Sigmund Shaw: A Steampunk Adventure

by Mark C. King

  “Unique?’ Sigmund asked.

  Jamison gave a small smile, “Unique in that you are an experienced thief.” Sigmund nodded understandingly. “Marcus had often thought of introducing me to Sutton to examine Sarah, it just hadn’t been the appropriate time. In any event, Marcus came up with the idea to use you to find out if the German Scientists really did have a revolutionary fuel or if it was a false lead. Also, if true, to have you steal it. Sutton agreed with the approach. He desperately wanted the German invention to become public, not hidden away and used solely as a tool for war. It seems that this fuel, if real, would also be intrinsic to Sutton’s possible cure for Sarah. Don’t ask me how, but that much was clear. Hence, the ruse to steal something, the visit of Marcus, and the blackmail. You were setup from before I asked you to steal something. It took a couple nervous days to flag your cab down with our planted men with the story of the necklace at the Golden Lion.”

  “But Marcus threatened Alexis!” Sigmund said sharply. “Was that part of the plan?”

  “Yes. It was an empty threat, Alexis was never in danger. But I told Marcus that if he had any doubt as to you performing the task that he should use Alexis as motivation. I knew that you would never let harm come to her.”

  Sigmund stared darkly at Jamison, hatred radiated from his face. “And the explosion? Was that part of the plan?”

  “No. That was completely unexpected. We don’t know who is behind it. Your theory on the Coal Union is actually quite a good one, one that we think could be true. But no one knows for sure.”

  Sigmund sat back in the chair, his mind racing with this revelation. No one spoke as they all tried to fathom the depths of the situation. Sigmund looked back at Jamison and asked, “Why the ruse? Why threaten, fake or not, Alexis? Why not just tell me from the beginning about all of this. I would have done it. If only to help Sarah. I may have been in the same situation I am now, but I would have done it.” Sigmund looked at Alexis, “You know I would do anything for Sarah.”

  Jamison answered, “Marcus and I talked about that. I wanted to tell you the truth from the beginning. He wasn’t so sure. He took the idea to Sutton and he also thought it best for you not to know.”

  “But why? I don’t understand!”

  “For safety’s sake. There were three possible outcomes to the task you were given. Outcome one: You spy on the meeting and find that the German’s were wrong and there is no special fuel. In that event, I would then tell you the whole story.

  “Outcome two: The fuel is real, you steal it or not, but don’t get caught. You would then be told the whole truth.

  “Outcome three: You get caught spying or stealing. It is this third outcome that led to our misdirection. If you were caught and they found out about Marcus Pratt or Richard Sutton, their lives would be forfeit and, more importantly, the main opposition to the war faction would be gone. It was reasoned that the lives of the many that could be saved, perhaps millions, outweigh your one life. We chose the Empire over you. In addition, myself for sure, and possibly Alexis and Sarah would also be in grave danger if we were directly connected. We needed you in the dark in case you were captured and they, um, tried to make you talk.” Alexis gasped at the veiled reference to torture.

  The argument had merit. Sigmund hated it, hated Jamison in that moment, but the argument had truth in it. Sigmund looked at Alexis, “How much did you know?”

  Aside from her early outburst, Alexis had been listening in a kind of trance, seemingly overwhelmed by the story. Slowly she turned her eyes from the far wall and looked at Sigmund and said in a small voice, “Nothing. This is all new to me.” Then, as if all her emotions let free at once, she put her hands over her face and started sobbing. Jamison put his arm around her but after a moment she realized his arm was there and shrugged it away. She looked at him with pain and anger, and said, “Don’t you touch me! Don’t you touch me!” She looked as if she wanted to say more, but retreated back behind her hands and sobs.

  Sigmund and Jamison sat in silence while Alexis let her emotions continue to run. After a little time, an overwhelming feeling of wanting to be alone came over Sigmund. He needed air, he needed to think through all this, he needed to leave. He never thought he would want to get away from his family, but tonight he needed to. Standing up, he said, “I have to be going.”

  Through tears, Alexis pleaded, “Oh, please no, Sigmund! Do you have to? Couldn’t you stay here and hide? Just for a day or two?”

  Sigmund shook his head and said, “No. It’s too dangerous. After the recent events it might not even be safe for you, with or without me here.” Sigmund stared at Jamison for a moment wanting him to feel guilt for potentially putting his sister’s life in jeopardy, then continued, “I’m alright where I am. I told Sarah I would check in when I could. However, I’m not sure how often that will be.” Pointing at the window Sigmund told Jamison to check if the constable was back at his post.

  “He is. How will you get out?”

  “I’m going to be you for a few minutes.” He responded coldly and explained his plan.

  “Sounds dangerous,” remarked a hesitant Alexis. “Isn’t there another way?”

  “Don’t worry, it will work. Grab your coat. Remember, be confident.”

  She nodded in a most unconfident way and grabbed her coat from the rack. Before leaving, Sigmund turned to Jamison and demanded, “You keep them safe. There is no concern about this new fuel, it’s destroyed. All that matters now is keeping Alexis and Sarah safe.” Sigmund didn’t wait for a reply but turned and walked out the door with Alexis following.

