The Sensaurum and the Lexis

by Richard Dee

  “No matter,” Jessamine said, “we will take your word. This is all a new venture for the Ladies, we are more usually acting as the introductor.”

  “If I may, the most important part for us is the number of units you would require. As you might have noticed, we are running at near capacity making limbs, how many pieces are you thinking of ordering?”

  “That would depend on the price, due to the funds we have. It would not be a large number to begin with. Initially, we would like a sample piece, say an arm or a lower leg, to inspect and practise on.”

  “Then that is perfect, I’m considering increasing production by starting a night shift.”

  More valuable information.

  The door flew open and a badly dressed man entered. “Rodney,” he gasped, “I need to speak with you, there is a problem with the Sens—”

  Rodney went pale and stood. “Do not barge in here, I have important visitors, now get back to your bench, I will attend to your concerns later.”

  The man left and Rodney relaxed. “Pardon him, he manages the final assembly and gets excited about every little mishap. If you will excuse me.” He stood. “The Prosthesium Company will be delighted to work with the Ladies,” he said. “I hope today has been edifying, please let us know your requirements and we will be happy to help you, we can arrange for samples to be supplied. My secretary will show you out.”

  It seemed a hurried dismissal but Jackson and Jessamine had no time to discuss it. The woman from the desk led them to the stairs. “I will take you to the gate,” she said.

  “Who was that man, the one who burst in? He seemed to unsettle Mr Nethersole.”

  “We call him the Professor,” she said with a giggle. “He’s a strange man. He works in the corner room; on the top floor, doing goodness knows what, his project is known as the Sensaurum, as if that word means anything. We seldom see hide nor hair of him for days, he comes and goes down the back stairs.”

  They reached the yard. “I must use the facilities,” said Jackson.

  The woman nodded. “Can I leave you to make your way out? Hand in your passes at the gate.” She left them.

  “There is a lot to tell Fairview already,” Jackson said. “The top floor corner room, that gives me four to search. I have a way up,” he pointed the fire escape, “now I will go and meet Harrison, safe journey and I’ll see you later, by the tree.”

  Jessamine pecked him on the cheek. “Good luck, husband,” she said. “Now away with you. Get in there before someone notices us loitering.”

  Jackson went to the room, which was deserted. He looked around. Where was he? “Harrison,” he called. A man swung down from the rafters, dressed all in black. He pulled his cap off.

  “Hello, Jackson,” he said. “I was hidden aloft, there is a space.”

  Jackson pulled off his hat and extracted his pack. His jacket followed. Harrison did the same and they exchanged. The jacket he received was snug but cut so that he could reach his belt. Jackson handed Harrison the hat, he put the yellow waistcoat on. Now he was a replica of Jackson, enough to pass casual inspection. “Jessamine is outside, she has your pass.”

  “Good hunting,” said Harrison and left. Jackson jumped up into the rafters and found the alcove that Harrison had described. He settled down to wait till evening, he had lots to plan. He had spotted the side door to the assembly rooms that he used to use, it would be easier and quieter to get in that way, he would avoid the main entrance. And he could check the rooms at the side, where Rodney had said that repairs and testing took place. He had a clue as well; anything he could find about this mysterious Sensaurum would be useful.

  Chapter 13

  Jackson must have fallen into a doze; he awoke to the sounds of men coming into the changing rooms. There was banter and the sound of running water, then, after several minutes, silence. The shift had ended, the factory would now be quiet. Jackson carefully dropped down to the floor and locked himself in a cubicle. He pulled on the hat from his pack and unrolled it, covering his face, leaving a small slit for his eyes. The climbing gloves went onto his fingers. He put his pack on his back, checked his truncheons were accessible and bent down to peer under the door of the cubicle. Seeing no feet, he cautiously opened the door. The room was deserted. Jackson crept from the building. Outside, the yard was in semi-darkness, lit by gas floodlights which created dark shadows. Jackson kept to the darkness as much as he could until he had reached the side entrance to the factory.

