by Jim Musgrave
“As I pointed out before, he was from the Nazi Schutzstaffel. This was the elite group of killers who were in charge of the death camps of World War Two. I saw one of these camps with my telescopic vision,” said little Seth. “Jews were being gassed inside what they thought would be water showers. My father was forced to create such a device in Tennessee. Remember, Detective O’Malley?”
We all turned to look at such words coming from an eight-year-old boy.
Doctor Adler gasped. “Do you believe there could be some way to use our time machine to find a method to prevent that kind of disaster from happening? Seth tells me it’s true, but I cannot believe my countrymen could ever become such monsters!”
“First of all, we don’t know what caused this German group to come to power. It’s the same with the pirates in our own era. We would be searching endlessly for the connections to prove that we could stop the slaughter of millions of Jews by preventing the proximate cause from occurring. This is where my fear lies. I am horrified of time travel and attempting to manipulate the future or the past. Hell, I am even afraid of the small trip I just experienced! What if I caused something to happen that would not have happened unless I was there? Perhaps someone who saw me got murdered because they were not supposed to see me? I am then responsible for this person’s death, and now I am back in my own time, safe and sound.” I had finally expressed part of my deepest fear. I suppose it was Doctor Adler’s admission of fear that gave me the courage to express my own fright.
“What about me? None of you men bothered to ask us women what we were fearing!” said Bessie Mergenthaler. “My son behaves like a genius with you, but with me he is still a little boy. What if one of these pirates decides to attack us when he is being my child? Seth may be a genius, but he can certainly die like the rest of us!”
Seth flew up into the air. He looked down at his mother, hovering in the air like a butterfly, even though we could not see his invisible wings.
“Seth Benjamin Mergenthaler! Come down from there this instant!” screamed Bessie, pointing up at her son.
“I will not unless you tell them I can protect myself!” Seth said.
“All right. Seth can protect himself,” said Bessie. However, as Seth came back down to earth, Bessie’s head was shaking negatively at us.
“One advantage they do have over us is that they can bring back people from the future. Do you think we can ever do that as well?” I was rhetorically posing this question.
“Seth has yet to see any time machine that can do that, but he may yet do so. As you know, he is not responsible for the visions he gets. I happen to believe Yahweh shows him these visions, but you may have other ideas,” said Doctor Adler.
“Listen. All of you. Unless we work together, we will never be able to find the answers we need. Tomorrow, I want you all to explore Central Park. I will be seeing what I can do to follow Kennedy around town. What we need is to discover evidence that links Kennedy with these pirates. We also must find other information that can tell us where they are doing their research. The first clue says Central Park, so that is where we need to be. I want to thank you all for your efforts today, and here is hoping for better hunting tomorrow,” I said.
“May I see the midget?” asked Seth, and we all knew he was still a little boy.
Chapter 5: The Reader is Entertained with a Steam City Prelude
I had my Joshua Reynolds mask and disguise packed in with my other personal effects at the temple. It would prove useful as I followed Superintendent Kennedy around on his daily errands. The mask was all rubber, and it fit snugly over my entire head and extended to my chest beneath my white shirt. I applied flesh-colored powder around the seams of the eyes. My beard was made of human red hair, and I was bald. I also walked with a cane.
After Becky approved my attire, I set out for Kennedy’s mansion on Fifth Avenue. The others were all going to haunt the Central Park environs to see if they could again find the mechanical man or the location where he had disappeared. We already had an idea that he might be around where the General McLellan statue was near the Bethesda Terrace in the middle of the park on the north side of 72nd Street. We briefly discussed the problems of pirates living in or beneath Central Park.
“The Hudson River is thirty-six miles from the park,” said Doctor Adler. “If these pirates have their habitat in the park, then they would be quite visible when they made a trek from their living quarters to the water.”
“When I was on the Mergenthaler case, I discovered a long and intricate passageway dug from the sewers to Mount Sinai Hospital. Doctor, I am certain you have heard of the steam shovel. This was invented in the 1830s, so I am certain there have been improvements upon it. I will certainly be looking out for such technological applications as I follow Kennedy around today.”
“We will also be cognizant of any special technology being used,” said the rabbi. “We have already decided to allow Seth to fly invisibly above the park to give us the proverbial bird’s eye in case we should miss something in our wanderings,” he added.
“Good idea,” I said. “Again, we should all meet back here at sundown.”
They nodded their heads in agreement.
“Becky made us some grub, so’s we ain’t about ta starve, O’Malley,” said Walter McKenzie, patting his mammoth girth with his right hand.
“Yes, we can have a picnic under the Elms while you have to pound the cobblestones,” Becky smiled. She was wearing a fetching outfit consisting of a silk, Japanese parasol and a woman’s kimono. Both the kimono and parasol were brilliant red with blue, violet and yellow blossoms. In her blonde hair she wore a red Kanzashi flower.
“Please be back before sundown. This will be our security measure. If someone is missing, then we will know why,” I pointed out.
“We understand,” said Bessie. She was again in her black mourning dress, and we had taken to calling her “Queen Victoria.” She did not feel ridiculed, as she was a bit of an Anglophile. She even appeared to hold herself with a regal bearing.
