“Separate, men! Separate!” Agent Clark commanded. But the men paddling the police boats were too startled to react in time and the runaway rowboat knocked into both other crafts. Agent Clark fell onto his bottom and the rowers lost their grips on the oars.
“Yes!” Molly cried. “Keep going! We’re almost to that dock!”
But Captain Lee paused and looked over his shoulder. “Those men could die in water that cold,” he said.
“No one fell in, see?” Emmett assured him. “They’re just discombobulated.”
“Excellent,” Cassandra added. “Then let’s get back on land before they re-combobulate!”
Captain Lee brought the rowboat to the nearest pier and they all scrambled out. “This is not where we found this boat,” the captain said.
“I’m sure the police will get it back to where it belongs,” Molly said. She and her mother were already running east, trying to get as far from the wharf as possible before the agents reached land.
“Come on, Papa.” Emmett took his father’s hand and rushed to follow.
“That was the most reckless thing I’ve ever seen,” Captain Lee said, sixty minutes and thirty blocks later, when the quartet finally felt safe enough to slow down and walk at a normal pace. “And that’s coming from a man who once crossed a purple lake on a giant eel.”
“Which part?” Molly asked.
“It’s hard to tell with an eel,” said the captain. “But I assumed I was on its back.”
“No, I mean which part of this was most reckless?” Molly asked. “The part where we jumped between boats or the part where my mother used her boat as a weapon? Or did you mean the whole stealing boats thing in general? Because frankly, none of it felt as reckless as climbing the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s a shame you weren’t there for that.”
Captain Lee ran his fingers through his hair. “You people are going to be the end of us.”
“And yet you came to help us,” Cassandra said.
“I may not approve of all your choices,” said the captain, “but I will always be indebted to you for taking in Emmett when he had no one to care for him.”
“Well, thank you nonetheless,” said Cassandra. “Especially since we probably endangered the boy’s life more than—”
“Not helping.” Molly elbowed her mother.
As they neared the ash dump, they passed fewer and fewer electric streetlights. They could no longer see the tiny snow crystals whirling in the lamplight. Fewer of the thin brick tenements they passed had candles in the windows. Eventually the only sound, other than their footsteps, was that of the wind howling below elevated railway tracks.
“I can’t wait to tell Robot about all this,” Molly said after a time. “Was it hard to get him to stay behind?”
“We told him to guard our stuff,” Emmett said. Then he paused, a strange, distant look coming over him.
“Emmett, are you okay?” his father asked.
“Yeah . . . I was wondering whether Agent Clark knew about Robot or not and a thought occurred to me. How did he know about you, Papa? He said the witness’s descriptions matched the two of us. He called you by name. But he shouldn’t even know you’re alive. If you weren’t on the wanted list, why was Clark looking for you at all?”
“Bell,” Molly said somberly. “Alexander Graham Bell is definitely back by now. He must have told them everything.”
“Oh, that’s not good,” Emmett said with dread. “Bell knows a lot about us. What else might he have told Agent Clark?”
That’s when they passed under the train tracks and turned into the shadow-shrouded valleys of the east side ash dump. There, in the distance, they saw rising plumes of gray smoke.
All four took off at a full run, scrambling through a maze of black mounds. As they ran, they could feel heat growing on their skin and panic growing in their bellies. When they rounded the final mound into Emmett’s little clearing, they skidded to a stop and raised their arms to shield their faces from the flames.
The bookmobile was on fire.
9
Inferno!
“ROBOT’S IN THERE!” Molly screamed as they raced to the burning wagon. Flames lapped up the sides of the wooden coach and thick smoke billowed from the open doorway, from which jutted a blazing broomstick. A man lay in the dirt, just outside the bookmobile. He wore the same kind of long black coat as Agent Clark and his men, his lost bowler hat sitting in the dust a few feet away.
“Unconscious,” the captain reported, crouching to check the man’s pulse. “Big bruise on his forehead. Looks like Emmett’s trap took him out.”