  The lock proved no barrier to his tools and once inside he locked the door again and set off, weaving through the machines, idle now, although the drive shaft still spun. He tried the first of the doors, unlocked. Jackson found himself in the repair workshop, several arms and legs were laid out on the benches, where they were being worked on. Jackson peered inside each, using his new torch, set to a dim beam. A squeeze of the handle gave enough illumination to see if the extra piece had been fitted. In all cases it was either present or a place had been made for it. He saw a rack of the metal cartridges at the end of one bench. He grabbed two of them and placed them in a pocket. They might prove useful to Oswald.

  He looked around for any notes or drawings that might give a clue as to the workings of the cartridge but could find none. Conscious of the need for haste, he went to the second room. This was dominated by a huge contraption of brass and steel, featuring four protuberances, shaped like a stump of arm or leg. They must be for attaching limbs for testing, thought Jackson. On the other side of the machine were gauges and dials, presumably showing the results of the tests. Again, Jackson searched for papers, there were drawers in a desk but on opening them, nothing except pencils and stationery was inside.

  He had to move quickly, lest he be spotted. He left the rooms and headed for the stairs. The corner room the secretary had said; he ignored the floor with Rodney’s office and went straight to the top floor.

  As he arrived he heard a sound, someone was coming along the passageway, in a second or two they would meet. Jackson was by a door, to his relief it opened and he quickly went inside. The room was lit by a single gas lamp hanging from the ceiling. He was in some sort of archive, there were papers relating to the Prosthesium, going back years. Jackson wondered if there was anything about his parents. He started to take more notice of the labels on the cabinets, looking for the records from the time of the accident.

