The Gadgeteer Box Set

by Gin Hollan

  The next thing she needed was her city map from two years ago. It was marked with Graham's home address, as well as a couple other spots he was likely to be found. As she dug around in the box she'd left it in, she found a file folder he'd slipped her as another bounty hunter pushed his way into Graham's house. He'd trusted her with that. What was in it, though? She never did look. She lifted the edge, tempted, but closed it again. This was trust.

  It was one of two things: would he trust her with something he didn't want falling into the wrong hands, or was he too busy being handcuffed to dispose of it properly? He hadn't come to get the folder after he was let out of prison. He could have come to thank her for sending her lawyer over. The man had found a loophole for Graham to climb out through. She didn't know the details; she was too busy tracking down the guy that was actually guilty, in case the lawyer couldn't win. She'd caught him, but the damage was done. Graham was a family friend and she'd used that fact to find him. That got him locked up. Her intent was to warn him, but she was followed - a mistake she never made again.

  She slapped a hand on her thigh. Enough retrospect. It was time to lace up her boots and get out there. She went to the pantry and pulled out a small pouch of dried chicken jerky and then filled an oilskin with water. Next stop: Graham.

  // Chapter 16 //

  HALF AN HOUR LATER her cab pulled up in front of Graham's house. Steeling herself, she stepped out, hoping but dreading that he was home. Marble sensed her trepidation and lingered behind. Since when was she fearful? She laughed quietly and knocked on the door.

  "Come in. We've been expecting you," a woman's voice called out.

  The hair on the back of her neck tingled at the strangeness of it, then she realized there must be a monitoring system of some sort. Or maybe that happened every time, no matter who was at the door. But why a woman's voice? She hadn't heard he’d gotten married, and that would have been big news to her family.

  Cracking the door open, Arabeth looked inside. It was dark. She stepped inside and took a few steps, hoping she wouldn't bump into anything. A brilliant light came on overhead, forcing her to stop while her eyes adjusted.

  "Okay, where are you?" she said, raising a hand over her eyes.

  The room was cavernous and seemed to be used for pure science, with several different tables covered with experiments. A heavy-set blonde woman of average height walked over, smiling.

  "Graham is in the other room. Come in, won't you?" She pointed to the boot rack. "Graham entertains a lot these days - he's in talking with two aeronauts right now. Frankly, it all goes over my head like the ratios for hydrogen disbursement, canvas weight, centre of gravity. I'm starting to learn, but there's still too much that's changing as we go."

  Arabeth nodded. "Is he going to be long, do you know?"

  "Oh, these meetings aren't usually long. Most people have trouble, because they can't make eye contact." She stuck her hand out, a very modern gesture, Arabeth noted. "I'm Daisy, and before you ask, I'm his assistant.”

  "I'm Arabeth. I'm a gadgeteer."

  "Ooh." Daisy smiled. "Perfect. Come here. Explain this to me."

  Daisy led her to one of the slanted drafting tables, filled with large sheets of architect's graphing paper. "The item is simple enough, but what are these words?"

  "Are you sure I'm allowed to see this?"

  "It's not a problem, I assure you. The minute you told me your name, I knew I could enlist you. He's spoken of you often." She blushed a little, but looked at the paper still.

  Skeptical, Arabeth hesitated. "You don't read?"

  "I read some, and he's been teaching me, but he's so busy. And his vision isn't what it was. You heard about his ... transformation?"

  Arabeth shook her head.

  "You had a possessive, isolationist former husband."

  Arabeth frowned, but nodded.

  "This will come as something of a shock then." She sighed. "He can't see. I mean, without his lenses, he's says he’s blind. It’s not true, but with them, he sees better than the rest of us. Light spectrum manipulation, he calls it. He sees through walls. It's scary, and all way beyond my understanding."

  "He's really done something like that? Why isn't that in the Science Journal?"

  "It's too easy to exploit for nefarious purposes, he says."

  Arabeth chuckled. That sounded like something Graham would say, all right. He was as honest as the dawn, believing the greater good needed defenders.

