by J M Bannon
"Yes sir, I need something to take the nip off," Dolly accepted brightly.
"And you," McMillan asked looking at Elmore.
"No thanks."
"You a temperance man?" asked McMillan.
"Nah, no interest in that though. I am of the opinion liquor thins your blood and makes you colder, not warmer."
"Interesting theory. What do you think, Detective Inspector Frederick Williamson, of number twelve Cottage Place London?" said McMillan.
"Someone's been doing his research," replied Dolly. His neck bristled wondering how this stranger could access that information.
"Well, you see I came here on company business and behold the skies part and an airship with an English Detective and the White Witch of London show up in this shit hole. It's embarrassing to be surprised, so I wire-typed my old friends at Pinkerton's for a little background."
"Ah, I should have figured you for a Pinkerton," poked Elmore.
Dolly, was vaguely familiar but acted dumb as he took a sip from the cup McMillan handed him. "Pinkerton?"
"Prior to working for the C, B, and Q, I was a private agent of Pinkerton Private Investigation and Security Service. So, Detective, has your special branch discovered anything newsworthy about the caper? You looked quite busy dancing about in town," chided McMillan. Wilburn chuckled at the railroad Company man's snide remarks.
"You know, Mr. McMillan, your Pinkerton fellas should think about hiring a gal like this Rose Caldwell. With those gizmos of hers, she will discover what happened to the people of Harpsichord and will have evidence to boot," Elmore interjected, revealing only a sample of their secret weapon.
"Interesting," said McMillian.
"I thought so too, but we came here on the matter of Mr. Wilburn's missing equipment. With no Sheriff in Harpsichord, I must lend help on this matter. So why don't you tell me about what you're missing, describe what it looks like and who might have cause to steal it," opened Elmore.
"It is a piece of equipment that the company has the Trappers use to… a trap… animals,"
"Hm. Now I don't know you sir, so I apologize if what I am about to say to you be off-putting, but I need help in identifying a gentleman. You see when we arrived, every person was well, like you said, dried up and stuck right where they were, mummified. I made the call to leave them put, but there was one fella we found near the wrecked wagon in the creek bed. There is no good way to put it, he was crushed by the wagon. I was hoping you might identify this gent as we took a photograph of him before we buried him. You see, he didn't die like these others, he was fresh. Long and short of it is, you know this man?" Elmore pulled out a photo of a corpse.
Wilburn grimaced. "I don't know if he worked for us or who he is. I wasn't the station manager."
"Ok, could you tell me the names of the people who had this special equipment that has gone missing?"
"I am sorry, Marshal, but I am really not sure."
Elmore turned to Dolly. "How's that drink, Detective?"
"Cracking," he raised his cup to McMillan.
"Why don't you finish that up and we can take Mr. Wilburn up to the Peregrine to look at this equipment and see if it belongs to him,” said Elmore as he stood, making his point, "I have a question for you Mr. McMillan, what's the Railroad's hired gun have to do with all this?"
He smiled. "All my cards are on the table Marshal, I was sent out here to help the Astor company get the business back up and running as fast as possible because when they are working we are working."
"And what might that business be Mr. Wilburn?"
The man shot him a sarcastic look, "trade in pelts and furs,"
"That's it, there wouldn't be any organized culling of Bison herds would there?"
Wilburn's face washed out.
"Mr. McMillan you're not the only fellow with friends out east with a wire-type. And behold I come into this tiny town and observed a fancy locomotive settled on a remote siding. So, I reached out to a few men I know. One in the Territory, and one out east. I found that Astor has contracts with the War Department to extract herds of bison. My man out east shared some interesting information as well," Elmore stopped leaving everyone in silence.
Wilburn said nothing.
McMillan broke the silence, "Were you going to share this information with us?"
"I was hoping Mr. Wilburn here would do us the honor?"
