by Sesh Heri
Tesla climbed back into the gondola and pulled the rope that released the Hydrogen gas. He took out the tin box and pointed it straight up to the sky. Its light bulb was dark for five seconds, then—it flashed! Tesla looked up to the zenith of the sky. He saw nothing but blue, but he knew that somewhere up there, about five miles above Chicago, the foreign airship hovered, and inside that ship the Master Crystal pulsed with life. Tesla also knew that he had very little time. He could almost visualize the interior of the foreign airship. He knew that those who took the Master Crystal were looking it over, peering into its lattice structure, testing its characteristics. As soon as they were certain they possessed what they had set out to capture, the men of the foreign airship would depart. And where would they go? If Tesla did not act immediately the men of the foreign airship would depart for unknown
175
regions, the power of the crystal would be theirs, and there would be no way of finding them again or defending the world against their hostile designs.
Tesla f lipped to “off” the tin box’s electrical switch, retracted its steel rod, and slipped the box back into his pocket. He slumped against the edge of the gondola and pulled harder on the rope that released the Balloon’s gas. As Tesla descended toward the surface of the lake he looked back toward the shore and saw an electric launch approaching from the fair.
Lillie West, George Ade, and Houdini stepped out of their express train arriving from downtown Chicago and into the terminal station of the World’s Fair. Their trip had only taken twelve minutes. The three of them strolled through the station, its polished f loors suggest- ing to Lillie the possibility of a railroad station dance. They glanced up at the white-arched rotunda. Houdini’s gaze fell upon the wall ahead, which was mounted with clocks—twenty-four of them—one for each time zone in the world. “When it’s daytime here,” Houdini said, “it’s nighttime on the other side of the world. Not only that. Everybody over on the other side is upside down.” “To them we’re upside down,” Lillie said. Houdini nodded. “It don’t make no sense if you think about it,” he said. “That’s what they said to Columbus,” Ade said.
“Guess nothin’ is the way we think it is,” Houdini said with a shrug, and the three of them descended the stairs and went on out of the terminal. Outside, Lillie West looked up along the crowded street, trying to see beyond all the people on their way to Buffalo Bill’s “Wild West Show.” “Whatcha lookin’ for, Miss West?” Houdini asked. “A cab,” Lillie said.
“Uh-uh,” Houdini said, shaking his head. “No cab. Those cab drivers will blab to anybody, especially the coppers. I don’t want any witnesses around. We’ll walk.” “Won’t we be all the more conspicuous on foot?” Ade asked. “Yes, but I am no slave to fashion,” Houdini said. “I mean,” Ade said, “won’t we be more visible on foot?”
“Oh,” Houdini said, throwing up his hand in dismissal. “I knew what you meant. Sure—we’ll be more visible, but I ain’t worried about visible. Visible is good. Accountable is not.” Ade’s sense of condescension toward Houdini took a pause. Perhaps Houdini didn’t know the definition of “conspicuous,” but what, Ade asked himself, did Houdini mean in using the term “accountable”? “What exactly do you mean?” Ade asked.
“A man notices his own business. If we take a cab, the driver will remember us. If we walk, we will probably be seen by somebody. But will that somebody remember what he saw? And if he remembers, how much will he remember?
176
I can tell you: not much. People almost never pay attention most of the time. They’re sleepwalkers.”
“I know what you mean,” Ade said. “Sometimes I see out on our suburban crossings a dozen vegetable truck wagons with the drivers of each nodding on their seats and allowing the reins of their horses to hang loose. If the horses didn’t know the way home, they’d all be lost.” “Exactly,” Houdini said. “But a fellow need not be nodding off to be asleep. Lots of sleeping gets done with the eyes wide open.” Both Lillie and Ade began to realize that, despite Houdini’s tangled and ungrammatical speech, there was a sense conveyed by it that went beyond mere “horse sense.” They were about to get a glimpse of Houdini’s unique way of looking at things. All three of them walked along the sidewalk until the crowd began to thin out. “I’d like to see the skeleton key,” Ade said. “What for?” Houdini asked. “I’m just curious,” Ade replied. “And you know what they said about the cat,” Houdini said. “All the same. Let me see it,” Ade said. “Hate to disappoint,” Houdini said, “but I ain’t got no skeleton key.” Ade stopped walking. Houdini and Lillie stopped and looked back at Ade. “What do you mean you ‘ain’t got no skeleton key’?” Ade asked.