  "Can you read this?" Daisy asked.

  Arabeth leaned forward to read the area Daisy stared at.

  "This?" she asked. "What about it?"

  Daisy paused. "What language is that?"

  "It's Italian, Graham’s native language."

  "Why doesn't he have an accent?"

  Arabeth shrugged. "I presume he's worked on having the correct accent for whichever language he speaks in."

  Daisy nodded. "So, I have to learn that too." She looked into Arabeth's eyes. "Do you read it? Can you teach me?"

  "No, Italian is not one of the ones I speak."

  "Which do you speak? I had no idea rich people knew so many languages, or is that a tinker's thing?"

  "That's of no concern. When can I see Graham?" Arabeth was starting to see why this woman fit into Graham's world.

  Behind them, Graham's guests walked out, glancing their way but ignoring them otherwise. Arabeth took a long side glance, curious. Top hats and expensive suits. Bankers, or posers. Excited ones, at that. Either way, she didn't recognize them.

  "Arabeth, what brings you by?" Graham said, walking over.

  Daisy's comment about his new lenses hadn't prepared Arabeth for what they actually were. She had assumed they were simple spectacles, with a different kind of lens in them. They weren’t. These were a sort of goggle, with a series of stacked lenses, each with a separate toggle so that they could be moved in and out of view. They were a work of art.

  "I knew you'd appreciate them on a different level." He grinned as he pulled them off, adjusted all but one lens to be in use, then the handed them to her.

  Arabeth put them in front of her eyes, not quite touching her face. The change in her perception was dramatic, almost shocking. Lowering each lever to see what the result was caused her to gasp as it suddenly seemed she could see through walls, people, seeing instead a myriad of framework. Buildings had bracers and beams; people were living skeletons.

  "I see you've shifted specialties. This is beyond words. Explain," she said, handing the goggles back.

  "Another time, perhaps. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

  She dropped her head a moment, disappointed. She'd be back now, for sure.

  "I'm sure you've noticed the city-wide increase in attacks, people who were non-violent suddenly turning on each other. I suspect there's a cause. A radio-wave-based form of mind control. Well, mind disruption, really."

  He nodded. "Henry Walsh's device. I helped him build the prototype. No time to help refine, though."

  Arabeth frowned, glancing at Daisy before responding in a whisper. "Why would you do that?"

  "There will be an initial cost of life, but Arabeth, don't you think the war has gone on long enough? It's a waste of life, resources, effort."

  "I understand the logic; it's the ethics of it I don't like. What if the enemy finds out it was manipulation? They'll find a way to block it and rain hell on us all."

  "As opposed to what? A thirty-eight-year political war against people we've never met, and can't possibly hate except that they killed our relatives? Not good enough."

  "Henry Walsh ... his name is familiar."

  "You know him. He was the king's gadgeteer, until he got this idea."

  "The king was opposed?"

  "He didn't tell him. He sees the power in it, just like you see the power in these lenses. He left, saying he needed a sabbatical, for his nerves."

  "And the king agreed?"

  "This war has been going for ten years. He said he needed th
e time to recharge, to regain his energy. The king sees the tinker's department as a blend of science, art, and magic, so he agreed to give him a short break."

  "The war over in less than a year. It seems unreal."

  "Right? Amazing. Our kids could grow up in a different world," Graham said. There was a weird emphasis on the "our kids" part, but Arabeth ignored it.

  "I won't be having kids - I'm not remarrying. Once was more than enough," she said.

  He stood frozen in place a moment, then nodded. "Of course. The concept of marriage will soon be outdated anyway. Culture is forcing that shift. You always were a forward thinker."

  Momentarily tongue-tied, Arabeth cleared her throat. She forced her mind back to the goal she’d come for. She now had someone to track. She was good at that. Comfortable with it, even. That was the complete opposite of how she felt about marriage and offspring. Even if she was, Graham wouldn't be her first choice. It wasn't his age, although he was ten years older than she. It was ... he wasn't ... well, she wasn't attracted to him that way. His arrogance was not something she could live around. Not for long. Daisy looked mildly surprised and highly amused.

