The Guild Chronicles Books 1-3

by J M Bannon

  “Sir Charles 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 with his dream 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? Not my idea, that comes from the textile industry where they have used punch cards for years to create patterns in lace and tapestries on Jacquard’s looms. 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 stiff 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 mathematical 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?" queried 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 didn’t know the ins and outs of the operation or how this legitimate business run by Mr. Nasson allowed them to operate here. Likely he owed Jimmy money or 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 had bankrolled the analytical machine of Babbage's design and gave De Morgan full reign of the programming.

  "Sir Charles, the gentlemen upstairs are supporters of ours along with Mr. Lin," said Augustus. Jimmy smiled at De Morgan when he hear his answer, "Sir Charles, I need to have a conversation with Mr. Lin. I will be back in a moment," said Augustus guiding Lin away from Babbage's earshot.

  "Mr. Lin, the numbers are being collated, and I will have results to go over soon." De Morgan gave Jimmy the 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 is, I was approached by a credible source who is interested in investing or buying a similar machine,” said Augustus.

  Augustus could see Jimmy was agitated.

  "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.

  "Mr. Lin. I am happy with our arrangement and would never knowingly jeopardize our partnership. I thought you might like to know that 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 gruesome rumors of what happened to those who crossed him frightening, "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 promptly 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 to figure out is the long shot; the one in a million chance. Are you ready for this?”

  “Ready for what?”

  "Strathmore is my fucking banker. That's right, I have accounts at Chilton, Owens, and Strathmore. Set up the meeting. I need to know what he wants my machine for," said Jimmy.

  * * *

  8:12 a.m Dakota Territory

  At the helm, Reidun had forgotten the conditions the spring winds could bring to the mid-continent. The cold from Canada and warm air from the gulf clashed, whipping up howling headwinds challenging direction and momentum of the airship; particularly difficult when maneuvering at lower altitudes. The Peregrine had finished its fogging run over the killing field they found. Locating the positions was hit and miss, as she coordinated her maps to Hanska's sketches. Elmore translated the Indian's country directions to navigable points, no mean feat given Hanska was describing things from the ground and they were one hundred feet above that.

  Once they arrived in the general vicinity, it was easy to find the carnage; fields filled with dead bison for miles all in various states of decomposition. The stench even made its way up on to the bridge, pungent when you caught a whiff. Reidun felt bad for Dolly, Rose and her crew who went down to conduct a spectral imaging. They had finished the fumigation sweeps and were waiting for the runabout to return, before proceeding to the next location.

  Reidun caught Rose coming up the spiral staircase in her peripheral vision. The access stairs came from the deck where the runabout, berthed up to the bridge. "Reiden, we need to set a course for Omaha!”

  "What, why?" asked the Captain.

  Dolly was right behind her and Elmore brought up the rear. "Captain, can you beat that train down there to Omaha?" said Elmore.

  Reidun smiled, "that is music to my ears." She looked to Dolly as he was the representative of the Crown.

  "What are yeh waiting for lassie, let's get this man to Omaha,”confirmed Dolly.

  That was all the Captain needed to know. Throwing the repeater to full power, the bell on the bridge rang as the engine room acknowledged the order. Reidun then began a turn and to increase elevation. "Hold on." she announced

  The thrum of the propellers increased, but that is not what delivered the thrust. The airship rose up and caught the high winds now at her stern; with a shudder, the ship suddenly sped up causing Rose and Elmore to steady themselves with the closest handrail.

  "They don't stand a chance,” said Reidun.

  "Are you sure? We saw Wilburn's train go by…" Elmore pulled out his watch and looked to confirm the time, “twenty minutes ago. We packed up as quick as we could, but when I saw the train roll by my concern returned. I am certain Wilburn will report directly to his masters to tell them that the la
w has what they seek,” said Elmore.

  “We will catch up to them without a doubt; it's just, are you sure that is where they are going?" Reidun asked.

