The Gadgeteer

by Gin Hollan

  "We can talk later. Tell me more about the checkerboard."

  "Not out here. You'll understand soon enough."

  "Why make it such an obvious thing?"

  "The pain your fox felt before is caused by radio frequencies on the high end of the spectrum. That audio interference is something not many can tolerate, and only young people and animals can hear. People assume a bored rich person wasted money on a land development project in an area with bad harmonics."

  "They encourage people to believe this is a New Science project?"

  "Ha! New Science is a group we made up to explain things we’d rather not explain, when we need a scapegoat."

  "What doesn't kill you, will get you later."

  "Sorry?"

  "Nothing. It's just something my friend Melanie likes to say."

  Arabeth looked down at Marble. She’d stopped worrying, and walked along, ears searching as she went.

  When they reached the northeast corner, Clement walked south one rock and one grass square, then turned sharply and walked the same distance to the west. The house in that square had a door on each side, so he walked to the closest one and stopped on its right side.

  "This panel." He flipped up a hand-sized sheet of metal. Underneath sat a grid of button with out-of-sequence numbers on them. "The number blocks get moved once a week, so you have to remember the code." He pressed six numbers. "And they have to be in the correct order. There is no reset key, so get it right the first time."

  The door clicked and he quickly opened it and waved her inside after him. Arabeth held the door long enough for Marble to dart in. The entire activity took less than thirty seconds.

  "This is different." Arabeth stood a moment and looked around. The interior was two storeys tall, as suggested by the outside, but there was no second floor. A series of embellished metal sheets lined the walls, but the floors were stone.

  "The interior is sound-dampened against the harmonics."

  That would certainly motivate people to get inside quickly.

  "That mural." He pointed to a large impressionist painting of a city street in the spring. "You will find Mrs Harbertrope and her daughter on the other side. Do you have a way to defeat potential thugs in that strange satchel of yours?"

  “A few knock-out darts and a set of restraints. I haven’t needed them since the program shut down.”

  He nodded and walked over to a large blanket chest and lifted the padded lid. "There may be a few things in here you can use. I stocked it yesterday."

  "Wait. Are you the one who built this checkerboard?"

  He smiled, shaking his head. "There's no time to explain, sweetie. I can tell you that story when you get back. All you need to know right now is that the sonic field around the area has been disabled and will stay off until you get back. They should be in one of the houses on the other side already, waiting."

  "Fine." Not seeing anything she could use in the chest, she walked to the painting. "Where does this go?"

  "There is a network all over this continent, with rail cars that go to all the big cities, and a few smaller ones. This painting hides a tunnel down to a network of rail lines. You'll understand once you're down there."

  "An underground rail system? Who made it, when, and why? Is it privately owned?" Arabeth asked.

  "Questions later. Go now. Be on the trolley back by sunset." He opened one of her hands and pressed a pair of metal tokens into it. "These are the only way to pay for the trip, so don't lose them. One there, one back. This is a retrieval. They've already been found and moved." Clement pushed the bottom of the painting to one side, revealing a short, smooth stone staircase leading sharply down.

  The smooth grey walls and pillars of the underground tunnel made it seem like it had existed for years. Maybe decades. Arabeth resisted the urge to go back and demand answers. Her great-godfather could have at least walked with her and explained more.

  A light rail track to her right reminded her of a heavy mining cart track, not a train track. The tunnel ahead seemed short as well. Hopefully a trolley would be along soon.

  In the meantime she double-checked her satchel. She'd carried it so long and so consistently that it felt like a part of her. Inside, along with her usual items, sat one of Graham’s little smoke bombs. That was fantastic! She double-checked the volume of her vials, hoping she had enough of the knock-out scent for this excursion. Something was missing, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

  A sound not unlike a pneumatic tube started up behind her and a strange, tube-shaped vehicle sped into view. The shape reminded her of the tube system one of the central bank offices had started using a couple years ago.

