Air Pirates of Krakatoa

by Dave Robinson

“No checks; I want cash. If you’re anything like she is some crazy machine might kill you before I can get it cashed.” Ming straightened her back, clearly unimpressed by the company. She hadn't even batted an eye at the two gorillas.

  “You may have to wait until tomorrow, when Vic or I can get to the bank.”

  “That's fine, it will cost you another fifty dollars. I can't work until my shop has a door.”

  “Up to you. By the way, my name is Vandal, Doctor James Vandal, but most people call me Doc.” Doc tipped his head to Ming. “The couple in the corner are Augustus and Kehla Ponchartrain, but you can call him Gus.”

  “Li Ming.” Ming walked over to one of the leather couches and sat down in Vic's usual corner. Unlike Vic, she sat up straight with her bag in both hands resting on her knees. She was obviously ready to wait as long as it took to get her money.

  “Miss Li, would you mind giving me the address of your shop? That way I can send someone over to replace the door immediately.”

  “Certainly Doctor,” Ming replied, giving the address. “There should be a man named Wong watching over the shop. Make sure your man tells him that Li Ming said it was okay.”

  As Doc made his phone call, Vic went over to the bar and got her usual Coke, and then asked Ming if she wanted anything. The younger woman demurred, and Vic joined her, looking a little out of place in the middle of the couch.

  “Gilly is taking a team to fix your door, Miss Li,” Doc said once he was off the phone. “Now if you'll excuse us, we have some business to address.”

  “That's alright, I can just wait here while you talk.” Ming settled into the seat, clearly ready to wait as long as she needed.

  “Very well.” Doc turned his attention to Vic. “So what did Carstairs have to say?”

  “Not much.” She sighed, and took a long sip of her Coke. “He'd seen the same footage Basingstoke showed us; he was the one who'd chartered the Hazelton. All told they've had three ships sunk, and another half-dozen attacked in the last few months. The Dutch navy is helpless against them; no airships and not much in the way of surface vessels.

  “He still has no idea why they're targeting the coffee consortium in particular.”

  “Has he ever seen an Indonesian coffee plantation?” Ming said, glancing sideways at Doc, who had not realized she was paying attention. “My family is from Semarang, and I've known people who've worked on the consortium's plantations.”

  “But that doesn't explain the mode of piracy,” Gus commented. “Plantation workers aren't exactly known for building flying wings. If it were the workers, I would expect to hear of mass killings and plantations set on fire, this doesn't make sense.”

  “Good point, and what about these machines that attacked Vic and Miss Li?” Doc got up and walked over to where Vic had put down the bundle. Inside were a collection of parts from what looked to be a highly sophisticated automaton. A smashed array of coils and crystals looked to provide for remote control, drawing power from a series of compact accumulators. The gear train rivaled the work of a Swiss watchmaker.

  “Gus, can you take a look at this?”

  “Of course.” The gorilla rubbed his hands together.

  As Gus made his way to the workbench, Doc returned his attention to Vic and Ming. “The evidence isn't conclusive, but from what I'm seeing of the motor mounts here, this automaton might be similar technologically to the flying wing that attacked the consortium's ships.”

  “That doesn't make sense,” Vic said. “Batavia's half a world away.”

  “I've been there,” Ming told her.

  “I have too, but it's still suspicious.”

  “Regardless,” Doc said, breaking their back-and-forth, “It's a pity you didn't get to talk to Van Houten. Maybe he knew more about what was going on than the rest of them.” He glanced at Kehla, who was still sitting by the telephone switchboard. “Kehla, could you call Mr. Van Houten's office and set up another appointment?”

  “Sure thing, Doc.” The young gorilla worked the switchboard expertly, even though she'd only been in the United Sates a month. Married life clearly agreed with her.

  While Kehla made her phone call, Doc returned his attention to the machine. The workmanship was exquisite, even after the damage. It was a pity they had hit the central sphere so hard; both the coils and crystals had suffered so much damage that there was no way he could find the operating frequency.