“Do not follow anybody you see,” I said. “We cannot risk losing any one of us to these desperados. Just make a careful note of where you are if you see anything relating to their location or to their habitat.”
“We shall,” said Doctor Adler. “We may need some of that Irish good fortune you people are said to possess.”
“Walter has enough to have you rolling and laughing in clover,” I said, and McKenzie laughed.
I paid a hackney driver handsomely to act as my taxi to follow Kennedy around. When Kennedy came out of his mansion, a strange vehicle rolled in front of the marble steps leading up to his front door. It looked like a standard carriage but without the horses. Instead, in the center of the carriage there was a large, circular piece of metal that was hissing clouds of steam. The seats were in the front of this engine, and there was enough room in the rear to store luggage. The wheels had rubber on the outside of the rims, and the fact that it rolled upon us so swiftly caused quite a turmoil along the avenue.
Pedestrians stood along the sidewalks and stared at the vehicle, and the dogs in the neighborhood began to howl as if this vehicle were hauling around a full moon instead of a steam engine. John Kennedy approached it without any trepidation and climbed up into the seat next to the driver. The driver worked the levers much the way I did inside my time machine, and they were off down the avenue.
I pointed at the speeding vehicle, “Follow that carriage!”
The driver looked at me as if I had instructed him to follow a comet, but he brought the whip down hard on his two horses, and we were off and into a gallop in about a minute. The crowds sped by us like blurry automatons, and I held onto the carriage handrails for my life.
Finally, after a whirlwind chase across town, swerving past other slower vehicles, and almost upending a large cow, we came up to a tall building on 72nd Street, and we parked behind the steam car.
Kennedy was already inside the building, and the driver of th
e vehicle was sitting up in his seat wearing a big yellow raincoat. I noticed he also had rubber goggles up on his forehead. He was reading the Daily Sun, staring at an illustration of a shapely young woman sitting at the beach wearing a one-piece swimsuit and smiling. I waved at him in greeting, as I passed, on my way inside the building.
The front of the edifice above a brick ledge said, “City Steam Works, Incorporated.” I walked up the six steps to the brass handled door and opened it. The noise inside the building was like walking into a train depot with all the engines readying their boilers for trips out West. I noticed a sign on the wall in the foyer. “Take one before entering,” it said, and there was an arrow pointing down into a basket filled with rubber earmuff covers to quell the noise. I picked up a pair and placed them over the top of my masked head and over my ears. The cacophony of steam-gushing whooshes and rattles subsided, although I could still make out a faint hissing sound, as if my rubber mask had sprung a leak.
I had no idea how I was going to get any information other than seeing Kennedy pantomiming with some business man, but when I opened the door to the main office that said “Supervisor Hiram P. Jockey” on the frosted white glass, there was complete silence when I closed the door behind me. I took off my earmuffs and stood there watching a midget in a blue suit. He was playing with a model of New York City that was on a large table in the center of the office. All throughout this model were copper pipes that looked like thousands of worms wriggling over the landscape of buildings, warehouses, churches, temples, homes, schools and other buildings in the city. All of these little models were transparent, and one could see the piping clearly as it entered the structure and wound its way through it.
Whoever had constructed this layout and design certainly had high hopes for steam heating in New York City. I cleared my throat loudly, and the little man turned around and beamed up at me in his frock coat and top hat. “Greetings! My name is Hi. I am the supervisor of the City Steam Works. Are you here on business?”
“Yes, I am. I represent a consortium of business people who want to know what your organization can do for them. What does this display represent? I noticed all the noise and commotion outside, so I can assume you must provide earmuffs to your customers as well.” I smiled as I said this.
My mind immediately went back to the night before inside our temple when Bill Maguire reported seeing the group of little men with guns in Central Park. They had chased him after he followed the man who looked like the “mechanical man.” There was also the midget butler at Kennedy’s mansion. And now, here was another such person, in a position of authority this time. I wondered if there were some kind of connection between them.
“Ha! The reason for the noise is that this is where we test all our steam engines before they are installed inside the buildings of our customers. When they are installed, there will be very little noise coming from our devices. Our goal is to heat the entire city of New York to prevent the freezing winters from taking the lives of our citizens. We like to believe we are doing our patriotic duty, Mister. I am so sorry. What is your name?” The little man’s eyes narrowed on my face. I was hoping my mask was still properly hidden.
“Ellis Roberts. Are your engines safe? Do you provide a warranty to ensure their durability?” I tapped my cane on the leg of the table that held the display as if to test its durability.
“Of course, Mister Roberts! We guarantee our steam heating system for ten years, and we also provide a service contract to owners who wish to install our system. Are your members interested in having steam heat? It is much less costly and thus more profitable to run steam pipes throughout an establishment,” he said.
“I know. I was given a thorough explanation of the advantages by my friend, Superintendent of Police, John Kennedy,” I explained.
The little man immediately perked up. “Mister Kennedy! He is on our corporate board of directors. You must know how important this project is to the health and wellbeing of New York City and its residents.”
“Indeed, I am quite aware. I just wanted to see where these engines were created. Do you think I could make an appointment to get a tour of your facility in the near future?” I asked.