“I’ll tell you what I mean,” Houdini said, “but come on. Let’s not keep standing here.” Ade started forward again with Houdini and Lillie.
“I ain’t got no skeleton key because I don’t need no skeleton key. My mind is the key. And I’ll tell you something: There really ain’t no such thing as a skeleton key, at least as most people think it to be. There ain’t no one key that can open everything. You see… . Wait a minute, wait a minute.” Now Houdini stopped on the sidewalk.
“Before I go any further,” Houdini said, “we have to have an understand- ing. We have to do a pledge.” “A pledge?” Lillie asked.
“An oath of secrecy and loyalty to the secrets of Houdini. Do you have anything to write with?” “Why?” Ade asked.
“To write out the oath,” Houdini said. “We don’t have time to be writing out oaths,” Lillie said.
“All right,” Houdini said, rubbing his chin. “Your word will do. You will swear by the honor of your mother and father and under the eyes of Almighty God that you will never betray the secrets of Houdini to another living soul, not so long as you both shall live!” Houdini was holding his right palm up with great solemnity.
177
“Swear it,” Houdini said, “or I cannot help you.” “We swear,” Lillie said, somewhat irritated. “No, no, no,” Houdini said. “You cannot say ‘we.’ You must say ‘I.’ Say ‘I swear etc., etc., etc.’”
“I swear etc., etc., etc.” Lillie repeated. “No, no, no,” Houdini said, “You must say the whole oath.” “Now look here—” Lillie started to say. “You must say it, or I will not help you.” Lillie looked at Ade.
“I think he means it,” Ade said.
Lillie looked back at Houdini, raised her right hand, and said, “I swear by the honor of my mother and my father that I will never—” “And under the eyes of Almighty God,” Houdini said. “And under the eyes—” Lillie said “Start again,” Houdini said. “From the beginning.” Lillie looked at Ade and let out a sigh. “Start again!” Houdini snapped.
Lillie raised her right hand again, and said, “I swear by the honor of my mother and father and under the eyes of Almighty God that I will never betray the secrets of Houdini.” “To another living soul so long as you live,” Houdini said. “To another living soul so long as I live,” Lillie said. “Now you,” Houdini said to Ade.
“I swear by the honor of my father and mother—” “My mother and father. Mother comes first.” “I swear by the honor of my mother and father and under the eyes of Almighty God that I will never reveal the secrets of Houdini to another living soul so long as I live.” “Give me your hands,” Houdini said, holding his right hand out with the palm down.
Lillie and Ade extended their right hands. Lillie placed her hand over Houdini’s, and Ade put his hand over Lillie’s.
“Now,” Houdini said, “under the eyes of God, do you doubly affirm your oath to be true to Houdini?” “Yes,” Lillie said.
“Yes,” Ade said.
“So mote it be,” Houdini said solemnly, dropping his hand and bowing his head. After a moment, Ade said, “Now. Will you please tell me how you expect to get into that warehouse without a damn skeleton key?” Houdini looked up, and said, “Patience, Mr. Ade, patience. You are not very patient are you?”
178
&nb
sp; “Not very,” Ade said.
“I’m going to explain it all to you. But you just relax. All that tightness around your shoulders is your worst enemy. Relax. Both of yez relax. Don’t you understand by now? Don’t ya get it? You’re in the hands of Houdini. Now, come on.” They all started down the sidewalk again. Houdini took his time to speak. Finally he said: “Now, about that skeleton key. Ain’t no such thing. Not really. What people call a skeleton key is really just a master key. A master key is cut so that it can open a number of different locks. The locks are always similar. Take a pair of regulation handcuffs. Nearly all the handcuff locks in the United States are made exactly the same and can be opened with the same key. A lot of locks are made the same way. A lot of times you can open a lock with a piece of wire.” “I know all about that,” Ade said. “I did that last night.”
“A monkey can open a lot of locks with a wire or a hair pin or a little piece of metal,” Houdini said. “But the locks on this warehouse are not like that,” Ade said. “They are very sophisticated.”