  “Doc?” Kehla's voice broke his concentration. “I just got through to Van Houten's office and he's left the country. Apparently he caught an airship for the Far East earlier today; something about an inspection tour.”

  “Did they say when he left?” Doc asked.

  “Not specifically, but I got the impression he left recently and in a hurry.”

  “Thanks Kehla.”

  The automaton was an interesting puzzle. The curves and the engine design reminded him of the flying wing. Whoever had put it together had labored over it, paying attention to even the smallest details. From the size of the accumulators, it didn't have a lot of range, but that meant hardly anything in Manhattan was too far.

  “Doc, I've got another call; it's Gilly.” Kehla broke the silence.

  “Problems?” Doc asked as soon as he got to the phone. It wasn't like Gilly to call just to say he'd completed a job.

  “Problems,” Gilly replied in his rusty voice, a result of an injury from a recent air crash during their adventure in Africa. “No door, no store. According to the guy who was watching the store, a few more of those things showed up along with a couple of guys who tore the place apart. They took the other machine and the door. I can put in a new one, but there's no store here to come back to.”

  “Hang on a second.” Doc put a hand over the mouthpiece and called across the room. “Miss Li, I'm afraid there's some bad news. Your store was ransacked, and it's totally destroyed. Gilly says he can put a door on it, but he's not sure if it would matter.”

  “My shop?” For a moment, Ming's face fell, and then she turned her attention to Vic.

  “See what you did?” Ming cried in rapid Cantonese.

  “You ruined my life to save yours. I fought my way into this country with nothing; they wouldn’t take my degree because I’m Chinese, so I couldn’t get a job. They barely let me into the country! Lady Liberty, ha! I only got in because I had a Dutch passport. I spent three years building a new life after my family almost disowned me and now it’s all gone! You say your friend will pay me three hundred dollars, but that won't replace my shop.”

  “I can pay for your shop,” Vic said, her hands raised defensively.

  “And what happens when they come back looking for you again? What happens when they think I am with you?” Ming was standing now, towering over the larger woman. “You took my life.”

  She fell silent, looking as if she was about to attack Vic, and then she collapsed. “You took my life.”

  Vic shot Doc a look of 'what can I do?' and gathered Ming in her arms. “We'll find something for you. I'll find something for you.”

  #

  It was another hour before Gilly returned. He took off his hat and threw it on the stand as he entered the room, and then headed for the bar, sweat glistening on his dark skin. His first words were to Ming, who was back on the couch and leaning against Vic. “Sorry I couldn't fix that door for you Ma’am, but the place was a mess.”

  Ming sat up, her eyes red and puffy. “How bad was my shop?”

  “Well, Ma'am,” Gilly said, pouring himself some sweet tea. “It was bad. Looked like a buzz saw threw a bolt at a sawmill. Top two stories had collapsed into the ground level. Glass and furniture all over the floor, broken jars and bundles of plants, powders, liquids, a whole kitchen. There’s a bed on top of the stove and neither belongs in the store. It’s a mess. Take a month of Sundays to clean it up, and that's working three shifts before you even bring in the construction crew.”

  “What did you do?” Ming straightened up, still sitting beside Vic. “Did yo
u leave it like that? What kind of mess did you leave my shop in?”

  “Ma'am your shop isn't a mess, it's a disaster. City's going to have to have it condemned. Don't see as they have any choice.” Gilly explained.

  “Condemned? I don't believe you. You should have talked to Wong, he could have had his cousins come in and fix it. Now I have to go back tomorrow and see if anything is worth saving.”

  Ming reached out and took a long sip of Vic's Coke. “You are coming with me. This was all your fault so you have to help clean it up.”

  “I have to clean it up?” Vic looked at Ming and then back to Doc, who simply raised an eyebrow. What had she gotten herself into now? She’d always kidded Doc about picking up strays; Hell, she had been one of them. But now that she was the one in his position; Vic knew she couldn’t turn this woman down.

  “Yes, you have to help me clean it up. Didn't your parents teach you anything about responsibility? You're the reason my store is ruined, you have to help me.” She crossed her arms and looked around the room, as if defying anyone to disagree. “You’re the one they were chasing. It's your fault.”

