A Dastardly Plot

by Christopher Healy

  Molly tried to scream but couldn’t find her voice. She and Emmett ran to the crumbled Tahitian palace and saw Mary Walton on the ground.

  “Are you okay, Miss Walton?” Emmett asked, bending to help her up.

  “I . . . think so,” Mary said, starting to stand. “I just . . . I . . .” Her face looked suddenly pained. “I think . . . I may . . . have lost a . . .” She felt around her left ear and then suddenly flopped back to the ground.

  “One of her earplugs fell out,” Molly cried. “Find it!” She and Emmett scoured the nearby ground, but came up empty.

  “No,” Molly said, still on her hands and knees. “We’re right back where we were. My mother’s gone, our friends are gone.”

  “They are,” said Emmett. He sounded quiet, but determined.

  “I’m terrified,” Molly said.

  “I know,” said Emmett. He didn’t sound scared.

  “It’s just you and me again.”

  Emmett nodded. “Yeah, just us.”

  “Yeah . . . so why aren’t you panicking?” Molly cried.

  “Because I’m with Molly Pepper.”

  Molly didn’t know what to say, and Emmett continued. “I’ve spent the last week trying to be more like Molly Pepper. Molly Pepper is unflappable. She’s not too scared of anything. And she never lets me give up. Remember her? Remember that Molly Pepper?”

  Molly closed her eyes and waited for her breathing to slow. “We still can’t get near Rector,” she said. “And there isn’t even a lever anymore for us to turn off the machine. What can we do?”

  “What would Molly Pepper do?”

  Molly thought. Then she nodded. She knew.

  44

  Showdown!

  “AHOY? WASHINGTON? THIS is your supreme leader speaking. Hello?” Rector had retrieved the telephone and was on his knees trying to reinstall it when Molly and Emmett snuck up behind the stage. They carefully crawled around Rector’s paralyzed victims—until one of those victims moved. Hertha moaned and rubbed her head.

  “Shhh. Rector’s right up there,” Molly warned. “Are you okay?”

  “A bit groggy,” she mumbled. “How are we faring?”

  “Terribly,” said Molly. “But don’t worry. Emmett and I have got this. You rest. But not too long. If this stage blows up, you won’t wanna be back here.”

  “Thank you, I feel utterly secure now,” Hertha said weakly as she laid her head back down.

  Molly gave Emmett a silent nod that said, Thank you for trusting me with this. To which Emmett responded with a nod that said, Thank you for believing in me. We won’t let each other down. And Molly was happy to have a friend who could say so much with a nod.

  “Ahoy? Ah, yes, there you are, Mr. Senator,” Molly heard Rector nattering into the phone. “Actually, no, you’re not a senator anymore. It was senators who killed Caesar. Your new title is . . . Boot-Polisher.”

  Molly pulled herself up on the stage. In order for her plan to work, she was going to have to trust in the abilities of two inventors: her mother and Emmett. She held her mother’s little controller box to her lips. “Robot, walk,” she whispered. The automaton started toward Rector. Her trust was well placed.

  The villain dropped the phone, spun, and aimed his ray gun at her. “Make that tin can stop or I will.”

  “Robot, stop,” Molly said quickly.

  Rector grinned. “Good choice. I’d like to keep at least one of these clankers intact so I can take a look inside and see how your mother made them work like that.”

  “As if you could understand it,” Molly scoffed.

  The villain laughed. “Ah, Little Miss Pepper. I should’ve guessed it would come to this—me against an eleven-year-old girl. How impressive a final victory for me.”

  “Actually, I just turned twelve.”

  “Well, in that case, I surrender.”

  Molly kept her face stony, trying to act braver than she felt. She was careful to keep Robot between her and Rector.

  The madman glanced around. “Where’s your little friend? Did I flatten him along with your mother? Oh, I can see from the sneer on your face that I did. A shame, really. If I’m to speak truthfully, you two came ridiculously close to thwarting my plans. If only you’d been smart enough to realize how similar we are.”

  “Similar? Us?” Molly said, her disgust evident.

