Last Orders

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Last Orders Page 24

by Laura Strickland


  Not over, no—but this meant a beginning, not only for her and Brendan but for all of them.

  She closed her eyes on a strong wave of gratitude and tightened her hold on Brendan’s shirt. Never let go—no, she’d never let go.

  ****

  The number of steam units outside Pat Kelly’s house had increased. In fact, it appeared a goodly number of those from Niagara Square had merely transported here en masse—members of the Irish Squad and ordinary steamies alike.

  Brendan, his head still ringing from the confrontation at the square, and his hand caught firmly in Ginny’s, found himself shuttled through. Ginny came with him, accompanied by a battered steam unit that, from the smell of it, had manure on its wheels. Brendan didn’t understand that, but Ginny kept looking back at the unit, making sure it kept pace with them, so he didn’t ask any questions.

  He understood very little of what had happened over the last hour, truth be told, even though he seemed to be at the center of events. Two things stood out—Ginny loved him, and Pat Kelly had been revived.

  He believed the first down to the roots of his soul. The look in Ginny’s eyes convinced him, and the feel of her lips on his. He suspected he wouldn’t believe the truth about Pat till he saw him—hence the shuffle through all these bodies and up to the door.

  Inside he heard glad voices, conversation, even laughter. Topaz Gideon came out to greet him, face alight and eyes shining.

  “There he is,” she announced. “The hero of the hour. We’ve heard what happened at the square. You ended the standoff peacefully.”

  “I didn’t—” Brendan began, only to be interrupted when Mrs. Gideon kissed him.

  “Pat?” he asked, his dazed senses making the word difficult.

  Tears flooded her eyes. “Just go in and see.”

  “I’ll wait here,” Ginny said, but Brendan shook his head. He wasn’t ready to let go of her.

  So they entered the parlor in a little chain—Brendan, connected to Ginny, who held tight to the unknown unit. Obviously some kind of bonding had taken place out there on this mad morning. And maybe the three of them, in an odd way, embodied a bright future for the city Brendan loved.

  Rom Gideon exited the inner room to meet them and gave Brendan a big grin. Brendan, never having seen the fellow smile before, gaped in surprise.

  “Pat?” it seemed the only thing Brendan could say.

  And Rom Gideon replied as had Topaz, “Come and see.”

  “Mason?”

  Gideon sobered abruptly. “That may prove a problem. Very full of himself at present, I have to say. And I suspect when he’s full of himself, he’s dangerous. But I don’t want to spoil the moment. Come with me.”

  For the first time Ginny let go of Brendan’s hand. Again she drew back. “This is a time meant for those close to Pat. I’ll wait here with Arthur.”

  “Arthur?” Brendan narrowed his gaze on the malodorous unit.

  “You go,” Ginny whispered. “We’ll be right here waiting.”

  “You promise?”

  The light in her dark eyes kindled. “Always.”

  Chapter Forty

  “I must be quite a sight,” Pat Kelly said. “Everyone who enters the room gets the same expression on his or her face. Is it so shocking, Sergeant Fagan, to see me like this with my head partially open?”

  It was; somebody might have warned Brendan before he came into the room.

  He scrutinized the top of Pat’s head while trying to appear as if he wasn’t. It had been opened much like—well, Brendan could only think of a hard-boiled egg—in order for repairs to be made. One side had been closed again; the other gaped open, revealing a distressing network of fine steel and machinery.

  But Pat’s green eyes looked the same as ever, bright and canny. He’d been moved from the storeroom and propped up in Rose’s former place on the cot, where he sat as he usually did in his big armchair, looking like a king.

  Rose had squeezed in beside him as close as she could get, and one of his hands rested gently on her bandaged wrist.

  The look in Rose’s eyes brought a lump to Brendan’s throat, fast and hard.

  Somehow he managed to force words past it. “I’m just glad to see you awake. Don’t care very much how you look, Pat. How do you feel?”

