“I told you he is stealthy,” said Robot.
The chariot banked abruptly to the left and all the passengers slid to one side of the craft, slamming into the wall. They were given a sudden, unsolicited view of tiny red and gold treetops with the blue lines of rivers snaking between them. Miniature gray squares of roofing popped up here and there on bald hills rising from the foliage. “Molly!” Emmett shrieked. “Keep your eyes on the road! I mean, the sky!”
Molly whipped away from the scenery and shifted levers to right the aircraft. Having regained her ability to breathe, she glanced back again to check on all three of her passengers.
“I can’t believe we have a dog with us,” Molly and Emmett said at the same time—but with completely different intonations.
“Oh, come on, Emmett, it’ll be fun to have him along,” Molly said with a grin.
“Don’t get me wrong—I like Dr. Stinkums,” Emmett said. “I just don’t think we need one more thing to worry about on this mission.”
“I, for one, believe this intelligent creature will prove a valuable member of the team,” said Robot. “Look at the way he is gnawing apart the leather seat, for instance. What secrets, discoverable only by a genius like Dr. Stinkums, lie hidden within the stuffing? Ah, it appears to be more stuffing.”
Emmett risked a glimpse over the side at the buildings below.
“Pretty incredible, isn’t it?” Molly said, the rush of cold air stinging her teeth as she smiled. Below them, bands of lush woodland began to give way to more and more smatterings of houses and streets. There were fewer pastures and silos now, more church steeples and town squares. And as they continued to sweep eastward, an instantly recognizable flash of white appeared above the trees.
“It’s the capitol building! Just like it is in pictures!” Emmett said, with both awe and relief. “We’re here.”
Molly grinned at the grand white dome that housed the chambers of the United States Congress. Similarly majestic buildings populated the surrounding city blocks, save for one vibrant swath of nature that cut its way through the bustling metropolis. Molly had read about the National Mall, which at this time of year was a two-mile ray of multihued fall foliage stretching from the capitol steps all the way to the banks of the Potomac River. From overhead, they could see the winding paths that divided the Mall into dozens of miniature parks and the large patches of green lawn in between. And in one open clearing, a contingent of tiny men dashed around, constructing what appeared to be a large wooden stage. But it was difficult to pay attention to any of that when, erupting from the center of the great green expanse, was an immense white tower—an obelisk of alabaster marble, with squared-off corners and a pointed-pyramid capstone at its peak. The whole structure was surrounded by several stories of wooden scaffolding. “Whoa, is that—?”
“The Washington Monument,” Emmett said. “It has to be. They’ve been building it since before the war, but I read they’re about to put the finishing touches on it. President Arthur’s planning a dedication ceremony in December.”
“Wow, the fellas working on it must be real dare-devils,” Molly said. “How high up do you think we are? Five hundred feet? And I bet we could reach out and touch that thing if we get close enough.”
“I’m fine not knowing the answer to that,” said Emmett.
“The Washington Monument,” Robot repeated. “This is a monument to the city?”
“Well, the city is named for George Washington, our first president,” Emmett explained. “The monument is to honor him.”
“Your first president was a tall white stick?” Robot asked. “Never mind, I will ask the dog to explain it later. You should find a place to land.”
“Yeah, Washington is a busy place,” Emmett agreed. “Somebody is bound to look up sooner or later and wonder why a sled is flying over their city.”
“And it’s not even Christmas,” said Molly, scanning the area. She pointed toward a heavily wooded area southwest of the monument, near the riverbank. “Let’s try down there. More squirrels, fewer senators.” She twisted the descendifier and the Daedalus Chariot began to lose altitude.
“Is there enough space to—slow down! There’s a lot of trees down there!” Emmett hung his head over the side of the vehicle, unable to tear his eyes from the rapidly approaching treetops.
“That’s why we land between them,” Molly said, while silently praying that was something she could actually accomplish.
“Dr. Stinkums is not worried,” said Robot. “Hear him whimpering to tell us how unconcerned he is?”