  “You’re willing to break a few rules when you believe your cause is just, are you not?” Rector said. “Do you recall what you were doing when you first stumbled onto my plans?”

  Molly kept her lips shut tight.

  “You and the boy certainly would’ve made better sidekicks than those Green Onion morons,” Rector continued. “Hey, perhaps there’s still a place for you in my government. Interested?”

  Behind Rector, Molly saw Emmett climb onto the other end of the platform. She nodded to him.

  “Was that a yes?” Rector asked with surprise. “Wow, that took less convincing than expected. Perhaps you’re even more devious than I thought. Pardon me if I don’t completely take you at your word, though. Before we continue this conversation, let’s have you toss that little black box, eh?”

  Grumbling, Molly crouched, set the robot controller on the stage floor, and slowly stood up.

  “Good girl,” Rector said smugly. “That was easy, wasn’t it?” He loosened up and relaxed his arms, his ray gun finally pointing away from Molly. “You know, I like this whole ‘you obeying what I say’ change. Makes things go so much more smoothly. A man could get used to—”

  Molly quickly tapped the button on the special bracelet Emmett had fashioned for her just five minutes earlier. The controller at her feet leapt back into her hand, reeled in by a near-invisible thread. Once again, trust well placed. “Robot, grab!” Molly yelled into the black box. Robot reached out and grabbed the barrel of Rector’s weapon.

  “Hey! Let go, teapot!” the villain growled, but the automaton’s metal fist held tight. With a snap, the barrel of the ray gun cracked open to reveal the small chunk of glowing meteorite.

  “Robot, pull!” Molly shouted again. And the robot plucked the luminous stone from the gun.

  “That’s mine!” Rector shouted. He began beating at the automaton’s hand with his busted ray gun.

  “Robot, wind yourself!” Molly said.

  With one hand, Robot opened his chest plate, and with the other—the hand that still clutched the meteorite—he reached inside himself for a fresh cranking. Then Robot resealed his chest compartment—with the space rock securely inside.

  “Ha!” Molly crowed. Rector pounded his fists against the robot’s torso, but backed away as the automaton suddenly began to tremble. A low hum sounded from deep within its chest, and soon the stone’s orange glow began to seep through every seam and joint in Robot’s aluminum exterior. Molly feared the metal man might explode. But instead, he began to levitate. At first, Robot hovered a few inches above the ground—and Molly swore the look in its ceramic eyes was one of confusion. Then it took off, zooming headfirst into the sky and out of sight.

  “Well,” Rector said. “That was unexpected.”

  “Robot, come back!” Molly shouted into the controller. But the automaton was gone.

  “I suppose the space rock’s magnetism caused it to repel itself right off the planet,” Rector muttered. “That’s how magnets work, right?”

  Then he noticed the grin on Molly’s face. He turned to see Emmett standing by the Mind-Melter. “Oh, you’re not dead,” he said, clearly disappointed.

  “But your death machine is,” Emmett replied.

  “How are you planning to turn it off?” Rector asked smugly.

  Emmett held up a bucket. “Electricity and water don’t play nice together.”

  “Oh, bravo!” Hertha said from the ground. “You’ve been paying attention! The Marvelous Moto-Mover did not die in vain.”

  Rector screamed as Emmett poured three gallons into the open hole where the lever used to sit. Loud pops sounded from
deep within the Mind-Melter’s workings, and wisps of black smoke leaked from its seams.

  Almost immediately, people began to stir. Throughout the park, fairgoers were standing. And some—like Jasper and Josephine, whom the children were very pleased to see among the living—rushed toward the stage, where President Arthur sat up and shook his fuzzy jowls. “Did that really happen?”

  Grover Cleveland shrugged.

  Rector grabbed Molly. “I’m going to wager none of you want to be responsible for the death of this brat.” He held her in a headlock, the back of his hand against her throat. “Anybody gets in my way and I inject her with the deadly dose of Antarctic sea spider venom stored in my ring.”

  Rector forced his captive over to his broken Mind-Melter. Keeping one arm around Molly, he used the other to pry open the side of the smoking machine, reach inside, and pull out a small hunk of orange rock. “Nobody gets their hands on this,” he said, jamming the Ambrosium into his pocket.

