by J M Bannon
“Find out who is responsible. We can’t have people thinking they can steal from us.”
Randall’s patience was all but gone. “The purpose of the heist was to cover up the search for copies of the revised will & testament.”
“True. In part it was, but the fact is someone has stolen from us, Randall,” declared the doctor raising his voice.
“Well, the thieves did not believe they were stealing from you. They don’t even know you exist. At best, they thought they were stealing from Angelica,” Randall explained.
“All the same, find out who is responsible. I don’t like loose ends, and I had a purpose for that gold.”
* * *
11:40 PM, Rose's Apartments
Rose slipped in and out of sleep. Out again, this time realizing this wasn’t a dream but someone at her door.
“One tick.” She fumbled for the matchbox on her nightstand and struck a matchstick. She lit the lamp and replaced the wind glass once the wick had caught flame. After her eyes adjusted, she made her way to the door and looked through the portal.
She hadn’t seen this face in years. Putting the lamp on a shelf, she worked the latches and locks to open the door.
“Violet?”
“Hello, Rose.”
“What are you doing here?” Rose asked.
”I had nowhere to go. I left Chester after Pa passed, and I’ve been on my own. Well, sort of.” Violet looked down at the baby in her arms.
“This is your niece, Rosie. Rosie, this is your Auntie Rose.” Rose tried to recollect the last time she saw her sister. It was when Rose left for the convent ten years ago, and her sister was a little eight-year-old girl.
“Come in. Please, come in. How did you find me?”
“You were back in the papers again, and this time, I was in London. I just asked around Bethnal Green. I’ve been in London nearly two years.” Violet reported as she did the mental calculation of the time. Since she was a little girl, you could tell when she was racking her brain. She would look up for the answer, as if it was on the ceiling or in the sky. “I’ve been living on the streets, and when I read about you in the papers, I just thought I would come see you and ask if you might be able to help me and Rosie.”
“Oh, Violet, you are welcome to stay here. It’s not much, but of course, you can stay. Here, let me see that little girl.” Rose took the sleeping baby in her arms and looked at its precious face. Even being out on the street, the child looked peaceful while sleeping. “Close up the door and have a seat. Are you hungry? I have some bread and an apple. It’s all I have, but you’re welcome to it.”
“Ta, sis, that would be most kind of you.”
Rose handed Rosie back to Violet and took the few paces to her kitchenette. She reached into the breadbox for the loaf of bread and cut a few slices, and with the same knife, she cut up the apple. That was all the food she had. Placing it on a plate, she brought it over to Violet and set it on the small table beside the ratty chair. “Let me take her,” she said, admiring the little one. Rose placed her niece on the bed behind the partition. When she returned, her sister had shoved a whole slice of bread into her mouth and was trying to choke it down.
“Violet, I am so happy you came here. It’s so fortunate that you found me. I must let you know that the work I have been doing does not make ends meet, and this apartment…” Rose stopped herself. She didn’t need to burden her sister with the fact of not having any money, being two months’ arrears on rent and a pending eviction. “You are welcome to stay for as long as you want, and I recently had some good news. It looks like I am going to work with the Metropolitan Police Department, so we may be able to put more food on the table and find lodging better suited for the three of us.”
Violet began to cry. “I would really like that.”
The Alchemists Book 1
1
Friday, the 25th of May 1860
5:30 a.m. Königsburg Prussia
Egon arrived at the research laboratory before daybreak. Holding up his ring of keys, the engineer turned to the faint but growing morning light to find the front door key. The heavy deadbolt threw open with a clunk when he turned the key in the lock. He pushed open the heavy door and stepped into the dimly lit building, Turning he pushed the door slowly, and it closed with a soft thud. In deference to the surrounding silence he quietly made his way to the basement. Egon preferred the solitude of the early hours, in his domain in the mechanical room there was little quiet to be found.
He was the boiler superintendent at the Kraft Werks for the Illuminated Society of Alchemy, responsible for operating the latest technology in all of Europe. His chief responsibility was the supervision of Heiße Bertha the immense boiler designed to drive the dynamo the guild had commissioned Telegraphen-Bauanstalt von Siemens & Halske to make for them.
The direct current generator powered the experiments in the upstairs laboratory of Doctors Maxwell and Traube. An added benefit of the massive power system was electric lighting throughout the building, the first in Königsberg. His initial task was to throw the breakers to the sub-panels, powering the illumination to the entire building. With one movement of a lever, the basement and the upper floor lights flickered to life and threw off more illumination as the elements in the glass orbs warmed. Another slice of modernity was the design of the condenser loop for the steam wheel, engineered to bypass through the building to heat radiators in the bitter winter months rather than just going to a condenser tank.
Yes, he was working in a boiler room, but at the private office park, not at the filthy Alchemy Werks near the railway station on the other side of town where he used to work. He would much rather conduct his rote tasks in a nice clean, modern boiler room any day rather than the fiery smelly hell that was the Königsberg Gas Werks, the largest commercial chemical facility in the world.
