“May I see the coded message?” the Emperor asked, holding out his hand.
Jake pulled out the folded piece of paper and handed it over. He stepped back, watching the Emperor closely. The Emperor ran the paper over his cheek, feeling the texture. He made a disappointed sound and then sniffed at it, inhaling deeply. His eyes narrowed as he pondered the scent.
To Jake and Cole’s astonishment, the Emperor bit off a tiny corner and chewed it thoughtfully, as if he were sampling some delicacy, even making appraising sounds as he chewed. Cole and Jake glanced at each other with uncomfortable looks on their faces.
“Grits …” the Emperor finally said slowly. His eyes darted back and forth, clearly trying to figure something out. “Spanish grits … and bacon.” He turned his gaze to Jake. “When did you transcribe this?” he asked urgently, almost accusing Jake of some crime.
“Uhhh … yesterday afternoon,” Jake offered uneasily, baffled at how the strange little man knew what he’d eaten and flipping back to the thought that Emperor Norton was completely insane. If it’s an act, it’s a damn good one, he thought.
“Grits and bacon? In the afternoon?” Emperor Norton almost glared at Jake. “Are you insane?” Both Jake and Cole wanted to ask the Emperor that very same question, but they held their tongues. “I do hereby decree that you are only to eat such fare between the hours of midnight and eleven-thirty a.m. Do I make myself clear, Captain Lasater?”
Jake paused for a moment, taken aback. His eyes shifted a bit nervously, but only for a moment as he remembered Chung’s remark about indulging Norton. “Yes, Your Highness. I understand.”
“Good. We will not speak of this again. Now …” the Emperor said, staring finally at message. “Mmm-hmmm …” he said slowly, indicating he’d discovered something. He grabbed a large white quill from a stand on the corner of the desk and dipped the tip into an inkwell. With Jake looking intently, Emperor Norton wrote characters over the stars Jake had written. When he finished, he turned the paper around on the desk and slid it over to Jake.
ZEPPLIN: Aţi terminat misiunea?
RADU: Nimic nu este
ZEPPLIN: Suntem pe drum. Pregătiţi-vă pentru sosirea noastră.
“I assume you are only familiar with the American characters in Morse, Captain Lasater?”
“That’s right. Didn’t have much need for anything else, not where I was, anyway.”
The Emperor nodded. “Not at all uncommon,” he soothed.
“Do you know what it says?” Cole asked.
The Emperor smiled brightly, his eyes lighting up like fireworks, and he nodded enthusiastically for a few seconds, causing Jake and Cole to nod along and start smiling. Then the Emperor said just as brightly, “Not a clue.”
Someone let the air out of Jake and Cole’s smiles, and they stood there staring at the Emperor, who hadn’t stopped nodding.
“Can you at least tell us what language it’s in?”
“No,” the Emperor said, his head going up and down like a piston. “It’s not Italian or Greek … nor Yiddish either.”
“Well, at least we know more about what it ain’t, and we do appreciate you filling in the blanks for us,” Jake said.
“It was my pleasure. Now, Captain Lasater, Captain Cole,” the Emperor said, his head going still and his eyes focusing much more seriously. “I have a mission for you.”
“A … mission?” Cole asked nervously.
“Correct,” the Emperor said, smiling brightly. “It’s a simple matter. I need you to take several packages and make sure they end up at the right place at the right time.”
“That doesn’t sound so tough,” Cole said easily as the doors to the office opened.
“Ah, Miguel, do you have them ready?”
“Sí, Emperador, just as you requested.” Miguel walked into the office holding a large doctor’s bag. He nodded to Jake and Cole, giving them the same indulging smile he had before, and then set the bag on the desk in front of the Emperor.
He opened the case and extracted three identical devices that he gently placed on the desk. Each appeared to have two copper cylinders an inch in diameter attached to a housing that contained a rectangular control box of some kind and a small cylindrical power cell similar to the one on the Emperor’s left wrist, only smaller. A short, stiff piece of wire stuck out the end of the housing, ending in a sort of curly-queue pigtail.