  Once outside they paid no attention to the watchman and laughed as if one of them just told a funny story. The light from a street lamp illuminated them but not enough to pick out true details. Alexis called out, “Oh Jamison! That is too much!” She performed well, thought Sigmund, especially considering what she was actually feeling.

  They continued walking down the street and turned at the first corner. Sigmund carefully glanced back around the corner to see if they were being followed but the constable was still at his post.

  In the pool of light from a nearby street lamp, safely out of sight from the watchman, Alexis asked, “Won’t he be suspicious if I return alone?”

  “I don’t think so. Go get a cup of tea and then come back. If he questions you, tell him your husband ran into an old friend and would be back later. By morning a new constable will replace him and no one will be the wiser.”

  “Alright, I’ll do as you say. Sigmund,” she looked him in the eyes, water pooling in her own already red eyes, and asked, “Will you be okay, truly?”

  Sigmund thought of a million things to say, wanted to tell her everything would be fine, but finally conceded with a small voice, “I don’t know.”

  Alexis hugged him and said through tears that now flowed, “Please be careful, Sigmund.”

  He didn’t want to let her go. He didn’t want to feel the loneliness of hiding, of not knowing when he would be able to see his family again. But he had to. He didn’t know exactly where he stood anymore or what he should do next, but he knew he had to leave. With all his self-control he released the embrace, and with steady breaths to hold back tears, he managed, “You too.” Then turned and walked away.

  18.

  The day after the visit with his sister, Sigmund barely moved from his straw bed. When Harry came around they discussed the previous day’s visit – Harry was dumbfounded. He always liked Jamison, but this was beyond anything he could have imagined. Although he did reveal that maybe he wasn’t too good of a judge of people. This comment did not go unnoticed by Sigmund as it was likely a bit of rebuke for him.

  When Harry wasn’t around, Sigmund would just lay back down on his bed. He wasn’t depressed, not truly, but lost in thought as to what possibilities he had left. There were not many. If this Richard Sutton turned himself in as the mastermind behind Sigmund’s participation, then maybe he could be free, maybe. But if what Jamison said was tru
e, Richard Sutton is the leader of the resistance to this war faction. How much did that matter anymore? The invention was destroyed. However, war can and has happened without any new invention, so it is likely still a real threat.

  Above all these thoughts, Sigmund kept returning to something that Jamison said about the German invention – it was necessary for the cure to help Sarah. Sigmund didn’t understand how, but if true then he was present for the destruction of Sarah’s only hope. Despite all his other issues, this thought bothered him the most. What were the selfish desires of politicians compared to the sickness of a remarkable young girl?

  As day turned to night, Sigmund continued his fugue state wondering what to do. He had been desperate for answers since all this started and now that he had them, or at least some of them, he was in just as bad of a position. And so was Sarah.

  Again and again his thoughts turned to Sarah. If this Richard Sutton had some kind of cure, surely there must be some replacement for the invention that was destroyed. Perhaps Sutton was lying and the cure was just an enticement to get at the German’s invention. But Jamison said that the cure was real, that he trusted in Sutton. Two days ago, Jamison’s thoughts on someone would have been enough to convince Sigmund, but now Jamison’s credibility had taken a serious hit. Sigmund didn’t know anything about this Richard Sutton and decided he had no reason to trust the man or his supposed cure – but that that was going to change. He decided that first thing the next day he would visit Richard Sutton and discuss a few things.

  * * *

  With a huge milestone being reached on the morrow, Christoph Grimkraken thought about his life’s journey to this point. One thing was crystal clear, his father had been a fool. Not that this was a new revelation to Christoph, as he considered nearly every day a new nail in the coffin of uselessness that was his father’s life. Christoph would probably have considered his mother foolish as well, but her place in the world was so obscure, so meaningless that she didn’t even matter. Yes, the decisions that Christoph had made would be proven, beyond any doubt, correct tomorrow, not just in theory, but in practice.

  Christoph walked across the small office and closed the outside window, as the night air was a measure colder than the warm afternoon breezes. He didn’t bother with the latch, he was five stories up and was safe on many accounts. It amused him how much time he spent in this small office in this old dirty warehouse. He had a much finer one and an even grander one waiting near parliament. But this office, although small and spartanly furnished, was in the very heart of the future. Moving away from the exterior window he grabbed his cognac off his desk – even in this Spartan environment one must have luxuries – on the way to the interior window that allowed him a grand view of the vast facility he was in.

  At this late hour, there were no workers in the building which bothered him greatly. To see this factory empty, not actively working towards his goals was nothing short of frustrating. Much had been accomplished but there was still much to be done. Was he the only one with any ambition? They were on the threshold of greatness and yet the factory lay dormant for the night, as if ideals only mattered during the daylight. He cautioned himself to be patient, there was still time and much had been accomplished.