  Elmore paced in front. He pulled his hat off and was scratching his head as he looked at the floor, "Yes, better yet can you beat them to Omaha and then get clear of the city before they know we are there?"

  “Amelia, bring over the map." The First Mate brought the Captain the map and held it out for her to study. Reading the gauges and dials, she increased altitude, confirming, "without a doubt we will be in Omaha and out of sight before they arrive."

  "Here is the plan, you drop me off with one of those runabouts just outside of the Omaha station, and I wait for them to arrive, then follow them when the train gets into the station. Wilburn mentioned they were delivering the Bison to Omaha. I can always rustle up some more help in town. You folks should be heading overseas to see those Necronists, and to see what can be done to save those poor souls." said the Marshal.

  * * *

  5:40 p.m. Omaha Rail Terminus

  The steam locomotive pulled into the Omaha station on a siding, away from passenger traffic. Elmore had found a secluded location near a service roundhouse where he could watch the entire junction. He spotted the small private train rolling in and his stomach fluttered as the train moved through the web of track crossings. The nervous energy passed when the locomotive released its drive piston, steam plumed and the brakes screeched to a stop. He waited and watched Wilburn talking with MacMillan then Wilburn left holding a bag and with Leary in tow. Maybe he was wrong, and those fellows were not Railroad goons but worked for Astor Company.

  Marshal Quentin cut behind the building and moved out of sight to follow Wilburn who made his way not towards the passenger station and the city, but up the tracks towards the stockyards. Elmore had traded Dolly his Buffalo Jacket for his wool overcoat to better fit into the city folk of Omaha. He now looked more like a frontier businessman than a plains riding lawman. It had been some time since he was in Omaha; it was now a modern city growing up around the north and south connections to Kansas City and the east and west bound lines running to St Louis and Chicago.

  The Peregrine had departed several hours ago to fly onto St Louis to take on supplies before going on to Paris; leaving Elmore alone in Nebraska. Not that he was worried, he could hop on trains going either back to Denver City or east, right now he was wondering where Wilburn was headed. He stopped to observe as the Company man and his Irish lackey cut right and entered an area where the rail sidings led towards the off load for cattle pens. He hung back as he would be obvious walking around in-between the livestock pens.

  The two men proceeded to a large brick warehouse, using a wooden stairway to reach the second story entrance. Elmore made his way around in search of other ways in. He found another entrance, on the opposite side of the building, via an alley, not accessible to the public.

  A sign above the door stated the company name, Continental Cattle Company. Now he needed to get to a wire-type office quickly and cable the Peregrine then get back to observe his suspect.

  16

  Friday the 22nd of March

  2:00 a.m. The Continental Cattle Company, Omaha Nebraska

  It was late, or you could say early. Elmore Quentin had been keeping a lookout at the Continental Cattle Company for hours. He stepped away for a short time to check in with Sheriff Joe Murray and send off wire types to Chicago and Colorado City. He had only been away less than an hour, but without eyes on the building, he fretted that in the time away he could have lost Wilburn and Leary.

  Joe Murray and a deputy drove by in a steam-powered wagon on a routine patrol of the city. They rode past the front of the building then turned down a side street. A few minutes later he heard footsteps coming up behind him in the alley where he was hiding. It was Joe.

  "I could see you back there when I drove by,"

  "You were looking for me," said Elmore.

  "And desperate men doing villainous works don't watch out for law men,"

  He had a point.

  "Thanks for checking on me Joe. After you go, I plan to take a closer look. Did you find out anything more about this place?"

  "Nothing to find out, it's one of the four companies operating a cooperative here for loading and unloading cattle on the siding. Some fella out East is the owner; that's about it,” said Joe spitting on the ground. "I'll go off the way I came."

  "Good night," said Elmore never taking an eye off the building, just listening to Joe's footsteps fade away down the alley.

