Blackbird: A Warrior of the No-When

by Martin Schiller

  Now, our clandestine work could begin in earnest.

  ***

  The next day found the student body of Maddenhill positively agog with excitement, and we had barely arrived when Elizabeth and I learned the cause. The news was delivered to us by one of the members of our newly minted Sewing Circle. It was Sallie Whitlock and she caught us in the hall and drew us aside until we were out of view of the school’s oculon, which just then, was aloft and hovering over another group of women.

  “Have you heard?” she asked in a half-whisper. “The Free Radical prisoners have escaped!”

  “Escaped?” I inquired, secretly marveling at just how quickly the Professor had acted. “How do you mean?”

  “They were on their way from the Hall of Justice to be delivered to the Police Station at the Public Market,” Sallie said excitedly. “But their companions arrived, and waylaid the Police wagon.”

  “Indeed?”

  “Yes, and now they are at large. The Bookmen are scouring the entire city in an attempt to locate them. Isn’t that rather exciting?”

  Exciting was an understatement; I was positively electrified by the tale. It was one of the boldest acts that had ever been perpetrated against our oppressors in decades, and my admiration for the Professor and his cohorts rose exponentially. I also decided to mention Ms. Whitlock to him when the occasion arose. From her obvious sympathies, it seemed to me that we had another member of the Free Radicals in the making.

  “Yes,” I agreed with a careful measure of reserve. “That is rather thrilling news.”

  At that, we took our leave of one another and hastened to our respective classes. And although I tried to give my lessons the attention that they deserved, I was distracted by my own curiosity.

  How had the Professor’s associates pulled it off? I wondered. Against the Bookmen and their machines? It seemed almost impossible--and yet, I could not deny its reality.

  My questions remained unanswered however, and I knew better than to approach the Professor for any answers at such a time. As a result, I was forced to make do with nothing better than speculation.

  That evening, another startling event occurred. I was in the parlor at the time, and some ways into my needlepoint project when our Head Housekeeper interrupted me.

  “Ms. Penelope” she said with a curtsey. “Ms. Baldwin is at the back, asking for you. She said to tell you that it was most urgent.”

  I set down my work immediately. “Please see her in.” Jennie appeared but a minute later, dressed in a heavy cloak and bonnet that were appropriate for the chill night air.

  “Whatever is the matter?” I inquired, fearing that something terrible had happened to the Professor.

  “Professor Merriweather asked that I come to you for a favor,” she replied. “It is a matter requiring great discretion.”

  “Of course,” I agreed. “You know that you have only to ask, and I shall do it.”

  “There is a gentleman waiting in the alley,” she said in a half-whisper. “He requires somewhere to stay for the night. The Professor would have taken him in, but he is already hosting several others and he believes that the Bookmen may be watching his home. He asked if he could prevail upon you.”

  I knew instantly that the man was one of the prisoners who had escaped from the Police. There was also no question about assisting him.

  “Of course Jennie,” I answered. “He can enter through the basement and hide near the coal chute. I will see to it that he receives some bedding and a hot meal.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Penelope,” she replied. “He will be gone in the morning.” With a grateful smile, she left me.

  I waited until I was certain that the staff had gone upstairs to their rooms before I made for a linen cabinet and the kitchen. With blankets and food in hand, I then descended to the basement.

  My guest had followed his instructions, and was waiting for me in a dark corner. Lighting the lamp, I saw that he was a young man, with fine features, and although his ordeal had left him a bit disheveled, it was equally clear that he came from good stock.

  He tipped his cap to me as I set down his supplies. “Malcom Baldwin. I am in your debt, Madame.”

  “No debt is owed to me, sir,” I replied. “In fact, it is I that owe you. Your bravery and devotion to our shared cause far surpasses a simple meal and a night’s lodging.”

  He nodded, and smiled. “Nonetheless, it is deeply appreciated.”

  “Tell me,” I asked, “did all of you manage to escape?”

  “To a man,” he grinned. “And we are well hidden. We shall all leave the city by separate routes and take up new lives elsewhere.”

  I frowned, saddened by this requirement, but just as aware as he of its necessity. After suffering such a humiliation, the Bookmen would never stop hunting the fugitives. “I wish you all the luck,” I told him.

  “Goodnight, Madame, and again, my heartfelt thanks.”

  I left him to his meal and returned upstairs. I had not been back in my chair more than a few minutes before there was a forceful pounding on the front door. One of the maids heard the commotion and rushed down in her nightgown to answer it. When I came out and joined her, I was greeted by the sight of three Bookmen, two men and a woman.

  My heart threatened to leap out of my chest in fright. Did one of the neighborhood oculons see our guest enter? I wondered. Or have we been betrayed by some human informant?

  Outwardly though, I maintained my composure and summed up as much indignity as I could muster.

  “What is the meaning of this?” I demanded. “Do you know whose home this is?” Back behind me, I heard Father coming from his rooms.

  “Yes, yes, indeed,” he added, coming to stand next to me. He was still tying the belt of his night coat. “Sergeant? Explain yourself.”