“Uh-huh,” Houdini said, “and if they weren’t, wouldja be comin’ to me? Don’t think so. Let me tell you somethin’. I’m not worried about any locks. I never worry about any locks. Locks is the last thing I think about when I approach a container.” “What do you mean?” Ade asked.
“Openin’ locks ain’t my game. I told you that out front at the start. I’m an artiste who specializes in escape. The first mistake people make when they think about escape is to put all their worry and time into the lock on the container. That ain’t my way. I look for other ways out. I want to get out of the container without even touchin’ the lock. Let the lock be, I always like to say. No need to disturb its rest. I look at the other parts of the container: How is it put together? What is it made of? Most of all, I see the container as a system of links, ‘cause that’s all it is. A chain is the simplest container. How do you get out of a locked chain? Open the lock? Probably not. You look for the weakest link. You break through there. Usually the lock is not the weakest link, so I don’t bother with the lock. A fellow gives me a handcuff the make of which I have never seen before. Couldn’t get out of it if my life depended on it. Not in a million years. What do I do? I say to him, ‘I’m going to make it really tough on myself. I’m going to snap a whole bunch of handcuffs on my wrists—and then I’ll put yours on top of ‘em! Whaddaya say to that?’ Fellow can’t believe it. Wants to see me do that. I snap on four or five pairs of handcuffs—goin’ all the way up my wrists. Now—he snaps his cuffs on up here above all the rest. I go into the cabinet, slip off all my rigged cuffs, and then when I get to his, well, they are snapped on way up here around my forearms! All I have to do is slide
179
them down my arms and over my wrists and off my hands! Am I goin’ to worry about the lock on that pair of cuffs? No way, no how, no, sir! Locks! I do not bow down to locks! I give them no respect! I let all those ‘sophisticated’ locks go right on being ‘sophisticated.’ I’m busy getting out of the container.” Ade and Lillie had listened to Houdini, all the while walking beside him. There was a silence as they turned his words over in their minds. Finally, Lillie asked, “So Tesla’s warehouse—how do you propose to get into that container?”
“Won’t know ‘til I see it and study it,” Houdini said. “You can tell me all about it as we go along. No two containers are alike in the whole world. They may look alike, they may feel alike, they may smell alike. But don’t let that fool ya for one second. Every container is unique, and it always has a trap for ya. It always has a trap! And you never know what it’s going to be ‘til it grabs ya.” “If you never know,” Ade asked, “how will you know what to do in advance ?”
“Mr. Ade,” Houdini said, “if you want to know what to do in advance, take up bookkeeping, take up stamp collecting, take up ballroom dancing, even. But if you’re going to practice the art of escape, you never know what you’re going to do in advance, no matter how much you study, no matter how much you prepare. And believe me, you do prepare. You never know what is com- ing. And when what’s coming comes, you deal with it; you think, you fight, you feel—most of all you feel—you feel everything but fear. Fear you can’t afford. You’re never rich enough for that. No, no two containers are alike. They’re just like people, and just like people, they always have a trap.”
A little later that morning, Fred Hall and I stepped out of a cab in front of the Great Northern. “You know, Hall,” I said, “this is the best I’ve felt since I’ve come back to America.”
“Does this call for a celebration?” Hall asked. “Yes,” I said. “Yes, it does. I’m going right up to my room—and take a nap.” “A nap? That’s your idea of a celebration?”
“Well, we could get drunk, but I had too much to drink last night, and I’m still working on sleeping that off. Truth is: it feels like I have a cold coming on.” Hall and I went through the entrance of the hotel. “Go ahead,” Hall said. “You’ve earned a rest. We both have.” “What are you going to do?” “I’m going shopping.”
“Oh, yes. For the wife.” “That’s right.” “Well, you go on and buy up all the stores. To hell with economizing and to hell with the bank panic. We’re already rich.”
180
“Not as rich as Carnegie.” “Richer.” “Not as rich as J.P.?”
“Ri—Well, we’ll see about that. Yes, sir, we’ll see about that one. This time next year, we may be giving ol’ J.P. a run for his money.” “Wouldn’t that be a run!”