“Never mind that guy! What about—”
Molly was cut off by a figure bursting out through the smoke. Robot carried a second unconscious agent draped across his outstretched arms.
“Robot! Thank goodness!” Molly cried. “I’d give you a hug, but you’re probably very hot right now.”
“It is okay. Aluminum cools very quickly,” Robot said in reply. “This man is not complaining.”
“Is he alive?” Cassandra asked.
“Indeed. He is in better condition than the bookmobile,” said Robot. “I am sorry, Emmett, I could not put out the fire this time.”
“It’s okay, Robot,” said Emmett. “We’re just glad you’re safe.”
But Molly could see the distress in the way Emmett held himself; his every muscle seemed painfully taut. “What happened?” she asked.
“This fellow knocked over one of the candle lamps while he was trying to abduct me,” Robot said. “He seemed to believe I was the property of Alexander Graham Bell.”
“Well, that cinches it,” Molly said bitterly, fuming at the cost of Bell’s latest betrayal. She looked around for some way to lessen the damage. “Maybe we can smother the fire with ash,” she suggested, scooping handfuls of soot from the nearest mound.
“It’s pointless, Molly,” Emmett said, the words catching in his throat. “The bookmobile is gone.”
As if to confirm Emmett’s statement, the wagon’s roof and walls collapsed inward.
“We should be gone too,” Cassandra said, her voice uncharacteristically shaky. “These are Clark’s men. If they know about this place, so does he.”
Captain Lee nodded. “Robot, please set that man down way over there, a safe distance from the fire,” he said. “Emmett, can you help me with this other fellow?”
As the Lees dragged the unconscious agent to safety, Molly opened her hands and let the black dust run through her fingers. Surprised to see the tracks of tears in the dirt on her mother’s face, Molly let Cassandra lean on her. Together, they watched the bookmobile burn. All those books . . . Emmett’s ingenious inventions . . . the home he’d built that had kept him safe for years . . . Soon it would all be just another heap of ash in the dump.
“Okay, they’re clear,” Emmett said once both knocked-out officers were flopped onto a soot mound many yards from the flames. “Let’s get out of here.”
“And go where?” Cassandra asked, her shoulders drooping. “We came here because we had nowhere else to go. And all of our things were in there.”
“Except the stuff we packed for the jailbreak,” Molly said, patting the bag strapped to her back.
“Well, no worries, then,” Cassandra said dryly. “We’ll just live on rope, hammers, and potato mashers.”
“Why did you pack potato mashers?” asked Emmett.
“That’s not the point!” Cassandra snapped. Then she closed her eyes, her cheeks reddening. “I’m sorry, Emmett. That was uncalled for. I’m just at the end of my rope.”
“I thought you just said we had rope in the bag,” said Robot.
“Metaphor, Robot,” Molly said glumly.
“Ah. Good one, Mrs. Pepper.”
“We will make do with whatever we have,” said Captain Lee.
“And whatever we don’t have, we’ll ‘borrow,’” Molly said, making air quotes.
Her mother let out a loud sob. “I don’t want to have to steal th
ings,” she said. “I don’t want to have to run anymore. I don’t want to keep taking ridiculous risks because we have no alternatives. We’ve been doing it for so long. I just want us to be able to go home.”
Molly held her mother’s hand. “We can’t. It’s nighttime and Jasper said the nighttime guy is really good.”
“He is,” said a voice from behind them. “As am I.”
It was Agent Clark. The blond, granite-chinned agent stood in the valley between two tall mountains of ash with a pair of his colleagues flanking him. The badges on their lapels glinted in the flames as, together, the three men blocked off the only real escape route. Molly saw the others around her slump.
But she felt only anger.
“Where are my men?” Clark barked.
“They’re safe.” Captain Lee pointed to where they’d left the unconscious agents. “We got them away from the fire.”