“Of course!” said Mister Jockey. He took mincing steps over to his little desk and picked up a ledger lying on the top and scanned it with his eyes. “Would next Monday be acceptable? Say, around ten o’clock?”
“That sounds good,” I said. “I shall return then.” I walked to the door and turned around to face the little supervisor. “Thank you, Mister Jockey. You have been quite informative. I look forward to our tour. Will you be doing the honors?”
“Yes, I am in charge of all such public relations. I will see you next Monday at ten. Good day to you, Mister Roberts.”
“Good day,” I said, and I opened the door to the boom of steam engines. I quickly placed my earmuffs upon my head and exited the building.
When I was outside, I noticed that Kennedy’s steam-powered carriage was still parked in front. The driver was still reading his newspaper. I decided to talk to him.
“Good morning! That is quite a vehicle you have there. Is it for hire, or do you own it outright?” I placed my hand on the large engine in the middle of the carriage.
The driver looked up from his paper to stare at me. “I work for the Society. I am also an engineer. The Society plans to have more of these for sale very soon. No more excrement on the roads to clean-up. Faster transportation for businesses. We hope to change the entire infrastructure of this city in the future,” he said, a certain smugness in the tone of his voice.
“Society? What society would that be?” I asked, pretending to be ignorant.
“The World Scientific Advancement Society for Progress. They have offices in all the major cities throughout the civilized world. I am proud to be part of their organization,” he said.
“Where is your society located in this city? I don’t believe I have seen any mention of them in my business circles,” I said.
The driver took a card out of his coat pocket. “Here. Take this card. If you have business connections, then you may want to inquire as to what they can do for you,” he said, and he handed me the card.
I looked down at it. The card read: Inquisitor Willis Chatwyn-Lamb Who Represents the World Scientific Advancement Society for Progress. 625 Fifth Avenue, New York City.
“Thank you, Mister Lamb. I notice the title ‘Inquisitor.’ What exactly does that represent?” I wanted to see what this society was explaining to its members about the organization’s philosophy.
“Invention is the objective of all rational inquiry. The Society represents the supreme result of inquiry into one science that can perfect human life on this planet. We have a saying, ‘if science does not advance progress, it is not science.’ You should go visit them. They will open your eyes to a lot of developments in the world you may not have been aware were happening under our very eyes,” the driver said.
“One science? Do you mean steam power?” I asked.
“Yes! Steam power is the answer to the world’s backwardness and lethargy. Steam energy and inventions are clean, potent and inexpensive. Do yourself a favor, Mister. Go visit their office and find out what they can do for you and your business,” the driver said.
“Thank you, I shall. I always like to be on the cutting edge of progress,” I said and tucked the card inside my frock coat pocket. “Good day to you, Mister Lamb.”
“Good day to you, sir!” he said, and he returned to his newspaper.
This was a most interesting development. In fact, I decided I need not follow Kennedy around anymore that day. The World Scientific Advancement Society for Progress had offices down the street from Kennedy’s mansion. In fact, Bessie Mergenthaler also lived on Fifth Avenue. It was obvious that this society was not doing business with the public in some run-down warehouse in the Bowery. This office was in the center of some of the most expensive real estate in Manhattan, and I was going to find out what
kind of presentation they had for the investment public.
My hackney driver was still parked behind the steam vehicle, and he took me back to the temple by way of Fifth Avenue. I wanted to get a cursory look at the offices at 625 east. This piece of my pirate riddle seemed most propitious. If we could insinuate ourselves into the good graces of this organization, then we could possibly penetrate its inner sanctum and discover the reason for its sanctimoniousness. We were able to do so in the kidnapping case of Doctor Arthur Mergenthaler, and that also involved a mystery with worldwide implications.
The building at 625 Fifth Avenue was not a business building; it was a mansion. It was three stories tall, in the Italianate style, the roof was flat, and the shape of the house was rectangular and balanced, with wide, overhanging eaves supported by metal brackets and cornices. The porch in front was topped with a balustrade balcony, and there was a large bay window in the front. The double doors were molded and looked very heavy, with Roman or segmented arches above the windows and the doors. I also noticed that there was a constant flow of steam coming from within the house and out of a pipe on the roof. The Society obviously wanted to reflect the technology they were pandering about town.
Back inside the temple basement, all the members of our group had returned from their foray into Central Park. What they had discovered was certainly worth the day’s investigation, and as we put our different clues together, we began to focus upon a more coherent image of this organization.
Becky began by relating her story of what happened when they were having their picnic beside the Bethesda Fountain. This fountain commemorates the Croton water system, which first brought fresh water to New York City in 1842. The statue above the fountain is called the Angel of the Waters. According to the Gospel of John, this angel blessed the Pool of Bethesda and gave it healing powers.
“We were eating the sandwiches I made, and I was pointing to the angel and telling everyone that the lily she holds in her left hand is a symbol of the water’s purity. This was very important because the years before bringing fresh water to New York were filled with devastating cholera epidemics. It was also the only statue commissioned for the park, and it was created by a woman, Emma Stebbins, which marked the first time a female had received a public art commission in the city,” Becky explained.