The name is ... It is familiar to me.”
“It is not an uncommon name among my people.”
I could not think of a pretext to interrogate this woman, so, after standing stupidly staring at her, I bowed my head and repeated my apology. She glanced at Edward and Doctor Mac but they merely nodded, so she departed.
“Fagin. Oliver Twist’s Fagin?” Doctor Mac gave me a shrewd look. “There are too many coincidences surrounding Doctor Twist by half. You think she was sent for some purpose, like our poison maiden housekeeper?”
“How could it be?” Edward asked. “What possible reason could there be to interfere with Bates’ burial?”
“Maybe it gave them a pretext to get in here and plant something in the room--”
I did not allow Doctor Mac to finish. “Get out of here!” I shouted, pushing them toward the exit. “Go, now!” I lunged for the inner door.
A Dodge, a Twist and a Tobacconist Page 26
