A Logical Magician lm-1

by Robert Weinberg

  “It’s the end of one of the rail lines,” said Jack. He drew in a deep breath. “According to the maps, this passage should take us on a direct route to von Bern’s headquarters. It’s several miles away, but we have plenty of time before nightfall. Let’s go.”

  Descending the ladder into the blackness of the pit, Jack gazed up at the bright blue sky. Silently, he prayed it wasn’t going to be the last time he saw the sunshine.

  “Order over chaos,” he whispered softly. “Good over evil.”

  Smiling faintly, he patted the odd weapon that bounced against his chest. “Logic over superstition.” He drew in a deep breath as he recited the final line of his mantra. “Light over darkness.”

  37

  Using his pocket flash, Jack peered into the concrete passage. It was nine feet high, six feet wide, oval-shaped with a flat floor. A railway track stretched out into the darkness. The air, while stale and somewhat musky, was cool and breathable.

  “Anyone claustrophobic other than yours truly?” he asked his two companions nervously.

  “My folk lived in tunnels like these for hundreds of years,” said Grondark. “They don’t scare dwarfs.”

  “Nothing frightens me,” said Cassandra unnecessarily.

  Jack shook his head in disgust. At least Simon provided a little comic relief. Shrugging his shoulders, he reached into one of the two backpacks.

  “Take these,” he said to Cassandra, handing her two plastic containers, each filled with ten thin, black plastic, rectangular discs. “Hopefully, you can use these like throwing stars.”

  “Of course,” said Cassandra, balancing one of the rectangles in her hand. “I’ve used toothpicks as darts when necessary. But these things don’t have sharp edges. They won’t cause any damage.”

  “Yes, they will,” said Jack. “I’m not sure exactly how they’ll affect the Border Redcaps, but I think the results should be spectacular. When we’re attacked, use these first before resorting to your staff.”

  Rummaging through the bag, he pulled out nearly a dozen small plastic boxes. “Stuff these into your pockets,” he told Fritz. “Keep them handy. We’ll need them if we encounter the Gabble Ratchets.”

  “These things?” asked the dwarf, doing as he was told. “You can buy them in any electronics store in the country. Even some supermarkets handle them.”

  “It’s not how rare they are that makes them powerful,” said Jack, grinning. “It’s what they symbolize. Trust me. I know what I’m saying.”

  “You’re acting very mysterious, Jack,” said Cassandra.

  “My privilege,” replied Jack. “I’m the hero. Besides, who knows what powers von Bern controls in these tunnels? He could be eavesdropping on our every conversation. The one thing I’ve learned the past few days is that anything’s possible. The less I tell you, the less he knows. And the more he worries.”

  “Makes sense to me,” said Fritz. “If you’re finished handing out surprises, I’ll lead. Dwarfs have perfect underground vision. We don’t need flashlights to see in the dark. You two keep your lights focused on the ground. That way, we won’t warn anyone we’re coming.”

  They started off at a brisk clip. Fritz was first, with Jack second, and Cassandra third. The tunnel sloped gently downward, making walking easy. Within minutes, they had left the dim light of the opening to the surface far behind. While occasional vents dotted the walls and ceiling, providing a steady flow of air, none of them offered a hint of light. Except for their two flashlights, the passage was oppressively and totally dark.

  Jack had been joking about claustrophobia, but within a few minutes he was painfully aware of the tons of earth over his head. That the concrete tunnels had lasted nearly a hundred years without collapse seemed relatively unimportant. The one-in-a-million chance that the passage might suddenly buckle beneath the pressure had Jack walking very gingerly.

  After twenty minutes, the tunnel leveled out. “We’re beneath the city streets,” whispered Jack. His voice echoed and re-echoed through the silent passage. “No sign that anyone’s used this branch in years. Hopefully, we’ll catch von Bern by surprise. So far, so good.”

  “Maybe,” rumbled Fritz Grondark. “Maybe not.” He waved a massive hand in the direction they were going. “Something’s up ahead blocking our way. I can’t make out what it is. Shine your flashlights on it.”

