“Me neither,” Logan murmured. “At least we have the element of surprise. Let’s go in slowly. Think like a mouse, Violet. Crouch low and keep to the walls. Stay behind me. But if we encounter anyone other than your father, shoot to kill. Understand?”
Violet nodded before remembering he couldn’t see her. “Yes.” Taking a deep breath, she turned toward their other partner. “Arthur, please open the hatch, but slowly and quietly. Shoot to kill anyone who threatens you or us. But our first priority is finding Papa.”
A moment later, a long, low grinding noise reached her ears. Inch by inch, Arthur swung the hatch outward. The act ushered in cool air. Pale light spilled into the crawlspace. As the shadows receded, a glance behind revealed Logan poised in a tight crouch, gun glinting dangerously in his hand.
Belatedly, Violet drew her revolver. She looked at him again, and he jutted his chin forward. The message was clear–it was time for the final showdown to begin. Molding her features into a determined expression, she followed Arthur out of the hatch.
* * * *
In quick succession, Arthur, Violet, and Logan emerged from the hatch and stepped into the laboratory. They were in a partially walled section devoted to storage, maintenance tools, and cleaning supplies. Continuing forward, they rounded the nearest corner.
As befitted a place of science, the laboratory was well lit. At first glance, they seemed to be alone. The cluttered chamber was enormous, however, and Violet could barely see the far wall. Caution was of the utmost importance.
She followed Logan deeper into the laboratory. Arthur trailed behind her. She assessed the laboratory’s contents while they walked.
The bizarre metallic automatons were the first objects to catch her eye. Scattered throughout the space, their gangly, misshapen limbs appeared of dubious quality and design. Missing parts indicated some had been abandoned mid-construction. One dust-covered automaton in particular had bulging white orbs with painted-on pupils. Its disturbing gaze seemed to follow Violet as she passed. She half-feared it would come to life and grab her the second she turned her back.
Shaking off her anxiety, she continued scanning the laboratory. Assorted spare parts including coils, pipes, and rivets of all sizes overflowed from various containers along the ubiquitous shelves. The centralized workspaces were a scientist’s dream, outfitted as they were with precision instruments, Bunsen burners, flasks, and bottled chemicals. At regular intervals, Gramme machines hummed with power. They also passed several arrays of clustered brass tubes, presumably for communication to other parts of the fortress.
The Iron Scorpion may have been corrupt and wicked, but his affinity for science was indisputable.
When Logan angled past one of the long worktables, Violet caught a glimpse of his face. Sweat beaded at his temples, and he surveyed the chamber with a suspicious gaze. He gripped his Colt like a man possessed. His predatory, defensive stance seemed to have more in common with a wolf than a man. Violet’s sympathy scale went up several notches. The man was entirely out of his element. If only she could reassure him.
They advanced farther into the lab. Violet heard a scritch-scratch noise. Logan heard it, too, for his whole body froze. Both of them ducked behind a nearby table. Arthur, of course, did not. How on earth could she communicate to him without being overheard? Panic flared and she broke out into a sweat. And then, miraculously–or perhaps scientifically–the automaton shifted to a low crouch beside her, his components humming softly.
In exact mimicry of Logan . Violet shivered at the thought. The resemblance was uncanny.
But who was making the noise? Oh please, let it be Papa! Violet slowly raised her head over the surface of the table before her, ignoring Logan’s angry glare and even angrier pinch on her arm.
A man was hunched over one of the tables several yards away. She recognized his gray hair and frock coat. Her throat tightened. “Papa!” she whispered, and stood up.
Startled, Joseph Whitcomb whirled around. Violet had never seen her father so disheveled. Dirt streaked his coat. His torn waistcoat gaped open, and one of the lenses in his spectacles was riddled with cracks. A purplish lump the size of a strawberry protruded above his left eye.
“Who’s there?” he demanded.
Violet rushed forward, picking her way around tables and other obstructions. “It’s me, Papa!”
Joseph rubbed his red, inflamed eyes. “Violet?”
