The Final Gambit

by Christopher Healy

  “No way!” Molly cried. “How’d you get them to talk?”

  “Ice cream,” said Cassandra.

  “Traitors,” Molly grumbled.

  Edison cleared his throat again.

  “Oh, yes. When we got here this morning, we saw a newspaper article about our children burgling the Smithsonian,” said Cassandra.

  “Oh, the punishments that are coming . . . ,” Captain Lee said, shaking his head.

  “We went by the museum and saw your big speechifying party out on the National Mall, Mr. Edison,” Cassandra continued. “We figured our children might be with you, but you’d already left at that point. Luckily, we spotted some of your fellow Guildsmen in the crowd. We told them we were criminal fugitives who wanted to confer with Thomas Edison about his presidential campaign and they seemed quite eager to provide us with specific directions to your hideout.”

  Edison harrumphed. “That’s what I get running an organization of backstabbers, I suppose.”

  Molly couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Okay, enough!” she cried. “This detailed recap of how you found us is—well, it’s pretty amazing, actually—but you have to save it for later! Right now, there’s only one thing we should be talking about: Rector is turning the Washington Monument into a giant death ray.”

  “It’s true, Papa,” Emmett said. “Which is why I don’t care how much you punish me—I’m not sorry I came here. There are too many lives at stake for any of us to sit on the sidelines. If we’re going to thwart Rector’s plan, we’re going to need every brain we can get. That means you and Mrs. Pepper too. And the Mothers of Invention.”

  “You—you’ve found the MOI?” Cassandra asked.

  “Not yet,” Molly said. “But we can with your help. Remember that odd advertisement that was mailed to us? It’s a coded message from Hertha.”

  Cassandra bit her lip and turned to Captain Lee, who stood by silently, his jaw clenched.

  “I can tell what you’re thinking,” said Edison. “‘Why does this have to be my responsibility? I don’t want to get involved.’ I’ve been thinking the same thing. But you drove who-knows-how-far in a giant carrot peeler to get here. I’d say you’re already involved.”

  “Only the vehicle’s engine was made out of carrot peelers,” Cassandra said. “It would be more accurate to say we drove a bathtub to get here.”

  “Our bathtub?” Molly gasped. “With the lion feet? I liked that tub!”

  “Then maybe you shouldn’t have run away,” said Captain Lee.

  “But your point is well taken, Mr. Edison,” Cassandra continued. “Rector has made this everybody’s fight.”

  Captain Lee sighed. “I suppose I have always wanted to meet the Mothers of Invention,” he said. “I’ve heard many interesting stories. So, let’s get to work. But not here. I’m reasonably certain those Guildsmen who directed us here also hired some reporters to follow us in hopes they might catch you conferring with fugitives. You wouldn’t happen to have any hidden passages out of this place, would you?”

  “We’re an organization of rich, secretive men,” Edison scoffed. “Of course we have a hidden passage.” He twisted the horn on the unicorn lamp and a camouflaged doorway opened in the wall.

  “Ooh, this room has a mouth,” Robot said, clambering to the passageway.

  “Slow down. I’ve still got presidential aspirations to protect,” said Edison. “In case the press is lying in wait out there, I should make sure I’m disguised.”

  “Here,” Robot said, planting the stringy mop-wig back onto Edison’s head. “You dropped this outside.”

  Grumbling, Edison entered the tunnel. As the others began to file in after him, Emmett grabbed his father. “Thank you, Papa.”

  The captain smiled and patted him on the back. “I have one important question for you,” he said. “Why is the dog here?”

  “I think Dr. Stinkums considers Robot his pet,” Emmett said.

  “Only with this group would that make sense,” the captain replied as the mutt scampered past them into the tunnel, one of Thomas Edison’s spare bow ties in his mouth.

  Emmett and his father laughed.

  “You’re still getting punished when we get home.”

  Emmett sighed. “I know.”

  20

  Return of the Investigators’ Guild

  Petalsburg, Virginia, October 20, 1884

  “SO, BUMBLES, YOU ever meet the president?” Molly asked. While her mother, Emmett, Captain Lee, Thomas Edison, Robot, and Dr. Stinkums were all crammed inside the horse-drawn carriage, Molly happily volunteered to sit up next to the driver on their ride to Virginia.

