by Gin Hollan
"Yes, ma'am. Who should we expect?" the short one with dark hair and a healthy growth of soon-to-be beard replied.
"A lady named Daisy," she blurted. She hadn't expected him to wonder. Part of the job, she supposed. "She has some notes for me." Stop talking, she told herself. Extra words will make them suspect you're up to something.
She turned back quickly, shutting the door. As she pulled the corresponding receiver out of her pocket and turned it on, a high-pitched scream came out. Quickly she turned it off again. What would cause that? There was a door between the two sides, so it couldn't be audio feedback. She walked ten paces toward the kitchen and turned it on again. The same screech started and she turned it off. Maybe she was using the wrong one. She opened the outside door and slipped her hand around to grab the transmitter.
Had Graham or one of the others misunderstood her? She cracked both halves open and slid the internals out into one hand. She knew enough about the technology to figure it out, but they were experts. Even in a time crunch, they could get these built well. Accurately. She was certain she'd been clear.
Examining it closely, she had to laugh. She'd put it in backwards. How worked up was she, to make such an obvious mistake? She slid it together correctly this time. The capacitor needed to stay in the middle.
Where would she hide the device this time? The guards probably wouldn't be bothered by her testing it with them, right? Sure, they were being designed as a hidden device, but at this point, function was more important than secrecy. But then again, her great-godfather was acting oddly. Could she trust his men? No. She had to be clever about this. If not clever, then at least wise.
When Hicks came back he could help her test it, but she wanted to find out if it worked now. Time was not on her side.
There was another way, she realized. Maybe she could put the transmitter in something the guards would carry with them, something they might use. Like a pen.
She looked at the transmitter. It was too big to fit a pen, but maybe a … well, a weapon of some kind. They were guards, so what would they find useful?
She started laughing again. Why was she laughing? She shook her head. Her mind was a little fuzzy and her head had the slight ringing sound that meant she was tired. It had been a long day. What if she just explained it to them? Sure, why not? They were there to keep distractions out, right? She nodded. A moment later she felt the room sway and she reached out for a counter. Why was she feeling so weak?
She hurried to the nearest chair hoping she wouldn't collapse before she got to it. As she sat, her vision faded and she felt a weight on her chest. A face came into view, hidden behind a filter mask.
"I'll take that, my dear. Brilliant work. Your contribution will turn the tide for us, I'm certain of that." His voice was muffled, but she thought it was familiar. She looked him over in her blurry state, noting his silhouette, posture, and any other details she could pick out. "All we need now is Graham's calibrator."
Who … was … 'us'? She couldn't get the words out. Her heart pounded, slamming in her chest as it tried to keep her alert. She stared at the man's face, trying to read his expression. He looked the device over. Was he really only interested in her listening device? Why? It wasn’t like she’d invented them. She just made them … portable.
He turned his back and as he walked, she thought she recognized his gait. Then his shoe made a hollow clicking sound, just once as he faded from view. There was only one person she knew that fit what she'd observed. Her great-godfather, Clement. She had to be hallucinating.
Her mind and body both worked slowly, but at least they moved. What gas was this? It had a slight smell, but she didn't recognize it. Maybe it wasn't being used at full strength. Her heart still raced but now her breath became ragged.
Was he really gone? She squinted her eyes to sharpen her focus but her vision was still fuzzy and limited to about five feet. She lifted her shirt over her mouth and nose, wondering if that would be a good filter. She'd have to invent a breathable fabric that blocked molecules larger than oxygen and hydrogen. That being an unrealistic goal, her foggy mind embraced it fully.
She didn't dare breathe deeply. Her mind craved oxygen, but she fought it. Maybe it was a light gas, lighter than oxygen. Maybe if she got on the ground, she could get under it. Or it could be a heavy gas, making her worse. How could she find out?
Clement wouldn't hurt her, she was sure. And she needed to breathe. She let herself slide to the floor and tried to detect the type of gas. Looking around, her blurred vision showed an unusual shape on the floor under a chair next to its leg. Was that a bottle?
The voices of those who nagged her to trust them laughed in the back of her mind now. Had they ever once returned that trust? They all hid secrets. Dark secrets.
What about her other inventions? No, they were safe. Her lab locked itself when she left. Who knew her annoyance with her mother and Maralise would pay off like that? That explained why she’d been unaffected in there. She had to get back into the lab. She lifted one hand, testing her mobility.
Justice would prevail. She'd see to that. Bottle genies had owners. She'd get him, and he'd pay.
Right now she needed to get that bottle plugged. She crawled toward it, wondering how she'd plug it. Holding her breath, she moved closer but found her movement slow. She stopped and lay on her back as she ripped the left cuff off her shirt.
Re-squaring herself, she looked at her target. The bottle sat three feet away, but it felt like three times that distance. Pushing forward into a crawl, she made herself go. It may have been smarter to go to her lab and get a mask, she realized as she stuffed the cotton cuff in the top, blocking the bottle. An apothecary could reveal which gas it was. If … if there was going to be a long-term effect on her, she'd be very put out.