  “Alright, I'll help; but we'll do it tomorrow.” Vic surrendered. “It's too late to go over there tonight.”

  “Easy for you to say, you live here.” Ming swept her arm around the room taking in the homey atmosphere and expensive furnishings. “What about me? Your friend just said I don't have a home to go to. Are you going to send me home to sleep on top of a stove behind a door that’s hanging in pieces?”

  Turning to face Vic on their shared couch, Ming extended a forefinger and jabbed her in the breastbone. “What are you going to do about my bed?”

  Caught by surprise by Ming’s forcefulness, Vic’s brain stopped as she met the smaller woman’s gaze. This wasn’t a problem she could solve by flying or fighting.

  Ming jabbed Vic again. “What are you going to do about finding me somewhere to sleep?”

  Vic blinked twice, and then found her voice. “You can sleep in my room. I'll take the couch.”

  “Now that the sleeping arrangements have been settled, let's figure out what we're doing about these air pirates in Indonesia.” Doc’s voice sounded tired as he tried to bring the conversation back to business.

  “Taking a long flight in that airship I captured and blowing the pirates out of the sky.” Vic suggested, getting herself and Ming each a fresh Coke. “No way that thing can stand up to naval ordnance.”

  “The only problem is that it's kind of hard to pull off without letting the world know we have that missing German destroyer. We already have enough problems with the Nazis for now.” Doc shook his head. “We need a more practical idea.”

  “Guns are practical, especially big ones.” Vic insisted, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. “I wouldn't have had a problem with that flying machine if I had a big enough gun.”

  “I can give you one of mine,” Kehla said.

  Vic sighed and looked at her reflection in the mirror behind the bar; it was a tempting offer, but no. “It would break my wrist. I can't fire a twelve-gauge one handed.”

  “That’s the first smart thing I've heard you say all day,” Ming said, though there was a twinkle in her eyes as they met Vic’s. “There might be hope for you yet.”

  She took the fresh glass of Coke from Vic, her fingers brushing the taller woman’s. “Thank you.”

  “Back to the practical, people.” Doc had a point. A bigger gun might feel better in her purse, but first they needed to figure out what was going on with the flying machines. Besides, Van Houten might not be involved.

  “Why not examine my shop, see if there are any clues in the mess?” Ming suggested, giving Doc a quick appraisal. “You look big enough that you could do a good job of cleaning.”

  “I can do that. Meanwhile, Gus, Gilly, and Kehla can get Flying Cloud ready for a long trip. It might be a good idea to get to Batavia before Van Houten.” Doc flipped open the Airship Register, and ran a finger down the page. “Let's see, Tuesday, May 4, that means he took the Royal Hohenzollern. Ten thousand miles at 75 knots, with standard stops that's just over five and half days.” He closed the book decisively. “He'll be at Batavia Monday morning, so we have to leave no later than Friday noon.”

  Gus went to pour another cup of tea, but nothing came out of his teapot. “I think that's a sign. Shall we repair to the dining room?”

  He put the pot down delicately, rose, and offered an arm to his wife. The thought of food sent a rumble through Vic’s stomach, so she rose and helped Ming up from the couch. Guiding the younger woman into the dining room, she let Doc and Gilly bring up the rear.

  #

  From the outside, Ming's store looked like any other storefront, with wooden shutters down over the windows. Even the new door didn't look out of place. As they approached, Doc pulled the key Gilly had given him and passed it over to Ming.

  “This really should belong to you.”

  She nodded, her lips tight together, and took the key from Doc's hand. “Thank you.”

  Ming looked much better this morning, though for some reason she hadn’t been more than five feet from Vic since before breakfast. For all that she had seemed angry with her yesterday, there seemed to be something keeping them together.

  Doc stepped back and let Ming approach the door first. Her steps were initially halting, as if she wasn't quite sure whether she wanted to see what was inside, but as she got closer, she took one look at Vic and then stepped briskly to the door. “Coming?”