  She stepped back as it came to an abrupt halt in front of her. Was this a giant version of that message system? And did Clement expect her to ride this? Seriously?

  Walking forward again, she looked it over. It seemed safe. The top third popped open, startling her as it rose up, revealing three rows, each with a pair of comfortable-looking recumbent seats.

  "Kindly take a seat. This tube is scheduled to leave for Enasea in three minutes," a female voice said from a speaker inside.

  "How far is that?" Arabeth wondered.

  No answer. Of course. Two-way communication was still in its infancy. This must be a triggered announcement caused by a wiring gap closing when the metal wheels slowed to a stop. The same trigger that opened the canister. No ... carriage. She'd call it a carriage. Anything else reminded her of a coffin.

  With a shudder, Arabeth sat and Marble jumped up into the seat beside her before she pulled the door down to close. It was actually pretty comfortable, she conceded as she leaned back.

  "Insert your coin to begin transport," the woman's voice instructed.

  Oh, right. She reached into her pocket and withdrew one. Where did it go? The lighting was dim but she saw one spot that might work—a small, flat gap in the wall ahead of her. She dropped it in. Immediately the vehicle started to move. Arabeth was pressed back into her seat, and suddenly overcome with the urge to laugh. Once her body adjusted, she sat relaxed, almost bored. She closed her eyes. Before she knew it, the conveyance stopped. She must have fallen asleep. How long? The door opened.

  She sat forward and peered out. It looked exactly like the place she’d just left. Stepping out, she looked for anything different. A rock out of place would be enough proof that this was new. The trip was too short. Something must have gone wrong. She checked her pocket watch. Half an hour. That was short. Still, nothing seemed odd. There were a few stray items. Then she spotted a small metal plate on one wall. "34." She hadn't noticed a numbered plate before.

  Climbing a steep stone staircase, she flipped a lock latch on the edge of a narrow door and peeked through. It was another house, but this one looked lived-in.

  "Hello?" she called out.

  No answer. Stepping out, she relaxed. There was too much dust, too few creature comforts for this house to be anything other than a front.

  Someone coughed behind her. Startled, she turned, hand going to a pocket where she kept a small atomized spray bottle of skunk odor. The woman facing her nodded.

  "Are you the one I'm waiting for? The man told me you could get me and my daughter out of here."

  Anti-climactic, Arabeth thought. The hunter in her was disappointed, but she nodded. "Your daughter is here as well?"

  "Yes," she said, turning. "It's time."

  A tiny girl of no older than seven years age walked over and took her mother's hand. Looking up, she gasped. "You're Arabeth! I've seen you in the newspaper."

  Smiling softly, Arabeth nodded. "Yes. We should go." She indicated to the door.

  "In there? That was locked," the woman said.

  "For reasons that will shortly become apparent. Follow me." She stopped. "I'm sorry. What are your names?"

  "Oh, I'm Wilma. My daughter is Camilla."

  "Nice to meet you." A shadow passed one of the windows. "Let's go."

  "They're bringing us food.
Can we wait another moment?" Wilma asked.

  "I'm sorry, but I was told we had to get you back right away. Can you wait just a bit longer for food? It's a quick trip." She asked the daughter more than the mother, wishing she'd had a chance to pack a snack bar or fruit for them.

  The girl nodded. "We should go, Momma."

  "All right."

  Locking the door behind them, Arabeth wondered how to tell the conveyance where they were going. She stopped. Maybe the coin did that. She pulled it out, examining it. It was a double-headed coin. She recognized the head on one side as the founder of Elsborough. The other must be the founder of this city.

  "Hop in. This will take you back. Brace yourself—it travels at incredible speed and may frighten you at first."

  "Not me, it won't," the girl said, climbing in. Her mother gave a resigned sigh and followed. "Are you coming?"

  "There is only space for two. I'll catch the next one. You're about to go very fast. The pressure will push you back into your seat and it may feel a little like you're squished. Stay calm. It's normal."

  "I'm not an infant," the girl said. "You can talk normally."