“Which is more than your bowler-hat buddies did for the two hundred books in there!” Molly snapped. Emmett put a hand on her shoulder, as if he was afraid she might charge the federal agents. “So many books!” she continued. “I barely got to start reading A Tale of Two Cities! I don’t even know what the second city is yet! This is a— Hey, what are you writing?”
Agent Clark had pulled a small notepad from his coat pocket and was jotting something down. “I am adding arson and assaulting government officers to your list of crimes.”
“They did that to themselves!” Emmett protested. “We saved them!”
“Look there, Agent Clark!” One of the other agents pointed to Robot. “It’s Bell’s mechanical man! They do have it!”
Robot tried to hide behind Cassandra.
“I see it, Ross,” Clark said, opening his notepad again. “Aaaaaaaaand felony theft has now been added too.”
Robot stood and raised his hand. “Felony theft? You are in error,” he said. “They stole me, and I am not a felon. I am a Robot.”
“Not helping, Robot,” warned Emmett.
Robot nodded. “I will cease describing your crimes to the agents hoping to arrest you,” he said. “Perhaps instead I can—”
“Whatever it is, now is not the time,” Molly said. Despite the snow, sweat dripped down her forehead. Whether it was the pressure of their situation or the heat from the raging fire, she couldn’t be certain.
“Agent Clark,” said Captain Lee. “You seem like a reasonable man—”
“I am not,” said the agent. “Now, there are more of you than there are of us, so—”
“Sir, if you let us explain,” Emmett pleaded. “There’s a lot more going on here than you realize and—”
“You can explain anything you want to the judge,” Clark said with no sign of emotion. “Now, as I was saying, there are more—”
“Why are you so determined to put us behind bars?” Cassandra asked with desperation in her voice. “Last year you sent me to the asylum on Blackwell’s Island for attempting to assassinate the president—a crime which you now know I didn’t commit! After that, can’t you at least allow for the possibility that we don’t belong in jail this time either?”
“I am not above admitting my mistakes.” Clark flipped his pad around to show them the list he’d written. “See? No attempted assassination. I crossed that one out. But that still leaves evading arrest, breaking and entering, vandalism, violation of an executive order, illegal transit to Antarctica, theft of a nautical vehicle, arson, assaulting a government officer, and felony theft of an automaton. Now, as I was—”
“Is that all you’ve got?” Molly scoffed. “Because, wow, there is a whole bunch of stuff you’re missing. Riding a train without a ticket, impersonating an acrobat—”
“Molly!” Captain Lee snapped. “I fully believe you now about the vindictive nature of this Officer Clark. But with that in mind, do you really think we should be provoking—”
“It’s Agent Clark,” Clark corrected. “Not Officer.”
“Um, not to tell you how to do your job or anything, Agent Clark,” Emmett said, the heat at their backs growing stronger. “But shouldn’t one of you be getting word to the fire brigade?”
“There’ll be time enough for that after you four are in custody,” Clark replied. “Now, as I was saying—there are more of you than there are of us. We can’t risk one of you running off while we detain the others. So you’re going to have to cuff yourselves.” Clark gathered four sets of handcuffs from the other officers. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You people are going to stay right where you are. I am going to toss these cuffs to you and each of you is going to place one cuff on your own right wrist and one on the left wrist of the person next to you.”
Agent Clark threw the handcuffs. But they never reached the prisoners. All four sets stopped in mid-flight and hung suspended in the air.
“What is going on?” Clark muttered.
“Your prediction of what was going to happen was incorrect,” said Robot. His arms were outstretched and his aluminum body was humming, a dim orange glow seeping from behind his chest plate. Robot waved his hands and the iron cuffs reversed direction, flying back at the federal agents and clamping down wherever they hit. Wrists were chained to ankles, ankles to wrists. Robot swooshed his hands and the three agents’ limbs were tugged this way and that until the men became one huge human knot.
