by Tonia Brown
Dodger grinned. And as he grinned, he pondered just how strange it was the way some things fell so neatly into place. As if the universe planned out the whole of history. As if accident and circumstance were just mere words.
“I would like that, sir,” he said. “I’d like that very much. Because I have an idea of what happened to their money, and I think you can help them get it back. With science, of course. And at an extra fee.”
The professor narrowed his eyes at Dodger, but behind the suspicion, Dodger could see that familiar glimmer in the man’s eyes. That gleam of excitement that said science was about to be done and money was about to be made and everybody better buckle in and hang on tight, because things were about to get real bumpy-like from here on in!
****
back to top
****
Chapter Seven
Shrunken Treasure
In which Dodger volunteers for a small task
Dodger explained his notion to the professor. In the typical fashion of a man who had seen most everything there was to see, the doc had no trouble believing Dodger’s hypothesis. In fact, he praised Dodger once again for his unconventional genius, then bade Ched return to the Sleipnir and gather the equipment they would require to prove the theory.
Dodger then explained his notion to the other men, who seemed both confused and duly impressed. Save for Biddlesworth, who wasn’t buying it one bit.
“You’re trying to tell me,” the banker said, “that my assistant used that machine to shrink the money, then himself, and after he destroyed the machine, he escaped with a sack full of tiny money through a mouse hole?”
“Not a mouse hole,” Dodger corrected the man for the umpteenth time. “As I said, I suspect it’s a tunnel that leads away from here and straight to your money.”
“And you want to follow this so-called tunnel?”
“Correct. We could sweep the area and try to find where the tunnel lets out, but the culprit or culprits will probably be long gone by then.”
“And the answer to this is to have your professor here shrink you small enough to fit inside?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Shrink you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“As in make you smaller?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Piddlecock!” the banker shouted.
“Don’t mind him,” Sheriff Stanley said. “Jesse here is the kind of skeptic that wouldn’t believe a wolf was eating his arm unless the thing coughed up his hand. And even then, he’d try to shake the fool thing first, thinking it belonged to someone else.”
“That’s because I live in a world where the sky is blue,” the banker said. “Not chartreuse, or purple or whatever it is in these crazy people’s world. Don’t tell me you believe this nonsense, Sheriff.”
The sheriff shrugged. “Makes about as much sense as anything else I’ve heard today.”
“Tiny people? Shrunken money? It’s preposterous! It’s almost as crazy as your deputy being sober.”
“For the last time, Duncan said he wasn’t drinking-”
“Jack,” Duncan said over his superior. “Stop defending me. I can manage on my own. Mr. Biddlesworth, I’ll admit I’ve had a problem with drinking in the past. But the past is past, and I’ve been off the sauce for almost three weeks now. I swear to you that I wasn’t drinking last night, and I didn’t see a blasted thing. Your assistant never left the bank. No one came in. No one came out. At least not by the front door.”
The banker snorted. “Fine. You weren’t drinking, and the money just slipped down a rabbit hole in the middle of the night by itself. Makes perfect sense to me.”
“It’s not a rabbit hole,” Dodger said. “And it didn’t go by itself.”
Biddlesworth, however, wasn’t listening. “Well I’ve had just about enough nonsense for one morning, thank you very much. If you think I’m going to allow you madmen to tarry in my vault one second longer, then you are crazier than you look. In fact, the bank is closed until further notice.” The banker motioned for the crew to leave. “All of you get out. Now!”
“Just humor me for a little longer,” Dodger said.
“I think not. Good day, sir.”
“Mr. Biddlesworth, please. Give me just two hours, and if I can’t find some proof that your money went down that hole, then I’ll, why … I’ll pay for the lamps myself.”
The banker opened his mouth to let out a retort, but instead gave a small squeak of surprise.
“Dodger?” the professor asked. “Are you certain that’s wise?”
“Yes, sir,” Dodger said. “I know I don’t have it all right now, but you can take it out of my pay. If that’s all right with you.”
