Sigmund Shaw: A Steampunk Adventure

by Mark C. King

  Sutton took in the two of them and said, “Really, Zachary. Could we not groom our guests? It implies things.”

  Sigmund laughed and then noticed a bag in Sutton’s hand and asked, “That’s not some lunch, perchance, is it?”

  Sutton smiled, “Yes, it is. I figured you would be hungry and I apologize for my absence. But it wasn’t for nothing.”

  Sutton walked around his desk and sat down. From the bag he produced meat, fruit, cheese, and bread. Zachary grabbed a pear and climbed back to his spot to eat. Sigmund placed some meat and cheese on a slice of bread and ate.

  “I believe I have located the factory.” Stated Sutton simply.

  “Just like that? One of the most terrible secret in the world and you found it in half a day?”

  Sutton smiled and said, “I did. You forget, it’s my design that they are working with. I simply told the person that I had given the designs to that there was a fatal flaw. I had an updated design to give that corrected it. From there I was passed around to several people until I finally was directed to a courier who would take the updated design to the lead builder. I followed the courier until he arrived at a warehouse in Battersea.”

  Sigmund was impressed. It was a smart plan and executed well. “You’ve outdone yourself, Richard! Battersea warehouse? Isn’t that where they are proposing the new power plant?”

  “Yes. I’ve seen the proposed design, it is impressive. We’ll see if it ever happens. I take it that you are familiar with that area?”

  “I’ve been that way a couple times, although it’s not one of my normal stops. The factory is right along the Thames if I remember correctly.”

  “That is the place. It’s a rather large warehouse and I’m sorry to say formidable.”

  “Formidable, how so?”

  “I’ve seen warehouses with gates and walls about it before, to keep out any opportunistic individuals, but this place looks like a fortress. Its surrounding walls must be fifteen feet high at least, and the gate is thick iron and protected by guards. One glimpse of the place and I knew it was what we are looking for.”

  “Nothing has been easy so far, why should this be any different.”

  “You are still determined to break in, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” Sigmund nodded. “I need proof, something tangible. I think Chief Inspector Holmes believes me but he must be powerless to act on just my words.”

  “Why doesn’t Holmes go to the factory?” pleaded Sutton. “Or, why don’t I go with you to Holmes, surely the two of us could convince him?”

  “Convincing him is not the problem. Like I said, I think he believes me. Even if he went to the factory, what would he find? Machines being built by the direction of Grimkraken – not exactly illegal. We need proof that the cube exists. That’s why I’m going – no more theories.”

  “I’d like to talk you out of this. I’m sure there is another way.”

  Sigmund looked at his watch again, nearly 3 pm. “If you can come up with a better idea before nightfall, then I’ll listen, otherwise I’ll be leaving once the sun sets. While you are coming up with ideas, I think I would like to peruse your lab and see what I might find that could help me.”

  By sundown, a better idea was not given – or at least not accepted by Sigmund.

  At 7:00 pm Sigmund stepped outside of the Academy for Future Science building. The summer sky still had life left in it, but was fading fast. It would be suitably dark by the time he arrived at Battersea. With a bag slung around his neck, hat and goggles in place, he was as ready as he was going to be. Being that his current location was on the river and his destination was also on the river, Sigmund decided to risk water conveyance. He loved boats ever since he was a child and couldn’t resist the draw. He figured that if a ship captain recognized him midstream, he could probably make a water escape.

  Walking to the end of the dock outside the Academy building, he began searching the boats along the river to see if any were in a position to take on a passenger. Before long he spotted a small skiff, smoke billowing out of its engine, that had a captain and no one else. Sigmund waved his arms until the boat caught sight of him and headed over.

  As the skiff expertly pulled up against the dock, Sigmund, with his hat low over his eyes and his overcoat collar turned up, asked, “How much for a ride to Battersea Park area?”

  The captain, a middle aged man, rough beard and wind chapped red cheeks, looked Sigmund up and down – making Sigmund immediately regret his choice – and then said, “One pound.”

  It was outrageously high but Sigmund agreed, he really did not want to prolong the conversation. Climbing onboard, he found a spot in the back of the skiff next to a box that smelled like fish. Outside of the smell, the ride down the Thames was pleasant, or it would have been if Sigmund wasn’t constantly looking for signs that the captain knew who he was. But the boat stayed true, not deviating off to any of the docks, a sign that the captain might want to unload his cargo, perhaps to get a bit of a reward.

  The evening continued on towards darkness as the boat slipped down the river. Sigmund felt the coldness of the advancing evening and rubbed his shoulders. The chug of the engine and the sound of the passing water helped calm Sigmund’s nerves some, both from the captain and the task ahead that he had set for himself. Twenty minutes later the boat neared a dock, not too far from the warehouse, maybe a quarter mile. The warehouse was everything that Sutton had said and more. The wall that surrounding the factory was at least as tall as described and there were electric lights on each of its corners, illuminating the surrounding terrain. This was going to be harder than he thought.

