The Final Gambit

by Christopher Healy

  Your family? No, Emmett was their family. And having him along could mean the difference between success and failure in breaking their friends out of Sing Sing. Her mother should know that. Heck, Emmett should know that himself. Why wasn’t he speaking up? Was no one on her side? She exhaled, her shoulders crumpling.

  “I will go with you, Molly,” said Robot.

  “Actually, Robot, you should stay here with the Lees,” Cassandra said. “Conserve what’s left of your space rock until we get Margaret and Hertha to examine you.”

  Robot’s neck creaked as his head swiveled to Molly. “It is okay, Molly,” he said. “We will have more adventures together soon.”

  Molly nodded, while her mother sorted through the items in her bag. From the corner, Emmett looked over to her with eyes that said, I’m sorry. Or maybe they said, You’re making a mistake. Or I’m worried about you. Molly looked away before the pangs in her heart grew too strong. She’d always known what Emmett was saying with his looks. Always. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing that connection.

  “Ready, Molls?” her mother asked, knocking several books off a shelf as she strapped a bag to her back.

  “Yeah,” she said. “So, what’s the plan?”

  “Sing Sing is up the Hudson River,” Cassandra replied. “First thing we do is head back to the ferry port and get our hands on a boat.”

  Molly nodded. “And once we get to the prison?”

  “We’ll figure that bit on the way,” her mother replied. “It’s a long trip; what else are we going to talk about? Emmett, dear, would it be all right if I borrowed the crank mechanism from your candle-lighting fire-setting gizmo?”

  “I suppose so,” Emmett said, though he couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact. “I don’t think I’m going to use it anymore.”

  “Wonderful.” Cassandra took a moment to disassemble Emmett’s machine and stuff the pieces in her bag. Then she crawled forward and opened the door. “Let’s do this, Molls. Peppers never quit, right?”

  Except her mother had just quit. She avoided Emmett’s eyes as she followed her mother into the night.

  8

  Up the River

  THE DOCKS AT the end of Barrow Street were eerily quiet at two a.m. on a cold winter night. But at least Thomas Edison’s new electric streetlights allowed Molly and Cassandra to see what they were doing as Cassandra reconfigured Emmett’s machine into a clockwork auto-paddler that would propel the rowboat they planned to “borrow.” Of course, the lamps also put them on display for any passersby. Which is why Molly kept lookout, crouching next to her mother in the small craft, peering out at the snow-dusted piers and the bobbing boats tied to them. Every so often the clip-clopping of a horse’s hooves could be heard in the distance and the Peppers would duck and hide until the sound was gone.

  “Are you almost done, Mother? Someone’s going to spot us eventually. And it’s cold.”

  “It’ll take as long as it takes, Molls,” Cassandra responded, bolting metallic gears to the oarlocks. “Unless you’d rather row us upstream by hand? Hold this piece still for me, would you?”

  Molly did what her mother asked. “Things would be going much faster if Emmett were here to help.”

  “You’re not the only one disappointed with the way things turned out, you know,” her mother said. There was an edge to her voice that surprised Molly.

  “Then why didn’t you fight for Emmett?” Molly asked.

  “Because it’s his decision, Molls,” Cassandra said, her voice softening. “If Emmett wants to stay with his father, I can’t, in good conscience, tell him not to. Nor can I blame Wendell for wanting to keep his son out of trouble. Perhaps you’ll understand if you become a parent someday. Pass me that wrench.”

  “I can understand why Captain Lee wants to keep Emmett. Emmett’s great,” Molly said. “But why would Emmett want to stay with him? Captain Lee won’t let him do anything. He has no idea what Emmett’s capable of or what he’s been through in the past few years. He still thinks of his son as the quiet, cowering boy he left behind when he set sail for the South Pole. We know the real Emmett. We’re the fun family! We’re the family Emmett wants to be with.”

  “Have you considered that maybe Emmett wants both?” Cassandra asked while tightening a bolt.