The boiler room was well kept. The room often had guests; dignitaries touring with the upper echelon of the guild. The Baron’s and Electors liked to show off the Kraft Werks to assert the guild as the leaders of industry. Egon grabbed a broom to sweep up errant coal fines around the feed chute and storage bins while he waited for the lights to warm up. He had been advised by Doctor Maxwell that today they would run the magnets all day at full strength.
Setting down the broom he opened the firebox to Bertha and pitched four heaping shovels of coal into her fiery maw. The hot air blasted out into his face and murdered the morning chill of the basement. In a few hours, sweat would pour from him as he stood still in front of the controls. When Bertha was at full power, there was no escape in the mechanical room from her hot embrace.
He throttled back the bypass to apply full pressure and watched the gauge approach fifty bar, the prescribed setting. Producing a rag from his pocket, Egon cleaned the gauge face before making his way over to the dynamo and its complex control station. The man’s trained eyes scanned the numerous dials and gauges. The instruments showed the right voltage, but the ammeter read as if there was a full load on the dynamo. Are they already experimenting?
Egon trudged up the stairs and upon entering the laboratory, could already hear the low purr of the bank of electromagnets. In addition, he detected a strange smell; something burning, unnatural. Burning resin? The thought sank in that there should be no hum as a faint gray smoke promulgated from the magnet housings transforming to fibrous black strands flitting into the air. The magnets were overheating, and the insulation was burning. Desperate, he ran to disconnect the lever to sever the circuit, as the hum increased to a bone jarring buzz.
The knife switch to power the pilot plant was closed and the ceramic handle smashed, the bits of porcelain lay on the floor next to a hammer. Egon knew not to touch the bare metal with his bare hand or he would be electrocuted. His eyes darted around the room he saw a pair of heavy rubberized gloves Dr. Traube used when working with vitriols and caustics. He donned the glove and gave the handle a tug; it did not budge.
The boiler man saw what appeared to be a
tack weld on the switch, it would never move if welded. He choked on the growing smoke, his only option now was to get downstairs and shut down the boiler. Egon sprinted to the door glancing back one last time at the lab, only to see a fireball erupt and cascade toward him.
* * *
6:00 a.m. Königsberg Prussia
James Clerk Maxwell turned down the Physics Chair at King's College accepting a position in Prussia. His mates at the Royal Society reacted to the news across a continuum of amusement through ridicule, no one was celebratory. Some even claimed it treasonous.
It was not the obvious option to become a research scientist in Königsberg. His German was spotty, and Maxwell had his choice of teaching positions at any university in the world. Already a member of the Royal Society, and holder of the Smith’s Prize, Adams Prize, and recently bestowed the Rumford Medal; Society considered James a savant celebrity in London.
Why then did his considerable scientific mind deduce that the next step in his career led to Königsberg? James chose the capital of Prussia because the Alchemy Guild’s headquarters was in the city and they were prepared to build him a laboratory like none other, no expense spared. The Guild desired his expertise so much that High Elector Baron Kiefer, head of the Alchemist Guild visited him to share that his stipend would be three times that of the college and he would have card blanche to pursue his theories on electromagnetism -that closed the deal.
The Guild threw in a well-appointed residence in the Löbenicht district, a brief stroll across the Holz bridge to his workshop on the larger of the two Islets situated in the Pregel River. As he walked from his house to the office, Königsberg seemed fresher than London. It could be the sea air, or the sweet deal he secured doing what he loved. Maybe it was the Teutonic discipline that coordinated the industrial activities on the West side of the city, keeping the rest of capital quite cosmopolitan. His work would deliver the most significant advancement in alchemical sciences. Although not an alchemist, James had pushed the guild to move beyond the sourcing and refining of alchemical substances, to the ultimate alchemical goal of transmutation.
His tasks today were tedious, but required. Not a day of revolutionary research and innovation but running the crucible pilot plant to formulate and test recipes. He brought his lunchbox planning to work through the lunch hour to get through the humdrum tasks.
James admired the tulips and daffodils finally blooming in the late spring. The plants bordered the pathway of the office and research campus the Alchemists had built on the opposite side of town from the original gas werks. As he tread up the track he gazed at the first-floor windows of the lab building observing an orange - green light. His immediate reaction was to pick up his pace to see what was the cause, but before his foot fell again, the building erupted in a massive explosion, fire rolling out of all the blown-out windows. Glass and wood showered down and he saw a large object flying toward him. Turning away James put his arms up to protect his head. He cringed when he heard a heavy thud nearby. Slowly he turned and moved his arms down from his face to witness just a few feet away, Egon's smoldering body sprawled out in front of him.
* * *
10:30 a.m. Königsberg Prussia
Duke Gorber walked up to the chief of the local fire company, operated by the Hosliess Property Group. The brigade commander was busy conducting his company in the clean-up of the equipment. The Duke had several deputies of the Ministry with him to investigate.
"What is the situation with the fire?" inquired the Duke.