  Being that the danger of being recognized by the captain had passed, Sigmund decided to push his good fortune a little. He said to the captain, “I’m a reporter. I’ve been asked to investigate the warehouse here.” He pointed towards the building, “Rumor has it that are some strange goings-on. Have you seen anything?”

  The captain looked ahead to the warehouse then turned to Sigmund and said, “Aye, I’ve witnessed a few strange things. They built that wall around the place as if it was a medieval castle. On occasion I’ve heard noises, banging unlike anything I’ve ever come across before. I’ll tell you, son, you mind yourself if you are heading there. Something queer is afoot. I can’t imagine that they will be too welcoming to visitors.”

  Sigmund nodded and said, “Thanks, captain, I will be careful.” He paid the fare and watched as the boat pulled away from the dock and continued on down the Thames. Compared to what he was planning to do, to disappear down the Thames sounded pretty good.

  A couple of buildings lined the waterfront leading to the warehouse – small factories and processing plants. Sticking to the shadows, Sigmund moved to the last building before the fortified factory and was able to have a close look at his target. It resembled a prison with its large walls, lights, and large brick building in the middle. Things had definitely changed since his last time here. Sigmund found a comfortable spot in the shadows and decided it would be best to just observe for a while, to look for guards, to look for weaknesses.

  The main entrance to the walls was on the opposite side of the river. Sigmund could see at least one person stationed there. On the river side, there was also an entrance, which made sense for cargo deliveries. This too looked to be guarded. As he continued watching, he was relieved that there didn’t seem to be any patrols, at least on the outside of the walls. After some time, Sigmund grew colder but was glad to see that his waiting was rewarded, for he saw the front gates open and a bus leave the compound, probably carrying a contingent of workers. This was a good sign, perhaps the factory would be shutting down for the night. That would make Sigmund’s task easier.

  The night became full and Sigmund checked his watch by the little bit of light that reached him from the factory. He had been watching now for well over two hours. It had been more than thirty minutes since the bus left and there had been no other activity since. Not seeing the point of waitin
g any longer, he stood up from his spot and stretched his sore muscles. The approach he decided on was simple: get to the wall and climb over it. He didn’t want to mess with any of the guards at either entrance. The problem was that there were no shadows he could use to get to the wall. His hope was that there were no watchman other than at the gates. He should be able to approach the side wall and not have anyone see him – despite being visible. Without the aid of any shadow or cover, Sigmund simply ran as fast as he could and prayed that there was no one peeking over the wall at that moment. The lights on his skin felt warm and the thought of being fully exposed was beyond unsettling. At least the ground was dry and he was able to move quickly. When he reached the wall, he put his back up against it and waited, listening for any sound of alarm – outside of his own heavy breathing, he could hear nothing.

  He took another minute to catch his breath and then pulled a rope and grappling hook from out of his bag. The hook was something he manufactured with Sutton that afternoon, welding three hooks to a small metal post and attaching a rope. Making sure there was plenty of slack in the rope, Sigmund heaved it up and over the wall. As the hook fell on the other side, the rope pulled tight and Sigmund could hear a clinking sound as the hook hit the back of the wall. It sounded loud to Sigmund but no other noises followed, no alarms raised. He pulled on the rope slowly, allowing the hook a chance to find purchase of something. After a few hand over hand pulls, the rope stopped, the hook had anchored. Giving it some strong tugs he verified that whatever it was hooked on was not going to give. Putting one foot on the wall, Sigmund grabbed the rope and started pulling himself up while using his feet to ‘walk’ up the barrier. Near the top he let go of the rope with his right hand and reached out and grabbed the top of the wall. Pulling on the rope and on the wall, he lifted his body up on top of it – which was about three feet wide – and relaxed his tired arms. Laying face down, he got his first glimpse of the courtyard area, the area between the wall and the warehouse. There were crates stacked in different areas and a few carts. More importantly, there was no one in sight. He waited on top of the wall, allowing time for a guard on his rounds to appear, and sure enough, there was one.

  The guard came around the back of the building – the river side – and was making a clockwise circuit and would pass right under Sigmund location. Sigmund didn’t move and didn’t make a sound. Unless he had a reason to, the guard would probably not look up. If he did then Sigmund would be spotted fairly easily. The guard came closer, his lantern light highlighting the space in front of him, and then he stopped not far from Sigmund’s location. Sigmund held his breath and didn’t take his eyes off the watchman. The guard fumbled in his pockets and produced a cigarette and a matchbox. He struck the match and lit his cigarette, taking a long drag and exhaling blue swirling smoke. The displeasing smell reached Sigmund despite his best attempts not to breath. Another moment and the guard started walking again. Another two minutes and he was around the front of the factory and out of sight.

  Sigmund took the grappling hook and attached it to the outside edge of the wall and let the rope fall on the inside, partially hidden by some crates. He lowered himself down and decided to chance leaving the rope. It was in shadows and behind some crates which would make it hard to spot unless someone was looking for it. It would be nice to have it ready in case of the need for a quick escape.