  He and Molly then hopped down from the platform, and the crowd parted for them. Molly was heartened to see Emmett follow as they warily crossed the square. Just as she was comforted to see Sarah helping Margaret to her feet. But none of them could do a thing to help her.

  Once across the plaza, Rector prodded Molly into the Icarus Chariot. He strapped her in, then took the pilot’s seat and immediately began pedaling. The generator hummed, the rotor spun, and the Icarus Chariot lifted off.

  “I hope you don’t think I’m beaten, Molly,” Rector said as they ascended. “This shard in my pocket is just one tiny chip off the old space rock. There’s plenty more where that came from.”

  “Antarctica?” Molly asked. Below, Emmett was reaching fruitlessly up to her. “That’s where you’re going?”

  “Where we’re going,” Rector corrected her.

  “I see,” Molly said flatly. “And if I don’t come with you, you’ll stab me with your poison ring.”

  “Oh, there’s no poison ring,” Rector said. “Although it is a great idea—I gotta write that one down. No, you’ll come with me because you want to. Being an Antarctic explorer is more your thing, anyway, right? Besides, what’s your alternative? Go back to the mother who wastes your true talents by forcing you to be her assistant? She doesn’t deserve you. Look at her, standing down there, all buddy-buddy with Bell and Edison, the very men who hold her back from—”

  “My mother’s okay?” Molly looked over the edge. Cassandra was standing right below her, arms outstretched. Molly unlatched her safety harness.

  “What are you going to do, jump?” Rector asked, pedaling faster. “If she misses, you break every bone in your body.”

  Molly stepped to the edge of the flying rowboat.

  “If you don’t come with me, you’ll never find out if Emmett’s father is still alive,” Rector said quickly, holding a hand out to her. “He was when I left him down there.”

  Molly’s head whipped to her kidnapper.

  “I couldn’t bring myself to kill him. He was the only one who argued for me when the rest of the crew kicked me off the ship. I even left him with some supplies. Probably not enough to survive three years in Antarctica, but, hey, Captain Lee was a resourceful guy. Seemed to really love his kid, too; that might’ve been enough to keep him going.”

  Molly stared at him. Emmett’s words echoed in her head: What would Molly Pepper do?

  “Really, he could be alive,” Rector said. “Strap yourself back in and we’ll go find out.”

  Molly looked down. Her mother’s arms were wide open, beckoning. She jumped.

  45

  History Is Written by the Victors

  THE NEW YORK City police flooded into the fairgrounds soon after, followed by the US Army and squads of federal agents. They saw to the wounded, protected the president, recorded eyewitness testimony, and rounded up the remaining Green Onion Boys, all of whom claimed to have been duped by Rector. When they caught Oogie MacDougal, his heavily accented protests were taken for the ravings of a madman and he was shipped to Blackwell’s Asylum.

  Keeping a low profile, Hertha Marks and the Mothers of Invention congratulated Cassandra on a world-class job of daughter-catching. They reminded her that their offer of membership still stood, and then quietly slipped away. Though not before Josephine Cochrane presented Molly with a long-overdue bag of candy corn.

  Molly waved goodbye and tossed one of the sugary kernels into her mouth. She grimaced. “Ugh. They’re terrible.” She popped in a second piece.

  “Then why are you still eating them?” Emmett asked.

  Molly shrugged. “They’re candy.”

  Jasper found Emmett and the Peppers sitting on a fallen pillar outside the China Pavilion. “You children are hazardous to my health,” the ashman said. “I don’t know what kind of mystical, wizztical spell took hold of my mind to make me think I should come here and try to find you two. I mean, why in the name of Lincoln’s mole would I—”

  Molly threw her arms around him.

  “I suppose that’s why,” he said. “I really should go now, though. Balthazar Birdhouse has been unsupervised for way too long.”

  Molly, Cassandra, and Emmett sat for a bit longer and watched soldiers clear people from the park. “So, will you join the MOI?” Molly asked her mother.

  “Perhaps,” Cassandra said, trying some candy corn and wincing. “Or perhaps I will get all of them into the Inventors’ Guild with me.”