“Yes, Papa. Shhh. Keep your voice down.” Reaching him, she embraced him gently. He felt positively frail in her arms. “Thank heaven you’re alive.” She stepped back and gave him an appraising look. “Are you badly hurt?”
Joseph shook his head. “I’ve been better, but I’m not seriously injured.” He gestured to their surroundings. “The wretched man who had me kidnapped imprisoned me here. He goes by the absurd moniker of ‘Iron Scorpion.’” He added a “Pah!” for good measure. “I’m reluctant to admit it, but from the inventions I’ve seen here, I can only conclude that the man has a brilliant mind. Twisted, but brilliant.”
Violet retied his peacock blue ascot. “What does he want from you?”
“He insisted I build him an automaton, one based on an outrageous design of his.”
She brushed some of the dust from his coat. “You haven’t complied, have you?”
“Of course not!” Joseph emphasized his point with a dramatic slash of his hand. “His design is flawed, for one thing. But unless I demonstrate initial results in three days, he threatened me with torture. He already showed me the devices,” Joseph said. A visible shudder ran through his body. “How considerate of the bastard, eh?”
Fear for his safety turned her next question into a scolding one. “Why haven’t you tried to escape?”
Joseph eyed her in disbelief. “The door is heavily guarded around the clock. And–”
“There’s nothing but empty land for hundreds of miles,” came Logan’s low voice. Ambling toward them, he holstered his Colt. “Even if he escaped this fortress, he’d be dead within hours.”
A flush of embarrassment heated Violet’s face. “Noted. Well, we’re here now. We’ll get you out.”
At that point, her father glanced over her shoulder. “Who are your escorts?” he asked. The wariness in his voice was clear.
Violet motioned for Logan to join them. “This is Mr. Logan, Papa,” she said quietly. “I met him on the train. He generously agreed to help me rescue you.”
Joseph bowed his head slightly. “I remember you. From the parlor, when the iron carriages attacked.”
Logan nodded curtly, but said nothing.
Violet cleared her throat while gesturing to the hat-and-poncho clad figure standing a few feet behind Logan. Her mouth had gone painfully dry, and her stomach was in the tightest knots she’d ever experienced. She could barely look her father in the eye. “You, ah, know Arthur, of course.”
At the sound of his name, Arthur turned his head. The brim of his hat rose slowly, chasing away shadow, and in turn revealed the automaton’s steady, unblinking gaze.
At first, Joseph just stared at his creation. Violet couldn’t tell if he was surprised about Arthur’s transformation or relieved about his safety. But then his features hardened into stone. His head snapped her way, eyes livid. “Willful child, do you mean to inform me that you dragged Arthur all the way from the train to this den of evil?” He grabbed her shoulders and bored his gaze into hers. “What have you done to him? Why is he dressed like a character from one of your tawdry stories?”
Tears burned her eyes. She’d never seen him so angry. “Papa,” she began, unable to keep her voice from trembling, “I…I had to make sure the Iron Scorpion hadn’t abducted Arthur as well. Then I was worried he wouldn’t be safe back there. I had to take him… What else could I have done?”
“You should have left him there! That’s why I paid such an exorbitant amount for his secure storage.”
“But I thought Arthur could help.”
Joseph tightened his grip
as his voice rose. “Are you as mad as the Iron Scorpion? It’s Arthur he wants! The man will tear him apart to learn the secrets of his construction. Naturally, I didn’t reveal Arthur’s existence, but he knows I’ve created something very advanced. In fact, he demanded that I build him an army of mechanical soldiers. Surely I don’t have to spell out for you the logical conclusion of that scenario.”
“I didn’t know…” Her voice trailed off as tears began rolling down her cheeks. Actually, she’d misspoken. She had suspected the Iron Scorpion’s intent, yet insisted on bringing Arthur along anyway. Why had she done that? For the adventure ?
This situation was real life–and riddled with real consequences. Her stomach clenched. Maybe she’d been too obsessed with those weeklies after all. “I’m sorry, Papa. I only wanted to rescue you as soon as possible. I…I thought it would be best if I kept him with me rather than risk accidental discovery.”