  Jack and Cassandra both raised their beams. Fifty feet away, a railroad handcar rested on the track. Filling it nearly to the ceiling were a dozen big wooden crates.

  “I thought you said they removed the handcarts from the tunnels fifty years ago,” said Cassandra as they slowly walked forward.

  “They did,” said Jack. “Unfortunately, they stored them in the roundhouse station von Bern is using as his base. Much as I hate to say it, I’m willing to bet those boxes are filled with finishing bricks kept there as well. The German probably blocked all the direct routes to his hideout with obstacles like this. Not that we have the time to find out otherwise. Somehow we’ve got to unload enough of those boxes off that damned thing so that we can pass through, or we’re finished.”

  Fritz leaned on the handcar. “Too heavy to push ahead of us. And whoever left it here probably wedged the wheels on the other side.”

  Cassandra reached for one of the boxes. As predicted, it was filled to the top with bricks. Even Fritz couldn’t move one by himself. It would take hours to clear enough room for them to wiggle over the top of the blockade.

  Jack paused. If not over, why not under? Crouching, he checked the bottom of the handcar. There wasn’t much room, but it looked like enough. For two of them, at least.

  As he expected, the dwarf did not like the idea.

  “Crawl under the car? My shoulders are too wide. I’ll never fit.”

  “I know, Fritz. That’s why you’ll have to stay behind. Cassandra and I are slender enough to wiggle through. We have to go on without you.”

  Grondark scowled. He reached out and grabbed one of the wood boxes. Angrily, he jerked the container forward. Decaying old wood collapsed beneath his fingers, leaving a pile of finishing bricks in its place. Furious, Fritz kicked the handcar. It didn’t budge.

  The dwarf’s huge hands knotted into fists. “You’re right,” he said. “I understand. There is no time for delay. Do what you must. It is the only way. But that doesn’t mean I like it.”

  Reaching into his pockets, Fritz pulled out the plastic boxes Jack had given him earlier. “Don’t forget these gadgets. Now, go. I’ll remove these boxes as quickly as possible and follow. Perhaps, if I’m lucky, there’ll still be a few trolls to smash when I arrive.”

  “We’ll save some just for you,” promised Jack.

  Cassandra, ever cautious, went first. It was a tight squeeze, but after a few curses and kicks, the Amazon made it to the other side. Using her staff, she pulled the two backpacks through. Then it was Jack’s turn.

  “Goodbye, my friend,” said Grondark as Jack knelt on the concrete. “And good luck.”

  “Thanks,” said Jack. “Like I told Simon, we’ll be back.”

  Hurriedly, Jack scrambled through the space beneath the flatcar. If his feelings of claustrophobia had been bad a few minutes ago, now they were overwhelming. Especially when he was beneath an old wooden handcar filled with bricks. He sighed with relief when Cassandra finally grabbed his shoulders and pulled him through.

  Before proceeding, Jack carefully checked the wires leading from his power pack to the rectangular box he called his secret weapon. All connections remained intact. If he was going to fail in his quest, it wouldn’t be because he was careless.

  Once he was convinced everything was functional, he shouldered one of the two backpacks. Cassandra took the other. Walking stick in one hand, CD boom box in the other, she took the lead. Without the dwarf to guide them, they were forced to use their flashlights to point the way.

  Behind them, for a long time after they left the handcar, they could hear Fritz Grondark cursing as he heav
ed brick after brick to the concrete floor.

  38

  Five hundred feet further, the tunnel curved to the right.

  “It’s heading towards the Loop,” commented Jack.

  “Stay alert,” said Cassandra, stuffing a handful of black discs into her pockets. “This spot would be a wonderful location for an ambush.”

  “I don’t think…” began Jack, only to have the rest of his sentence drowned out by the shouts of a pack of Border Redcaps charging out of the darkness.

  There were seven of the fiends, dressed as always in black leather jackets, dirty old jeans, and bright red baseball caps. They were armed with chains, knives and lead pipes. None of them carried guns, worried perhaps by possible ricocheting in the narrow passageway. Except for the sameness of their expression and a certain indefinite inhuman tinge to their features, they could have been members of any of a dozen street gangs roaming the streets of Chicago.

