Steam City Pirates (24 page)

When we finally landed on the steps of the Temple Emanu-El, I was happy to still be breathing and not smashed upon the ground like a bloody Irish house sparrow. I immediately grabbed onto Seth’s form, but he was immediately changing back into his own small boy’s body, so I pulled back and watched his physique morph into that of the young boy I knew so well.

“What will the citizens do who saw us flying over them?” I asked.

“No, Detective O’Malley. When you took my hand, you became as invisible as I was. For those moments in flight, you were, for all intents and purposes, a
mazikeen
. Wasn’t it an exciting experience?” The lad’s eyes were flashing with joyous abandon.

“You wait until I get you up into the air in a balloon,” I stammered, and then I realized how preposterous I sounded. Nothing could scare this boy if it entailed being airborne.

Doctor Adler had finally rejoined us, as he was inside the temple when we entered. He escorted us down into our sanctuary, and I told him all about our excursion into the lair of the Steam City Pirates.

“They have a huge underground facility,” I said as I stepped down the stairs. “Inventors from throughout history have been recruited or kidnapped, depending upon how you view the matter, to serve this Society.”

“In what way do they serve?” asked Doctor Adler.

“They create steam inventions. The Society uses these inventions to raise money to stop what its leader calls the future Nuclear Armageddon. Grand Inquisitor Abraham Toky Manette is the leader’s name, and he told me who he is and from whence he came,” I explained. I was curious to hear what the rabbi thought about this part of my experience.

“Inquisitor, indeed!” said Doctor Adler. “What did he tell you, Detective?”

“He claims to be an invention himself. He is not human at all, he told me, as he was devised by scientists who wanted to save the world from being blown apart.” I was relishing this immensely, as I now knew the doctor’s secret love of invention.

“Go on. I’m listening,” he said, walking behind me to the laboratory chairs.

“He told me these scientists sent him back in time to preserve the human race from self-destruction, as there had been an accident that occurred which launched these doomsday weapons. Just before the entire planet was annihilated, Manette the computer man was transmitted to New York City of the 1860s. He said he was here to maintain a Steam Age wherein no further technology will be allowed to develop,” I explained.

We all took seats next to the lab table. Seth was listening as well, as I had obviously not told him about Manette during our horrendous flight over here.

“Not allowed? I suppose this is why Doctor Biggs-Pemberton calls Manette a dictator,” Doctor Adler observed.

“Of course, but I also found out that our little biggie fellow may have lied to us. Bat Carry, one of the inventors who escorted us to the leader, told me there has never been a Society headquarters on Fifth Avenue, and he had never heard of Vicereine Dusteby nor Franklin Biggs-Pemberton. Naturally, I shall confront our little friend about this. The Society may have decided to erase any history of their headquarters and its caretaker spies. It’s very possible. Then again, if Biggs-Pemberton lied, then what he created for us to see was all a fabrication in order to get into our good graces.” I leaned forward in order to better listen to what the doctor had to say in response.

“Remember that I told you to stay with your God-given abilities at logic and intuition. You are reaching a possible crux in this mystery, and I want you to be careful. I suppose Seth has told you of my agreement to build Michael the Steam Angel. Did Manette accept the one you built for him?” Doctor Adler asked.

“Yes!” Seth shouted. “I made him look exactly like Manette. How could he resist?”

“Very good, my boy! I knew you could do it. What kind of combat is this leader planning to have?” the rabbi asked.

“He wants a worldwide competition. He’s inviting royalty and leaders from all over to devise their own steam men and meet him on the battlefield in the spring. He has also commissioned an entire Steam City Amusement Park to be created under the direction of inventor and Archduchess Beulah Brownfield-Coldicott. Manette’s combat will take place as a climax to the springtime opening of the park. He is adding a five thousand dollar reward to any steam man who can defeat the one invented by Seth.” I could tell by the doctor’s smile that he was all in favor of such adventures.