“I suppose so, if it means that much to you.”
“It does.” Dodger didn’t know why, but it did. Proving his theory right meant more to him than anything else at the moment. He wasn’t sure what spurred him on more, the forlorn air of the deputy or the haughty arrogance of the banker.
“Well then, Ched should return any moment with the required equipment.” The doc lowered his voice to ask, “Are you sure you want to do this? Don’t you worry it might be unsafe?”
“You said the shrink ray works,” Dodger whispered in return.
“It does work. It’s just been a long while since I’ve worked with it. I was developing it for a shipping firm a few years ago, but lost interest in the project when the company folded. I’m afraid I got sidetracked by something else.”
Dodger had no trouble believing that. “I trust you, Doc. If you say it works, then it works.”
The professor’s face lit with joy at this decree. “Why, thank you, Mr. Dodger. Your faith in me is refreshing.”
“After all you’ve done in the little time I’ve known you, how could I not trust you?”
Professor Dittmeyer’s pleasure faded into a touch of embarrassment as he went rosy from plump cheek to plump cheek. “Well, I don’t know about all that. Ah, here is Ched with the belts.”
Dodger looked up in time to see Ched slipping past the peering crowd and into the bank, with two shining silver belts in tow. “Belts?”
“Here you are, shir,” Ched said, handing the belts over to the professor.
“Thank you, Ched,” the professor said. “Yes, belts. I discovered that a reduction ray was too unfocused. These belts provide a more controlled area of shrinkage as opposed to a sweeping range.”
“Why two?”
“He shaid to shnatch two,” Ched said.
The professor held a belt out to Ched. “I told you to bring a pair because I assumed Mr. Dodger might need some assistance.”
Ched stared at the belt, but didn’t take it. Instead, he raised his hands and backed away from the offer. “Uh-uh. No, shir. I ain’t gonna let you shrink me like shome kind of bug. Again. Onsh wash enough for me.”
“So it does work?” Deputy Duncan asked.
“It doesh. But being hish tesht shubject onsh wash enough for me. Like I’ve alwaysh shaid, I’ve never been dishshatishfied with my shize. And neither are the ladysh.”
“Must you always be so crass?” the professor asked with a frustrated huff.
“I yam what I yam.”
“You’re but a rotten coward of a spud among courageous sweet potatoes. That’s what you are.” The professor looked to Dodger again with worry. “I suppose you go alone then, Mr. Dodger.”
“Hold that thought, sir,” Dodger said, then turned to the banker. “Mr. Biddlesworth? It’s up to you. This is your bank, true, but that money belongs to the whole town. Your town. Will you at least let me try to get it back?”
The banker huffed, flustered to the point of exhaustion. “I don’t see why not.”
“Thank you, sir.” Dodger grabbed a belt and slipped it on.
“What harm could it do to allow you to make a fool of yourself?”
“Make that fools,” Deputy Duncan said. “I’m going with you.”
Dodger cringed at this, bu
t didn’t argue. He was tired of arguing. He just wanted to do something. Besides, he’d half expected the man wanted to come along.
Half expected and half hoped.
“Duncan?” the sheriff asked. “Are you sure?”
“I am,” Deputy Duncan said as he took a belt from the doc. “If it really works, then I suppose I have to do this.”
“Of course it will work!” the banker shouted as he plopped onto one of the many comfortable couches. “Why not take the drunken sod with you on your insane little journey into the hole in the wall to get back my miniature money from my shrunken assistant? Dear Lord, it’s enough to make a sane man weep.”
“All right, then,” the professor said to Duncan. “Put the belts on, and I’ll explain the functions.”
Duncan slid the belt around his waist and buckled it into place, his hands trembling just enough to make the task more difficult than it should’ve been. He gave Dodger a nod that he was ready.
