The Final Gambit

by Christopher Healy

  Emmett and Molly looked to each other in horror. They’d heard that name before, but never had a face to tie it to until now.

  “That’s who you are?” Molly snapped. “You’re the man who trapped Nellie Bly in Barbados?”

  Grimsby let out a phlegmy chuckle. “Trapped? More like recruited.”

  “Bumbles! You spoiled my surprise,” Rector chided. “Oh well. Guess I might as well introduce you to the final member of my little team.” He leaned through the doorway and called down the hallway. “Ah, there you are. Come, say hello to your former friends.”

  No, Molly said to herself. No, this cannot be what he’s making it seem like it is. It can’t be.

  But it was. Nellie Bly walked through the door, and Molly nearly squeezed herself through the bars in a fit of fury. There she stood: the young reporter whom Molly had trusted enough to tell all of her family secrets, the woman who’d befriended them, survived a shipwreck with them, who had fought to help them escape Rector’s ship in the Caribbean. And now she was standing at the right hand of their archnemesis. And it was definitely her—same old threadbare tweed dress, same reporter’s notepad tucked into the pocket of her skirt.

  “Oh, Nellie,” Cassandra sighed mournfully.

  “Nellie, this can’t be,” said Emmett. “What did he—”

  “How could you?” Molly screamed at her. She couldn’t hold back her rage. “You’re working with him?”

  “Oh, Miss Bly has been a far bigger asset than either of these other goons,” said Rector.

  “Oi!” complained Grimsby.

  “The young lady is quite a skilled researcher,” Rector went on. “I might never have known about the Star of Ceylon without her. Or the location of the Guild’s Club! Can you imagine how embarrassing it would have been if, as Edison, I didn’t know where my own secret hangout was? Oh, and I can’t begin to tell you how much easier it’s been to avoid police detection with Nellie here, keeping tabs on law enforcement activity for me. She’s been invaluable, really.” He put his arm around Nellie’s shoulders and the young reporter didn’t so much as flinch.

  Molly was aghast. “How could you do it, Nellie?” she screamed. “Why would you?”

  Nellie gave a haughty sniff. “Money,” she said. “A lot of money.”

  “And an offer to be my official state journalist, running all of the nation’s press after I take over,” Rector added proudly. “What ambitious young reporter could turn down a position like that?”

  “One who wanted to be an actual reporter!” Molly clenched her fists so hard it hurt. “We went back looking for you, you know!” she yelled at Nellie. “I never stopped looking! I’ve checked the papers every day!”

  “And you never saw my name in there, did you?” Nellie fired back. “Well, Mr. Rector is going to change that for me. It’s nothing personal, kids. This is me fulfilling my lifelong dream. You can’t say you didn’t see this coming. I told you back when you first invited me on your Antarctic expedition that I was only coming along to record the story. I warned you back then that my career would always be my number one priority. That hasn’t changed.”

  Molly slumped against her cell door and squeezed her eyes shut to keep from tearing up. It was true; Nellie had said as much. But by the time they’d parted ways in Barbados, Molly had truly believed their relationship had grown into something more, that Nellie had come to put their friendship ahead of the Almighty Story. She had looked up to Nellie, wanted to be like Nellie. Now that very thought made her queasy.

  “I thought so much better of you, Nellie,” Hertha said with disgust. “It was your passion for shedding light on the truth that led me to take you under my wing. Now you settle for being private scribe to a dictator, writing whatever this madman tells you to?”

  “Simply getting your name in the papers is that important?” Emmett asked. He sounded more hurt than angry.

  Nellie looked down her nose at them. “I’ve made my choice. I’ll live with it. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

  “No!” Molly screamed in fury. “You don’t get to stab us in the back and just walk away! We were a team! Robot nearly died saving you from Rector’s ship! Me and Emmett almost . . . Wait. Where is Robot?” She couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed his absence until then.