  Pat tipped his head slightly and considered the question. “I would have to say I feel strange. I do not remember anything after a man bashed me in the head with a steel beam. Steel meets steel. My head proved no match. If that is death, it is painless.”

  Brendan glanced at Rose. “Not for those you left behind, Pat.”

  “So I have been told.” Pat turned to his wife; a look passed between them, ripe with tenderness. Rose began to weep silently. “She has harmed herself in my absence. That will not do.”

  “No, it won’t,” Brendan agreed. “We’re very glad to have you back and…and yourself again.”

  “Hear, hear!” agreed Rom Gideon from Brendan’s shoulder.

  “The first thing I recall following the steel beam, I opened my eyes and saw the face of my creator. You cannot imagine my surprise. I thought myself newly made once again.”

  “But,” said Rose shakily, “he was able to save your memories, and that’s the important thing. I don’t know what I would have done if you no longer knew me, Pat.”

  The automaton gazed into his human wife’s eyes. “I should have had the great joy of falling in love with you all over again.”

  Rose Kelly leaned in and kissed him. Pat caressed her cheek gently with his fingers before looking back at Brendan.

  “I am informed sufficient skin and hair must be grafted to cover this great hole on top of my head. That will take time.”

  “We have time,” Rose said.

  “Meanwhile, I fear, I remain a distressing sight. But I do not wish to stay here in this room all the while.”

  “May I suggest a hat?” Brendan asked. “Your uniform cap should fill the bill.”

  “So it should,” Kelly agreed.

  “We need you out there, Pat. The force just isn’t the same without you. And there’s going to be a big shake-up. Some terrible things have come to light these last twenty-four hours.”

  “Is that so?”

  “It is. Those murders all round the city? They were staged by humans to make it look like automatons were turning dangerous. And the riot that nearly took place this morning was prompted by some high-ups, the Commissioner for one.”

  “You do not say? I missed a great deal, it seems.”

  “The important thing is we get you back on the force.”

  Pat regarded him with interest. “You look like you have suffered a few injuries also, friend.”

  “Just a broken arm and some fractured ribs. I had a stint as a captive, held by an ex-copper gone bad.”

  “And,” Pat went on, “Rose tells me she gave you leave to use my name to rally the steam units of the city.”

  “So she did, Pat.”

  “I hope the endeavor proved successful?”

  “It did.” Brendan considered it. “I think a new day has dawned, Pat. And many automatons in Buffalo have had their first glimpse of the future.”

  “I must get up and back to work. Rose, please find my uniform cap.”

  “No,” cried three voices in unison.

  Brendan leaned down and touched Pat’s arm. “Not yet, Pat. This city needs you, sure. But you spend some time with your wife first. She needs you more.”

  ****

  “You’re weeping. Isn’t he all right?” Ginny gazed with concern into the face of the man she loved. She’d never imagined seeing Brendan Fagan cry, but the tears flowed freely as he exited the inner room.

  Now he mopped his cheeks with the heel of his good hand and nodded. “He’s still Pat, thank God, and that’s all that matters. I’m that happy for Rose—for all of us. He would have left a terrible gap in our lives.”

  Ginny searched Brendan’s face earnestly, honestly. “Funny—and frighteni
ng—how much we come to mean to one another. I think I avoided that truth a long time. But you, Brendan Fagan, got under my defenses. And I’m glad, so glad.”

  He drew her tight against him, and still tighter.

  Rom Gideon exited the inner room to be met by his wife; together they joined Ginny and Brendan.

  “A wonderful outcome to our wild scheme, Sergeant Fagan,” Gideon said. “I’ll admit I had my doubts.”

  “Surely not.” Brendan couldn’t hold back a grin. “And you seemed so confident all the while.”

  “Whistling in the dark—I seem to do a lot of that. Now we’ve just the little matter of what to do with the charming Mr. Mason.”

  “Aye.” Brendan cocked an eyebrow. “You did promise him freedom in…Mexico, was it?”

  “He requested Barbados.”

  “So he did.”

  Rom Gideon frowned prodigiously. “There’s still Pat’s head to be grafted.”