“This is going to complicate things,” Clark said. He was bent at an awkward angle, his head between his colleague’s knees.
With a flick of his metallic wrist, Robot sent Agent Clark and company rolling up the highest soot hill in the dump.
“I didn’t know he could do that.” Captain Lee gaped.
“He shouldn’t have!” Molly shouted. “Robot, are you crazy? Your Ambrosium!”
“I am sorry you are upset,” Robot said. “But I did not want you to go to jail and I saw a way to stop that from happening. I suggest we leave now, by the way.”
“You’re right,” Emmett said. “We can discuss your recklessness later, but right now, we need to go.”
“One second,” Molly said. She yanked Robot’s chest plate open without asking, something she’d never done before. He flinched—as much as a mechanical man can flinch—when she did it. But she needed to know. And now that she knew, she wished that she didn’t.
The little orange rock was no bigger than a domino.
“We can go now,” she said, her lip quivering. “By foot only, Robot. No more powers. I refuse to lose you.” She slammed his chest plate shut, and they ran.
10
The Call of the Tame
THEY FOUND THE agents’ horse-drawn wagon waiting on the street outside the dump and stole it to get away. What’s one more entry on Clark’s not-so-little list of crimes? Molly thought. Not even Captain Lee objected.
“Where to now?” the captain asked as he drove the purloined coach through the chilly night.
Seated in the covered rear section of the wagon with her mother, Emmett, and Robot, Molly rubbed her temples and tried to think.
“Well, I suppose it might be easier to lose the police if we split up,” Cassandra suggested with clear reluctance in her voice. “We can try to reconnect later—”
“No,” said Emmett. “This is exactly what my father and I talked about after you left for the river. The four of us need to look out for each other. At least until we know we’re all safe.”
Up on the driver’s bench, the captain nodded and glanced back at the others through the small window that was probably intended to allow agents to communicate with their prisoners. “My son is a very intelligent young man—not that I didn’t know that already,” he said. “But he made me understand the reality of the situation. And our responsibility in it. I was quick to put my son’s welfare first, but this cannot be ‘each family for themselves.’ The Lees and the Peppers are bound to one another. Even more so after our encounters with Agent Clark.”
“I couldn’t be happier to hear you say it, Cap,” Molly said, squeezing Emmett’s hand. �
��But that still doesn’t answer the question about where we should go.”
“The MOI!” Cassandra said. “They might be able to help us, even if we don’t know where they are. They have workshops throughout the city—none of which I assume they are currently using. I bet we could hide out in one of them, at least for a little while.”
“Just give me an address,” said Captain Lee.
The children guided Captain Lee to the facility where the MOI had first given them shelter last spring. But there were so many men in bowler hats standing outside, he didn’t even slow the wagon as they drove past.
They then tried the seaport wharf house where the MOI had built their super-fast ship; it too was crawling with agents.
Desperate, Molly directed them to the tiny shed in Washington Square Park that she thought might have been a secret MOI stash house. A guard was posted outside.
“It’s no use,” Emmett sighed. “Clark knows too much about us. The Feds are covering anyplace they even think we might go.”
The sun was coming up over the Brooklyn Bridge and more New Yorkers were stepping from their apartments to begin work, walk to school, or shovel the glops of horse dung that dotted the slushy streets. More people meant more chances to be spotted.
“We need to go someplace new,” Molly said. “Someplace we’ve never been before so they would never think to check for us there.”
“What about another garbage dump?” Robot suggested. “One with less fire.”
“That’s not a bad idea, Robot,” Molly said. “What kind of places does no one want to go to? Someplace stinky, maybe. Stables? Or a public outhouse? You think there’s a hollow tree in Central Park that’s big enough to—”
“No, Molly, no,” Cassandra said. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this anymore. Dashing from one hiding spot to the next, always looking over our shoulders. No one can live like that. Aren’t the rest of you tired of running?”
The Final Gambit Page 9