  Bah! He hated waiting. There were times when it was necessary, but more often than not, Christoph found a way to achieve his ends without the tedious practice of waiting. He often wondered why his methods were so rare. Did people have so little to gain by achieving their ideas that they let opportunities slip by for the sake of propriety, for patience? That was not the case with Christoph Grimkraken. His ideas were too great to be sidetracked by anything as inconsequential as perceived morals. His ends justified all means.

  It was his ambition, his absolute belief in his ideals that led him to where he was now. To think that his father wanted him to settle for a life of servitude. To work for others, to bend to their will. The very notion disgusted him. What could a person accomplish in that situation?

  “No!”

  Christoph frightened himself with his audible and vehement answer to his own questions. He looked around the room assuring himself that he was alone – although he knew he was. These reflections on his life, although satisfying, led him to strong feelings, feelings that he would be best to keep in control.

  He took a long sip of his cognac, finding the rich liquid soothing despite the attack on his throat. He further soothed his emotions by gazing at the incredible machines in front of him. Regardless of the perceived lack of enthusiasm, the work that was being done was superb. If only it could be faster. Perhaps after tomorrow the realization and the magnitude of their mission would become more real. If not, he would find ways to motivate. Christoph was always able to find the right cog to turn in order to move someone to action. People were simple creatures for the most part. If you strip away the frivolities of empathy or so-called decency, it was not hard to have people produce what you need. It was no more difficult than getting a beast of burden to do your will – you enticed it with a reward or you whipped it. It was identical for people. Money or pain, both worked. It was the simple secret to Christoph’s success. If your objective was elevated then there was no argument against the process to get there – pain or reward. It didn’t matter as the end always justified the means. What could it possibly matter, the feelings of a few, when judged against the greatness of accomplishment?

  Placing his glass on a silver serving tray that was out of place on the simple desk, Christoph took a deep breath to calm himself. To lose focus now, now that he was so close, would be intolerable. If there was a failure it would not be his. He would not allow anything, not even his own eagerness to derail the refinement of civilization. The refinement of the world.

  19.

  The sounds of horses and the smell of the stable was once again the wakeup call for Sigmund. It always seemed to smell the worst in the morning. Standing up, he stretched out the kinks that visited him each night. Looking across the stable he saw his horse, Ham, looking back at him.

  “Good morning, girl. You miss riding around town?”

  Ham just stared back with her large dark eyes, evidently not caring to answer. Sigmund smiled and wondered for the thousandth time if he would ever get back to his old life. He never thought it was a life that people would find particularly enviable, but it was his. Plus, almost anything was better than his current situation. Most importantly, he had been happy. Those who didn’t envy happiness probably never had any and thus didn’t understand that happiness is the most enviable thing a man, rich or simple, could own.

  Giving his watch its daily wind, he placed it in his pocket and once again headed out, using the grey morning and early hour as protective cover from being recognized. The Academy of Future Science, the work place of Richard Sutton, was between London Bridge and the Tower Bridge along the south side of the Thames. It must have a good view of the Tower of London, a remarkable fortress – and jail, Sigmund reminded himself. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility to think that it could be his eventual home. He used this gloomy thought as motivation to keep vigilant.

  His trip to the Academy was uneventful. There were a few people around, an occasional carriage, and a few constables along the way, but Sigmund was able to not draw attention to himself. Just another earlier riser, bundled up against the morning chill, getting a head start on the day.

  The Academy of Future Science building was a massive brick building that backed up to the Thames. Sigmund had imagined it to look much like a school, but this building before him looked more like a factory than a place of discovery. The brown stone of the building mixed in with the slowly lightening fog gave the place a dreary appearance. Esthetics evidently weren’t too important to the scientific mind.

  The easy part of his day over, Sigmund now had to figure out how to get in to the Academy and locate Richard Sutton – a man he had never seen before. Prior to becoming the Bomb Bandit, Sigmund could have simply asked for an appointment but th
at wasn’t an option. He thought about pretending to be someone else, but that invited too much time in close conversation with someone who might recognize him despite however convincing he could be. No, he would need a quiet way in. Sigmund went to the back of the building – taking several minutes to walk around the massive complex – and found what he was hoping for, a loading area. Prior to being the Academy of Future Science it must have been some sort of warehouse. Located along the Thames, it would have received shipments from cargo boats that would need an easy way to load whatever was received from the boats into the building. There was a dock that fingered into the river with a brick road that led from the dock to the academy and a pair of doors large enough to allow entrance to the heaviest of lorry wagons – clearly this was the path used from boat to building. It was Sigmund’s hope that this loading area was not watched over as closely as the main entrance no doubt would be. Seeing no one about he headed straight up the brick road. He ignored the large doors as they were too conspicuous and probably too heavy for him to open and headed to a normal man-sized door off to the right. Trying the handle he found it locked. Once again looking about, he verified that no one was in eyesight and kneeled down to go at the lock with his picks. It gave him a little trouble but after a minute – which felt like an hour to Sigmund – the door opened. Slipping into the dark interior he quietly closed the door behind him.