  Topaz spoke. “Chastity Greely is certain she can handle that. She observed the entire procedure and says she learned a great deal. I don’t doubt she’ll be at the forefront of the new automaton construction team.”

  “Well, then,” Rom said, “I doubt we need Mr. Mason’s continuing services.”

  “The authorities are looking for him,” Brendan pointed out.

  “I’m sure they know he’s here. It speaks volumes they haven’t showed up at the door.” Rom Gideon appeared to muse. “Getting him back inside the asylum would be even more difficult than getting him out was, now that everyone’s on alert. I could leave him somewhere to be discovered by the searchers, but he’ll only tell a wild tale—namely the truth—that might well incriminate us after the fact.”

  “You’re right, there.”

  “Alternatively, I could smuggle him over the river to Canada, but that seems a cruel and unjust act to perpetrate upon our good friends in the Dominion.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “Still in the rear room, being guarded by three of his creations.”

  “What do they think should be done with him?”

  “Well, that’s just it. They hate the fellow with considerable intensity. At the same time they’re grateful to him both for saving Pat and, in a strange way, for their own existence. I’m afraid it’s the classic love-hate relationship such as many have with their…well, parents.”

  “Perhaps we should talk to them about it. You say he’s still under their watch back there?”

  “Yes, along with Mrs. Greely. Come on, then, if you can tear yourself away from your lovely companion.”

  “I think I’ll come too this time, if you don’t mind. Curiosity killing the cat and all that,” Ginny confessed.

  Topaz Gideon said, “Well, count me out. I’ve no wish to see the man.”

  The rear room—actually no more than a storeroom for the Kellys—was not large. A rough operating theater had been set up, and many scents still hung in the air—that of steam, coal dust, and singed metal, overlaid with something far more raw and vital.

  Here Mason had done his work and Pat had been brought back, in essence, from the dead.

  The place seemed incredibly crowded now, with the presence of Chastity Greely and the three hybrid automatons who had served all the while as Mason’s guards. The three new arrivals couldn’t get far into the space, and Ginny, who once more held onto the back of Brendan’s shirt, had to peer around his shoulder to take in the scene.

  When she did, the breath stopped in her throat.

  The daughter of a doctor, she was used to the smell of blood and not particularly squeamish. Yet the sight of Mason pinned to a rough operating table constructed from packing cases sent a spasm of horror through her. Head thrown back and awash with blood, his single eye stared at the ceiling.

  Brendan stiffened, and Rom Gideon swore bitterly.

  “Is he dead?” Ginny asked.

  The four hybrid automatons gathered around Mason, very much like witches around a cauldron, all looked up politely.

  Chastity Greely stood with her hands resting on Mason’s head, arms red to the elbows. The three members of the Irish Squad wore expressions of mild interest.

  “Hello,” said Chastity politely. “Yes, I am sorry to say the specimen has expired. We were just endeavoring to decide what to do with him.”

  “What happened?” Rom Gideon cried in dismay. “You were supposed to be guarding him.”

  “We were,” agreed Dan Hogan, one of the automatons, “but he kept asking for things. He wanted to leave here. He wanted to be sent to Barbados, which according to my intelligence is an island nation in the Caribbean Sea.”

  One of the other hybrids took it up. “He challenged Mrs. Greely’s right to learn what he knew about the creation and repair of our kind.”

  Chastity Greely offered, “He did not think it proper for me to know so many of his secrets.” Calmly she confessed, “I had already learned a great many of them, so I decided to open up his skull, as he did Pat’s, in an effort to extract the rest.”

  “Jaysus,” Brendan breathed.

  Chastity Greely did not so much as blink. “Unfortunately, the same methods he used do not transfer well to humans. Which is another valuable lesson. There is nothing inside his head but this soft, malleable substance.”

  She raised a hand, the fingers of which contained a fistful of gray matter. “I believe in future I shall confine myself to automaton medicine.”

  Ginny, who considered herself possessed of an iron stomach, nearly lost its contents. Brendan quivered beneath her hand.

