by J M Bannon
"Dead cows and calves for miles," muttered Hanska from inside the cell.
"After we finish up here, we will see what Hanska has to show us and then I'll let you be on your way. Now let's get things wrapped up, identify who is responsible and help me figure out how to revive these people,” said the Marshal.
Rose got up and walked over to Elmore looking him in the eyes then spoke with a serious tone, "Marshal, like I said, I don't know who could bring them back and where to even start looking. Rather than trying to bring these people back and incurring the consequences, I suggest we figure a way to help them onto their next existence; fix on a solution for safe passage. Until then, we need to safeguard the device."
Now Elmore sat down. "That's it? We are just supposed to let them stay in that jar, forever?"
"If my friend Preston wasn't sequestered away with a psychiatrist, I would solicit his help, but he still wouldn't be my first choice for who to ask about this device," Rose replied.
"Well, let's talk to this person. Innocent people are trapped inside that thing, and I think we need to do something about it,” said Elmore.
"It's not a person, it's a group. Have you heard of the Necronists?"
"Not this again," Elmore had forgotten Dolly was standing there, until he spoke. He turned to him, curious why he reacted so.
"Rose, you have been hell-bent on connecting them to this case. Show the proof, and I will pursue it, but we need solid evidence," guided the Detective.
"Dolly, I am not suggesting they did this, though I have my suspicions. Speaking as a professional, the Necronist Guild have conducted the most advanced research into the metaphysics of life and death,"
"You're referring to that French death cult?" asked Elmore.
"Yes, but it's not a cult; they are experimenters and practitioners of metaphysics," Rose explained, "The Necronists are organized into several branches; the White Wyrding are the main researchers into life-force, then there is the Blue Wyrding, focused on spiritual divination. They are not too different from any other spiritualists manipulating warp and weft of the aether to project or to contact the afterworld. Dolly and I have had a run in with the Missionary Wyrding known as the Adepts."
“As far as I’m concerned they're a cult and the Adepts are the strong arm,” added Dolly. “They are well organized and have the favor of Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte."
"The closest mission I know of is located in New Orleans. They don't do well here in the States, as they tend to rile up the Christians with their alternative views,"
Rose looked at Elmore then at Dolly and smiled, "If we require Necronist help, we must visit the Eternal Circle in Paris and speak directly with Guild Masters Crocus and Saint-Yves. If anyone has insight into returning the souls to their bodies or helping them safely to the next world, it would be those two."
* * *
6:40 p.m. Rail siding at Harpsichord
Dolly followed a few paces behind Elmore as they marched towards the locomotive. A private train with only the three cars, surrounded by McMillan's men, who had watched Elmore and Dolly march towards the train. They had been sitting idle and observing all day; growing late they had started fires for illumination and warmth, in early spring temperatures dropped quickly at night.
Rose had taken the plates and equipment and returned to the Peregrine to process the images. The three discussed the next steps. Elmore and Dolly would interview Wilburn and offer him a visit to the Peregrine while Rose completed processing the photographic evidence. As they moved up the hill, Dolly felt the first rain drop hit him. The air smelled of rain and earlier he had noticed how the clouds amassed in thunderstorm formation. As a city dweller, observing the open, flat landscape it seemed as though he could see forever. The heavy clouds were miles away but closing in, a drop in temperature would surely bring nasty conditions. "Does it snow this late in the year?" the Scot questioned.
"We get some of our biggest storms in March. If it gets any colder, there will be a foot of snow on the ground by morning,"
Ugh, I'm not cut out for this rustic life. "I may need to get boots, my feet are already cold," said Dolly.
Leary and two others moved over to intercept them before they got to the train.
"What you want?" the short Trapper in a buffalo skin coat asked sharply.
"We need to discuss this missing equipment with your Boss," said Elmore casually, but he had his Henry rifle at the ready, resting on his shoulder.
"Come on in Marshal and have a drink to warm up," it was McMillan standing on the stoop of the last carriage. He sported a waistcoat and shirtsleeves and was rubbing his arms to keep the chill off.
One henchman stepped out of the way letting the two Lawmen pass.
"Come on I'm freezing my ass off," said the railroad man easing the door of the car open for the men. Inside a luxurious hotel like haven welcomed them. The well-appointed space was cozy and warm with brass trim, burgundy velvet upholstery and beautifully finished dark burl wood. Wilburn was sitting on a settee, warming his hands near the Ben Franklin stove. "My Chinaman has made hot toddies, you interested in one?"
"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," declared 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 for the Pinkerton National Detective Agency. 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’ll 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 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 is off-putting, but I need help in identifying a dead gentleman. You see when we arrived, every person who lived here 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 captured an image 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 ambrotype 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?"
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. 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 exterminate 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 that 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 had 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 that they had 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 a dynamo to excite the gas in the tube. It was very experimental but considered safer and more efficient than gas lamps on an airship. The big drawback was it took half an 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 windows when Rose approached. "How did your talks go with the Railroad Company men?" she asked.
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 about doing 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!” declared Rose.
"This coat is the best protection a man can have out here in the winter, but I 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. Firstly, the herds are immense, millions of beasts, you’ve seen nothing like it, a sea of flesh grazing and moving 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 food and lands traveled by the tribes de facto."
"That's ruthless," Rose said
looking horrified.
Yep! replied Elmore. "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," said Rose cheerfully.
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. Once 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 the steam 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 on his face watching his machine. Augustus walked over to him letting the unspooled print-out fall to the collection basket.