Sigmund Shaw: A Steampunk Adventure

by Mark C. King

  “We are going to the Police Commissioner, I have Chief Inspector Holmes in my cab. I’ll explain the rest on the way.” Sigmund then walked out the door giving no doubt as to the urgency of time.

  Sutton caught up before the large rear doors, Zachary riding on his shoulder. “I take it you were unable to convince Grimkraken to give up the cube to the public?”

  “No.” Sigmund shook his head. “Definitely not. He is determined to start his war. I’ve never met a lunatic before, but I think I met one tonight.”

  “My word,” was all that Sutton could manage.

  They reached Sigmund’s cab and Sutton rode next to Sigmund in the driver seat – Zachary quietly watched all the proceedings and scenery as he changed his perch from Sutton to Sigmund. Introducing Sutton to Holmes would have to wait. Pushing Ham on again, the three men drove the short distance to the London Bridge Train Station.

  The station was moderately busy, not too surprising for a Friday evening, many young bachelors returning from, or possibly heading to, some amorous encounter. The three men paid little heed to any of the other would-be passengers and waited anxiously for the next train. While they waited, Sigmund introduced Richard Sutton to Chief Inspector Holmes, and then proceeded to catch Sutton up on the night’s happenings.

  Before Sutton could respond to the complete story, the 9:50 train arrived. They boarded and found seats near each other. A few other passengers stared at the group, particularly at Zachary, but no one bothered them. Sutton admitted to never having met Grimkraken, but had heard stories of his seemingly emphatic and even charismatic nature. It was Sutton’s understanding that Grimkraken had won over many people to his way of seeing things. Sutton commented that he had hoped that what he heard was mostly exaggeration but from what Sigmund told him, he was starting to think that the stories were true.

  As the train continued on, the three of them fell silent – all contemplating their own versions of possible outcomes. It made for a grim ride. They seemed to radiate a negative energy as most of the other passengers gave them a wide berth within the train car. One child ran up to see the monkey but his mother quickly grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the men.

  After about ten minutes, they reached Morden Station, disembarked, and from there they headed East into the night towards Mitcham. They walked quickly, none of them speaking but all thinking that time was not something that they had a generous supply of. When they reached London Road, they went along it northwards until they reached the cross-street and then the driveway of Sir Edward Bradford’s manor. The path to the manor was dark and would have been difficult to pass if it wasn’t for a light out of the lower front window of the home. The home itself would best be described as a cottage, if it wasn’t for its large size. It had a country feel to it with its exposed wooden frame filled in-between with red brick. The pointed roof was hung with grey, moss covered shingles, and interspersed with multiple chimneys. Even in the darkness and fog, it gave off a welcoming feel.

  Holmes led the three to the door and knocked sharply. It was near 10:30 and no doubt the household was asleep, but Holmes repeated his knocks until finally there was a noise inside and then a voice that called out, sounding somewhat annoyed, “What the devil is going on? Who is making all this noise, and at this hour?”

  Holmes, taking the lead, answered, “It is Chief Inspector Holmes, Commissioner. I beg your pardon, but we must talk to you.”

  The three could hear locks being undone and as the door opened, Sir Edward Bradford stood before them, empty left sleeve of his robe hanging freely, white hair a bit mussed, eyes sharp despite the hour and surprise of the visit. He asked, “Who is with you Inspector? You said ‘we’.”

  “I have with me Richard Sutton of the Academy of Future Science and…” Holmes paused. He realized that most everyone still viewed Sigmund as a treasonous murderer – including, no doubt, the commissioner. Still, there was no time to be coy, “and Sigmund Shaw.”

  “You’ve caught Sigmund Shaw?” Sir Bradford asked in wonderment and then in even more wonderment asked, “And you brought him here?”

  “‘Caught’ wouldn’t be the right word commissioner. Perhaps we could step inside and I can explain everything?”

  Sir Bradford looked the group over and asked, “Is that a monkey on your shoulder?”

  Sutton responded sheepishly, “Yes, sir. This is Zachary. He won’t cause any trouble.”

  “Hmm. See that he doesn’t. I’ve spent more than enough time around the animals in India. Troublesome beasts.” Then, not sensing any kind of trap, he stepped aside and let the three men – and one monkey – enter the home.

  The inside of the home was full of many artifacts, and by the looks of them, mostly from India, but some that undoubtedly came from other parts of the world. Many trophies adorned the walls, from quick deer-like creatures to ferocious animals like cheetahs and bears. Sir Bradford led them through the still, dark foyer and into a sitting area. He turned on the electric lights and had each find a seat. Sigmund and Sutton each took half of a burgundy couch, while Holmes took a plush chair. Sir Bradford, satisfied that all were comfortable, took a large cushioned chair. Once all were settled, Sir Bradford looked at each person and then settled his gaze on Holmes. He asked, “Tell me Chief Inspector, why isn’t Mr. Shaw in jail, or at least in shackles?”

  “Simply put, Sir Bradford, Sigmund Shaw is not guilty. What is more, I know who is guilty and what he has planned. The crime I’ve been investigating is only the beginning of the story. The events that are currently in motion, and possibly speeding up, are of a magnitude that I cannot possibly take on alone. That is why we are here – we need your help.”