“You’ll want to be careful with these,” the Emperor began. “They each contain about a cup of … well … its closest cousin would be nitroglycerin. Although this is much more stable.” The Emperor sounded as if he referred to a cup of sugar.
“Nitro?” Jake asked, shocked. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Miguel smile at him and shake his head, indicating that it wasn’t anything dangerous at all.
The Emperor looked up, and Miguel’s face went stony. “As I said, it’s similar to nitro glycerin, but not prone to going off when jostled.” The Emperor tossed one of the devices into the air and caught it. Neither he nor Miguel appeared nervous, so Jake figured Miguel was right, that the things had water or something else harmless in them.
Norton inspected a dial on the front of the device, set it on the desk, and opened one of the desk drawers. He pulled out a small control panel with a long wire sticking out of the top that ended in a curly-queue identical to the ones on the devices. It had a small cover plate in the middle that appeared to hinge open.
“So where do you need them delivered?” Jake asked, picking one up and inspecting it.
“That’s the easy part,” the Emperor assured Jake easily. “You’ll will simply hand the bag off to a cargo handler at the air terminal.” Twisting a dial on the front of the control panel, he slipped it into the bag.
“And what does this guy look like?” Cole asked.
“She is hard to miss,” the Emperor corrected, showing an amused smile. “Are either of you familiar with the term Valkyrie?”
“I suppose I am,” Jake said, recollecting an opera he’d seen in Chicago once. Valkyries were supposed to be large, muscular Viking women with wings. “I’m assuming she won’t have wings.”
The Emperor chuckled. “No, Captain, although wings would probably look appropriate on this particular example of womanhood.” The Emperor smiled and began placing the devices back in the bag. “Helga is a head taller than you, considerably broader in the shoulders, and could probably wrestle a Brahma bull to the ground if she needed to.” He winked at Jake with a smirk on his face.
“Interesting choice of livestock,” Jake said pointedly, and he narrowed his eyes at the Emperor slightly, trying to read the man’s face. Had the madman chosen a Brahma bull at random, or was he suggesting he knew even more about Jake? The Emperor kept smiling.
“When you see her, you’ll understand. You need simply hand her the package and,” the Emperor picked up an envelope from the corner of the desk, “give her this.” He handed it to Jake and placed his hands on the desk. “Then simply walk away. I’ll have Miguel get this to one of my agents.” He patted the small control on his desk and smiled like a child.
“Consider it done, Your Highness,” Jake said, closing the bag and taking it off the desk. Something caught his eye. Beneath the bag lay a not-so-tidy pile of tan, dog-eared folders. One of them, at the bottom of the stack and canted to expose the upper corner, had Jake’s name on it: Jake E. Lasater. The folder appeared to be almost an inch thick.
“You’ve got a file with my name on it,” Jake said, concern creeping into his voice.
“What?” Cole blurted, and his eyes darted to the desk.
Norton’s eyes went from crazy to serious in a heartbeat. He smiled, a subtle thing that barely upturned the corners of his mouth. “I do indeed,” he said easily.
“Can I read it?” Jake asked.
“Well, technically you’re not supposed to see what’s in there. It’s classified.” Norton got a sly look on his face and tapped his chin thoughtfully with a gauntleted hand. “But it is your f
ile.” He leaned forward and carefully slid Jake’s folder out from the bottom of the stack. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do.” He opened it so that Jake couldn’t see any of the pages. “What’s your lucky number?”
“Pardon me?”
“What’s your lucky number?” Norton repeated. “Everybody has one. Everybody who’s anybody, that is.”
Jake couldn’t imagine why a madman would have a file on anyone, let alone someone like him. But, he was damn curious to know what the hell the folder contained. There was something damn peculiar about Norton, and it wasn’t madness. If Jake had more time, he’d do whatever it took to get his hands on the whole file and figure out who or what Norton really was. But he had the job for Qi, Skeeter in town, and half of the Tong ready to blow his brains out. Jake needed a breadcrumb for when he came back to San Francisco.
“Five,” he replied. That number had been his since childhood.
