Steam City Pirates (12 page)

Finally, after a whirlwind chase across town, swerving past other slower vehicles, and almost upending a large cow, we came up to a tall building on 72
^nd
Street, and we parked behind the steam car.

Kennedy was already inside the building, and the driver of the vehicle was sitting up in his seat wearing a big yellow raincoat. I noticed he also had rubber goggles up on his forehead. He was reading the
Daily Sun
, staring at an illustration of a shapely young woman sitting at the beach wearing a one-piece swimsuit and smiling. I waved at him in greeting, as I passed, on my way inside the building.

The front of the edifice above a brick ledge said, “City Steam Works, Incorporated.” I walked up the six steps to the brass handled door and opened it. The noise inside the building was like walking into a train depot with all the engines readying their boilers for trips out West. I noticed a sign on the wall in the foyer. “Take one before entering,” it said, and there was an arrow pointing down into a basket filled with rubber earmuff covers to quell the noise. I picked up a pair and placed them over the top of my masked head and over my ears. The cacophony of steam-gushing whooshes and rattles subsided, although I could still make out a faint hissing sound, as if my rubber mask had sprung a leak.

I had no idea how I was going to get any information other than seeing Kennedy pantomiming with some business man, but when I opened the door to the main office that said “Supervisor Hiram P. Jockey” on the frosted white glass, there was complete silence when I closed the door behind me. I took off my earmuffs and stood there watching a midget in a blue suit. He was playing with a model of New York City that was on a large table in the center of the office. All throughout this model were copper pipes that looked like thousands of worms wriggling over the landscape of buildings, warehouses, churches, temples, homes, schools and other buildings in the city. All of these little models were transparent, and one could see the piping clearly as it entered the structure and wound its way through it.

Whoever had constructed this layout and design certainly had high hopes for steam heating in New York City. I cleared my throat loudly, and the little man turned around and beamed up at me in his frock coat and top hat. “Greetings! My name is Hi. I am the supervisor of the City Steam Works. Are you here on business?”

“Yes, I am. I represent a consortium of business people who want to know what your organization can do for them. What does this display represent? I noticed all the noise and commotion outside, so I can assume you must provide earmuffs to your customers as well.” I smiled as I said this.

My mind immediately went back to the night before inside our temple when Bill Maguire reported seeing the group of little men with guns in Central Park. They had chased him after he followed the man who looked like the “mechanical man.” There was also the midget butler at Kennedy’s mansion. And now, here was another such person, in a position of authority this time. I wondered if there were some kind of connection between them.

“Ha! The reason for the noise is that this is where we test all our steam engines before they are installed inside the buildings of our customers. When they are installed, there will be very little noise coming from our devices. Our goal is to heat the entire city of New York to prevent the freezing winters from taking the lives of our citizens. We like to believe we are doing our patriotic duty, Mister. I am so sorry. What is your name?” The little man’s eyes narrowed on my face. I was hoping my mask was still properly hidden.

“Ellis Roberts. Are your engines safe? Do you provide a warranty to ensure their durability?” I tapped my cane on the leg of the table that held the display as if to test its durability.

“Of course, Mister Roberts! We guarantee our steam heating system for ten years, and we also provide a service contract to owners who wish to install our system. Are your members interested in having steam heat? It is much less costly and thus more profitable to run steam pipes throughout an establishment,” he said.

“I know. I was given a thorough explanation of the advantages by my friend, Superintendent of Police, John Kennedy,” I explained.

The little man immediately perked up. “Mister Kennedy! He is on our corporate board of directors. You must know how important this project is to the health and wellbeing of New York City and its residents.”

“Indeed, I am quite aware. I just wanted to see where these engines were created. Do you think I could make an appointment to get a tour of your facility in the near future?” I asked.

“Of course!” said Mister Jockey. He took mincing steps over to his little desk and picked up a ledger lying on the top and scanned it with his eyes. “Would next Monday be acceptable? Say, around ten o’clock?”