Joseph glared and stabbed a finger toward her face. “You’ve made a terrible mistake, Violet. I–”
Logan immediately stepped in between them, edging Violet gently back. His whole body radiated power and authority as he leveled a sharp gaze at Joseph. Oh, my .
“Sir, you may be her father, but you have absolutely no right to speak to her that way.” Logan’s voice rumbled with indignation. “Violet’s been to hell and back trying to rescue you. The least you could do is acknowledge her bravery. She’s seen things that’d reduce most men to a puddle of piss.” Logan cocked his head toward Arthur. “Your automaton ain’t done too badly, either, and to be truthful, we might not have gotten this far without it.” His gaze narrowed further as he crossed his arms and bared his lips. “Care to rethink your position–sir ?”
Joseph stared back unflinchingly. Eventually, he drew in a deep breath. “I don’t know who you are, Mr. Logan, but that’s exactly what Violet’s mother would have said to me–if she were still alive.” Then he passed a hand over his weary face and sighed. “She’d have been right, too.” He extended his hand. “As are you, no doubt.”
After a brief hesitation, Logan reached out and clasped Joseph’s proffered hand.
At the sight, heady relief and bone-deep exhaustion caught up with Violet. She promptly pressed both hands to her face and began sobbing.
“Not now, dar–Violet,” Logan said urgently, his voice inexplicably hoarse. “We still got work to do.”
“You’re right. My apologies.” She turned her back to wipe away her tears. Her handkerchief was long gone, so she resorted to dabbing her runny nose with the least dirty patch of her sleeve. Facing the men with a determined smile, she adjusted her steam gun pack. “There. I’m ready now.”
Logan nodded. His eyes were warm with what she hoped was approval.
“So,” she continued, “Should we exit the way we came?”
Logan shook his head. “We’d be trapped in that corridor if that wolf alerted the guards to our presence. In fact, we need to move now while we still have the advantage of surprise.” He turned to Joseph. “Where’s the main entrance of this here room?”
Joseph pointed to a set of closed, gray double doors about a hundred feet away.
“Gather round.” As Violet, her father, and Arthur edged closer to Logan, he drew one of his Colts with a flourish. “Listen closely. Here’s our plan….”
* * * *
Minutes later, Violet stood in her hiding place behind a freestanding cabinet on one side of the laboratory. A six-inch gap between the cabinet and the wall provided her with a view of the main laboratory entrance. Her mind ran amok with speculation about who or what was on the other side.
Her father crouched behind her. Arthur stood on one side of the door with his back against the wall, gripping both of his guns. Logan stood opposite him, braced in a similar manner.
An explosion rocked the room. The double doors, rigged with a small bomb Violet’s father had constructed, blew wide open. Dust, ash, and debris swirled in the air.
Within seconds, a heavily armored guard rushed into the room. Violet studied him through the cleft. He wielded a pair of strange-looking revolvers. She winced. The man was literally armed: he possessed guns where his hands should have been. At the sound of her gasp, the guard turned–and saw her straight through the gap. His malevolent gaze promised death. The blood drained from Violet’s face. She gave the mental command to raise her Schofield, but her paralyzed limbs refused to cooperate.
The guard raised his arms to fire at her. Violet ducked just in time to avoid the whizzing projectiles. She threw herself across her father to protect him. A chunk of the wall came crashing down onto her shoulders and back. When the debris cleared, she stood and took aim at her attacker. But before she could fire, Logan shot him. The guard slammed onto a table and then collapsed to the floor.
Logan’s disapproving face appeared in the gap. “Stay out of sight until I call you!”
Violet did indeed drop out of sight, but only so she could crawl around the corner of the cabinet. Not so far that she was visible, but enough to fire at incoming guards should any escape Logan’s range. She angled her Schofield toward the door.
Her father grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?” he whispered.
Violet shut her right eye as she aligned her sight. “I want to help!”
“You saw what just happened. You can help more by staying out of their way.”
Violet bit back her grunt of frustration. She knew his assessment was correct. This standoff was a far cry from her target practice back home. She lowered her gun, but kept an eye on the rapidly unfolding situation.