Next task, open some windows to clear the gas out. Sitting back on her haunches was hard enough, but getting up seemed impossible. What was she trying to do? She shook her head, thinking she was smarter than this. She was about to do something easy, except that it was proving to not be easy.
She looked down at the bottle. She should take that with her, right? There was something she needed to do with it. Sighing, she moved sideways off her heels and rested on the floor. That was a pretty bottle, with its blue shimmering enamel coating … covering? What was the word for it?
Patina. Blue shimmering patina. Blue only happened on steel, right? Why did that matter? Gunmetal steel. Oh, right, she sighed. The war wasn't coming to her city—it was here. Clement had proved that.
Nosey old man. What was he playing at? Had he lied about wanting to get into her Grandfather's workshop? Because he had just ruined any chance that would ever happen.
She was not going to chase after him. She was going to find out who was pulling his strings, and pull them both down.
// Chapter 29 //
Arabeth sat up on the small cot in the back of her lab. Why was she here? Her mind felt slow, as though there were thoughts and ideas hovering on the edge of conscious thought, but refusing to come into focus.
Focus? Wait, focus was a problem the last time she was conscious. Wasn't it?
Turning, she set her feet on the floor and she looked around the room. There should have been a small metal bottle somewhere close, but there wasn't.
She couldn't remember a thing after trying to get up to open a window. Had someone helped her, and if so, where were they now? Did they take the bottle?
No. The door was bolted from the inside. Except for Marble, she was alone. How much time had passed? She looked at the clock at the bedside and saw it hadn't been wound up. Did she dare go back outside? What if she'd locked herself in due to something other than a gas attack?
She scratched her head. Her thoughts were coming so slowly, and when they happened they echoed around in her head until she stopped them. Wasn't she typically brighter than this?
She noticed four small listening devices, constructed and ready to go, sitting on the desk. When had she done that?
Would she have to make peace with her bail enforcement friends in order to track him down? She would, if she had to. They blamed her for the demise of the bounty program, but they couldn't actually hate her, right?
She'd give a substantial payment for his speedy capture. There was no good excuse for bad behaviour—not this kind of bad, at least. That line had become somewhat flexible lately.
She had to warn her parents that her listening device was out in the world, somewhere. By now, Clement had probably turned it over to an ambitious gadgeteer and they were dismantling it to see how to make more. She sighed. It was her own arrogance, she supposed. She needed to make them secure, somehow. She needed fragile materials, so that if someone opened it, the thing fell to pieces.
She slid the cover off the peephole and looked out. The room was vacant. She tried to see if a window was open but the angle was wrong. Most gases lost efficacy over time, but she had no idea how was long she had been unconscious. It wasn't in her nature to sit around.
At the door, she ducked down as low as she could while still holding the handle. She took three deep breaths, then held her breath. Yanking the door open long enough to get through, she closed it quickly behind herself again.
There were three windows open. Cautiously, she let some air out and then inhaled. The air seemed fine now. She found a clock and saw that only three hours had passed. That was good. It meant Clement didn't have much of a head start. There was no way she was going to let her great-godfather get away with this.
She didn't care what their relationship was, or how old he was. This was a betrayal, both of trust and of family. She knew exactly who to talk to in order to find out where he went, as well. He had no idea who she knew, or what she was capable of when motivated. He probably still thought of her as just a clever little girl. It was time to put Melanie's dark secret to use. Just then the outside door beyond the kitchen opened.
"I see you've managed to get rid of the guards," Hicks said, smiling.
"That wasn't me." If the guards were gone, that meant Clement was done with her. What was he doing next? He'd said something, but the memory of it hovered around the edges of her memory, taunting her.
"Sorry, but I can't entertain right now. Mr. Ballantine stole one of my listening devices. I have to get it back."
"Excuse me, he did what?" Hicks scowled. "Why?"
"That's a good question." Arabeth's emotions were a cloud of contradictions. "It's hard for me to accept, but it seems he is assisting the invaders." She held up both her hands. "I know, that's a bit dramatic. It's still accurate."
"But he has no reason to steal that from you. I'm sure if he had asked, you would have given him one," he insisted.
"He must understand their potential. He must have thought I was working for my parents, which is half-true. He must have thought gassing was the only way. The locks on my lab are fairly complex."
Sam fell silent. Arabeth knew what that meant. He hid his emotions fairly well, but harmless gas or not, Clement was going to regret it deeply. She needed to change the subject.
"Did you find out anything interesting while you were gone?" She fought to remember why he’d gone out in the first place. It had something to do with the police. He wasn't a policeman anymore, so he must've been looking for information.
"Your hunch … or was it a tip? Whichever it was, it was spot on. Those two new guys are up to some nasty things. I wanted to ask Harbertrope about it but he was unavailable."
Arabeth scowled and scratched behind one of her ears. There was a ringing that just wouldn't go away. She sighed. "I have a long to-do list, and a bad headache. Was Melanie at work when you went there?"
"Abby, I don't work there anymore, remember?" He looked concerned.
"Oh, that's right. I don't know where my head is right now."
"This is going to be a long day, isn't it?"