Molly gripped the controls tightly as the vehicle swooped lower. The moment she was centered over a spot of grass that looked wide enough to hold the Daedalus Chariot, she switched off the forward accelerator, slammed her foot onto the down pedal, and closed her eyes. The thump when they hit the grass was more jostley than she would have preferred, but the aircraft was on the ground in one piece. The rotor slowed to a stop as Molly shut down the motor and leapt triumphantly from the vehicle. “See? Absolutely perf—” Not realizing how wobbly her legs were, she lost her balance and plopped flat onto the grass. “This is surprisingly comfy grass. Maybe just a quick nap before we save the world . . .”
“Believe me, I’d love to,” Emmett said, climbing shakily from the chariot. “But let’s not forget why we took this huge risk to fly here. Time could be running out as we speak.”
“Time is always running out,” said Robot. “Time is not a thing you can save.”
“No,” Molly said grudgingly, pulling herself off the ground. “But Thomas Edison is. So let’s go save the big jerk.”
The tip of the Washington Monument poked up above the treetops in the distance. Molly began marching in that direction, knowing it would lead her back toward the city center. Emmett waved goodbye to Robot and followed, crunching crisp autumn leaves beneath his feet.
“Arf! Arf!” Dr. Stinkums leapt from the chariot and ran alongside him, nipping at his shoelaces.
“Oh, no, Stinkums, you can’t come,” Emmett said, crouching before the dog. “You stay here and guard the chariot with Robot, okay? You be a good guard dog?”
The scraggly-headed mutt stared back defiantly, then trotted past him and ran ahead with Molly.
“If the dog is not staying, then neither am I,” said Robot, climbing clumsily from the chariot. “I want to experience the nation’s capital.”
“Robot, you can’t,” Emmett objected. “People will see you.”
“That is why you made me this knight disguise.” Robot knocked on his helmet.
“I made it as a last resort,” Emmett said. “So that, on the disastrous chance that someone comes upon the Daedalus Chariot in the trees, they wouldn’t instantly realize that you’re a living automaton!”
“It’ll be fine, Emmett,” Molly said, bending to scratch Dr. Stinkums’s head as he circled her feet. “In fact, it might actually help us. It’s like my mother’s Big Hat Theory: a giant, crazy hat is the best disguise, because everyone will be too busy staring at what’s on your head to pay attention to your face. As two of America’s most-most wanted, we could do without too many folk examining our faces. Robot can be our big, crazy hat.”
Emmett looked skeptically at Robot—a clunky, clockwork figure with a makeshift medieval helmet jammed on top.
“Do not worry, Emmett. I am not going to jump onto your head,” Robot said. “I know Molly was making a metaphor.”
Dr. Stinkums yipped and Emmett sighed. “Fine,” he said. “But for the record, I’m against this.”
“My memory imprints all things spoken in my presence,” said Robot. “So, technically, everything you say around me is on the record.”
“See? That kind of skill is exactly why we need Robot around,” Molly said. She smiled and marched on. She knew that a big metal man clanking around with them was the exact opposite of inconspicuous, but leaving him behind felt wrong, especially when he wanted to help so badly—which was more than she could say for her
mother or the captain. Besides, even without his “magic powers,” Robot was physically stronger than her and Emmett combined. She just hoped that his whole “remembering everything power,” which she was unaware of until this moment, wasn’t also a drain on his Ambrosium. When she’d last taken a peek inside his chest compartment, the remainder of the meteorite was no bigger than an olive.
“Should I assume you know where you’re going?” Emmett asked, trudging through a thick blanket of red and orange leaves.
“Following the spire,” Molly replied. “We know Edison will be at his rally tomorrow, which should be smack in the middle of the National Mall. Did you notice them setting up the stage as we approached?”
“Yeah, but there’s a decent chance Rector plans to strike at that rally,” Emmett said. “We need to warn Edison beforehand, so where are we likely to find him today?”
“Does the Inventors’ Guild have a Washington lab?” she asked as they plodded between tall trees.