  The driver seemed less happy about it.

  “Why would I have met the president?” he scoffed in a British accent that wasn’t nearly as fancy-sounding as Hertha’s. He was an older man with a white ponytail, sunken eyes, and a cauliflower-esque odor. He picked something from his teeth and shook the reins to speed up his horses. “An’ stop callin’ me Bumbles.”

  “It’s your name, isn’t it?” Molly said with a shrug. She didn’t care if the man wasn’t feeling chatty—she was bored. They’d been rumbling down endless, identical country roads for nearly three hours now. “Anyway, Bumbles, you drive a coach around the nation’s capital. It’s not crazy to think you might’ve met the president.”

  “I reckon he’s got his own people to ferry ’im around,” said the driver.

  “Well, I’ve met President Arthur,” said Molly. “I’ve swung from his sideburns.”

  “Of course you have,” the man droned.

  “Don’t be jealous, Bumbles,” Molly said. “If Edison wins the election, then you’ll get to say you’ve met the president.”

  “How thrilling for me.”

  “That’s the spirit, Bumbles,” Molly said. “You’re from England, right?”

  “Once upon a time,” he said, slumping as if the conversation were sapping all his energy.

  “I could tell,” Molly said proudly. “I have a British friend, you know. But she’s very Jane Austen-y. You’ve got more of a Dickens kind of thing going on.”

  Bumbles jerked back on the reins, bringing the horses to a sudden halt. The coach jolted and Molly almost slid off her seat. “We’re here,” Bumbles said with a smirk.

  Molly flashed him a nasty look, but was quickly distracted by the weather-beaten road sign that read WELCOME TO PETALSBURG, POPULATION 108.

  Edison leaned out the window. “Excellent, Bumbles,” he said. “Now take us to that intersection we mentioned.”

  “Must you call me that?” the driver groaned.

  As they rolled slowly along the dirt road, Molly thought about how disappointed her mother must have been by the view. Despite its adorable name, Petalsburg had more waist-high weeds than pretty flowers. The few houses they saw had boarded windows, peeling paint, and poorly patched roofs. Molly saw plenty of empty cans and broken wagon wheels, but not one of the 108 people who supposedly lived there.

  After a few minutes, the coach stopped again.

  “What are you doing, Bumbles?” Molly asked.

  The driver pointed to the crooked, weather-worn street signs at the nearest corner. Shea Road and Walter Street.

  Molly hopped down to the dusty road. Could this really be where they were supposed to go? The only building here was a tiny, run-down cube of a factory with weeds growing out of the cracks in its cement walls. She ran to peek through a window, only to find that there weren’t any, just a single metal door with a sign over it that she assumed had, at one time, read STEAM WORKS (the “M” was now lying in the dirt and the first “S” was dangling upside down from loose nails).

  Behind her, the carriage door opened and the passengers began stumbling out, stretching their stiff limbs. “Thank heavens! I can finally get away from that wire-haired menace!” Edison snapped. “Look at my shoe!” He lifted one foot to show everyone his big toe wiggling through the drool-coated hole in the leather. “Do you know what these shoes cost? I don
’t! I have an assistant to do my shopping. But I assume they’re impressively expensive!”

  “We, um, need to keep a low profile,” Emmett warned, trying to hush him.

  “Who’s going to hear us?” Edison scoffed, adjusting the mop on his head. “This town is emptier than one of Grover Cleveland’s campaign rallies.”

  “Why have we gotten out here?” Captain Lee asked, surveying his dismal surroundings. “This can’t be the inn.”

  “For crying out crumpets, there ain’t any inn in this rubbish hamlet,” the coach driver moaned. “You’re gettin’ out here ’cause here’s where you told me to take you. And you lot best not think you’ll be stiffin’ my fee on account of you ain’t chuffed about the scenery.”

  “You talk funny,” Robot said to him.

  “You’re a bucket,” Bumbles shot back.

  “I’m pretty sure the Hidden Hearth Inn doesn’t exist,” said Emmett, scanning the front of the dull gray building. “The letter was just disguised as an advertisement so it could lead us to this spot.”