The belt had the feel of snakeskin, though Dodger had never seen the likes of a bright silver snake before. Knowing the professor, Dodger wouldn’t have been surprised if the leather came from some mythical beast. A dial the width of Dodger’s thumb rested atop the buckle. Assorted marks ran along the rim of the dial, as did colors, but Dodger had no idea what the marks or colors meant, for none was labeled—the unfortunate result of an unfinished project.
Using the tip of his cane to point out the various mechanisms, the professor explained, “The belt employs your skin as a conductor, through which it passes the infinitium rays. Your skin then projects these rays outward in an exact wavelength. Around one hundred and fifty millimeters or, in your colloquialism, six inches. When activated, anything within the confines of this wavelength is shrunk along with you. Including clothing, weapons, other objects, anything at all.”
“Other folks?” Dodger asked.
“No. As the rays move through your body, they adopt your biofeedback rhythm, which in turn allows the infinitium to adjust your size because you become part of the emission process. But other living things will not shrink, because their biorhythms cancel out the effects of the rays.”
“Makes sense.”
“The dial controls the sizing effects. When you’re ready, just turn it to the left—that’s your left, not mine—and the belt will activate. Keep turning until you achieve the size you desire. Take it slow at first. The change can be a bit disorienting.”
“How small can we go?” Dodger asked.
“However small you require. Though I wouldn’t recommend anything smaller than an oxygen molecule. You wouldn’t want to suffocate to death, would you?”
“No, sir.”
“Now, there are also a few rules you must observe for safety’s sake. Are you two paying attention? Good. First of all, you must keep the belts on at all times. Unlike the larger projection ray over there, the belts have a limited capacity for holding a compression of atoms. Once activated, the mechanism emits a continual pulse of infinitium rays, albeit on a smaller scale, allowing you to maintain your desired size. As long as you are wearing the belt, you will remain the size indicated on the dial. But remove it and you will return to normal, very slowly, over a period of around two minutes. Understood?”
“Yes,” Dodger and Duncan said together.
“Second, and this is very important, anything released from your field of projection will return to normal size after two minutes as well. Understood?”
“Not so much,” Duncan confessed.
“It’s rather simple, young man. Let’s say you shrink your gun but then drop the thing from your six-inch field. Once it breaks that field, it will return to normal within a few minutes, because it is no longer receiving the continuous pulse of rays. And no picking up the item again thinking that will solve the issue. The initial projection of rays is strong enough to shrink things beyond your epidermis, but after that, the booster pulses are only strong enough to reinforce the compression of the atoms, not compress them further. Once an object fails to receive a boost of rays, it will begin to revert to its natural size. Understood?”
“I suppose so. How do we return to normal?”
“Just turn the dial all the way to the right,” the professor said. “It will return you and everything in your projection range to normal proportions. Speaking of which, bear in mind that you cannot enlarge something beyond its normal proportions.”
Duncan looked confused again.
“He means we can’t make a mouse the size of a mule,” Dodger said.
“Correct!” the professor exclaimed, clapping at his employee’s cleverness. “Yes. No enlarging. Only shrinking. I’m afraid making things bigger involves a whole different ray.” The professor rubbed his hands excitedly. “Returning to your normal size shouldn’t be as disorienting as shrinking, but it might make you a little nauseated. So again, take it slow. There you are, men. That’s all there is to it.”
“Are you sure that’s all it takes?” Duncan asked. “It sounds suspiciously easy.”
“Shushpishioush ish about right,” Ched teased.
“Hush you,” the professor said. “Dodger, you’ll need this.” He passed Dodger a thin metal box. It took a moment for Dodger to recognize it as a Sunbox. “It’s a special slim design, so it should fit your six-inch requirement. But you’ll need to wind it more often as a result, because it will not store as much power. It only holds a fifteen-minute charge.”
“Thanks,” Dodger said.
“And lastly, you should both wear these.” The professor handed Dodger a small metal button. And that’s about all it was too. A small, nondescript metal circle with a stickpin affixed to the back. The doc handed a similar button to Duncan.