  “Yeah, well, that’s not gonna happen.” Molly slumped. She watched her mother at work, twisting screwdrivers and fastening clamps with impressive speed and skill. If Emmett didn’t want to be this amazing woman’s apprentice, that was his loss. “You know what? Who needs Emmett and his captain?” She puffed out her chest and held her head high, trying hard to embody the feeling she wanted to have at that moment. “The Pepper ladies are back on their own, just like the old days! I was your assistant for years before Emmett came along. We’re just returning to the natural order of things. Peppers don’t need anyone! Isn’t that right, Mother?”

  “Absolutely,” said Cassandra. “Even though we are on a mission with the express purpose of finding people to help us.”

  “The MOI don’t count. They’re the best,” Molly said. “I haven’t wanted to make a big fuss about it, Mother, but I’m thrilled that you’re finally open to working with those other women.” In the past, Cassandra had always been reluctant to accept help from Hertha and her crew. And she’d refused multiple invitations to join the Mothers of Invention. Molly knew her mother was jealous of what she saw as Hertha’s privileged access to advanced lab equipment and a university education. So she was heartened by her mother’s apparent change of heart. Because the Mothers of Invention were some of the most amazing people Molly had ever met.

  Hertha Marks, the group’s unofficial leader, was a genius from overseas who was full of groundbreaking ideas about energy and had been perfecting her own style of electric light bulbs independent of Edison. But there was also Mary Walton, a kindly-seeming older woman with a hidden tough side who was always seeking ways to make her inventions (and others’) better for the Earth’s environment. And Josephine Cochrane, the etiquette-obsessed, frilly-dressed socialite who only liked to put down her teacup if she could pick up a wrench. Sarah Goode was an endlessly optimistic young woman from Chicago with a knack for building big things that folded into smaller things and was constantly working toward her goal of earning a US patent, which would make her the first Black woman to do so. And speaking of constantly working, there was the final member of the MOI, Margaret Knight, who already had hundreds of inventions to her name and seemed to be able to create new, brilliant contraptions by the minute. If anyone could fix Robot and puzzle the Peppers out of their legal predicament, it was these ladies. They just had to free them first.

  “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, Molls.” Cassandra paused in her work and looked up at Molly. “As soon as we free the MOI, I’m going to tell them I’m ready to accept their invitation. Well, maybe not as soon as we free them. I’ll probably wait until we’re a safe distance from the prison and don’t have guards chasing us or anything. But I’m going to do it, Molls. I’m going to become a Mother of Invention.”

  Molly gave her a squeeze. “It’s about time!”

  “Well, you can thank Bell and Edison,” her mother replied. “I’ve been resistant to joining the MOI because, for so long now, I’ve had my heart set on becoming the first woman to join the Inventors’ Guild. But after Bell and Edison went back on their promise to make that happen, I realized I’ve been banking on a dream that relies on the goodwill of powerful men. I want to make history, but I’ve been putting my destiny in the hands of others. The Mothers of Invention are at least trying to take matters under their own control, trying to create their own futures. It’s more work, but I suppose the bigger the change you want, the more effort you need to put in.”

  Molly wiped a tear from her cheek. Her mother was right. Hertha had formed the Mothers as a way for female inventors to pool their talents and lift one another up in an industry dominated by the all-male Inventors’ Guild. Without that kind of he
lp, what difference did it make if the Peppers cleared their names or not? They’d still have no future.

  “I am very proud of you, Mother. And I will be very proud to be your assistant once again.”

  “Excellent.” Cassandra untied the rowboat. “Shall we go gather our team?” Molly nodded and rowed them out beyond the pier, grunting and struggling as she entered the powerful current of the Hudson River. Then Cassandra cranked up her auto-paddler and let its spring-powered clockwork arms take over the rowing duties. Soon they were chugging upriver at a steady but by no means rapid pace.

  “This is going to take a while, isn’t it?” Molly said. Droplets of icy water splashed into the boat and she shivered, pulling her coat tighter.

  “It’s not the speediest moto-thingie I’ve ever built, but it gets the job done,” Cassandra said, admiring her impromptu machine.

  “You know what? You’re right,” Molly said. “Who cares if a one-legged chicken could outpace us? This is a necessary step on our quest for historical significance and—oh, drat! Mother, look behind you!”