"We have the same goal Marshal, to spread civilization and the democratic republic across North America; each with different parts to play. Marshal, you are here to make sure the rule of law is in place, so men like myself and Mr. McMillan can do our jobs, creating prosperity and giving Americans the opportunity to lead better lives in a new land." The Astor manager pontificated. "In the process fortunes are made. On the East Coast, and over in London there is a demand for beaver and otter pelts, and bison hide. Astor company finds itself in an interesting situation; our own government pays a subsidy for each buffalo slaughtered, all we are required to supply is the skull, that leaves us to sell the hide to the tannery. We had a recent development for the purchase of the carcasses upon delivery in Omaha, making it a profitable operation, all sanctioned by your employer, the Federal Government."
"Ah, and you move all of your inventory on Mr. McMillan's Railroad Company?"
"You can see the interested parties here being my employer, your employer and Mr. Wilburn's. We have a mutual interest in getting this project back in operation, that is once we determine it's safe," concluded McMillan.
"And this mysterious equipment, does it have anything to do with this project?" pressed Quentin.
"How should I know?" voiced Wilburn.
"So, you don't have any idea what the missing equipment does?"
"Not really, I am a manager, not a field agent." Dolly sensed Wilburn's anxiety as Elmore pushed. He enjoyed watching the man work an interrogation.
"Well, it doesn't make much sense to have you look at what we found if you don't know what it does," Elmore moved towards Dolly "You almost finished with your drink or are you planning a sleep-over with your new found bartender?"
Wilburn stood up, walked to the coat hook and grabbed a bushy bison skin overcoat when he turned to put it on, Elmore had sat down on the sofa.
"You know Mr. McMillan I think I will thin my blood a little with one of your Toddies, while Mr. Wilburn describes for me what this item looks like he desires so much or Astor sends out a man that knows something.”
9:40 p.m. The Peregrine
For Rose to develop the plates she darkened the ship's lab and used a crimson filter on a single lamp for illumination. For precaution, she covered the Soul Crystal, her new name for the device Elmore had found. She could not continue referring to it as 'the contraption' with so many innocent spirits stranded inside. She had heard Dolly and Elmore return earlier, talking and joking with each other loudly down the hall. The Do Not Disturb sign on the door stopped them from entering. While eager to hear how events unfolded on the train, she knew they would be just as eager to see images in the phantasmagraph. She also wanted to wrap up the work before the storm got worse. The ship listed in the windstorm with the Captain doing her best to maneuver in the high winds.
Rose stood with her rear leaning on the chemistry bench waiting for the last plates to finish in the fixing bath. She was feeling much better but still raw, falling down a well of grief as witness to an entire town of people lost. She planned to confront the Necronists and see what help they could lend. As much as she resented them for what they did to Angelica and got away with it, they were legitimate practitioners and had far more resources than she could ever amass.
The bell on her timer rang, and she snapped out of her daydreaming.
Pulling the plate out of the fixer she rinsed it in a tray then rested the plate with the others in the drying rack. From there she went to the wall and threw the arc lamp switch to power the overhead cathodes. The Peregrine was equipped with electroluminux, a lighting system powered from the dynamo t
o excite the gas tube. It was very experimental but considered safer and more efficient than gas lamps on an airship. The big drawback was it took a half hour for them to warm up and cast a light, so Rose left to take a break and give the lamps time to get warm.
The Peregrine had multiple decks and her workshop was down the hall from the lounge. This ship was so much bigger and luxurious than the original Peregrine. Rose thought of it as a harmony between the comforts of a luxury yacht combined with the durability and speed of a frigate. The décor was modern with light wood wainscot paneling and Japanese print wallpaper. Ahead the hall opened onto the large semicircular room with floor to ceiling windows, it was part club quarters part observation deck and had become the place where the crew and guests like Dolly and Rose spent much of their time.
Elmore and Dolly were sitting in lounge chairs chatting and looking out the window when Rose approached. "How did your talks go with the Railroad Company men?"
Dolly chuckled, "I thought I could navigate my way around a suspect better than most, but Mr. Quentin here is smooth as silk.