  Sir Bradford continued to stare at Holmes - not really looking at him, more through him in contemplation. After several seconds he said, “Holmes, you are not the kind of man who asks for help easily. It worries me that whatever you have found has led you to me. Why don’t you tell me from the beginning what is going on and who is responsible for the bombing.”

  “Yes, sir. Each of us have a part to tell. The beginning, as we know it, belongs to Richard Sutton. Mr. Sutton, would you please tell your part?”

  Sutton, a little nervous in front of Sir Bradford, looked at Holmes and then at Sir Bradford, “Of course.” He swallowed hard, and made sure that he had his facts straight before he began, “I should start with my profession, which should add the necessary background for understanding. I work for the Academy of Future Science as the chief engineer. My job is to design and create new machines, often in the form of vehicles, to advance technologies for the common man and for the Empire. I do not want to sound arrogant but I enjoy my job and I am good at it. A few months back I was asked to design a completely new vehicle which had a primary purpose of war. This is not uncommon in itself but the parameters they gave me were very uncommon – the designs they wanted revolved around a power source that does not exist. I guess I should have realized then what was going on but it was so fanciful, really impossible – or so I thought – that I suspected nothing. I took it as a creative exercise and created a great machine – strong, fast, even agile. I turned the design over to the government and thought nothing more of it. Some weeks later I heard rumors that my design was being built! I assumed that they were altering my designs to allow for coal but that idea didn’t sit well with me. You see, coal engines with their weight and limitations would ruin the effectiveness of my design. I finally decided to investigate what was going on but everywhere I turned was a dead end, people refused to talk about it. This caused me as much, if not more worry, than the rumors that my designs were being built. Something was being hidden. It was then that I received information from Marcus Pratt.”

  Sir Bradford cocked his head at the name, clearly knowing it but without context. Holmes helpfully chimed in, “Marcus Pratt was the man found hanging off of Tower Bridge.”

  With a look of shock, Sir Bradford turned his head towards Sutton, as if looking for corroboration. Sutton ga
ve it to him in the form of a nod and then continued, “Marcus worked in the Ministry of Defence and became aware of a faction in the government that wants war. He did not have a lot of details, other than it was gaining momentum, and that there was talk of a new power source being delivered by two German Scientists. Hearing about the power source and knowing of my designs, made it very clear that the government, or at least part of the government believed the power source was real. It was at this point that Marcus, myself, and a few others decided to act. To save time, I will cut straight to the decision we made – we were going to blackmail Sigmund here to spy on the meeting with the German Scientists and if possible, steal the new power source. We wanted to expose it and give it to everyone. The potential of the invention was great and could be devastating in the wrong hands.”

  Sir Bradford had been listening closely. His attention to details, regardless if they came from a lowly street cleaner or from the Queen herself, made him a likeable and capable commander of men. “If I may interrupt for just a moment, Mr. Sutton, why was Mr. Shaw chosen for the, um, assignment?”

  Sigmund, feeling like a man confessing sins to a priest, spoke plainly, “Sir Bradford, the reason for their choice of me was because I have a history of being a thief. I stole things in order to support my family after my father died. My brother in law knew this and he was friends with Marcus Pratt.” Sigmund paused, waiting for some kind of rebuke.

  Nodding slowly, Sir Bradford said, “Well, we can deal with that later. Please, continue the account.”

  Sigmund felt a bit of a weight lift off his shoulder. He just admitted to the Police Commissioner his past crimes. It may not work out well for him in the future, but for now, he had nothing to hide for the first time since he was a young man. He was nearly giddy at the feeling that unexpectedly flowed over him, despite all the bad that had taken place that night.

  Sutton looked at Sigmund and encouraged, “I think it is time for you to take over the account.”

  This brought Sigmund back to the present. Still feeling exhilarated and a touch guilty for feeling so exhilarated, he said, “Quite right. Marcus Pratt followed through on their plan and indeed blackmailed me to spy on the meeting and to try and steal the power source if it proved to be real. It was for this reason that I was at the scene of the crime. I am compelled to reiterate that I had nothing to do with the bomb. However, before the bomb went off, I was able to learn about this new power source. It is real. It could replace coal.” He paused as the Commissioner’s eyes went wide. “It is an amalgam cube that produces tremendous heat for long periods of time – months at a time, perhaps longer. It is revolutionary in every way. A full army of machines powered by these cubes would be nearly unstoppable by current military machines. Not long after learning all of this, the bomb did go off. I count myself fortunate to have even survived. I was able to escape custody and have been trying to piece things together since then. I assumed that Marcus Pratt was behind the whole thing but when I found out that he was killed, my brother-in-law came clean with the plan that Marcus Pratt and Richard Sutton,” Sigmund nodded at Richard, “had come up with. It was then that I decided to speak with Richard myself. He filled in a few more details as to the war faction and the design he had created. But our biggest revelation was when we discovered that there was a person at the meeting with the German scientists that had not died, a person who I saw in the room.”

  Sir Bradford was following along with every word, leaning forward in his chair, and couldn’t contain the question, “Who was it?”