  “To this dump?” Edison asked.

  “Not necessarily this building, I suppose,” said Emmett. “But there’s got to be another clue somewhere near this intersection.”

  “Yeah, maybe this is just the first stop on a thrilling scavenger hunt,” Molly said with more than a little excitement. She pushed aside tufts of tall grass with her feet, examining the ground below. “Maybe they’ve left some sort of hint here that tells us where to look next. Come on, ladies. Give us a sign.”

  “They did,” Cassandra said plainly. “Tea Works. To be truthful, I would have rather it had been the Coffee Works . . .”

  Molly hopped with excitement. “Mother, you’re brilliant!”

  “Oh, Molly, now you’re just flattering me,” Cassandra replied. “It wasn’t that good a joke.”

  “I don’t think any of us realized it was a joke, Mother,” Molly said. “I’m talking about what you noticed with the sign! It was broken on purpose! Tea is Hertha’s favorite drink! Josephine’s too! They’re always tea, tea, tea! And they know we know that! Don’t you think it’s too much of a coincidence for this sign—located at the very intersection mentioned in the letter—to have accidentally spelled out ‘tea works’?”

  “Something tells me you’ll be unhappy if I say no,” said Captain Lee.

  “Papa, she’s right,” Emmett said, unfolding the advertisement from his pocket. “We know the MOI; this kind of clue is just their sort of thing. And look, the letter even told us to ‘stop by for a tasty beverage’!”

  “Don’t you get it?” Molly asked. “This sign is the sign! The MOI are in there!” She placed her hand on the door handle and yelped as a jolt of electricity shocked her. She jumped back, shaking her stinging fingers.

  “What happened?” her mother asked, rushing to examine her hand.

  “It’s . . . electrified,” Molly said, blowing on her fingertips.

  “Electrified?” Edison scoffed. “How? There are no poles or wires out here. Let me—” He grabbed the door handle—zzzt!—and leapt away, yowling.

  “That was one hundred percent your own fault,” said Emmett.

  “Maybe I can do it,” said Robot. “I have no skin.” He clomped over to the door, touched one metal finger to the handle, and blew backward with a pop. Barking angrily, Dr. Stinkums leapt at the door. Zzzzt! The dog ran back into the coach, whimpering and smelling of singed fur.

  “Okay, nobody else try to open the door!” Captain Lee shouted.

  Bumbles chuckled from the driver’s seat of his coach. “Barmiest bunch of blokes I ever had the displeasure . . .”

  “Robot, are you okay?” Molly asked.

  The mechanical man was lying in the grass, sporadically sparking. Cassandra crouched beside him and gave him a shake. He didn’t move. She shook him again. And again. On the fourth shake, Robot finally sat up. “That was unpleasant,” he said.

  “Can we all at least agree that the Mothers of Invention meant for us to find this building?” Emmett said after a sigh of relief. “Who else is going to use electricity as a defense mechanism?”

  “Maybe the letter tells us how to get in,” Cassandra suggested.

  Emmett went back to the coded ad. “We figured out the ‘tasty beverage’ part, so, after that, it says, ‘put your feet up, and shake hands with Mother Nature.’”

  “Put your feet up,” Molly echoed. “Do we kick the door?”

  “Please don’t,” said Captain Lee.

  “Maybe they just want us to relax until we think up a solution,” said Cassandra.

  “I could make my feet go up,” said Robot. “But that would be flying and then Molly would get angry.”

  “Oh, but is Robot right? Could the next clue be on the roof?” asked the captain. “Surely a little flight like that wouldn’t do much damage.”

  “Unfortunately, a lot more damage has already been done since we left Ohio,” Emmett said.

  “Robot has used his powers a bunch of times to get us out of jams,” Molly admitted. “We didn’t want him to—told him not to—but—but—” She stammered as tears unexpectedly stung her eyes.

  “But Molly and Emmett could have been hurt if I had not helped,” Robot said. “You look upset, Mrs. Pepper. But please do not be angry with Molly. She has been very protective of me. And I am protective of her and Emmett. Just as you are.”