  Vic followed, while Doc hung back a few feet to let her see. Ming unlocked the door and let it slowly swing open.

  The first thing to catch Doc's eye was an iron stove lying on its side, with a spray of charcoal lying on its open door. The second was a broken bed frame splintered over the stove. A medley of scents filled the air like an impossible potpourri. The room was a mess of beams, plaster, and linoleum with broken jars everywhere. A few shelves still hung from the walls, with the rest strewn on the floor among broken glass and shattered pottery.

  Ming took two steps forward into the room before dropping to her knees and picking up a watercolor painting. Tears ran down her face as she hugged the scroll against her chest. Vic moved forward to kneel beside her, while Doc made his way into the room.

  It had once been a small storefront, narrow and deep, with a counter half way along one wall. Looking up, he could see all the way through the attic to the roof. Beams dangled from the upper floors where they had been sawn almost all the way through before gravity took hold. A small dresser hung on the counter, while a table and chairs looked like a pile of sticks in the corner. Ming had nothing left. What was most surprising was that something had done this much damage without starting a fire.

  While the women stayed near the door, Doc moved deeper into the building, listening for any signs of collapse. He picked his way forward, broken glass crunching under his boot soles. He had no idea what he was stepping in; the floor was covered in powders, leaves, roots, and all sorts of other things, all bound together with a mix of syrups and decoctions. Even Doc could only recognize about half the compounds.

  Behind the counter, it was more of the same. The only difference was the money mixed in with everything else. There wasn't much, but it didn't look like it had been disturbed. “I don't think they emptied the till.”

  “It doesn't matter, I can't afford to rebuild it.” She shrugged. “The landlord will probably kick me out anyway. It was hard enough finding someone who would rent to me.”

  “I had no idea,” Vic said softly. “I only came in because my gun wouldn't stop them, and they wouldn’t let me go anywhere else. I didn't mean for this to happen.”

  Ming sniffed. “You rich people are all the same; do whatever you want and let the poor pay for your mistakes.”

  She waved her right arm around the remains of her store. “This is what you leave behind. You leave a mess for other people to clean up. What does it matter, it's not your home; it's n
ot your life.”

  “I'm sorry,” Vic said, still kneeling beside Ming with her back to the door.

  “Sorry doesn't rebuild my shop.”

  Something caught Doc's ear and he looked up just in time to see the door thrown open: An armed man filled the doorway; seeing Doc, he raised a Tommy Gun.

  “Look out!” Doc yelled a warning, and reached for something to throw. Unlike Vic, Doc didn't carry a gun as a matter of course. He had his fighting knife and a few sleeping capsules, but no firearm.

  Vic grabbed Ming and shoved her towards the wall, shielding the smaller woman with her body, and then pulled her pistol out of her purse.

  Doc grabbed a miraculously unbroken jar and threw it at the Tommy Gunner. The heavy jar shattered on impact, spraying its contents all over the thug, who dropped his weapon. He dove to his left towards his gun just as four more men crowded through the doorway.

  They moved quickly into the room, spreading out as they crossed the threshold. The men were dressed in wide-lapeled suits, with hats down over their heads and each one held a forty-five. Two turned towards Vic and Ming, while the remaining pair scanned the rest of the shop.

  With a kiai yell Doc vaulted the counter and charged the attackers, hoping to catch them off guard. Three of the four turned to face him, just as Vic's Walther barked twice. The other shot once, then turned back towards Doc. Blood sprayed as both of Vic's shots caught the one with the Tommy Gun in the face, causing him to slump back over top of his weapon. The others hesitated, their guns wavering between Doc and Vic.

  They took too long. Doc closed the distance in less than two seconds, reached out and cracked two skulls together. Hats went flying as four eyes rolled back in two heads. Another gunshot sent one more tumbling to the floor; just in time for Doc to bury his fist in the last one’s stomach.

  The thug crumpled, struggling for breath.

  Meanwhile, Vic was back on her feet, kicking the pistols away from thugs. She covered them with her Walther in one hand, and the other pressed against her side. Blood seeped between her fingers. “Don't worry, it's just a scratch.”