  “You really think Bell and Edison will convince the Guild to change its rules?” Emmett asked.

  “After what we did today?” Cassandra said. “I should think so. We just saved the country! The Peppers have finally made the history books!”

  “I congratulate you both,” Emmett said.

  “Don’t discount your own part in this,” Cassandra said.

  “We might never have disarmed Rector without your Snap-Back Wrist Retrieval Cord Thingie,” Molly said. “I’d like to see Edison build something that useful with only the odds and ends in Mary Walton’s purse.”

  “And Emmett, our housing arrangement may be somewhat complicated at the moment, but I hope you know you will always have a home with us.”

  Emmett looked as if he might cry. “Thank you,” he said. “America is my home. And I want more than anything to stay here. But I was reminded today that my Chinese heritage is also a part of me. A part I know nothing about.”

  “I understand,” Molly said. She rolled a piece of candy corn between her fingers. Molly couldn’t get Rector’s words out of her head. Would Emmett be better off knowing about his father? Or would that knowledge only torture him further? “Emmett, there’s . . . something I have to tell you.”

  “Can it wait, Molls?” Cassandra interrupted. “I see Bell and Edison over there. I haven’t gotten to thank them for freeing me from that collapsed pavilion. Of course, I freed them from imprisonment before that. . . . But, still.”

  She strode off and Emmett, misty-eyed, followed. Reluctantly, Molly did as well. The news about Emmett’s father would have to wait.

  Bell and Edison stood in a huddle of dark-suited men that included Presidents Arthur and Grant, Governor Cleveland, and several Molly didn’t recognize. Cassandra was about to tap Bell on the shoulder when they heard President Arthur say, “The world must never know of this.”

  “But there are literally thousands of witnesses,” Bell said, incredulous.

  “Mass hysteria,” said a bespectacled man in a dark gray suit. “I’d wager more than half the people present legitimately don’t understand what happened to them.”

  “Call it some kind of electrical disturbance,” offered another unidentified man. “Or a gas leak, perhaps. Something that addled people’s brains, made them hallucinate.”

  “A chemical explosion!” President Arthur said, nodding. “That would explain the structural damage as well.”

  “Or we could just tell everybody,” Cassandra said with obviously forced congeniality.

  “Who is this woman?” asked
the man in the glasses.

  Cassandra offered her hand to the man. “Cassandra Pepper. National hero, savior of the World’s Fair, and inventor of the flying machine you saw today.”

  “The flying machine Rector used to make his escape?” the man asked pointedly.

  “Cassandra and the others risked everything to help us today,” Bell said with equal bite.

  “Alec is right,” added Edison. “Are we planning to sweep those women under the rug?”

  “If they are the heroes and patriots they say they are,” said the gray-suited man, “they will understand the importance of keeping secrets for the sake of our nation.”

  “Secrets are what caused this whole problem!” Molly said, forcing herself into the circle of men. “Hiding what happened to the Frost Cleaver, hiding the real reason Rector was on that ship, hiding what goes on in the Guild—”

  “Little girl,” said the gray-suited man. “I’m going to pay your mother a compliment by assuming she’s intelligent enough to understand what would happen if the American people became aware that a man as dangerous and powerful as Ambrose Rector was at large.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Molly rolled up her sleeve. “Well, I’m gonna pay you a—”

  “Molly, stop.” Cassandra put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder.

  “Fear not, Mrs. Pepper,” said President Arthur. “We are aware of your contributions today and we will see to it that the charges against you are quietly dropped.”

  Cassandra muttered words that sounded like “thank you,” but might also have been something less polite. And she led Molly away.

  “So that’s that,” Ulysses S. Grant said with a sigh. “We’ll dismantle the entire Fair immediately. As far as the history books will know, the 1883 World’s Fair will never have happened.”

  “Mother, we can’t let them get away with this!” Molly said.

  “But they have a point,” Cassandra said sadly. “If people knew what Rector could do with those space rocks, there’d be mass panic.”

  “So?” Molly said.

  “So letting this go is the responsible thing to do.”