“I think so,” Emmett said. “Well, I don’t know if it’s a lab or an office or a hotel or some combination, but whenever Mr. Bell went to DC, he’d mention staying at ‘the Club.’”
“The Club, huh?” Molly said. “That’s vague.”
“For the record,” said Emmett, “I suggested stopping at a library along the way to do some research.”
“It is true,” said Robot. “He did.”
“And I said we didn’t have time for extra stops,” Molly retorted.
“She did,” said Robot. “Perhaps Dr. Stinkums knows where to find Mr. Edison. See how he is running ahead to lead the way.”
“Stinkums is—”
“Dr. Stinkums,” Robot corrected.
“Dr. Stinkums is a dog,” Emmett said flatly. “He does not know who Thomas Edison is.”
“Are you certain about that?” Robot asked. “He spent much of our flight reading the newspaper in the back seat. At least I think that is what he was doing with the newspaper. It was strangely soggy when he was through with it.”
“Mental note,” Emmett muttered. “Clean back seat of flying machine before we go home.”
The odd quartet exited the thick tree coverage onto a paved walkway and found themselves suddenly in the midst of scores of meandering parkgoers. “Shh,” Molly warned. “Everybody act normal.”
“I fear that may be impossible for Dr. Stinkums,” said Robot. “He is no normal dog.”
Dr. Stinkums ate a dandelion.
Emmett’s pace slowed and Molly nudged him onward. They needed to keep strolling along as if nothing unusual was happening. They needed to avoid any lingering looks. Looks like the ones they were—sigh—already getting. Small children were the first to take notice—stopping and pointing as their parents and nannies told them to keep moving. But it didn’t take long for adult heads to start turning as well. Of course people were going to look, Molly told herself. She had a six-foot-tall metal humanoid clanking along at her side. It was only natural to look. She would look! But acknowledging that didn’t stop her from sweating like it was high summer. And that was before she glanced at Emmett and saw enough wobble in his steps to make her worry he was about to topple over. Having to carry a swooning friend would not make it easier to flee if someone recognized them as “those kids from the wanted posters.” Which felt inevitable at this point.
“Well, look who it is,” said a man in a dark suit walking by them.
“Ooh, can you believe it?” cooed a woman lounging on a bench with a pink parasol. “A real live knight in shining armor.”
“That is a correct assumption,” Robot said as he strode past. “I am a knight.”
“Is there a fair in town?” asked a bespectacled man in a straw hat.
“If there is, I would like to go,” Robot replied. And the man laughed.
“Hey, it’s Sir Lancelot!” called a bulky young trash collector. “Say hello to King Arthur for me!”
“I do not know the man personally, but if I should encounter him, I shall pass on your message,” Robot replied. “Who should I say is—”
Molly pushed him along. “Keep moving,” she said under her breath. “You’re doing great, Robot.”
“I am,” Robot replied as two more passersby shouted about jousting and battling dragons.
Molly’s apprehension began to fade. Robot was quite the spectacle for parkgoers that afternoon, but nobody seemed to give her or Emmett a second glance. “Big, crazy hat,” she said to Emmett with a wink.
Just then, Dr. Stinkums took off, yapping loudly. He raced across the Mall, past a passel of food vendors, toward the tall circle of wood-plank fencing that cordoned off the construction of the Washington Monument.
“Stinkums!” Molly dashed after the runaway mutt.
“Wait! Why do we have to chase him?” Emmett called. “He’s not even our dog!” Nonetheless, he followed.
A stray smear of mustard on the fence appeared to have been the source of Dr. Stinkums’s urgent scramble. Molly caught up to the mutt as he licked clean the splintery plank. “Hey, Doc,” she said, scooping the dog into her arms. “If you’re gonna be part of this team, you can’t run off like that, okay?”
“I could . . . say the same thing . . . to you,” Emmett panted behind her.
She was about to respond when she heard a familiar voice. “Gently, fellows, gently! You’re engaged in a historic undertaking here! You don’t want to go down as the klutzes who broke our nation’s greatest monument!”