  "All right." Arabeth smiled. "You'll be home in about half an hour. There are cloaks upstairs. Hide your faces until you can take a cab to the police station, to Mr. Harbertrope. Please keep this tunnel a secret between us three. In fact, it would be best if you put it out of your mind completely."

  "We've been warned. Thank you. I'm sure Peter can keep us safe once we're back." Wilma smiled to soften the harshness of her tone.

  "Ma'am, I'm not sure you understand the seriousness of what has happened. Cover your daughter's ears if you must, but we need to talk. There are enemies amongst us, and around us on the surface."

  "Speak. My daughter knows discretion."

  Arabeth glanced at the girl and nodded, hoping that would help secure her tongue.

  "I’m certain someone is targeting Blastborn as more than a testing ground.” As someone using Blastborn criminals to test her own devices, the irony was not lost on her. Her motives were to make the city safer though, and it always boiled down to intent, to Arabeth.

  "You know what's been happening?" Wilma stared.

  "I’m starting to put the pieces together, ma'am. And I have the beginnings of a plan to stop it before it does more damage to the people of our city. I need you to talk to your husband. I'm sure your kidnapping was used to manipulate him. Find out what they wanted him to do and let me know. Would you do that?" Arabeth asked.

  "How will I get the message to you?"

  "Get Melanie Chambers her job back at the detachment. She made the mistake of thinking that her work there doesn’t matter and that she’s easily replaceable. Please change her perception of that. She’ll pass me any information you have."

  "I can do that," Wilma agreed.

  Camilla made an excited sound, causing both women to look down at her.

  "This is exciting. Isn't this exciting, Momma?" The girl nearly hopped in place, grinning.

  Wilma nodded. "But it's a secret, between us three." She looked back at Arabeth. "You'll help us again, if we need it?"

  "Of course, ma'am. It would be my pleasure." She gave a slight bow, then extended her arm, indicating the two should climb into the travel tube.

  No sooner had they disappeared down the track when Arabeth heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Darting into a shadow, she signaled Marble to go into the shadows.

  A group of five men, all a foot shorter than her, came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. It had been years since she'd seen anyone from Eltesea. She remembered them being taller. And louder. This group walked on soft feet, it seemed.

  "Well, where is she?" the tallest of the men grumbled. "Spread out and find the foreign woman, Arabeth Barnes."

  It was as though they'd been waiting for the sound of the shuttle leaving, then came in. Why did they want her? Tinkers were the new tool in the making or breaking of the war, she'd been told. Graham had warned her. They had to know she'd be dead before she gave them an edge over her friends and family.

  Thinking she could slip from shadow to shadow, in the underground passage, she stepped out. The dim light worked against her and a rock shot out from under her boot, pinging off a nearby wall. Before she could hide again, one of the men focused on her as he raised something like a pistol and fired. The glint of red glowed around his weapon and then out toward her. Every inch of her hurt for a moment, then she sank to her knees, losing consciousness.

  // Chapter 21 //

  Whatever game Vic Dane was playing, Arabeth did not appreciate it. She sat on the edge of a small, rickety cot, staring at him. Twins should be a little easier to tell apart, she thought. Emotion blinded her, and fear kept her from thinking straight.

  "What did that man shoot me with? That was not a pistol."

  "Can I get you a cup of coffee, or some lemonade, perhaps?" Vic asked her.

  She glared back, saying nothing. She leaned forward, testing her legs. They hurt in the same way a muscle cramp would, but seemed otherwise functional.

  "I apologize for the nature of our reunion, but time is at a premium. This was the only way I could see you without the entire civilized world finding out." He looked away. "And Samuel wouldn't understand my wanting a chat. He trusts me, but not with you." His brief but wry smile hid another secret. “There is a mountain to the north and I need someone to go there and retrieve an item for me."

  "And if you don't want Sam to know, that means it’s risky. Very risky."

  He nodded. "But vital."

  "So you won't mind me asking for proof of which side you're on."