“Wilburn was sent out here to locate the device we have in custody. He won't admit to knowing what it does, all he would say was the prior agent used it as part of a contract they had to kill off buffalo en mass. I asked Hanksa to draw up a map of where he saw the herds killed before I released him. We talked with the Captain to do a flyover tomorrow," added Elmore.
"I don't understand the need to butcher all of those animals, not everyone in the world wants to wear a coat like yours?" asked Rose.
"This coat is the best protection a man can have out here in the winter, but I have earned mine. That's not from some department store, I shot the bull myself, skinned him and had the coat made by a local Indian woman. This is more than just Astor cornering the Buffalo hide market; Wilburn said the U.S. War Department was subsidizing the operation. That got me thinking Astor is just doing the dirty work for the railroad and the U. S. Government," Elmore took a breath.
"I don't follow," said Rose.
Dolly jumped in, "Elmore was just explaining that there has been a drive to civilize the Western Frontier and connect the coasts of America. For the railroad to be profitable they need people homesteading out here and trade goods to send back and forth."
Elmore continued "The Bison herds are a major obstacle. First, they are massive you have seen nothing like it, a sea of flesh grazing across the range. Railroads hate them because if a herd crosses a line it can delay a train for hours and tear up the grading. The bigger issue is bison makes up the main foodstuff of the Sioux and Lakota, nomadic tribes who follow the herds. By pushing back and reducing the size of the herds, they control the lands traveled by the natives de facto."
"That's ruthless," surmised Rose.
"Are the plates ready?" Dolly inquired.
"They are, I came to gather you up to have a look, but I also wanted Lorelei to see how well the images have replicated. What you will see are still shots of what I experienced validating the scenario I saw play out. If this is a mass killing device for reducing the herds, it appears to have been triggered in the wagon accident and the proximity to the town made a bad situation worse. I'll tell you what, if you go find Lorelei and bring her to the lab, I will get everything set up," added Rose.
The two gentlemen arose and were making their way out of the lounge when Rose realized she never heard the end of what happened with Wilburn and McMillan.
"Elmore, didn't Wilburn want to see the mechanism?" Rose asked.
"He did, and he gave a general description that matched the device we have. I then informed him evidence showed this Company property killed all the folks in Harpsichord. After that, he wasn't interested in coming aboard. After we have a look around the prairie, I'd like to return to Denver City, share with the Judge what we found and proceed with his guidance. Now, let's go have a look at your ghost pictures.”
15
Thursday the 21st of March
8:12 a.m. Nasson Textile Mill Bethnal Green
The sound of the register cylinders was deafening. Hundreds of thousands of registers adjusting position every cycle, mixed with the rumble of the belts, flywheels, and engine powering the Number Loom.
Standing in front of the printer, Augustus De Morgan reviewed the end product printing on the long roll of paper. With each cycle of the machine, the mechanism rapped out numbers and words, similar to the typesetting of a wire type receiver, but that is where the similarity ended. The printer was dwarfed by the twenty-foot-tall calculating mill. The enormous cylindrical columns of cogs and gears interconnected to the fifteen-barrel controllers that transferred numbers from the store into the mill where calculations were performed according to De Morgan’s punch card program. Augustus observed the elderly Charles Babbage sitting on a chair resting with a smile observing his machine. Augustus walked over to him letting the unspooled print-out fall to the collection basket. "Mr. Babbage you look to be under a charm," said De Morgan
“I am for either I’m in a dream or the luckiest man on earth to get his dream to be made real," said Babbage.
"You are a genius sir and your work now realized will change the world.”
“You flatter me. I’m just particular and needed a solution that would eliminate human error. You see those cards you feed into the machine to program the movements. That is from the textile industry they have used punch cards for years to create patterns in lace. I just use them instead to set the mechanical pins that translate to the registers," said the old man in the chair.