  Calmly, Cassandra dropped the CD boom box and her staff and retrieved the discs she had just put in her jeans. The nearest Redcap was less than ten feet away when, with a quick flick of the wrist, she sent one of the hard plastic rectangles flying into his face. Not one to waste an effort, Cassandra aimed it for the fiend’s open mouth. The black disc hit the astonished attacker in the teeth.

  Even Jack, expecting the unexpected, was surprised by the results. With a flash of light so brilliant that it lit up the entire tunnel, the Border Redcap disappeared. All that remained of the monster was a slightly singed plastic disc and his red cap.

  Unable to stop running, two more of the Redcaps met the same fate, as Cassandra flung the black rectangles with incredible speed and accuracy. Both of the fiends vanished in identical explosions of light, leaving only their baseball hats behind as evidence of their passing.

  Von Bern’s minions were dumb, but they weren’t suicidal. Screaming in fear, the other four Redcaps turned and bolted back into the darkness. Cassandra flipped several more discs after them, but without scoring any hits. Seconds after the attack had begun, it was over.

  “Pretty neat stuff, Jack,” said Cassandra, bending over to collect the three red baseball caps. “I’m extremely impressed. Would you care to explain to me what the hell happened? Or are you still keeping secrets?”

  “No reason why not,” said Jack, drawing in a deep breath, the first one he had taken since the ambush. Until that moment, he had been working on logic alone. Now, finally, he knew his deductions were correct. “Seeing that our element of surprise is past.”

  “Those dark discs,” began Jack, then glimpsed a blur of motion behind the Amazon. “Cassandra, watch out!”

  The Amazon barely had time to straighten up when the Gabble Ratchet slammed into her. Instinctively, she threw up her arms and caught the gigantic Corpse Hound by the throat. But the force of its impact sent both of them tumbling backwards to the concrete.

  Growling horribly, the Doberman snapped at Cassandra’s face with yellow teeth the size of ten-penny spikes. Saliva dripped in pools on the Amazon’s neck as she desperately fought to keep the dog’s jaws from ripping her features to shreds. Standing, she was a match for the monster, but trapped against the concrete, she was unable to push the creature back. Its red eyes glowing like hot coals, the beast pressed closer and closer.

  With all of his strength, Jack smashed the CD boom box onto the Gabble Ratchet’s head. Plastic splintered from the impact, but the hound remained unmoved. Cursing, Jack raised the player and crashed it into the dog’s head a second time. The Corpse Hound growled in annoyance, but continued to concentrate all its energies on savaging Cassandra.

  Finally, remembering the fight at the shopping mall, Jack rammed a speaker into the Gabble Ratchet’s nose. Blood spurted in crimson jets from the hound’s face. Howling in pain, the Doberman turned from the Amazon and focused its red eyes on Jack.

  Anxiously, Jack scrambled away from the beast. Now that he had the monster’s attention, he wasn’t sure what to do next. He doubted that the plastic discs that had worked their magic on the Border Redcaps would have any effect on the much more powerful Corpse Hound. But the small plastic boxes in his pockets should.

  Grabbing one of the instruments, Jack flung it into the hound’s snarling jaws. Jerking its mouth closed, the dog ripped the box to shreds. Bits and pieces of metal and plastic flew across the concrete floor. Nothing else happened. Jack swallowed, feeling his heart rise to his throat. He had just run out of tricks.

  Snarling, the monstrous hound tore itself free from Cassandra’s grasp. For an instant, it remained motionless, muscles tensing, readying to attack its new enemy. It was during that brief respite that Jack realized his weapon symbolized nothing unless it was fully functional.

  He flipped the ON switch to the machine as the Gabble Ratchet launched itself into the air. Desperately, Jack thrust out his hand holding the device. The plastic barely grazed the Doberman’s flesh, but that was all the contact needed. A burst of light greater than any of those previous filled the tunnel. The Gabble Ratchet vanished in a streak of white fire.

  Wobbly, Jack staggered over to Cassandra. The Amazon was already pushing herself off the floor. She was covered with blood, but none of it was hers. Taking a few deep breaths, she rose shakily to her feet.