  “Ah, yes, that would be some more of Miss Bly’s handiwork,” said Rector. “See, I ran into a little problem back on Phipps Lane: your robot wasn’t affected by my knockout gas. And that mechanical monstrosity had a rather negative reaction to seeing all his friends incapacitated on the floor around him. For a second, I thought I might actually be in danger. Luckily, I had my minions waiting nearby to help me load your bodies onto the coach. Miss Bly ran in and gave Robot a zap with my Sizzle-Stick.” He waved the metallic baton he’d used on Captain Lee. “The unfortunate bit is that she miscalculated the level of charge to use.”

  “I’d seen him get shocked by the door of the Tea Works,” Nellie explained apologetically to Rector. “I assumed he’d get up again. I’d never used the Sizzle-Stick before.”

  “It’s okay, Nellie,” Rector said, patting her on the back. “Your heart was in the right place.” Rector turned to the table and pulled back the rest of the sheet. Robot lay there motionless, black singe marks at his joints and loose springs poking from between the metal plates of his torso. “It’s a shame, though,” Rector continued. “There were all sorts of experiments I’d planned to perform on this guy. They’d be pointless now that’s he just a lifeless hunk of aluminum.” There was nothing Molly could do to hold back the tears.

  “You monster!” Cassandra cried.

  “You—you—you’re worse than Rector!” Molly shouted at Nellie. “Robot saved your life in Barbados! And you killed him? He might have been made of metal but he had more humanity than you!”

  Nellie cast her eyes to the floor. “I don’t need to take this abuse,” she said. “I did what I had to do. And you’ll all see soon enough that I’m the one who made the right choice.” She marched out.

  Oogie MacDougal chuckled and nudged Grimsby with his elbow. “She’s up ta high doh, thon ane,” he said.

  The old man squinted at him. “Whuzzat?”

  “Ah says the lass is doin’ her dinger, eh?”

  Grimsby stared.

  “Whit’s off?” Oogie frowned. “Ye hae a bum lug?”

  Grimsby scowled. “I ain’t takin’ this abuse neither!” He stomped out after Nellie.

  “Henchmen,” Rector huffed, rolling his eyes. “You can scram too, MacDougal. As for the rest of you, enjoy your perfect prison. You’ll only be spending the one night in it.” He followed Oogie into the hall, then popped back in a moment later. “Because tomorrow you’ll be—”

  “Dead, yes,” Hertha said flatly.

  “Oh, good, you got that,” Rector said with a grin. “In that case . . . ta-ta!” He slammed the door.

  For a long time, none of the prisoners spoke. They didn’t even make eye contact. What was there to say? Molly couldn’t stop staring at Robot’s silent metal frame, draped across the tabletop, his left arm dangling awkwardly over the edge. She longed to press her cheek to his. If Robot had conked out while flying them to safety when Agent Clark was chasing them, or if his final mote of Ambrosium had turned to ash while he was magnetically hurling artifacts at the museum guards, then at least he’d have gone out a hero. But he had been murdered. By someone they all thought was a friend! It made the pain—and anger—even worse. She didn’t care if their cells were “unbreakoutable,” she was going to get free somehow. And when she did, she was going to get her revenge. On Rector. On Oogie MacDougal. On Nellie Bly . . . That one still hurt so much. She couldn’t believe Nellie had done what she did to Robot. And then she apologized to Rector for it? Molly would never forgive Nellie. Or forgive herself for trusting her. She should have believed Nellie when she said she’d always put her career first and . . . Molly gasped.

  “Molls, are you all right?” her mother asked. “Why are— Are you
. . . smiling?”

  “Nellie was a stowaway,” Molly replied, feeling a surge of renewed hope. “We never invited her on our expedition. In fact, we weren’t very happy to find she’d snuck along. We had a whole big back-and-forth about it! So why say we invited her? Why lie about an insignificant detail like that, when we’d obviously know it was a lie?”

  “What are you saying, Molly?” Captain Lee asked.

  “Nellie’s still on our side,” she replied. “She was giving us a signal!”

  22

  Traitor!

  LONG INTO THE night, Molly stood in her cell, her fingers gripping the bars and her eyes focused on the door as if the power of her stare could will Nellie Bly back into the room.

  “I’m worried about you, Molls,” said Cassandra.

  “She’s coming back for us,” Molly said for the sixth time that hour.

  “I’d love to believe you,” her mother replied. “But . . . she destroyed Robot, Molls.”