  His vigil continued, by now it was the early hours of the day and either they had left already or they were up to something seriously no good. He made his way over to the building and checked the doors and windows. The doors were locked, but he found an unlatched window. Peeking in, he couldn't see anyone, the dark space made it difficult to make things out other than lots of enormous machinery. He set his rifle up against the outside of the building, sliding up the windowpane. The minute I step inside I am breaking the law for entering without a warrant. Elmore thought, as he slipped in. Once inside he reached back to grab his rifle. Stretching to grasp the barrel, he heard a match strike behind him. He had the barrel in his hand when the room lit up with the light from an oil lamp.

  "Now, Marshal before you make one more move, know I have both barrels of this shotgun ready to unload on you," it was unmistakable. It was Leary.

  “I’ve been waiting all fucking night for curiosity to get the better of you and you make your way in. Now you just keep dangling yourself out that window and don't make a move."

  Elmore craned his head, he couldn't see how he could turn around or jump out fast enough when he felt the window close on his back, hard. “Gad Damn!” yelled Elmore from the pain.

  "You think that hurt, just wait Marshal," Leary said, as he pressed the shotgun into his back. I'm gonna undo your gun belt, if you even squirm a little, I'll fucking kill you,” said Leary.

  He felt Leary undo the belt and heard it hit the floor.

  The window opened. "Now slide your way through in here and leave that rifle of yours where it is, I see any part of it and you're dead."

  17

  Wednesday the 27th of March

  Rue Mazarine Paris France

  The young woman strolled down the gas-lit streets marveling at the pedestrians crowding the boulevards. On her shopping excursion earlier in the day she had bought a new bodice, several skirts and several pairs of high heeled boots. She arranged their delivery to the hotel where she had hired a room. Now decked out in her Parisian finery, Lilith consumed the energy of the busy street life and people still out after dark. She tried to mimic the graceful walking of the ladies she saw but found the shoes a little awkward and painful to wear but she would not admit it. Cafes were full, horse-drawn and steam carriages passed along the avenues. If she were home the stores of Belfort would be closed, and she would be in bed reading by candlelight. Instead, she was here in the center of the most cosmopolitan city in the world; London might be bigger, but Paris was more stylish.

  Lilith passing a café glanced in the window, watching patrons laughing and talking while waiters carried the most appetizing treats to the tables. She stopped at the corner window and stared though the window of the patisserie as the highly decorated and decadent caramel tarts and other creations displayed there. She sighed then turned to move away. Lilith had taken the few steps to the curb and had begun to cross the side street when she decided she would go back to the patisserie and partake of one of those wonderful tarts. As she turned back to the patisserie the heel of her boot caught on a cobble stone and pitched her backward. The last thing she heard as she hit the ground was the sound of the steel-rimmed wheels of a steam lorry skidding on the cobblestones and the screams of spectators as the truck rolled over her.

  18

  Thursday the 28th of March

  11:00 AM Necronist Guild House, Ile de la Cité Paris, France

 
Rose stared out the window as they made steady progress through the boulevards of Paris from the Paris Aerodrome at Orley. The Necronist headquarters was in the center of the city, located on the same island in the Seine as the Cathedral of Notre Dame. Given the sensitive nature and their prior interactions with the Necronist Guild, Dolly had worked through official channels, contacting Dr. Felix Anou, at the French Consulate to arrange the meeting.

  The carriage chugged into the walled courtyard before the Necronist Temple, rounding the circular drive, coming to a halt beneath the colonnaded portico where several Necronist Seers stood waiting.

  Rose identified Guild Master Saint Yves standing amongst the group, poised patiently in his tailored black vestments. She could see the damage he had suffered at their last encounter had disappeared. She would swear he looked even younger than before.

  "You ready for this?" asked Dolly.

  Rose sat with her jaw clenched and her shoulders rigid. She sought to center herself only to notice how weary the journey had left her. When Dolly informed her that Elmore wanted them to take the soul crystal to the Necronists, where they would be granted an audience with Crocus and his Eternal Circle, she nearly vomited and didn't sleep as they traveled from Saint John's Newfoundland to Briest, France.