“That sounds good,” I said. “I shall return then.” I walked to the door and turned around to face the little supervisor. “Thank you, Mister Jockey. You have been quite informative. I look forward to our tour. Will you be doing the honors?”

“Yes, I am in charge of all such public relations. I will see you next Monday at ten. Good day to you, Mister Roberts.”

“Good day,” I said, and I opened the door to the boom of steam engines. I quickly placed my earmuffs upon my head and exited the building.

When I was outside, I noticed that Kennedy’s steam-powered carriage was still parked in front. The driver was still reading his newspaper. I decided to talk to him.

“Good morning! That is quite a vehicle you have there. Is it for hire, or do you own it outright?” I placed my hand on the large engine in the middle of the carriage.

The driver looked up from his paper to stare at me. “I work for the Society. I am also an engineer. The Society plans to have more of these for sale very soon. No more excrement on the roads to clean-up. Faster transportation for businesses. We hope to change the entire infrastructure of this city in the future,” he said, a certain smugness in the tone of his voice.

“Society? What society would that be?” I asked, pretending to be ignorant.

“The World Scientific Advancement Society for Progress. They have offices in all the major cities throughout the civilized world. I am proud to be part of their organization,” he said.

“Where is your society located in this city? I don’t believe I have seen any mention of them in my business circles,” I said.

The driver took a card out of his coat pocket. “Here. Take this card. If you have business connections, then you may want to inquire as to what they can do for you,” he said, and he handed me the card.

I looked down at it. The card read:
Inquisitor Willis Chatwyn-Lamb Who Represents the World Scientific Advancement Society for Progress
.
625 Fifth Avenue, New York City.

“Thank you, Mister Lamb. I notice the title ‘Inquisitor.’ What exactly does that represent?” I wanted to see what this society was explaining to its members about the organization’s philosophy.

“Invention is the objective of all rational inquiry. The Society represents the supreme result of inquiry into one science that can perfect human life on this planet. We have a saying, ‘if science does not advance progress, it is not science.’ You should go visit them. They will open your eyes to a lot of developments in the world you may not have been aware were happening under our very eyes,” the driver said.

“One science? Do you mean steam power?” I asked.

“Yes! Steam power is the answer to the world’s backwardness and lethargy. Steam energy and inventions are clean, potent and inexpensive. Do yourself a favor, Mister. Go visit their office and find out what they can do for you and your business,” the driver said.

“Thank you, I shall. I always like to be on the cutting edge of progress,” I said and tucked the card inside my frock coat pocket. “Good day to you, Mister Lamb.”

“Good day to you, sir!” he said, and he returned to his newspaper.

This was a most interesting development. In fact, I decided I need not follow Kennedy around anymore that day. The World Scientific Advancement Society for Progress had offices down the street from Kennedy’s mansion. In fact, Bessie Mergenthaler also lived on Fifth Avenue. It was obvious that this society was not doing business with the public in some run-down warehouse in the Bowery. This office was in the center of some of the most expensive real estate in Manhattan, and I was going to find out what kind of presentation they had for the investment public.

My hackney driver was still parked behind the steam vehicle, and he took me back to the temple by way of Fifth Avenue. I wanted to get a cursory look at the offices at 625 east. This piece of my pirate riddle seemed most propitious. If we could insinuate ourselves into the good graces of this organization, then we could possibly penetrate its inner sanctum and discover the reason for its sanctimoniousness. We were able to do so in the kidnapping case of Doctor Arthur Mergenthaler, and that also involved a mystery with worldwide implications.

The building at 625 Fifth Avenue was not a business building; it was a mansion. It was three stories tall, in the Italianate style, the roof was flat, and the shape of the house was rectangular and balanced, with wide, overhanging eaves supported by metal brackets and cornices. The porch in front was topped with a balustrade balcony, and there was a large bay window in the front. The double doors were molded and looked very heavy, with Roman or segmented arches above the windows and the doors. I also noticed that there was a constant flow of steam coming from within the house and out of a pipe on the roof. The Society obviously wanted to reflect the technology they were pandering about town.