  "I need to get going. Thank you for your time, Graham." She held her hand out, for a handshake. He took it in one of his and raised it to his lips, brushing it lightly in a kiss. A suggestion of a kiss, it seemed. Pulling her hand back, she turned to leave, hiding the rush of colour that flooded her face. His warm, accepting chuckle behind her as she went did not comfort her.

  As she walked out, her anger started to flare up. What was with all these people who thought she needed a mate? Did she need to put a sign up in front of her house saying, "Suitors need not apply"? Did they think she couldn't keep a job?

  She'd forgotten to ask for Graham's help, she realized. Should she go back in? As she stood outside, the door opened, startling her. Daisy leaned out.

  "I'm assuming you want to talk to Mr. Walsh." She held out a scrap of paper. "This is the only address I have for him. Good luck."

  Henry Walsh, 2138 Bartlet Street. The warehouse district?

  "Thanks, Daisy. I appreciate this." Arabeth held the note up, smiling.

  "You're welcome, and good luck," Daisy said. "I want this war over too."

  Arabeth nodded. She wanted to see the war end as well, but there had to be a moral way to end it. Henry Walsh's device had to be stopped.

  // Chapter 17 //

  ARABETH PULLED HERSELF up, slowly climbing up the only stack of crates outside the warehouse. Why were the windows all on the second storey? She just wanted a peek in. Even in the middle of the day, this area 'felt' dark.

  Climbing, the crate she held onto wobbled a moment then steadied. She pulled herself up to the next one. It seemed convenient. A single, stacked but slightly staggered line of crates, going just to the line of windows and no higher. Looking around, she saw this was the only Whatever was through that window was staged. Fake. She needed the truth. She needed to find Henry Walsh, and this was her best lead. Deflated by this burst of logic, she climbed back down.

  She looked around for Marble, but the fox was missing. Maybe she'd smelled something worth pursuing. Arabeth pulled the collar tracker out and flipped the switch. She was close. And she was stationary.

  Arabeth started walking, half watching the tracking display, half watching where she walked. As she went, she noticed there was a slight smell of tar, and it was getting a little stronger as she went. That wouldn't lure a fox, and unless it was related to something Marble believed Arabeth was chasing, it wouldn't draw her.

  Peeking around the warehouse corner, she spotted Marble sitting to one side of a group of men. A little too close. They were ignoring her, so that was good.

  "Marble," she called at a whisper. One of the men looked her way. She pulled back around the corner. Maybe a little cover would be better. She looked for something to hide behind. She was sure the man saw her. The alley was bare, empty. This was a newer warehouse, newer neighbourhood. Off to the other side a pile of loose wood and metal sat. Construction leftovers. It wasn't much, but it'd do.

  Daisy was on to something, but this felt more like criminal activity than investment bankers. She should report it, not sneak around risking her neck. She wanted to laugh. Her, not investigate? That was unlikely.

  She was the one acting suspicious. If she were to act smart, she should boldly walk over, calling out for Marble, and be surprised to find her there.

  Standing, she walked back to the edge of the warehouse, thinking she'd walk confidently over and retrieve Marble, using the fox as the reason. If things went bad from there, she had skills. Tools. Illusionist's flash-bombs, things like that.

  "Marble, where did you go?" she called out, rounding the corner.

  The men were gone. Did they go inside? Marble sat, looking disappointed with Arabeth. Projecting. Arabeth was projecting again. She was disappointed with herself.

  "All right, sweetie, where did they go?"

  Marble stood up and walked to a metal door. Arabeth stopped there, common sense threatening to kick in. How could she explain walking in? She cracked the door open, a little surprised that it wasn't locked. Marble was about to go in but Arabeth quickly scooped her up. She wasn't risking her. After the damage Marble had taken at the checkerboard houses, this was a "detectors first" scenario. She tucked the fox into the crook of one arm and pulled out her detector with the other hand.