  “You saved my life, Jack,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “A few seconds more and that hound would have ripped my face to ribbons.”

  “Think nothing of it,” said Jack, feeling slightly embarrassed. “You saved my neck more times than I can count.”

  “No matter,” replied the Amazon. “That is my nature. I can do no less. For me, choice does not exist. Your rescue demonstrates true courage. It is a debt I will not forget.”

  “Forget it,” said Jack, blushing. Seeking to change the subject, he examined the CD boom box with which he had hammered the Gabble Ratchet. “Other than the plastic casing being smashed, this thing still appears intact.”

  Cassandra shook her head. “How are you planning to use a CD player against von Bern? Or is that a secret better left unsaid?”

  Jack smiled. “The CD players won’t hurt the German,” he stated. “But the music I brought along might cause him a few problems.”

  “The music?” repeated the Amazon. “You’re going to drive the Huntsman crazy with rock and roll?”

  “Something like that,” replied Jack. He glanced at his watch and yelped at the time. “We better move along. Those four Border Redcaps who escaped ruined any chance of our surprising their boss. If we don’t hurry, the Huntsman will mass all his forces at the entrance to this tunnel. And that could prove to be a challenge even my musical surprise can’t handle.”

  Regaining their possessions, they hurried down the concrete corridor. No longer worried about secrecy, they kept their flashlights on and made no attempt to muffle their footsteps or voices. May Day Eve was drawing closer by the minute.

  “What was that thing you threw at the Gabble Ratchet?” Cassandra asked curiously as they jogged over the railroad ties. “And why didn’t the first one you tossed at the beast harm it?”

  “A pocket calculator,” said Jack, pulling yet another one of the machines from his pocket. “The ultimate symbol of order over chaos.”

  “Huh?” said Cassandra. “You defeated the Corpse Hound with a miniature adding machine?”

  “It’s not the object,” said Jack, “but what it represents. That’s why the calculator didn’t harm the Doberman originally. Without power, it’s merely a collection of circuit boards and batteries encased in a plastic shell. But, when the adding machine is working, it symbolizes the triumph of logic over disorder, of intellect and reason over anarchy.”

  Cassandra looked at Jack with wide eyes. “All that from a pocket calculator? You realize I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about. Besides, those plastic discs you gave me to throw at the Border Redcaps worked without power.”

  “As minor menaces, the Redcaps needed lesser remedies,” said Jack. “You
destroyed them with three-and-a-half-inch computer floppy discs. Again, a modern icon representing the triumph of reason over irrationality.”

  “Computer discs, adding machines,” said Cassandra. “I’m beginning to sense a pattern emerging.”

  “Of course,” said Jack. “It came to me during my conversation with Fritz at his garage. I needed to take the long view of history to understand. A very long view.

  “At the dawn of civilization, fire represented the triumph of good over evil, light over darkness. Fire symbolized the rule of order over chaos. It served man, warmed him, helped cook his food, protect him from the beasts that sought his life, held the night at bay.

  “But, after an age, fire lost its symbolic power as men used it to destroy as well as protect. Fire became too common, too easily used for both good and evil. Replacing it as a symbol of order was cold iron. Forged into weapons and tools, iron helped civilization develop, society to advance. For more than a thousand years, it represented justice and fairness in a cruel, unjust world. As was the case with fire, it symbolized the rule of order over chaos. But then, iron, too, was corrupted as it became commonplace.

  “Tyrants and dictators used steel to ruthlessly subdue their enemies, extend their holdings, trample the rights of the weak and helpless. Civilizations not only rose, but fell due to its use. Cold iron no longer symbolized the triumph of good over evil.”

  “To be replaced by calculators?’ asked Cassandra.

  Jack grinned. “In the very broadest sense. Actually, iron lost to logic. To reason. To rational thinking.” Almost immediately, his features grew serious. “Men feared the dark and used fire to conquer that enemy. Later, they needed weapons to tame their hostile environment, and cold iron and steel served that purpose. Each battle was in essence a collision between order and chaos. But the menaces were external ones. Finally, mankind itself was faced with a more deadly, more insidious challenge. One that could not be defeated so easily. Itself.