  He found the drawer relating to the year and hunted. Then he realised, time was passing and he had not achieved his real purpose. He was about to shut the drawer when he spotted a folder that was newer than the rest. He pulled it out; it was headed Sensaurum and Lexis. He opened it; the words were in some sort of code, a meaningless jumble of letters and numbers. He pushed it into the large pocket on the inside of his jacket and, as he was about to shut the cabinet, he saw another, dislodged by his searching. It was old and thinner, it was the report of the investigation into the fatal accident that had killed his parents and so many others. That folder followed the first. He considered leaving the room by the corridor but he had heard the footsteps several times while he had been searching, maybe there was a regular patrol. He would be best using the window.

  ~~~~

  He opened the window as quietly as he could, checked his gloves and clicked his boots. The wall was in darkness, with his black attire he would be hard to spot, nobody would be watching for a man clinging to the walls. To his left was the fire escape, a framework ladder with handrails connecting all the floors. He made for it, clambered over the railings and rested for a moment on the platform. He was surprised to find his breathing was not laboured, he had become so much fitter in the last few months. He did not feel fear, only elation, his mind was working quickly and automatically to analyse all he could see and hear. Leaving the platform and attaching himself to the wall again, he started to move sideways towards the windows. The first two rooms were in darkness and he moved on to the third. At least that was lit.

  The window glass of this room was smeared with soo
t and grime, he could see at least two figures, but it was impossible to make out who they were. One voice he recognised as Rodney’s, who he was talking to was uncertain.

  “Well, do you have more of them finished?” Rodney asked. The reply was a muffled “Yes” “And the control for these? Is it the same?” was asked.

  He was prevented from hearing the reply by the sound of a large vehicle coming into the yard. He tensed as the light from its passing washed over him, but there were no shouts to indicate that he had been discovered.

  When he returned from the shadows to peer again through the grimy window, Jackson found a clear corner in one of the panes. Through it, he could see a lone figure, bent over a white bench. In contrast to the window, the inside of the room gleamed with cleanliness, the white surfaces screamed of sterility. The man stood upright, it was he who had burst in, the one the secretary called the Professor. Jackson saw that he was working on a thin white object, looking like a small length of rope. It was held in the jaws of a clamp at each end, sagging slightly in the middle. Behind him, hung on the wall, was a row of wooden boxes, festooned with wires and switches. They appeared to have things like speaker trumpets fixed to them, could they be a communication system? wondered Jackson.

  The man straightened up and crossed the room toward him; Jackson moved his head away from the window, lest he be spotted. When he risked a look back, the man’s face was mere inches from his. He saw his expression change to one of surprise and his mouth opened. “Alarm!” he heard him shout.

  Jackson shrank away, into the shadows. Now he had been discovered he had to move quickly to get outside the main gate before he was captured. He turned around and moved to one side of the window frame as behind him, he heard the window open. “There he is!” the shout went up as he climbed quickly to the gutter, over it and onto the flat roof. He stood and picked his way between the chimney pots. Some were hot to the touch; he almost lost his balance as he threaded his way between them.

  Lights pierced the gloom. He could hear his pursuers and risked a glance over his shoulder. It nearly cost him, he blundered into a chimney stack, hot from the fumes it carried. He recoiled and teetered on the edge of a steep drop, windmilling his arms. He regained balance and set off again. They were closer now and he heard the sharp hiss of a gas-gun, felt the wind of a projectile and heard the smack as it chipped fragments from the brick by his ear.

  Then he was at the edge. He skidded to a halt. The next building was twenty feet away, too far to jump. “Got him now,” a rough voice called. “Rodney will want to ask him a few things.”

  Jackson turned to face his attackers; he tapped his boots, heel on toe, and heard them click. His gloves were on. He smiled.

  “Hands above your head and walk towards us,” the leader said. Now they had come into the light, Jackson could see that there were four of them, all out of breath, brandishing gas-pistols. What would they think? he wondered as he took a deep breath and stepped backwards.

  As he fell, he heard shouts. He pushed his hands out and the gloves gripped the bricks, arresting his fall. He kicked and took the weight on his legs, his arms felt like they had been wrenched out of their sockets, but his fall had stopped.

  He was in shadow, fifteen feet above him there was consternation. “He jumped,” said one. “No chance he’ll be alive after that,” another called. “Stay here, Nathen, the rest of you, back to the yard, let’s make sure he’s dead.”

  Jackson moved sideways, away from where they would be peering over the edge and started to descend, making as little noise as possible.

  He reached solid ground and stood for a moment, flexing his shoulders, glad of the training, and the extra food. Now all he had to do was get over the outside wall and to the tree. The bigger problem would be in explaining to Langdon what had gone wrong. Perhaps what he had would be enough?

  He hid in the shadows as the men arrived and watched as their lamps lit up the place where his body should be.

  “Is this the place?” the leader said. “I can see no body.”

  “It is,” replied another. “Look.” He pointed and following his hand, Jackson could see the man on the roof, peering over the edge.

  “Then where is he? There’s no body, no blood and no marks. He can’t have flown away. Look around.” Two of them walked off, in opposite directions, fortunately not towards Jackson, leaving one man scratching his head. As he watched him, the man from the laboratorium came out of the door.

  “Winstanley,” he said, “have you found him?”

  “No, sir,” replied the searcher. “We’re looking but I don’t understand why he is not spread all over the ground here.” So that was Winstanley, he looked a giant of a man, although most of his bulk was around his middle. Still, if he got close enough, he could do you harm. Jack pulled the truncheons from his pockets, held them ready to snap open in an instant, should he be discovered.

  “He must have some device to climb the walls, ’less he jumped down onto some ledge.”

  Just then the main gas lamps came on, the whole yard was bathed in blueish light. It was plain that the wall was devoid of any such place.

  In the hubbub, Nethersole appeared. “Well, Winstanley,” he said, “don’t just stand here, get away with the others, keep looking, I wish to speak to the Professor for a moment.”

  Jackson stayed where he was, perhaps he could salvage something from the night. If he could get information from this conversation, maybe a name for the Professor, it would be something more to report. Langdon had been right, there was a scientist working here.

  To his delight, Rodney and the Professor moved closer to his hiding place. Rodney placed his arm around the Professor’s shoulder and leaned close to him.

  “Did the man see what you were doing?”

  “I don’t know, Rodney,” the Professor admitted, as Jackson crept closer.

  “I can’t afford to take this risk, he might be a competitor of mine, of yours, a government agent. He could be anybody, who knows his skills? Tell me, Aldithley, did he see the Sensaurum?”

  There was the word again, together with the name Aldithley and the folder he had found, it could prove to be worth today’s escapades. He had to get out to share the information. As he watched, Rodney grabbed the Professor. It was plain that they were not equals in their relationship.

  “He may have,” said the man now shaking with fear as Rodney gripped him tighter, “but how would he know what it was, or what it could do?”

  “We had better hope, for your sake, that he did not. If the wrong person hears the words, who knows what might befall us all.”

  Still talking, they moved away. It was impossible for Jackson to follow unseen. He had good intelligence for Langdon, it was best to get away with it. Keeping to the shadows, he headed away from the searchers. His target was the boundary wall by the big tree and safety. Fairview should be waiting outside. As he sat on top of the wall; he breathed a sigh of relief. The mobile was parked, exactly where promised. Fairview stood outside, leaning on a cane. He could see Jessamine sitting inside the mobile, she was safe.

  “I heard shouts,” he said as Jackson joined him on the ground. “Were there any problems?”

  “I was spotted,” admitted Jackson, “but not recognised. I have the information that we need.”