  Another rowboat was headed in their direction, with two shadowy figures seated within. Away from the glow of the streetlights, Molly couldn’t tell if they were wearing police uniforms.

  “Could be a coincidence,” Cassandra said, trying to sound unbothered. “Just another family out for a midnight row on the Hudson. Not after us at all.”

  “Stop!” someone yelled from the other boat.

  “Okay, well, we’ve got a Patented Pepper Auto-Paddler,” said Cassandra. “And they don’t.”

  “Which may be why they’re moving faster than us,” Molly said bluntly. She glanced back at their pursuers. A thick-shouldered man was rowing vigorously, his powerful arm thrusting the small craft against the current at a surprising velocity. His smaller partner leaned forward in the bow of their little boat, calling once more for the Peppers to stop.

  “Okay, this clockwork motor can’t go any faster, but maybe we can if we paddle by hand like those guys,” Molly said. She tried to grab the oars, but they wouldn’t stop moving and rapped against her knuckles. “Ow! How do I turn it off?”

  “It’s a wind-up motor,” Cassandra said. “It stops when it’s unwound.”

  “Bother beans.” Molly slumped in her seat. This was exactly the kind of problem that could have been solved with better planning. She could practically hear Emmett’s voice scolding her in her head. No, wait—it wasn’t in her head. That was Emmett’s voice.

  “Molly, stop! Wait for us!”

  The other boat was just ten yards behind them now and Molly could see it was Captain Lee manning the oars. Emmett stood in the bow, waving his arms wildly overhead. Molly stood as well, nearly tipping their boat in the process. Her mother caught her and helped her regain her balance.

  “You came!” Molly shouted. “Oh, thank goodness! I did not want to be my mother’s assistant again! No offense, Mother. Everything else I said was a hundred percent true.”

  “Why—huff—won’t you—huff—stop?” Captain Lee panted as he struggled to keep his boat close to theirs.

  “Clockwork motor,” said Cassandra. “We need to wait for it to wind down.”

  “Why don’t you guys just climb in with us?” Molly suggested.

  “We didn’t come to join you,” Emmett said, crouching to keep from falling over. “We’re here to stop you from making a terrible mistake.”

  Molly was tempted to reach across and knock her friend straight into the water. “Are you serious? It’s not bad enough that you refused to help us? Now you chase us down just to keep yelling at us? Why can’t you—”

  “Molly, listen!” Emmett cried. “The MOI aren’t in Sing Sing!”

  “What?” Cassandra burst out. “Where are they, then?”

  “Nowhere!” Emmett shouted. “Well, somewhere. But not in jail! They’ve escaped!” He waved a newspaper in his hand. “It’s from late October. The five women arrested on South Street vanished from Sing Sing! They got themselves out!”

  “For real?” Molly asked. “Let me see.” She reached out and Emmett stretched to hand the paper to her.

  “Get closer, Papa!”

  “Can’t we—huff—do this—huff—on shore?”

  With Cassandra holding her waist, Molly stretched far enough between the boats to catch the newspaper between her fingertips and pull it over to her. “Pah! It’s too dark to read!”

  “Trust me, Molly,” Emmett said. “The MOI are not in Sing Sing anymore.”

  “Those women really are quite impressive,” Cassandra said with admiration.

  Emmett waved a second paper. “And we know they haven’t been recaptured, because this issue from just last week says the Sing Sing fugitives are still at large.”

  “They don’t—huff—need to see—huff—that one!”

  “It’s okay, we believe you,” Molly said. She wanted to kick herself. Of course the MOI didn’t need her. They were geniuses. They were more than capable of taking care of themselves. Not only had they escaped from one of the country’s most secure penitentiaries, but they’d apparently managed to hide themselves well enough to evade capture for several months now. And if the Feds couldn’t find them, what hope did the Peppers have of doing so? They were on their own yet again . . . No! They weren’t.

  “You came for us,” she said to Emmett. “You had our backs.”

  “Of course,” he replied. “My father and I just needed some time to talk things through. Alone. There haven’t been many opportunities for alone time lately.”

  “Tell me about it.” Molly couldn’t help but smile.