  “Governor,” the woman replied, “we have received word from a reliable informant that several of the fugitives from the prison wagon were seen lurking in this neighborhood. One of them may have come this way. We are conducting a house-to-house search for the fellow.”

  It was all that I could do not to faint dead away at this, but I kept my chin up and remained strong. “There are no fugitives here, Madame,” I told her firmly, “only ourselves and the house staff.”

  “Nonetheless, I have my orders Ms. Steele,” she replied. “Every home in this area is to be searched. Thoroughly.”

  “Well, this is most irregular,” my father complained, “but we certainly won’t stand in the way of you performing your duties, officer. Please be quick about it though. The hour is quite late.”

  The Bookman tapped her finger to the brim of her shako by way of a salute, and then turned to her companions. “Off with you then.”

  The other two Bookmen moved past us and began their hunt. They were carrying hand-torches that were a hundred times brighter than anything found on the black-market, and their guns were drawn. They went from room to room leaving no corner unvisited, and every step that brought them closer to the basement conveyed me nearer and nearer to the point of absolute panic.

  I was certain that they would find my guest, and images of my arrest and then my own fateful date with the gallows flooded my mind. It was all I could do to remain where I was and maintain any semblance of calm whatsoever. Then, at the very pinnacle of my anxiety, when the Bookmen were about to descend the stairs, a miracle occurred.

  The Sergeant, who had been watching the proceedings, put her finger to her ear and nodded. I knew from prior experience that she was wearing some kind of sophisticated communication device crafted by the Masters themselves, inside of her ear canal, and that she was listening to whoever her superior was.

  “Yes,” she replied. “We are there now…yes, I understand, sir…we’ll see to it that things proceed as planned.” She addressed her men next, “That’s enough. He isn’t here.”

  Neither of them made any protest, but turned smartly on their heels and returned to us directly.

  “Thank you for your coo
peration, Governor, Ms. Steele,” the Sergeant said, awarding us another half-salute. “A good evening to you both.”

  Then they departed.

  “My word,” Father said. “That was all rather odd, don’t you think?”

  I could only nod dumbly, and thank fortune for my deliverance. And that night, sleep utterly eluded me. The excitement of the day’s events proved too much for even Hypnos’s powers, and I tossed and turned in my bed until it was nearly dawn.

  At last, unable to stand it, I rose, and hazarded a trip to the basement. There, I discovered the bedding that I had brought, neatly folded and hidden away in a dusty corner.

  My guest had departed. I breathed a sigh of relief at this, and once again, wished him a safe journey.

  ***

  Of course, Pierce was utterly livid when he visited us for breakfast the following day. And he did not come alone. Instead, he was accompanied by the Chief of the Seattle Municipal Police and the Mayor.

  These were also men that I held in extremely low regard. The Mayor was a fawning little toady who did whatever Pierce wished without question, and the Chief, a porcine figure who cared more for stuffing his own belly than serving the free-thinking citizens of my fair city.

  But this time, mindful of the Professor’s hunger for information, I suppressed my revulsion and remained at our breakfasting table. Unfortunately, Pierce was not inclined to discuss his business in my presence, and immediately requested to speak with my father in private. As the trio retired to the study, I called upon the lessons that I had learned during my childhood.

  Having grown up in the Governor’s Mansion, I had an intimate knowledge of all its hidden places, and like any child, I had been given to using them to spy on the affairs of my elders. I immediately put this experience to good use, and entered a service corridor that I knew ran behind the study. There, I availed myself of a small imperfection in the lathe and plaster work, and was able to watch and listen to the entire conversation. It proved most enlightening.

  “We have learned a great deal about the escape since it occurred,” Pierce began “The criminals employed explosives to free their compatriots. They also used smoke devices to confuse the policemen who were escorting the wagon.”

  “How fiendishly clever!” Father declared. “Clearly some kind of criminal mastermind was behind all of this.”

  “Indeed, Governor,” the Chief agreed. ”And obviously he is a man with no small knowledge of chemistry. The explosives were not dynamite, but a much more sophisticated substance. The attackers were able to shape it like putty and used chemical fuses to set it off. I am told that it was quite precise; the locks were cut off the wagon as neatly as if they had been sawed away.” There was a certain amount of admiration in his tone, which earned him a censorious look from Pierce.

  “And the fugitives?” Father asked them. “How did they escape the area?”

  “They scattered like the rats that they are,” Pierce replied darkly, “and used the alleyways to elude us. It is also clear that they had substantial assistance. We know that several of the shop owners in the area admitted them to their businesses, and that some of the criminals fled through the basements to disappear in the Underground.”

  “Most incredible,” my father exclaimed.

  “We have a number of these merchants in custody,” the Chief advised him, “and our Detectives are questioning them vigorously. We should learn who their co-conspirators are very shortly.”

  “In the meantime, I have ordered the Police to man checkpoints at all roads leading from the city, as well as the ferries and railway terminals,” the Mayor added. “I daresay that if they attempt to leave by any of these means, they’ll find that the noose is rather tight.”