  Cassandra nodded. Molly knew her mother would have behaved the same way Robot did if their situations had been reversed. Emmett probably would too. Even Captain Lee. She was suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude for having so many people in her life who cared for her so deeply. She would have pulled them into a group hug at that very moment, if not for the awkwardness of Edison and Bumbles watching.

  “How much rock is left?” Cassandra asked solemnly.

  Molly held her fingers a pea’s length apart and her mother closed her eyes mournfully.

  “But, um, hey, everybody,” Emmett said, trying to break the melancholy that had fallen over the group. “Robot can get us to the roof without flying!”

  Five minutes later, Robot’s hand-winch had carried everyone to the roof of the Tea Works—except for Bumbles, who remained with his coach, snacking on a raw onion.

  “Wow,” said Molly, looking over the edge of the twelve-foot wall. “We’re so not high up.”

  “This whole place is so weird,” said Emmett. “I wonder if the MOI built it just as a puzzle for us.”

  “Or as a puzzle for themselves,” said Cassandra. “And they made it so difficult, they couldn’t find their way out, and that’s why no one’s seen them for a year.”

  “What was the next part of the letter?” Captain Lee asked. “Something about Mother Nature?”

  “‘Shake hands with Mother Nature,’” Emmett read.

  “Well, there’s a whole lot of nature on this roof,” Molly said, wading through the branches, leaves, and other detritus that blanketed the tarry square. “Looks like a century’s worth of autumn up here.”

  Edison harrumphed. “Why do these women have to make everything so difficult? What’s wrong with a good old-fashioned alphanumeric code? One equals A, two equals B—easy!”

  “I’m not sure easy is what you want when you’re hiding from every law enforcement agency in the country,” said Cassandra.

  “We don’t even know if coming up to the roof was the correct thing to do!” Edison griped. “‘Put your feet up’ could have meant a bazillion different things! But now we’re all wandering on a roof, looking for Mother Nature! Who, I might remind you, is not a real person and, therefore, does not have hands!”

  “This must not be her, then,” Robot said, pulling aside a leaf-coated tarp to reveal a small statue of a pleasant-faced older woman in a flowy gown with a wreath of flowers in her hair.

  “Well, that clue was more literal than expected,” said Captain Lee.

  Molly smiled at the statue’s familiar face. “It looks like Mary Walton.”

&n
bsp; “Well, what are we waiting for?” Cassandra asked. She took the statue’s hand and let out a gleeful gasp when it shifted downward like a lever. A small, circular hatch in the rooftop slid open, causing a shower of dead leaves to sprinkle down into the building. When the commotion settled, the group could see a ladder at the rim of the opening.

  “I guarantee Sarah built that,” said Emmett.

  “Shall we?” Molly asked, already at the top of the ladder.

  Edison stepped to the edge of the roof and called to his coachman. “We’re going in, Bumbles! Drive back to the edge of town and wait for us there! In the unlikely event anyone should pass by, I don’t want you sitting out there like a big banner that says ‘something strange going on here.’”

  “My name ain’t bloomin’ Bumbles,” the driver grumbled before flicking the reins and starting his coach back the way they’d come.

  Molly descended in total darkness—the factory had no windows. But the moment she stepped down from the final rung, she was suddenly bathed in warm electric light. The building appeared to be one large room, the entirety of which was now illuminated by rows of glowing bulbs that ringed the ceiling.

  “What just happened?” Emmett asked, descending above her.

  “Lights came on by themselves,” Molly reported. “How did they do that?”

  Emmett hit the ground and the room was pitched once more into blackness. “My guess is a pressure switch in the floor tile below the ladder,” he said. He tapped his foot and the lights flashed back on.

  Grinning uncontrollably, Molly nudged him aside and hopped on the tile. Lights off. She jumped again. Lights on. Off. On. Off. On. Off. On.

  “Okay, Molly, we get it,” Emmett said, guiding her away from the ladder to make way for the others.

  “I remember when you used to be fun,” she groused.

  “What in the world was going on with those lights?” Cassandra questioned as she climbed down. The lights shut off as she stepped from the ladder.

  “There’s a trigger switch underneath you!” Molly joyfully explained.

  “Ooh, that’s clever!” Cassandra began bouncing. On. Off. On. Off. On. Off.