  He headed off in the same direction as the guard, hoping to extend the time between his next round. At the corner of the front of the building, Sigmund could see the main gate and the guard booth next to it. He hoped the guards would keep their attention on the road leading to the factory and not the road inside.

  The front of the factory had two massive iron doors that were on runners. They each slid apart, like sideways eyelids, to allow giant cargo to enter or exit. There were also two human sized entrances, one on either side of the giant iron doors. Sigmund went up to the closest door and was surprised to find it unlocked. Quickly stepping inside, he closed the door and took in his new surroundings. To his right, there was a many storied wall that reached from floor to ceiling about thirty feet in length that ended at a corner. There was a metal platform that surrounded the wall about every ten feet up – there must be stairs to the platforms around the corner. A door and a window could be seen on each level, including the ground floor. These were the offices for the operation. To Sigmund’s left was the vastness of the warehouse turned factory. It somehow looked even bigger from the inside. There were hanging lights that gave the place a brownish tint but allowed Sigmund to see some of the machines that were housed here.

  Despite Sigmund’s need to hide, he stood transfixed by the sights in front of him. Sutton hadn’t gone into any details about his designs so Sigmund was not prepared. The closest one to him, near the large entrance doors, was at least two-stories tall, made of iron, and had the general shape of a man, with two legs, a torso, arms, and a head. Sigmund had never seen its equal. There were also tubes that protruded from the body, on the back and arms, which were presumably some kinds of weapon. As Sigmund forced his eyes away from this creation, he could see that there were others behind it. Unable to view them all from his current spot, plus needing to get out of the light, Sigmund decided to move and check the door nearest him in the towering office section. He crept up to the ground floor door, looked through the window beside it and could see that the room behind was dark, but light enough to tell that it was empty of people. He tried the door but found it locked. Reaching into his bag he pulled out his lock picks and went to work on the handle. A minute later the door unlocked and Sigmund went inside. The room he found himself in was some sort of chemical lab, the only light coming in through the window. The smell of chemicals was unpleasant and burned his nose. Holding a handkerchief to his face to help with the smell, he searched through his bag for a device that Sutton had given him. Finding it by feel, he pulled it out and clicked the switch. A soft red light turned on – Sutton told him that red light was much harder to see from a distance than white light. Sigmund took his word for it and used the handheld electric torch to search the room. What he saw made him feel excited. Could he be that fortunate? Was this the exact room he was looking for – where they created the amalgam cubes?

  Along the far wall, opposite the door, Sigmund saw some apparatuses that looked very similar to what he saw the Germans using prior to when the bomb went off. He walked to the work table and saw that along with the apparatuses there were other items, wires, glass containers, tubes, and something that stood out – a dark wooden box, much the shape of a cigar box. Sigmund lifted the lid and found that the inside was covered in soft dark fabric and that there were cubes in a neat little row resting on the fabric. The cubes were about the size of four sugar cubes stacked together.

  Sigmund looked about the room to verify that he was alone. Assured that no one was around, he took one of the cubes and was about to place it in his bag but stopped, he had to try one. Looking at the apparatuses he chose one that looked like it was used regularly – near the front of the table and not pushed behind objects. There was a receptacle on top of three small metal legs with wires that led to a silver box – must be an electric storage device. Sigmund placed the cube into the receptacle and attached the wires to the silver box. Immediately he felt a great heat that made him look away. Leaning as far away from the device as he could, he reached over and disconnected the wires. Incredible! he thought. How could something so small produce so great an energy? Although he had always worried about the cube being in the wrong hands, it was at this moment that he understood the true reality of it all. It was now tangible, which made it all the more terrible.

  Placing the cube in his bag Sigmund decided to take the apparatus and the battery too. He considered doing more, maybe setting a fire and trying to destroy the lab, but he knew he wasn’t equipped for that. Having proof was the most important thing right now, proof that he now had in his bag. He turned his attention away from vandalism and focused on
escape.

  Sigmund went back to the window and searched the immediate surroundings for a guard. Still nothing. Turning his light off and putting it back in his bag, he opened the door and stepped outside the office. He quietly closed the lab door and took a step towards the front exit but then froze when he heard a sound. He looked behind him and he could hear footsteps very near him, coming around the corner of the offices. Sigmund was about to run when a man turned around the corner. He was in full view of Sigmund and the other way around.

  The man wore a brown double vested jacket and brown pants, a pair of goggles that shone an unique emerald green in the light – and had a thick club in his hand. The man looked puzzled for a moment while he stared at Sigmund, then nodded, turned, and walked away out of view back around the corner.

  Sigmund didn’t know what just happened. Had this man mistaken him for someone else? He must have as the man had Sigmund dead to rights. Not wanting to waste any more time, especially if the man changed his mind, Sigmund headed for the front door and paused for just a moment as he cracked the door to see if anyone was outside. It looked clear and Sigmund crept out and immediately looked for a place to hide. He figured that he would wait for the outside guard to make his rounds and then Sigmund would head for the rope.