More guards streamed into the laboratory. Logan picked them off easily, and she doubted he’d even broken a sweat. All those years in the field–so she speculated–had given him an edge. While Logan was reloading, a mass of armored henchmen leaped through the open doors. Shoulder to shoulder, they formed an impenetrable blockade. Her heart rate spiked. There had to be at least eight of them.
Logan glanced up, and Violet could see his back muscles tense at the sight. Then she had to cover her ears, for a thunderous commotion followed. Gunfire ripped through the room. She screwed her eyes shut. At the thought of bullets slicing through Logan’s body, she cried out his name.
Then the firing stopped, leaving a series of booming echoes behind. She heard what sounded like bodies slumping to the floor.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Logan muttered.
Violet opened her eyes and peered around the cabinet. “Oh, Arthur!” she breathed.
Curlicues of smoke rose from both revolvers in the automaton’s hands. All eight guards lay collapsed at his feet. Like a professional gunman, Arthur quickly reloaded both guns and slipped them into his holster. Then he stood still, awaiting further orders.
“What’s happening?” her father demanded.
“Move out!” Logan ordered. “Follow me.”
Violet helped her father stand. Logan took the lead as they rushed toward the door. Was freedom any nearer? She fervently hoped so.
One by one, they ran from the laboratory. The corridor was empty–at least for now. Still, Violet gripped her Schofield tightly.
Logan led them right, then left. Embarrassment coursed through her. She didn’t have the slightest idea of where they were, or how to reach the fortress’ main gate. Logan alone possessed that knowledge. With the aplomb of an imbecile, she hadn’t paid attention when he’d led her and Arthur to the laboratory.
Unfortunately, after several more turns among the circuitous passages, Logan’s slowing steps appeared to indicate that he couldn’t remember the reverse route either.
“Papa,” she said quietly, “do you know which way leads to the main gate, or any other exit?”
Joseph shook his head. “They blindfolded me until I was imprisoned in the lab.”
“Oh, dear,” she said, for at that point Logan had stopped completely.
He pulled her and Joseph into a huddle in a shadowy corner of the L shaped corridor they’d been traversing.
“This bastard maze is messing with my memory,” he said in a low voice. “I remember the way to the main gate,” he insisted, even as chagrin lined his features, “but not right at this moment. We–” Logan turned his head. “What the hell is that thing doing?”
Violet followed his gaze. Arthur was marching resolutely forward as if oblivious to their predicament. She sighed. Of course he’s oblivious . “Arthur!” she hissed. “Arthur, return at once!”
But the automaton ignored her. He disappeared around the far corner. Violet pressed her free hand to her chest in alarm. She wondered if Arthur had been damaged in the recent gunfight. How else to explain his strange behavior?
Logan punched a nearby wall. “Is he misfunctioning or something? Whatever you call it.”
Violet offered him an apologetic look. “I don’t know.”
“Look!” Joseph exclaimed.
One of Arthur’s hands had snaked back around the corner. His crooked index finger moved in a beckoning gesture. Violet gaped, recalling how she’d used a similar gesture with him on the train.
“He wants us to follow him!” she said, beaming at her two other companions. “Maybe he remembers the way out.”
Joseph adjusted his glasses and peered forward. “Astonishing!”
Logan brushed past them, a scowl darkening his features. “I guess we don’t have a choice. Let’s go.”
Violet stared at Logan in puzzlement. Why would he even begin to think that Arthur was attempting to upstage him? The automaton was simply following his programming, in essence calculating and making predictions about how Logan himself would have handled the situation. Arthur couldn’t help that her father had installed a flawless memory array in his artificial brain. Violet was bursting to share all of that tremendous news with Logan, but time was of the essence. They had to escape before the Iron Scorpion discovered her father’s disappearance.
They raced after the automaton. At Logan’s urging, Arthur broke into a run as he led them through numerous passageways. Violet grew alarmed upon hearing her father’s labored breathing. They couldn’t afford to stop and rest, not now. But since he continued to keep pace, she strove not to worry overmuch.
Iron Guns, Blazing Hearts Page 13