  ~~~~

  “What does it mean?” wondered Langdon. “If only you had heard the rest.”

  They were sitting in the underground room. Langdon had been waiting for their return. Jackson was anointing his scraped knees with a salve from Mrs Grimble’s cupboard and longing for a soak in hot water. Jessamine was also there, she had been waiting for him under the tree, together with Fairview and the mobile, when he had climbed the wall. To his surprise, she had driven it back to the orphanage herself, was there no end to her talents?

  Under questioning, Jackson revealed what had transpired once Jessamine had left.

  “You have done well, leave it with me, Jackson,” Langdon said. “After
their meeting, Alyious and Vyner have spent the day searching out those who had once worked with Woolon. They have one unaccounted for, Aldithley, who left under a cloud, thinking himself wronged. It would appear we have our man, the name of the project he is working on. Now I have an easy task. Tomorrow I will get my answers from Woolon. For now, you must rest; you are excused work in the morning, sleep till luncheon and recover.”

  Jackson remembered his haul. “I have these too,” he said, pulling the objects and the papers from his pocket, all except the report on the accident. That was for his viewing alone. “The report seems to be in some sort of code.”

  Langdon took them. “Well done,” he said. “Codes mean secrets. I will pass them to Oswald, see what he makes of them.”

  Jackson hid the folder under his clothes in the chest. He would look at it when he felt more able to concentrate, now he needed to sleep.

  Chapter 14

  When Jackson awoke, it was near luncheon. He had slept well and felt refreshed. After washing and dressing, he made his way to the classroom, to find everyone else assembled. “We have everyone here now,” said Fairview. “Are you rested, Jackson?”

  “I am,” he replied, sitting next to Jessamine. “Was I late?”

  “No, we have only just convened, we are about to hear of Mr Winstanley’s foibles from Mularky and Winifred.” Winstanley, that was the man Jackson had almost met on the roof, and later in the yard.

  “Winstanley is a brute of a man,” said Winifred, a slight girl with short fair hair and a piercing stare. “A criminal with no qualifications, he is unlikely to be associated with the likes of Nethersole in any way save the illegal.”

  “He frequents the roughest ale houses and consorts with criminals,” added Mularky. Unlike Winifred, he was huge, with an adult’s body. “He also appears to be engaged in the trafficking of pressed workers. Every week, a charabanc full of the people he has pressed leaves the city. Bound for Hammerham and the Nethersole estate.”