The sole purpose of the gigantic Number Loom was to perform the calculations for Professor De Morgan's Systematic Analysis of Equine Handicapping. The program was read from the operations cards, a string of 1,200 cream colored paper cards with holes punched into their surfaces. 100 metal pins pressed against the cards, those that did not engage, set tumblers that ratcheted what operation barrels would be used on the cycle. Another bunch of cards was fed into the machine to introduce the variables for the calculation cycle. The Loom would move through the string of cards all tied together in a loop by yarn; this was how the Number Loom digested De Morgan’s complex math problem.
The bulk of the machine was twenty-foot tall registers in banks that stretched for two hundred feet. This part of the machine was called the store, as it held the numbers the Loom calculated to be either printed out or used in later calculations. The massive machine was driven by belts that connected to a steam engine.
"I just don't understand why the machine is in the basement of a textile mill?" asked Babbage.
"Because you designed a machine that needed a huge boiler to power it," said Jimmy Lin. No one had heard him walk up with the clamor of the Number Loom.
The Loom was in the basement of the Nasson Textile Mill Located in Bethnal Green. It was the perfect location for a huge machine of this nature requiring 120 horsepower to operate. The mill had a boiler big enough to power the machine, and it was across the street from the Imperial Western Wire-Type Company, an upstart operation Jimmy funded to establish a local wire office with a small group of clerks he and De Morgan trusted.
"And the Gentleman that owns the factory doesn't mind?" Babbage looked to De Morgan and Lin.
De Morgan knew the ins and outs of the operation and that this was a legitimate business run by Willie Nasson, but Jimmy owned it. Nasson lost his ass in the casino and signed over the factory to stop Jimmy from breaking his legs. The basement was originally designed to house dye vats. Upon removal of that equipment, Jimmy funded the analytical machine of Babbage's design and gave De Morgan full reign of programming.
"Sir Charles the gentlemen upstairs are supporters of ours along with Mr. Lin," said Augustus. Jimmy smiled at De Morgan's fib to the old man, "Sir Charles, I need to have a conversation with Mr. Lin and I will be back in a moment," said Augustus guiding Lin away from Babbage's earshot.
"Mr. Lin, the numbers will be collated, and I will have results to go over soon." De Morgan gave Jimmy t
he update before changing subjects, "I had an interesting meeting the other day.”
"And it's important because?"
"It involves the analytical machine and an article I wrote. It was picked up by several publications, and the long and short of it I was approached by a credible source who is interested in investing or buying a similar machine,” said Augustus.
Augustus could see Jimmy was hot.
"I hope you didn't reveal what we are up too, or lead him to believe a machine of this caliber even exists?" said Jimmy.
"Absolutely not Mr. Lin. I am happy with our arrangement and would never knowingly jeopardize our partnership. I thought you might like to know the man who approached me was Randall Strathmore. He was cautious about who he represented and said they were looking to co-invest if a machine like ours did indeed exist. I told him that there was absolutely no interest, but he was quite persistent." "But you told him a machine exists and you have backers?" Augustus was nervous, Lin's temper was famous and the rumors of what happened to those who crossed him gruesome, "Look at the logic, Mr. Lin. It's obvious the machine exists. If it did not and a gentleman with his means approached me, I would aptly agree to meet and discuss the venture. Our indifference to his coin verifies that we are already engaged with a sponsor that can fund this and future projects. Either way, you should at least know from me, that I have been approached and how I handled the matter."
The corner of Jimmy's mouth dropped with a tilt of his head. "You got a point there, mate. The old man still in the dark about what we are doing?" "Mr. Lin, he is not stupid he designed the Loom, but he has not pushed to know and is overjoyed with seeing his creation make it off the drawing board. The old coot is more focused on improvements than he is on what calculations it performs," said De Morgan.
"You're a smart fella. I am sure you figured out I can't kill you because you're too important to this operation. I also think you're smart enough to know that if you cross me, whatever I do will be worse than death. Now what you're not imaginative enough is to figure out is the long shot; the one in a million chance. Are you ready for this?”