"Probably."
"At least you're not far gone." He smirked, but she could tell it covered his concern.
She needed to flush the toxins out of her system and the best way to do that was to drink plenty of water and get her blood moving. No one drank the water in this city, unless they wanted to come down ill, so instead she made tea using previously boiled and filtered water, and picked up some fruit to put in her satchel.
She hesitated at the lab door. What if the criminal had gotten in there as well? She wasn't sure she could face that. Suddenly her face blanched. Where was Marble? Was she all right?
The gas probably wouldn't have hurt her, being as close to the ground as she was. If she wasn't in the house, the best way to find her would be the tracking collar. Arabeth had been meaning to extend the range on it, but had never gotten to it. Now, with the way things were going, she regretted that. Had she even put the collar back on her?
Arabeth took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she unlatched the lab door.
"Do you need a painkiller?" Hicks asked. "How can I help?"
"I haven't seen Marble."
"She's probably napping. It's her second-favourite activity." Sam walked over and pushed the lab door open the rest of the way.
"That's not true." But it was close.
Marble wasn't in the lab. The little door she used wouldn't have let much gas in, but she had to go through the main house to get outside.
Stopping, Arabeth did several jumping jacks to get both blood and oxygen rushing.
She went the rest of the way inside to the table and quickly grabbed up the parts of the remaining transmitter, as well as her tool belt. She would finish it at Betsy's house. No one would think to look for her there, and if her parents owned it anyway, it was fair game. Mr. Jacobs was still there, but if she remembered right, he and Hicks had an agreement. She wasn't sure what it was, and frankly, she didn't care.
No. She needed to find Clement first. Frustrated, she sat down and grabbed a pencil and paper. Until she was thinking clearly again, she needed a written list, even if it was only a few items long.
"If that's a parts list, you're going to have to come with me. I'm not leaving you here alone again," Hicks said.
Arabeth shook her head. She didn't want to explain, but he'd get more worried if she didn't. Standing, she went out to the kitchen chair where she last remembered seeing the bottle. It still sat there, stoppered with her sleeve cuff. She hesitated to touch it, thinking gas may have settled on the outside. She pulled her intact sleeve down over her hand and picked it up that way. She pulled a paper bag out of a drawer and slid the bottle in.
There was no point in wondering how the person who gassed her got in. Most locks only kept honest people out. This type of gas may or may not be common, but she needed to know what she was dealing with.
"Tell me what you're thinking," Hicks said, worried.
"The apothecary can test this and tell me how to recover. I'm still having trouble thinking straight." She desperately hoped it wasn't long-term damage.
Sam walked to her and took her shoulders in his hands, looking closely into her eyes.
"I want you to blink as rapidly as you can for ten seconds."
She did, but felt a little foolish. "Testing to see just how slow I am, are you?"
He nodded. "Do you have a small candle, or only lanterns?"
"I'll be fine. It was just a knock-out gas, I'm sure." She tucked the bottle into her satchel.
"Are you fine, otherwise?"
She paused, slowly getting his meaning. "Yes. I wasn't quite unconscious when he left, but I couldn't resist when he took the device. I never felt any personal danger."
"You are missing the point."
As his line of thinking started to become clearer to her,
she felt weak again. What if that had been someone with rougher intent? Her hands started to shake, so she folded her fingers together to hide it.
"That does narrow our suspect list, and if you say it was Clement, then he's our first target," Sam said.
She busied herself with packing her satchel, including a pile of food and snacks for Marble. It always amazed her how much this satchel could hold, as though there was an invisible extension to it.
If she thought about the hazards ahead, she might back out. She couldn't. Not now. Melanie was at his mercy, more than she was.
As if the satchel packing were her cue, Marble appeared, seemingly from thin air.
"Never one to miss an adventure, are you?" Arabeth leaned down and rubbed Marble's head, relieved to see she was fine. When she leaned, Marble leapt up, catching her front legs over Arabeth's shoulder—her way of communicating that she wanted to be picked up. Apparently the fox had been worried as well.
Clean and wet, Marble must have had a swim in the stream behind the house.
"Do you know a locksmith I can trust?" She held Marble close, burying her nose in the little fox's fur a moment before looking at Hicks.
"Not in this city … but I do know a guy."
"Good, let's send a messenger. I want these locks changed as soon as humanly possible."
"Would it be better to make your own?"
"I'm no locksmith." She shrugged. "And I don't have time right now."
"You need to see a doctor."
"I'm fine, really." She set Marble back on the floor and gave her some dried meat from her bag.
"I want you to get checked out," Sam insisted.
"After. I will after we find out if Melanie is in danger, and after we get my device back."
"That's a lot of 'afters.'"
She went to the door and pulled her boots up.
"Arabeth, stop." Hicks’s jaw clenched. "You can't go after him."
"Why not?"
"Aside from the obvious, he's not working alone. You can't go storming into a military facility to retrieve a toy."
Arabeth stood back, blinking like she'd just been slapped. Did he really think she was that stupid? Toy? It may have come together easily, but the device she’d made was by no means minor, or a toy.