Back inside the temple basement, all the members of our group had returned from their foray into Central Park. What they had discovered was certainly worth the day’s investigation, and as we put our different clues together, we began to focus upon a more coherent image of this organization.

Becky began by relating her story of what happened when they were having their picnic beside the Bethesda Fountain. This fountain commemorates the Croton water system, which first brought fresh water to New York City in 1842. The statue above the fountain is called the Angel of the Waters. According to the Gospel of John, this angel blessed the Pool of Bethesda and gave it healing powers.

“We were eating the sandwiches I made, and I was pointing to the angel and telling everyone that the lily she holds in her left hand is a symbol of the water’s purity. This was very important because the years before bringing fresh water to New York were filled with devastating cholera epidemics. It was also the only statue commissioned for the park, and it was created by a woman, Emma Stebbins, which marked the first time a female had received a public art commission in the city,” Becky explained.

“A landmark in Suffragist progress!” said Bessie Mergenthaler.

“Tell ‘em what ya saw, lass. No need fer a history lesson,” said McKenzie.

“At first, I thought the fountain water was spraying mist around the circular base of the statue. As I observed more closely, I thought I could see some kind of smoke coming out of the angel’s dress. I walked over to the statue and stood directly next to the water spraying over the base. I would bet my last corset that the angel was sending out steam from her dress!” Becky held the bottom of her kimono to show from where the steam had emanated.

“She was right, O’Malley,” said Doctor Adler. “I have been inside a few of the houses of my congregants with the new steam heating systems installed, and I’ve seen the same pressure escaping from the vents.”

“That’s very astute of you, Becky. I just want to relate that I have seen this same phenomena. The first place I saw it was when I visited Superintendent Kennedy’s mansion. His front door seemed to be spraying out steam, and it closed with an observable whooshing sound. The next place I saw it was when a steam-powered carriage arrived this morning at Kennedy’s home to take him to the City Steam Works Company. What I saw and heard inside that business made be believe our pirates are establishing some kind of an infrastructure around town in the science of steam-power technology,” I explained.

“Technology? Why would they focus upon one type of technology when they can obviously travel in time to obtain any type of future technology they might want?” Doctor Adler queried.

“We need to find out why that would be so,” I explained. “What is it about steam that would be so attractive to a group that wants power?”

“They can make a great deal of money from the different steam-powered inventions. Just the steam heating installations alone would be enough to make it worth their while,” said Bessie.

“But we must remember about what I saw in 1870 and what Seth saw in his visions. They were obviously going for higher stakes by using weapons to wield their power over shipping in our harbor,” I pointed out.

“And this special power must have made the government stand back as well. What could it be?” Becky asked.

“In the Bible, Yahweh gave Moses powers over the Egyptians,” said Seth. “He sent down the ten plagues against the Egyptian people, and He allowed the Israelites to cross the Red Sea. Then he drowned the Pharaoh’s army when they tried to follow them.”

“Good point, Seth,” said Doctor Adler. “However, you can’t be inferring that this group has any influence with our Creator.”

“No. I believe we are like the Israelites. The power these pirates have is like that of the Pharaoh in Egypt. He ruled by magic and not by love. Moses loved his people so much, he wanted to save them from slavery. You said it, Doctor Adler. Knowledge without love becomes a tool for selfishness,” said Seth. The boy’s memory was remarkable.

“That is certainly good to know,” I said. “What do you all make of the midgets that keep appearing in our investigation? First, there was Kennedy’s butler. Then, there were the gun-wielding midgets that chased after Maguire. Finally, there was the supervisor at the City Steam Works. Do you believe they might be connected?”

“In Leviticus, we are instructed by God not to permit dwarves or midgets into the sacred inner temple,” said Doctor Adler. “This does not mean all dwarves or midgets are evil. This is an ancient text that probably wanted to keep the inner sanctum free from any blemish of the flesh. Once the sacred Ark of the Covenant was brought outside, all members of the congregation were then free to participate in the reading of the scriptures. The original Ark contained the Ten Commandments, and, according to some, Aaron’s rod and some manna from the wandering in the desert.”