Molly shoved Dr. Stinkums into Emmett’s arms and got on tiptoes to peek over the fence. “Holy hopscotch! It’s him!”
“Him who?” Emmett asked. “Pleh! Why does the dog taste like mustard?”
“Edison! He’s in there.” Molly began scanning the fence for an opening.
“Seriously?” Emmett asked. “That’s incredible. How do we—”
Molly made sure none of the nearby vendors were staring in their direction and kicked in one of the wooden planks.
“Okay, that’s one way,” Emmett said as Molly squeezed herself through the opening she’d just created. He squished himself through after her, which was not easy with an armful of Stinkums.
Inside the circular construction zone, multiple brawny strongman types in blue coveralls tugged on ropes, using sky-high hoists to raise a lengthy copper tube upward to their colleagues at the top of the five-hundred-foot scaffolding. From where she stood, the obelisk seemed impossibly tall, its peak barely visible from down below.
Thomas Edison stood mere yards from them, furrowing his voluminous eyebrows as he shouted and gestured to the workers. His brown-checked suit with red bow tie and popped white collar might not have looked very presidential, but it was very him. Molly was shocked by their luck in finding him. She had hoped to possibly spot him over by the rally stage they were building farther down the Mall, but she’d never have thought to check the Washington Monument construction site. What was he even doing here, bossing around the workers like that?
Edison turned as Molly and Emmett approached. “What’s going on back there? Hey, you kids can’t—” His eyes went wide. “You kids!”
“Hey, there, Tommy Eds,” Molly said, trying to sound far less sheepish than she felt. “So, you’re probably surprised to see us.”
“What in the name of Lincoln’s hairy mole are you doing here?” the inventor sputtered. “How in the—” With his hands on their backs, he hurriedly steered the children to a shadowy area behind a six-foot stack of white stone slabs. “I can’t be seen with you felons,” he hissed. “I’m running for president! Now, what in—”
“So, I know we left things on a bad note,” Molly said. “Bad note” was an understatement; the last time she’d seen Edison she’d shattered the unfinished prototype of his secret new invention. “But to be fair, you lied to us and you had it coming.”
“Not helping,” Emmett said, shaking his head.
“Why are you here?” Edison asked again. “And why do you have a dog?”
“
Oh, this is Dr. Stinkums,” Emmett said as the dog slurped his chin.
“I don’t care about the animal’s name!” Edison barked. “Why. Are. You. Here?”
“We could ask you the same question,” Molly shot back. “You’re supposed to be in town for a campaign rally.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize I’d hired a twelve-year-old fugitive as my new secretary,” Edison snarked. “Please check my executive calendar and see what else is on my agenda for this trip, because I’m pretty sure it also says my company has been hired to install a lightning rod atop the Washington Monument.”
Molly narrowed her eyes and set her jaw. “First of all—”
“She’s thirteen,” Emmett said. “She’s going to tell you that, first of all, she’s thirteen now.”
“Happy birthday,” Edison said dryly.
Molly huffed. “All right, secondly, we’re here to save your sorry life, so you should be a little more grateful.”
Edison looked too confused to be genuinely angry. He raised a scolding finger at the children, but couldn’t manage to get any words out. He peeked out from behind the stone pile to ensure that his workers had things under control, then turned back to the kids. “Do you understand just how wanted you two are?”
“Most-most wanted,” Molly confirmed.
“I could shout for the police at any moment and have you locked up for life,” said Edison.
“But you haven’t,” said Molly. “Which means you want to hear what we have to say. I don’t know if that’s out of curiosity, self-preservation, or guilt because of the way you betrayed my mother, but—”
“Just say it,” Edison spat. “How long do you think a presidential candidate can stay out of sight before his security detail starts getting curious?”
“That’s just it, Mr. Edison,” Emmett said. “One of the agents on your security detail, Archibald Forrest—he’s a fake!”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m not sure how much Bell told you about what happened in Antarctica—” Molly began.
The Final Gambit Page 13