  “Wonderful,” said Captain Lee. “Huff—now that—huff—we are all friends again—huff—can we please go to shore?” Even in the dark, Molly could see the veins bulging in his head.

  “Oh! Yeah, sorry!” Molly said. Cassandra began angling their boat toward a small dock farther up the river. Captain Lee sighed with relief. “Hey,” Molly asked as the question dawned on her, “where’d you get your boat?”

  “We, uh, ‘borrowed’ it from a dock back there,” Emmett said. “I promised my father we’d return it.”

  “Still can’t believe—huff—I let you—huff—talk me into that,” Captain Lee puffed. “Peppers are—huff—bad influences.”

  Molly tried not to let the captain hear her snickering. But then she heard something that stopped her laughing altogether.

  “Stop in the name of the law!” The voice was loud, easily heard over the rush of the water and the churning of Cassandra’s clockwork motor. They all turned to see two more rowboats paddling up the river in their direction. A tall man in a long coat stood at the bow of one, holding a megaphone.

  “Perhaps they’re talking to some other boat?” Cassandra said hopefully.

  “Emmett Lee! Wendell Lee! This is Agent Clark of federal law enforcement. I hereby command you to dock your vessel and relinquish yourselves into our custody!” Officers in both police boats paddled vigorously, rapidly decreasing the distance between them and their quarry. Captain Lee, on the other hand, had pooped himself out, and Cassandra’s motor, which had never been exceptionally fast to begin with, was finally beginning to wind down.

  “No! How did they find us?” Molly blurted. “I mean, um, Emmett who?”

  “Too late for that,” Agent Clark said through the megaphone. “A witness reported two men stealing a rowboat from the Barrow Street pier. Their descriptions matched those of Captain Lee and his son, so I was notified immediately. Molly Pepper and Cassandra Pepper, I did not expect to find you here, but you are under arrest as well,” said Agent Clark. “Stop your boat immediately and await apprehension.”

  “I told you we were going to get caught,” Captain Lee grunted, rowing harder toward the docks.

  “You’re the one who got caught!” Molly said. “You got seen stealing your boat; we stole ours with no problem!”

  “The young lady is correct,” said Clark. The tall, sandy-haired agent used his free hand to
hold his black bowler hat on his head in the chill river breeze. “Although now that you’ve admitted to theft as well, Miss Pepper, we will add that to the list of crimes on your arrest warrant.”

  “Bother beans!”

  “Stop your boats!” Clark commanded. “This is your final warning!”

  With the commotion caused by four sets of oars, the frigid river grew rough around the tiny crafts. The federal agents were close enough now for Molly to make out their faces in the dim starlight. Clark’s expression was grim, his jaw set, his mouth a flat line. He looked far more mechanical than Robot ever did.

  “Apologies, Mr. Clark, but this boat is powered by a Patented Pepper Auto-Paddler,” Cassandra called across the choppy water. “If you could be patient for a moment, I’ll need to find the off switch!” She bent over the machine and whispered to Molly, “Jump to the other boat.”

  Molly’s eyes grew wide with skepticism. But her mother’s firm nod was all she needed to trust her. “Catch me!” she called to the Lees. “I can’t swim!”

  Molly swung her right foot out and took one giant step into the other rowboat. She felt an icy sting as her left foot hit the water, but Emmett, startled into action, grabbed her arms and pulled her all the way onto his seat with him.

  “What are you doing?” cried both Captain Lee and Agent Clark.

  “Escaping,” Molly hissed softly. “Just go with it!”

  “Remain in your own vessel,” the federal agent called.

  “Whoops! Sorry, sorry,” Cassandra shouted as she leaned on the rudder and steered her boat in a wide loop around Captain Lee’s, cutting within inches of the other craft.

  “You’re going to crash!” the captain warned.

  “Yes, but not into you,” said Cassandra. She overwound the crank, almost to the point of snapping, then stood and leapt across to the bow of the Lees’ little boat. The craft rocked perilously as she landed. Cassandra cut off the captain’s objections with, “Paddle, paddle, paddle!”

  Captain Lee pumped his arms as hard as he could, while behind them, they heard the concerned shouting of government agents who now had an empty rowboat bouncing across the waves straight at them.