  "Of course not, but anything I say may be a lie. How would you know if I can be trusted?"

  She held her breath a moment. She hated these puzzles in games, as in real life. "A test. I will do this task for you, but you will let me ask anything I want about your project."

  His eyebrows rose. "Anything?"

  "Trust is two-way. Your advantage is that I have to get your part before you have to explain." She looked him dead in the eyes, gauging his reaction.

  He winked. "That sounds fair."

  "Life isn't about fairness," she snapped. "It's about what's right or wrong and finding a way to correct the wrongs."

  "Whoa, calm down." He blinked a few times then started laughing. "You are far more intense than I remember."

  "I hadn't just been kidnapped the other times we met."

  "True, true." He tilted his head to one side. "So, let me think. You just returned the police chief's family to him, and that makes you kind of golden around here. I suspect that if you get caught, excuses will free you of any criminal charges."

  "Are we stealing from our own gadgeteers, or someone else's?" she asked. A little clarity went a long way.

  "That's a double-sided question."

  She frowned. What did that mean?

  "All you need to know is that it's the right thing to do."

  "You're a little bit crazy, you know," she said, shaking her head.

  "And everyone who gadgeteers is a little off the norm, so we're even." He laughed.

  "Well, considering you kidnapped me so that I could steal for you, and I'm curious enough to agree, you may be on to something." Stealing it was one thing, but if she didn't think it was safe in his hands - whatever the item was, she didn't have to turn it over. "What is it I'm after?"

  "It's called a thermal widget calibrator."

  "I've never heard of it."

  "And you likely never will. It's new, but it's a toy only the military are allowed to own."

  "I thought you were working for them."

  "What led you to that conclusion? Oh, right—Mr. Hicks."

  She nodded.

  "I'm freelance, actually. I refused to choose a side. I hear you're working on radio waves. I prefer to manipulate things I can see. I need something that will distort the minds of other people, reorienting their thoughts… the tests we’ve done are patheti
c," Vic said, rubbing the back of his neck. “All we managed to do was turn you all paranoid and violent. That was not the objective.”

  "I'm an amateur compared to Graham Halister. You should have kidnapped him."

  "You are friends?"

  She nodded. "I’ve known Graham for quite a few years now, yes."

  "Good to know."

  "What's that mean?"

  "I like to know where the people I deal with stand with each other. Nothing more."

  "So, all you want is the calibrator, and you'll give me the information I need?" she pressed.

  "Easy as that." He chortled a moment. "The hard part is going to be finding him. He's disappeared."

  "I suppose this is where you tell me why he's disappeared."

  "He hasn’t really disappeared. He’s been duped. He’s become a pawn of the one man that you should be worried about. As he is the leading expert in his field, I'm guessing that the news of his expertise has reached unwelcome ears. I have competition, you see. His goals are not nearly as altruistic as mine."

  Arabeth thought about the meaning behind Vic’s words and felt her stomach sink. "You want me to step into a powerstruggle between two … two what? What are you?

  “Call me a scientist. My work is all for the greater good. You know me a little, I think. I’m not evil, or insane.”

  “Said every mad scientist ever. I'm guessing that the calibrator is a weak excuse to mask my true intention. I’m to convince Graham that you’re the good one and bring him back to you, so you can work up a defense.”

  “Think what you will, but when you meet Tanner Stein, you will understand the true threat to Blastborn.”

  " Right now, he’s the equivalent of a prisoner working, presumably, against his will. I need him back in his lab, as soon as possible.” Vic flipped a coin in the air, catching it and slapping it down on the table next to him. “If you do that, I will show you what you need to know in order to stop Tanner Stein."

  The coin toss struck Arabeth as odd, but Vic had always been a bubble off of plumb. The fact that he was Matthew's twin added to her discomfort. He was promising to share information she needed, but in a moment of indecision she considered whether it would be better to warn Graham to discontinue his association with this man. Not that Graham would listen. It would only clear her conscience.