  The readings started mid-range, then fluctuated all over the display. It was worth a try, maybe. She put it away, planning to tweak it when she got home.

  Stepping inside the warehouse, she waited for her eyes to adjust. The lights were out, which was strange enough, but there were voices at the other end of the building. Calm, quiet voices. She felt her way along the right wall, thinking to ease her way back close enough to hear.

  Marble wiggled to be set down. Arabeth held her anyway. Better to know how Marble was doing, in case she needed help. Marble started grumbling and pushing to be put down, getting a bit too loud for the task at hand.

  "Okay, but you get out of here if you start to feel bad again, right?" she said, setting the animal down.

  This was the part Arabeth loved. The adrenaline. The discovery. The chase. As she moved forward, she listened for voices to hear what they were talking about.

  Inside, darkness filled the space, giving the shapes illuminated by the upper windows an eerie cast. They looked like more automatons, but taller, thinner. Moving along, she saw a light on at the far end of the wall.

  She wanted to hear what the voices were saying before she made a move. If only Marble's collar could transmit voice, like radio did. She'd have to work on that. If she ever got time. The wall was a good 300 feet long. Don't hold your breath, she reminded herself. Easier said than done.

  "You'll know it's working when only the men react," said a male voice. "Go immediately. Be gentle with that - it's highly sensitive."

  "All right, sir," a young female voice responded. "Do you want me to come straight back here after the ten minutes are up?" she asked.

  "Yes." His voice was dismissive, as if it was beneath him to repeat instructions.

  An ethical criminal in that he had gender boundaries … was that how he justified his actions?

  A light set of footsteps headed her way and she ducked down against the wall. A teenage girl walked past carrying a small, dark wood suitcase and a lantern. Arabeth waited for her to pass, intending to follow her. As the girl neared the exit, voices started up in the other room again.

  "You're not following her?"

  "No need. The Maddening Device will record the outcome. I'll play it back when she gets here."

  "But you trust her?"

  There was a pause. "You go, but stay fifty paces back. There's no saying which way she'll point the thing."

  "Yes, sir."

  A set of footsteps and a lantern headed for the exit, after the girl. This time Arabeth recognized the person. It was the same police officer that ha
d reported Betsy's death to her. Frank Masters. The realization caused a small itch on the side of Arabeth's neck.

  Was this corruption, collusion, or sanctioned? And 'Maddening Device'? Could he be less imaginative? She tsked softly.

  Again, she was tempted to follow. Not soon, though. Violence was the goal, and that would be the outcome. This time they were targeting a part of the brain that was more active in men than women. At least, that was her guess. The target wasn't the issue, for her. Its very existence was the threat. But who was behind it?

  She inched closer to the room, but only seconds after Frank went past, the light went out, leaving the area darker than ever. There was no way to see who it was now … and where did he go? A door clicked from within the room and she realized he must have gone out the other side.

  Following now would be stupid. Changing her plan, she decided it would be good to get a look inside that suitcase. How hard would it be to get it stolen away from the girl?

  With Frank Masters close behind, the snatch might be easy but the escape would be difficult. She'd have to hire three or four people to confuse the situation. And fast.

  She waited no more than a minute before moving to follow. The girl would be out of sight by now, but she only had to follow Frank to find her. Too bad she hadn't heard which way they were headed in the first place.

  Hesitating at that door may have cost her, cost the city. If she could notify the police somehow, or Hicks ... but no. She had no patience for homing pigeons. Besides, how do you carry one around comfortably for both you and bird, hoping you'd need it? She couldn't just stuff a pigeon in her satchel.

  Frank was easier to follow, not even trying to be subtle. They neared the city centre. It was busy as the lunch meetings ended and people went to eat. Hundreds of people, busily not paying attention to what was around them. The girl set the suitcase on a bench and sat beside it. Arabeth hadn't had a chance to enlist help along the way. Pondering, she considered walking up and absconding with the case herself. She could use the flash bomb she'd stashed, pick the suitcase up, and take off.