  “And I’ll never forget that,” Molly said, her eyes staying on the door. “But maybe it really was an accident. Maybe that apology to Rector was secretly meant for us.”

  “I hope you’re right, Molly,” Emmett said, working at his cell’s lock with a loose button from his coat. “But you standing there, staring like that, is actually kinda distracting.”

  “That line about us ‘inviting’ her wasn’t an accident,” Molly insisted. “It was something she knew we’d recognize as an inconsistency, but that Rector would have no reason not to believe.”

  “Or maybe the woman’s been lying to so many people for so long that her tall tales have gotten tangled in her head,” said Edison.

  Bell tugged at the gold chain in his lapel pocket and checked his watch. “It’s two a.m., girl,” Bell said. “At the very least, sit down and get some rest.”

  “Rest for what?” Hertha interjected, her tone sharp. “So we’re all perky and refreshed before being executed? She should be helping us work on an escape, just as you should! We’ve got a dozen crackerjack minds here; we should be putting them all to use.”

  “I think I’m making progress here,” said Margaret. She was on her knees digging at the hinges of her cell door with her stubby fingernails.

  “You can do it,” Sarah cheered, while toying at her own lock with the corner of her shirt cuff. “I believe in you!”

  “If you could believe some tools into our hands, that would help,” said Margaret.

  “Mr. Edison,” asked Captain Lee. “You had some shards of metal in your pocket. Perhaps the women could use those?”

  “No way,” Edison said, huddling to protect his broken gizmo. “This is my next big invention. I need each and every piece.”

  “Unless it’s a cell-door opener, I don’t know how it could possibly be more important than what we’re doing,” said Mary.

  “It’s a pile of scrap,” Josephine scoffed. “You don’t even know how those pieces go together.”

  “But when I do figure it out . . . you’re all going to be wowed,” Edison said. “This invention is going to turn the world upside down.”

  “Ooh, is it a shoe that you wear on your head and hats that you put on your feet?” Cassandra asked.

  “Of course not,” Edison replied.

  “So . . . that one’s still up for grabs?” said Cassandra. “Excellent! I know what my next project is! After we escape, that is.”

  “Which will be any minute—you just watch,” said Molly. Come on, Nellie, she continued in her head. Please let me be right about you. I need to know there are people out there who can be trusted. “Believe in Nellie.”

  “I believe in her,” said Sarah. “But I also believe in myself, which is why I’m not going to stop trying to pick this lock.”

  “Molly,” said Emmett. “Even if Nellie is some kind of double agent, that doesn’t mean she’ll be able to free us. What if she never gets the opportunity? What if Rector has already sniffed her out as a spy? What if—?”

  There was a click and the chamber door opened. Everybody hurriedly stopped fidgeting with their locks and dropped their hands to their sides.

  “I knew it,” Molly announced triumphantly. And then quickly deflated when she saw Grimsby’s pale, wrinkled head poke into the room.

  “Knew what? That it were me?” the old Brit asked, looking uncomfortable. “You know, that smell ain’t coming from me proper. It’s the garlic bulbs in me pockets.” He patted his hip. “Hold on. These pants ain’t got no pockets. So, where did I put that garlic?” He scratched his blotchy scalp.

  “Is there something you want from us, Mr. Grimsby?” Hertha asked.

  Grimsby stopped feeling around for his missing garlic. “Not unless any of you been up to something needs punishing,” he said with a sneer. “Anybody ’ere need punishing?”

  The prisoners remained silent, their faces solemn.

  “Shame, that,” said Grimsby. “But you never know when I may pop in again for another look-see. Maybe I’ll get me chance next time.” He grunted and left, shutting the door once more.

  Molly leaned against the bars and slid to the floor, allowing herself to sit for the first time in hours. It felt like a good time for crying, but she couldn’t work up any tears. Her body was too dried out. Or maybe too numbed by disappointment. “I’m sorry,” she said, to no one in particular. “I just . . . I so wanted to believe that Nellie didn’t go bad—couldn’t go bad.”

  “We understand, Molls,” her mother said softly. “We all wish that had been the case.”