  “Not half as tight as I intend for it to be when we have them in custody once again,” Pierce growled. “Especially the man that planned all of this. We shall make an example of him and whoever his closest associates are, regardless of their station, or sex.” As he said this, he looked straight in my direction, and I instinctively recoiled even though I knew that he could not see me.

  “Yes, of course,” Father responded. “Tell me, can the Provincial Guard be of any assistance in this matter?”

  “Not to us,” Pierce replied, “although the Chief might require their services.”

  “Yes, indeed,” the Chief said. “My people are stretched a bit thin, and we could use the extra hands during this emergency.”

  “Then consider it done,” Father assured him. “I shall order the Guard to take up station at the checkpoints you mentioned. That should free up some of your officers for other duties.”

  “Many, many thanks, Governor,” the Chief returned, his voice dripping with oily subservience.

  “We will keep you abreast of the situation as it develops,” Pierce promised. “Now sir, if you have no further need of us, we will leave you to your breakfasting.”

  With that, they exited, and I quickly made my way back into our solarium where I took up my needlework. Barely a few seconds later, one of the maids came for me and informed me that my father had returned to the table. I joined him there, and did my level best to contain my excitement.

  No matter how many resources he had at his command and however hard he tried, I knew that Pierce had already failed. The Free Radicals had dealt him a black eye that he would not soon recover from.

  ***

  The days that followed this were a period of increasing uneasiness for me. Although I knew intellectually that the Professor was very experienced when it came to clandestine affairs, the importance of what we were about to engage in still affected my nerves adversely.

  I became half-certain that the Bookmen on duty at Maddenhill were paying Elizabeth and I more attention than usual. The same held true for the oculons that overflew our neighborhood; to my eye, there suddenly seemed to be more of them, and although I could not verify it, their visitations appeared to be increasing in frequency. I even began to suspect that I had been followed while I was out shopping at the hatmakers!

  But nothing came of any of it, and at last, I was forced to take a firm hand with myself and explain it all away as a simple matter of an overwrought imagination. Nonetheless, when the time came that the Professor sent for us, my anxiety returned full force, and I was hard pressed to maintain a calm façade. The only thing that sustained me through the process of dressing myself and assembling a sewing kit, was the knowledge that I would not be undertaking my adventure alone. I had Elizabeth and the Professor to lend me the strength I needed.

  On the night of our appointment, I departed my home promptly at 6:00 pm, and had my coachman take me directly to Elizabeth’s. Once there, I instructed the man to depart and asked that he return for me at 9 o’clock. A small gift of a £1 note helped to gain his cooperation, and the moment that he was gone, I sought admission to the residence. Several of the women that we had invited were already present, and after exchanging some pleasantries, I contrived to slip away with Elizabeth, using the servant’s entrance and the gate in the back yard to enter the alley.

  The passage there was just as she had described it, and we met no one on our journey. And when we searched the skies, only one oculon was anywhere near us, but it was high overhead and moving away in the opposite direction.

  After only a brief interval, we arrived at the rear of Professor Merriweather’s house, where Jennie was waiting to greet us. Rather than risking any occasion for gossip by his servants, she did not take us upstairs, but led us down a short stairway and into his basement laboratory.

  Rather than being a dark and mysterious place, it was brightly lit, thanks to the illicit agency of incandescent lighting, which was powered by some of his more potent batteries and a bicycle which had been slaved to a generating apparatus. The outside world was kept ignorant of all this by means of blackened windows, and a double set of doors similar to the kind employed in a photographer’s darkroom. The space itself was dominated by a sizable worktable, and the walls we
re filled with tools and the bric-a-brac of our previous experiments.

  We found Merriweather at the table, seated on a stool, and already hard at work. He had shed his customary coat, rolled up his sleeves, and was wearing the leather apron that he favored for such labors. The plans for our device were spread out before him and he was working a length of wire around a thick wooden dowel with a pair of fine pliers. When he saw us, he set it down and greeted us warmly.

  “Ladies,” he said, “It is such a great pleasure to see you!”

  “And you, Professor,” I responded. “But where are your guests?” I had half-expected to encounter the escapees he had sheltered.

  “On their way to new lives,” he informed me. “They left before dawn, in the company of your man and well ahead of the police blockades. Thank you so much for sheltering him, by the way.”

  “It was an honor,” I replied, deciding not to mention the visit by the Bookmen, or my close call. I did not wish to add any additional worries to his life.

  “Tell me though, however was their rescue managed? We were told that they were liberated from the very van that was conveying them to the gallows.”

  Merriweather chuckled. “Through the judicious application of a malleable explosive composed of nitrated aromatics, collodion, and oxidising inorganic salts. Quite handy stuff, that.’

  “Our fellows swarmed the van, and then used it to blow the locks. The prisoners were gone before their captors could recover and summon assistance.”

  “How incredibly daring,” I declared, still amazed at the sheer audacity of it.

  “Yes, and I daresay I feel no small amount of pride,” he confessed. “You see, I whipped the stuff up myself from a formula that I received from a friend of mine who is an expert in chemistry. I also devised the ignition devices.”