"You will need to talk with the proprietor," responded the brigade commander without giving the Duke even a courtesy glance. "Sir, let me be more direct. I am Duke Gorber the Minister of Internal Affairs, not a passerby, rather the investigator. I require your appraisal of the scene for my report to the Minister-President and the High Elector of the Guild." Now the Duke had the man's full attention.
"Your Grace, My brigade quenched the fire on the first floor, I cannot fathom what caused the fire but the damage is extensive. You will need to consult that engineer or scientist over by what is left of the building to understand what they were up to, it's not like anything I have seen.” explained the leader of the fire brigade.
“Thank you. Inspector Segal here is with the Ministry and will take down your details, In case I have further questions” The Duke approached the smoldering building with his two other investigators. As he arrived, a commotion was unfolding. A youthful man speaking broken German with a heavy English accent, was gesticulating hysterically in front of a massive piece of burnt equipment waving his arms and yelling at two of the fire brigade.
The Duke interrupted the group of men addressing them with his stern Teutonic tone. "Gentleman, as of this moment the building is under the examination of the Ministry of Internal Affairs by the order of the Minister-President and the High Elector of the Guild.”
"Finally, someone who is talking sense. The machinery here is of the utmost importance to the Guild, as was the team in the building, God rest their souls," replied the Englishman.
“How many bodies have you found so far?” inquired Gorber speaking to the fireman. “Just the one but we are still working through the rubble, but this fellow wants us to stay clear of this equipment,” replied the fire man.
“We must find out if Dr. Traube was in the building. She is diligent in her work and usually arrives before me,” implored the Englishman.
"And you are?" asked the Duke.
"Doctor James Maxwell, the lead scientist in elementary prototransmutation, and you, Sir?"
“I am Manfreid Willhelm Gorber, Duke of Magdeburg and Minister of Internal Affairs. It is in my capacity as the eyes and ears of King Frederick William that I am here. Please slow down, I am grappling with your appalling German. First and foremost, who is this you are concerned about?”
“Doctor Traube, the lead alchemist on the project and my colleague. Certainly, you have heard of the Traubes.” Of course he had, you couldn’t go anywhere in Prussian society and not bump into a Traube. They’re a prolific bunch.
"Go to Baron Traube's home and see if he is there.” instructed the Duke to one of his attending inspectors. “And advise the local police we will need help going through the debris for evidence," directed the Duke.
“Doctor Lorelei Traube, the Baron’s daughter was my colleague,” James interjected to correct the mistaken identity.
“Do you know her address, Doctor Maxwell?”
“Not off the top of my head,”
"Your coworker, when was the last time you saw her?”
"I have not seen her since yesterday."
"Doctor, If the case is that this was not an accident why would this building be targeted for arson?”
“The EPT." Maxwell gave him a look first of irritation then appeared to loosen up. “Elementary Prototransmutation, is the holy grail of alchemy. In antiquity alchemists sought the ability to change lead into gold. What we have achieved is that ability to take commodity feedstocks and convert them at the elemental level.”
"Who might have knowledge about this important work?" inquired the Duke.
"We have the Electors of the Guild, then there is the architects and constructors of the production facility. You see this pilot plant was built to prove out the process then it was scaled up for the new kraft werks that will officially open in September.”
"Beyond the Guild, have you spoken with others about your work, at the pub or through correspondence?" probed Gorber.
“Here in Konigsberg, I may be an unknown, living in anonymity, but in the field of physics, I am a luminary. My writings are published in science journals internationally.”
"Publications about this experiment?" asked Gorber.
"No, but my body of work is well known. That's my primary point, your Grace."
The only thing bigger than the Englishman’s brain is his arrogance. “But not specifically this project?” asked the Duke.
“No, it is to be kept secret until the September
unveiling of the production crucible at the International Convention of the Alchemical Sciences.”
“I see. Would any rivals seek to foil your experiments? Maybe your decision to do the work in the Confederation of German States rather than your motherland had something to do with it?"
"While I have invariably suffered envy of my achievements and scrutiny of my theory given its advanced reasoning and my youthful appearance, I can think of no person prepared to go to this extreme to obstruct my work."
"Another angle is the commercial threats you may pose with your invention. Does this look to upset anyone's existing apple cart?" questioned Gorber.
"Yes and no. I reply yes because it will fundamentally transform how we make raw substances, and no because the new process just strengthens the Alchemists dominant position in feedstock production of the synthetic and alchemical."
“I will need to get your address in case I have further questions Doctor and please do not leave Königsberg.”
“I hope you don’t think I had anything to do with this?” replied Maxwell.
“I think nothing yet, if this is an accident even one that culminated in a death than I will step aside for the city guard to investigate. If a vital project to the Guild has been sabotaged, then I will have a keen interest in anyone associated with the project.” asserted the Duke.
2
Saturday, the 26th of May 1860
11:40 a.m. Traube Castle Silesia, Prussia
Gorber stood on the foredeck of The Erleuchtet the High Elector's private air yacht, just outside the cabin in the cool air. Four hundred feet above Ratibor, Silesia the ship closed in on Traube Castle. He wore a heavy airman's coat, hat and goggles to cope with the high winds on the deck.