“What is this?” Dodger asked.
“I call it the S.N.I.F.E.R. or Sub-aural Noise Fixation for Exact Retrieval.”
“What is it?” Dodger repeated.
“A homing device.”
“A what?”
“It’s a sensor that emits a low-frequency tone, indistinguishable to the human ear. Hence the sub-aural part.”
“And?” Dodger asked, knowing there was more.
“And Mr. Torque—who is waiting at the Rhino for my command, if Ched did as asked—can track it using his sonar receptors. Rather like a dog sniffing out his master, though I wouldn’t let him in on that metaphor if I were you. Point being, he can home in on wherever you are. I thought we might track the pair of you as you move through the tunnel. That is if you approve, of course.”
“Approve? Of course I approve.” Why wouldn’t he? The idea was brilliant! Brilliant and clever and revolutionary and one of any number of useful things just sitting around the professor’s lab, collecting dust rather than being put to good use. “Sir, when we get done here, I wanna talk to you about equipping everyone aboard the Sleipnir with one of these. Is that possible?”
“Yes, but …” The doc paused as he eyed Dodger cautiously. “Why would I do that?”
“Because if your niece had been wearing one of these, we could have gone straight to her rather than relying on the Pack’s messenger.”
“Ah, I see. Yes, that makes sense. Why didn’t I think of it? Better still, why didn’t Boon? You continue to prove your worth by the hour, young man.”
“Not at all, sir. I’m just having a good day. I’m sure Boon had his good days.”
“He certainly did.” The professor smiled at the pleasant memory of just such days.
“Sheriff,” Dodger said as he pinned the S.N.I.F.E.R. onto his shirt. “After we get gone, I recommend you send someone to William’s place and search it, top to bottom. If we can’t find him, then maybe you’ll find something to explain his sudden disappearance.”
“I’m on it,” the sheriff said.
“Why are you taking orders from him?” the banker asked.
“It wasn’t an order. You heard the man; it was a recommendation. And if you must know, it was something I planned on doing anyway.”
“You pl
anned on ransacking my assistant’s home?”
“Since you put it that way, yes, sir.”
Biddlesworth reclined on the couch, turning his face to the ceiling with an overly dramatic sigh. “Am I the only one still in touch with reality here?”
“I don’t think anyone is,” Dodger said. “Not when it comes down to it.”
“Are you gentlemen ready?” the professor asked.
“As I’ll ever be,” Duncan said.
“Ched,” Dodger said. “Can I have a word?”
The driver stepped aside with Dodger, while the men pretended to ignore them. The professor in particular struggled to pretend he wasn’t paying attention.
“Will you do me a favor?” Dodger asked in a whisper.
“Dependsh,” Ched said.
“It’s easy. I promise.”
The driver shrugged, still unwilling to commit.
“If something should happen,” Dodger said, “would you tell Boon I’m sorry? I didn’t mean to come off as a tyrant. I’m just not used to working so closely with others. Or making friends.” Dodger smiled, hoping it would encourage the driver to pass along the message out of sympathy. But the driver was, as always, unmoved by such things.
“Tell him yourshelf,” Ched said with a snort. “Hesh been shulking around you all morning.”
Dodger was surprised. Usually he could feel the presence of the ghost lingering around him. “Where is he?”
As casually as he could manage, which was not very casually at all, the driver raised his bony arm and thrust a thin finger at the far corner of the bank. Dodger peered hard into the corner, straining his eyes. With the drapes pulled and the door closed, the room was just dark enough to allow the spirit some shape. And yes, Dodger could just make out the form of the ghost lingering in the shadows of the darkened corner. Dodger thought about going to him or calling out, but the moment Boon realized Dodger could see him, he slipped away through the wall and was gone.
“He shure ish shore at you,” Ched said.
“Yeah,” Dodger said. “I guess I deserve it. And worse.”
Ched merely laughed at that.