Without taking his eyes off Jake, Norton thumbed through to the fifth page and pulled it out. He slowly closed the folder, opened a lower desk drawer, and placed the folder inside. “You realize that I’m breaking several protocols by giving you this.” He carefully folded the yellowed sheet of parchment in thirds and held it out. “You’re welcome to take it with you. These—” he motioned to the stack of folders, “—are all copies. I need to review a number of them.”
Jake reached for it, but Norton pulled it back slightly.
“You have to promise that you’ll keep this in the strictest confidence,” Norton said.
“I swear,” Jake said quietly. “I won’t tell a soul.”
“Very well, then.” Norton handed it over, and Jake slipped it into his vest.
“You’re not going to read it here?” Norton asked, surprised.
“I figure me and Cole best be on our way. What with our mission and all.”
“Of course,” Norton said.
He stared at Norton for a few seconds, trying to get a feel for the man. “Will there be anything else?”
“No, Captain. That will be all.”
The madness disappeared … at least for a few moments, but Jake couldn’t get a read on the Emperor. “Well, thank you again for helping with the translation. At least we have the whole thing.”
Norton nodded. “I suspect you may run into someone who recognizes the language before your travels are over.” Then he got a strange look on his face and began sniffing. His nose drifted to the surface of the desk. He sniffed left and right, like a bloodhound trying to pick up a scent. He slowly ran his tongue along the fine wood, causing Jake and Cole’s mouths to drop open.
“Good day, Emperor,” Cole added finally, doing his best not to start laughing.
“Mmm-hmmm,” the Emperor added, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture as he licked the mahogany with enthusiasm. Jake had never seen anything like the man. His behavior was clearly insane, but his eyes … they sometimes told a different story. And the folders?
Miguel opened the door with a flourish for Jake and Cole, and they stepped through, Miguel on their heels. The Spaniard closed the door silently behind them.
Jake stopped in his tracks and turned. “Miguel,” he shot, sizing up the tall figure before him.
“Sí, Capitán?”
“I ain’t no captain, and that boy seems a might outta place in the Mexican Embassy. He’s stark-raving, you know?” Jake wasn’t convinced that Norton was, but he wanted to see the Spaniard’s reaction.
Miguel smiled knowingly, but Jake couldn’t figure whether the Spaniard smiled about knowing of the Emperor’s madness or knowing something else. “Emperador Norton is an oddity that the Ambassador and his guests find most amusing.”
Jake didn’t miss that Miguel didn’t answer the question. “So, these gizmos we got here, they’re just window dressing, right?”
Again that knowing smile. “They are certainly not anything for you to be worried about, Señor. Now if you will excuse me, I must attend to the Ambassador’s guests. Vaya con Dios.” Miguel bowed and stepped past Jake and Cole, heading off towards the dining room.
“Thanks for nothing,” he muttered under his breath.
“So, are we gonna deliver these toys?” Cole asked dubiously. Norton’s insanity gave him pause enough, but the folder had him really worried.
“A deal’s a deal, and you heard what Chung said,” Jake offered as he walked towards the front doors. “Although I ain’t entirely convinced these things are toys.”
“What makes you say that?” Cole blurted. “Norton is the craziest son-of-a-bitch I ever saw,” he added, meaning it. “And that folder on you is a whole ’nother kettle of fish. He’s probably messing with you. Chung musta given him our names or something. That page he gave you is probably a laundry list.”
“Crazy?” Jake asked, his eyes narrowing as he thought about everything he’d seen and heard. “I ain’t so sure.” He patted his vest pocket. “And this, well, I’ll read it once we get back to Chung’s. It probably is nonsense, like you say, but if it ain’t, I suspect I’ll be coming back to San Fran as soon as we get Skeeter home. I ain’t gonna worry about it right now, though.”
Chapter Seventeen – Nitro for the Lady
“There was always a lot going on around us that we didn’t figure out till days, weeks, or even months, later.”
~ Captain Jane Wilson
As they headed out the front door, Jake spotted one of the three white zeppelins making its way towards the landing platform at the air terminal. He could also make out the massive shape of the Jezebel, now grounded down by the docks, presumably being repaired.