  “My God,” said Rom Gideon devoutly.

  “A pity,” said the third hybrid emotionlessly. “He may have had other valuable knowledge to impart.”

  “Yes,” agreed Chastity, “but he was uncooperative and unstable. I do not consider this a significant loss. In the future, I will be able to replicate the procedure he performed on Pat. And he did impart a lot of other information while raving, now all safely recorded in my intelligence.”

  “You killed him.” Rom Gideon spoke the obvious; Ginny didn’t blame him. It needed to be said.

  “I beg to differ; he expired on his own.” Chastity tipped her head. “I do hate to waste the corpse. They are so difficult to come by. But I do not think we can use him to create one of our offspring. He is much too damaged—and far too ugly. We want all our offspring to be beautiful, do we not, gentlemen?”

  All three hybrids responded with judicial affirmatives.

  “Ah, well…” Rom Gideon, usually a man of composure, faltered. “What’s to be done with the…er…remains?”

  One of the hybrids said, “I suggest the river after dark.”

  “Well, then, Sergeant Fagan and I didn’t see any of this. We’ll leave it in your capable hands.”

  “But Mrs. Greely,” Brendan stipulated in a voice that quivered, “you understand you can’t go around opening up people’s heads this way.”

  “Lesson learned, Officer. I certainly will not attempt it again.”

  The three humans backed from the room and stood in a huddle.

  “My God!” Rom Gideon breathed again.

  Brendan’s eyes rolled like those of a balky horse. “You know, sometimes you get to talking with an automaton and you forget they’re any different from humans. I mean, take Pat… And then something like this happens.”

  “Right,” Ginny agreed. “She killed him in all innocence. What’s to be done?”

  Rom Gideon grimaced. “I’d say that’s up to them. You must admit one thing—that bugger Mason got exactly what he deserved.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  “You don’t suppose they’re really dangerous, do you?” Ginny Landry breathed the words into Brendan Fagan’s ear. The interminable day which had begun with a blood-red sky had ended far more gently with soft dark and a thousand stars. The city—once more proving itself undefeatable—settled into an exhausted peace just as Ginny settled into Brendan’s arms.

  “The automatons?” Brenda
n shifted Ginny’s body against his in the big bed, his good arm wrapped around her. He hurt from head to toe, with some other interesting sensations in between. “Fine time to think of that, my girl, when we’ve just more or less handed them their independence.”

  She shifted again so she could peer into his face. “But you don’t, do you?”

  “No more than humans. Though I do think there’ll have to be a whole new set of rules—laws—dealing with accountability. I’m thinking it will call for a cool head in an elevated position. Someone like Pat Kelly.”

  “When he once more has a whole head.”

  “True, that.”

  Ginny went suddenly still. “Did you see the look in Rose’s eyes?”

  “I did. Makes everything worth it—breaking that madman out of the asylum and all the other hurdles.”

  “Yes. And the thing is I know just how she feels getting him back. There were times this day I didn’t think I’d see you again, Brendan Fagan.”

  “Nor I you.” They gazed solemnly into one another’s eyes, and for several moments the world retreated, leaving only the two of them.

  “All day long,” Ginny confessed, “I’ve longed to share something with you—ached for a chance to tell you properly, the way it should be. Not hasty, not thrown at you in the middle of a crowd.”

  “Now seems like a good time.”

  She drew a breath. Brendan could feel her heart beating against his chest and see the emotions moving in her eyes.

  “I don’t usually let myself become vulnerable,” she murmured. “I swore I’d never again let a man get past my defenses. Then you came along with your…your blue eyes and your warm voice and that smile that could probably melt stone.”

  “You thought me quite the proper police officer. I hope you’ve learned better now.”

  “I’ve learned,” she replied seriously. “Far more than I could have imagined. I learned that loyalty and kindness aren’t exclusive to the human race. I’ve learned sometimes you have to gamble everything—but it’s worth it. I’ve learned if you don’t take a chance and open your heart, you can’t let heaven in.”

 

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