“It’d be a marathon! And by then we’ll be able to hire a whole team to run it for us.” I gave a wave to Hall and stepped into the elevator, closed its scissor-cage doors, and found I was alone without even the company of the elevator opera- tor who was absent from his post. I pulled the lever and the car started up for my f loor. Suddenly my elated mood began to def late. Something about being closed up inside that little moving closet did not set right with me. The elevator reached my f loor. I pushed the lever back against the wall, jerking the car to a stop, snatched the door open, and stepped out into the hall. I fished in my pocket for my hotel key, brought it out, put it in the keyhole of the door to my room, turned the key, opened the door, and went inside. I came face to face with Tesla. “Mark,” Tesla said. Tesla’s hair was all askew; perspiration beaded his forehead; the right side of his face appeared swollen; he looked pale, drawn—sick, actually. “Tesla!” I said. “What the hell are you doing here?” Tesla did not reply. I felt someone looking at me out of the corner of my eye. I turned, and there was Cleveland seated at my writing desk, completely calm and composed. “Come in, Clemens,” Cleveland said. “We have some disturbing News.” I came into the room.
Cleveland stood up, looked down at me, and said, “Mr. Tesla’s crystal has been stolen.” I stood there a moment looking at Cleveland, and then turned back to Tesla. I could see that Tesla was actually fighting back tears in his eyes. I looked away, feeling ashamed and embarrassed. “Do you understand what I have just said?” Cleveland asked.
“Yes, sir. Yes, Your Excellency. I do. And I am very sorry to hear of it. Do you know who took it?” “It was the men of the foreign airship. One of them broke into Mr. Tesla’s warehouse this morning.” “Have you sent the army after them?” “No,” Cleveland said. “Pinkerton’s men, then?” “No,” Cleveland said. “No one. Tesla tried to capture the thief. It was a desperate attempt. He was almost killed.”
181
“What are you going to do?”
“The crystal must be retrieved at all costs,” Cleveland said, “but we cannot involve the Army, the Navy, or Pinkerton. This matter is too sensitive. No word of what has happened can be allowed to reach the general public. Under no circumstances whatsoever.” “What about the Treasury Department? The Secret Service?”
Cleveland shook his head, and said, “No department of the government yet exists which is equipped to deal with a matter this sensitive.” “Then what will you do?”
“Contain the secr
et by containing the number of people who know the secret. That means it is up to us to retrieve the crystal.” “Us?” I asked uneasily. “What do you mean ‘us’?” “Tesla, myself—and you.” “Me? I don’t understand. There’s nothing I can do to help you.” “I need you, Mark,” Tesla said. “I need you to pilot the airship.” “Pilot it? Where?” “After them.”
“What are you saying?”
“We have to go after them.” “Go after them? Where?” “Wherever they are.”
“Wherever they—! I think not. I think not, Tesla. That is not your solution. I mean, I—I am not—I cannot be—I would be of no use to you.” “You won’t help?”
“I’d like to, Tesla, I’d like to. Of course I’d like to help any way I can, but going after that airship? And—what? Fighting with it? Where? In the sky? My God. I couldn’t do anything like that. I simply couldn’t. We’d all get killed in two minutes. I’d be of no help to you whatsoever. I’d be in the way. I’m just an old riverboat pilot. I am not your man.” “You are the only one who can help me, Mark,” Tesla said. “With your assistance—and Mr. Czito’s—we can go after them.” Cleveland said, “There is no other solution, Clemens. You must pilot the airship.”
“No, no, no!” I said, pacing away from Cleveland.
“It’s the only way,” Tesla said, his eyes dry and steady now. “We have to move fast.” Cleveland said, “If they’ve taken the crystal, our adversaries know much more about us than we do about them.” “I agree,” I said. “And I wish you luck.” “Tesla has to go after them,” Cleveland said. “I agree.” “Retrieve the crystal or destroy it along with their own ship.”
182
“I agree.”
“And you must pilot Tesla’s ship.” “There! That part—I don’t agree!” “Clemens!” “Your Excellency! You are asking the wrong person! I am a worn out old man.”
“You’re the only person besides Tesla and Czito who has ever piloted the ship.” “Get Czito to pilot it.”