  “But, you see . . . holding on to that hope let me hold on to the hope that we might get out of this somehow,” Molly continued. “And the hope that we can still stop Rector. And that we can save our reputations, get some recognition, stop hiding, get to live our old lives again. Or new ones, better ones.” She dropped her head to her chest. “But without hope for Nellie, I’m not sure I can hold on to those others. I don’t want to give up, Mother. But—”

  The chamber door clicked and inched open again.

  “Get out, you mangy old yeast-fly!” Molly snapped.

  Nellie Bly slipped inside and eased the door shut behind her. “Okay,” she said sheepishly. “I suppose I deserved that.”

  Molly jumped to her feet. “I thought you were Bumbles.”

  Nellie frowned. “Well, now I’m insulted.”

  “What do you want?” Hertha asked.

  “If I said, ‘to get you out of those cells,’ would you all start being a little nicer to me?” she replied.

  Molly danced around with as much celebratory vigor as her cramped little cell would allow.

  “So, you are on our side?” Cassandra asked, hesitant to sound too hopeful.

  “Of course!” Nellie replied, and then began shushing the words of gratitude from around the room. “Do you think I’d actually align myself with a maniac like Rector?”

  “Well, you certainly put on a good show, dear,” said Josephine.

  “Acting!” Nellie said with a flourish.

  Emmett seemed unimpressed. He glared at Nellie with an anger he couldn’t hide. “But . . . But you killed Robot.”

  “What?” Nellie sputtered. She spun to face the table where the metal man lay motionless. “Oh my goodness. Robot! Why are you still lying there? Get up!”

  Robot sat up with a creak.

  “You’re not dead!” Molly cried.

  “Acting!” Robot said with a flourish. He climbed down stiffly from the table and shuffled to Molly’s cell. The girl reached through the bars and squeezed his thick aluminum fingers.

  “Sheesh, Robot, you’ve been lying in here with us for hours,” Emmett said. “You could’ve said something.”

  “I was waiting for Nellie to tell me it was safe,” said Robot.

  “I did!” Nellie said. “Before I left earlier, I said that whole bit about how they’d ‘soon see that I did the right thing.’ That was me telling you to let them in on our secret.”

  “Oh, well, that was very vag
ue,” said Robot. “You should have said something like, ‘I am going to leave now and when I do, Robot will show you he is not dead.’”

  Nellie threw her arms up in resignation.

  “I am sorry to have frightened you,” Robot said to the others.

  “We’re just happy you’re still with us,” Cassandra said with a tear in her eye.

  “Well, I’m also sorry to have put you through all that, but if I hadn’t pretended to kill Robot, Oogie or Grimsby would have done it for real,” Nellie said. “And then we had to make sure Rector believed he was out of commission, so I told him to play dead until I gave the signal.”

  “And then her signal was too vague,” said Robot.

  Nellie rolled her eyes.

  “Well, thank you, Miss Bly,” said Hertha, “for not ruining my reputation as a good judge of character.”

  “What I don’t understand is why you’re still here,” said Captain Lee. “If you’ve been faking loyalty to Rector, why have you stayed with the man for months? Why haven’t you escaped or called the police or—”

  “I’m a news bear!” Nellie flashed Molly a sly grin. “I will go anywhere and do anything for a story. So when the most devious criminal of our time invites me to be part of his inner circle, you bet I’m going to play along with that. Plus, it’s been a lot easier to keep an eye on Rector’s shenanigans from the inside. I’ve been getting the scoop, while at the same time doing whatever I could to gum up the gears of his operation and slow his progress. I had to do little things here and there to actually help him—like pointing him toward the Star of Ceylon—so he’d believe I was truly on his side. But I’ve been working against him wherever I could. I kept lying to him about ‘heavy police activity’ in areas he wanted to go. I even sent an anonymous message to Agent Clark about a ‘Rector sighting in Petalsburg,’ hoping he might keep the bad guys busy long enough for me to warn the MOI before fake Edison got to them. That one didn’t work out as planned. But my main priority was keeping him from enacting his plan until I’d found all of you! I didn’t want to turn on him until I knew all of you were safe. But, wow, you folks are good at hiding!”