Jake and Cole made a leisurely circuit through the city, simply enjoying the sunshine, before finally reaching the air terminal. Jake thought about reading the page tucked away in his pocket, but he wanted to be alone and somewhere safe before he looked at it. The landing tower loomed above, and a number of cargo handlers milled about the area, but only a few of them appeared to be loading anything into the cargo elevator that led up to the white zeppelin above, one of those Jake had seen from the Embassy. From this angle the tail design looked familiar to him. He’d seen plenty of airships in his time, with countless variants, but all had the same basic shapes. He simply couldn’t place it.
Having put their gun-belts back on—for safety’s sake, of course—they wandered through high stacks of crates, their eyes peeled for anything or anyone that might resemble a Valkyrie. They did their best to avoid a half dozen clomping, hissing lifter machines and navigate through the throng of people coming and going.
They rounded a tall stack of crates and almost ran into the back of a massive figure as she screamed at a small, dark haired man in a mechanic’s coveralls. The poor worker’s knees were practically shaking as he stared up. Both Jake and Cole’s gaze followed up and up … and up.
She spoke with a Swedish accent: “… and if you don’t get off your ass and get those crates down from the warehouse this god damn second, I’ll mush that tiny melon of yours into a puddle! Now get the hell out of my sight!” She pointed towards several warehouses on the other side of the open cargo loading area.
Cole stood there opened mouthed. The giant stood well over a foot taller than Jake, with impressive curves that made her womanhood abundantly clear. She wore a heavy, dark gray shirt with short sleeves. Bronze bracers covered her forearms, the left one covered with strange characters and three large, red gems set into the metal along the forearm. The right one had a long rectangular casing, and Jake realized the casing held a slasher of a particularly heavy design and exceedingly fine craftsmanship.
A long, thick ponytail of corn silk hair dangled down her back almost to her waist. Dark brown pants disappeared into heavy, knee-high tan work boots covered with buckles along the outside. A wide, black leather belt secured her waistline, pulled taught over shapely hips, and a series of pouches ran most of the way round. She had a heavy, German pistol strapped to her left hip, and a giant Bowie knife hooked on her right.
“Ye
s, ma’am,” the man said and darted off towards the warehouse like there were hounds on his trail.
“Excuse me,” Jake said cautiously. “Would you be Helga?”
She turned slowly and planted her feet in a wide stance, her massive fists set firmly on her ample hips. Despite her stature, she had delicate features and her high cheekbones were tinted rose. She wore no makeup at all but Jake and Cole were stunned by her beauty … in a bigger-than-life sort of way.
Norton had been right. She was a giant, with broad shoulders and thick arms, one of them tattooed with crossed hammers and characters Jake didn’t recognize. She had a stupendous bosom, and Jake couldn’t help but think that a small enough actor could probably do Shakespeare from that balcony and look good doing it. He also realized it would probably be suicide to make mention of it.
“Ya, I’m Helga.” She sized up Jake and Cole, took in their weapons, and then settled her hand easily onto the grip of the heavy pistol. “Who the hell’s asking?” Neither Jake nor Cole flinched under her fierce gaze, but the woman was as imposing as Norton promised. Cole hadn’t stopped gaping. Clearly not a woman to be trifled with, Jake pictured a trail of broken hearts—and bodies—in her wake.
“Well, you don’t know us, but … umm … Emperor Norton sent us.” Jake suddenly worried that she wouldn’t know Norton or wouldn’t be interested in taking the satchel.
“What does that crazy little bastard want this time?” she asked, her beautiful face twisting into a scowl. Jake thought even that looked good on her.
He looked at the satchel in his hand and wondered what—or who—the hell the contents were for.
“He wanted us to give you this satchel,” he said, handing it over. “And this,” he added. He reached into his vest pocket and gave her the envelope.
Helga gave out a great, exasperated sigh and snatched the proffered bag and envelope out of Jake’s hands.
“Fine!” she growled. The fire in her eyes made it clear she wasn’t entirely pleased at doing Norton’s bidding. Jake had to wonder once again about Norton’s game. Crazy? Yes. But there was a hell of a lot more to the man than there appeared … including his missions. “Anything else?” Her fiery gaze shifted between Jake and Cole a few times.
Blood Ties Page 17