  “It was Christoph Grimkraken.”

  “The new Defence Minister?” exclaimed the commissioner. “It can’t be!” He slumped back in his chair, giving all his strength to comprehending what he was hearing.

  Holmes, knowing that more evidence needed to be given in order to justify the claim that was just made, said, “Please, sir, there is more you must hear. I ask that you reserve judgment until our statements are concluded.”

  Sir Bradford nodded in stunned agreement.

  Sigmund took the nod as the permission to continue, “This news gave the circumstances a completely new and terrible light. Possibly the most advanced machines ever designed, powered by the greatest power source ever invented, were now in the hands of the Defence Minister, a man who wanted war and was in a position to accomplish it. It was at this time that we knew we needed hard proof. For a certainty we believed it, but who would believe us? Through a clever ruse, Richard was able to find out where his designs were being built and I was able to sneak in and steal one of the amalgam cubes.”

  “You have one?” Sir Bradford asked excitedly.

  “Yes. I think a demonstration would help solidify our point.” Sigmund reached into his bag and pulled out the apparatus and the cube. He set it up quickly on the coffee table that sat in the middle of them all and warned the commissioner to not get too close. He activated the device and an immediate heat radiated from the cube. He disconnected the power source and said, “The size of the cube dictates the amount of heat. It wouldn’t take a cube much larger than a fist to power a train. In addition, the cube will continue to offer its heat for months at a time, no need to carry large amounts of coal.” Sigmund paused. The ramifications needed to sink in.

  Holmes now took the reins of the account, “It was at this point that Sigmund came to me. Not only did he have proof of his innocence but his claims of a war faction matched what I had been hearing.”

  “I’ve heard similar,” interrupted Sir Bradford darkly.

  Holmes continued, “We then developed a plan to find out for certain if Grimkraken was involved. Sigmund confronted him in his house.” Sir Bradford shot a glance at Sigmund as Holmes kept talking, “They talked in Grimkraken’s study while I listened in secret from outside through the window.” Sir Bradford had a somewhat surprised but amused look on his face. “It was during this conversation that it became clear that Grimkraken is heading up this war faction, he set the bomb that killed Defence Minister Sloan, and he is building an army of machines powered by the amalgam cube. As the conversation ended Grimkraken pointed a wrist gun at Sigmund and I made myself, and my gun, known. Grimkraken fired into Sigmund’s chest and dove out the study door. I’m ashamed to say that my shot missed. Sigmund survived, but only because I gave him chest armor in preparation for the visit. The next that I saw Grimkraken, he was in a personal dirigible, out of range of my gun and beyond any means that I had of following him. At that point, we picked up Sutton and came to you.”

  There was a long silence as Sir Bradford meditated on the account. Sigmund, Sutton, and Holmes all were going over the account in their heads to make sure they left out no important points. To Sutton’s relief, Zachary sat quietly on his shoulder. After a couple minutes, Sir Bradford stood from his chair and walked over to the mantle above his fireplace. There was a small, dark wood stand with a pocket watch hanging from it. He picked it up and looked at it, clearly seeing something more than the watch. After several moment he looked over at the three men still sitting and explained, “This watch belonged to a friend of mine. He died during the Indian Mutiny. I have seen many die in my career, on both sides of battle. England does not want war. I’ve heard of this war faction, as you all have, but the step between talking of war and going to war is massive and not easily made.”

  Sigmund felt impelled to interrupt, “Sir Bradford, I agree with you. I told Grimkraken that he was underestimating the people of England. But he said that by the time he was done, England would want war.”

  There was another pause as the group thought about this statement. Sir Bradford broke the silence, “Tell me Sigmund, finish this sentence for me. You would want England to attack another country if…”

  Sigmund thought for a moment and finally answered, “If they were attacking us first, to protect ourselves.”

  Sir Bradford nodded. “I had the same thought. Which means for England to want war, Grimkraken is either aware of an imminent attack, or…” he stopped, thin
king something through. “…or he will create an attack and blame a foreign country.”

  Holmes stood up, “Kill his own countrymen?”

  “It’s a theory.” Sir Bradford answered. “A theory that is more likely than him knowing the secret plans of a foreign county about to attack. Gentlemen, you did the right thing bringing this to my attention. We have a long night ahead of us. Tell me, where is this factory of his?”

  “Battersea,” answered Sutton.

  Sir Bradford nodded, his mind still racing, “Alright, I fear that Grimkraken may do something rash, his hand has been forced. We need to act quickly. Allow me to dress and then we will take my carriage to visit the Royal Barracks. I know a few men I trust there, that I served with in India and that should be able to help us.”

  “What about the Prime Minister?” asked Holmes.

  Sir Bradford scoffed, “Arthur Balfour is a weak and narrow minded man. We need military action and he will hurt us more than help. No. We go to the army.”

  Two hours later they found themselves outside of Wellington Barracks, near Buckingham Palace. Their carriage, belonging to Sir Bradford but driven by Sigmund, pulled towards the main gate. An annoyed looking guardsman was on duty in a small structure to the right of the gate and stepped out of it with lantern in hand. He halted the carriage before the gate and said, “State your business.”