“I would love to add that money to our program for New York orphanages,” said Doctor Adler.

“All in good time, Doctor. First, I must travel to the future to see what happened to a torpedo invented by a certain Captain Ralph W. Christie. This is the weapon that will be used by the
Mocha Dick
, the submarine we toured while underground. The Society has built this steam-powered torpedo based on the American Christie’s designs. It is steam-powered, and it was developed after the Japanese invaded Pearl Harbor, a naval base in the Hawaiian Islands. I wish to go to that base in the year 1941. I want to be there on December 25th, Christmas Day,” I said, standing up. “I must leave now, so if you gentlemen could give me an assist?” I walked over to the dreaded time machine, opened the crystal enclosure, and stepped inside.

“I don’t know why you must go, but I am certain you have your investigative reasons,” said Doctor Adler. “Seth, please do the honors. Detective O’Malley needs to visit the future.”

Once again, I could feel my heart rate quicken, my perspiration thicken, and my stomach sicken, as Seth turned the power switch on from the outside. The light show began, and I was soon swirling in the usual way, mixing my energy waves with the bombardment of the polarized neutrons, and then we were ready. I set the date and time on the panel, pushed the final control, heard the sound of buzzing light waves spinning, and I was gone.

My machine landed in an empty field just above the Submarine Navy Base. Nobody was in the immediate area, but I could see the pier downhill from me. I could also hear Christmas music coming from loud speakers—although the tune was not known to me. Something about a red reindeer, I believe. I climbed out of the machine capsule and checked my person for any injuries. I was still wearing my British inventor’s suit and disguise, although nobody would recognize Pat O’Malley here. I also knew where I would be heading. As a former military man, albeit of the Civil War variety, I knew that no officer would tell me what I wanted to know about the Mark 14 torpedo and its first use in battle. However, if I could find out where the enlisted men journeyed to partake of their alcoholic spirits, I was fairly confident I could overhear what I needed to find out.

Down at the pier, I stopped a sailor who was walking along the boardwalk next to the rows of huge submarines that were tied to the rows of piers. They looked like huge, black fish sitting on top of the water. “Excuse me, sailor?”

“Yes sir?” he responded.

“Where do the enlisted men let off steam?” I asked, pantomiming the drinking of a beer stein.

“Oh, the EM Club! It’s down the road about half a mile. It’s called Pig Boat Alley. You can’t miss it. You can smell the booze a hundred yards away! Merry Christmas,” he laughed, and walked off toward a submarine docked at the pier.

I sat inside the tavern at the bar. The bartender gave me a curious look, probably because of my clothes, more likely because of my British accent, but he still served me my root beer in a tall, sweating beer mug. It wasn’t as large as the ones I was used to, but it would suffice as I listened to the conversations inside the barroom.

I couldn’t make out anything worthwhile, until I heard a young voice crying out from the left side of the bar, in the second booth from the end. “Skipper fired eight fish at two fucking Jap ships. Didn’t hit a fucking one of ‘em,” the voice said.

“Aw, Jacobs couldn’t navigate his way out of a fucking phone booth,” said another sailor.

Jacobs. Commander Tyrell D. Jacobs of the
Sargo
. He was just the man about whom I wanted to hear. I listened very carefully to their conversation.

“Naw, then he spotted two more merchant ships and took extra care to get it right this time. We pursued the targets for almost an hour, fer Chrissakes. I’m the TDC operator, so I should know! The bearings matched each ship perfectly, and we were only a thousand yards away, I’m tellin’ ya. He fired two Mark fucked-up 14 torpedoes at ‘em, and they both missed completely. Skipper finally broke radio silence he was so pissed-off. It’s the damned torpedo’s fault!”

One of the sailors looked over at me. “Whatcha lookin’ at, bub?” he asked.

“Combs, you dipshit. You can’t be talkin’ about patrol maneuvers in the bar,” said an older looking sailor.

I decided to get up and walk over to their table. I did not want anybody suspecting me. As I stood beside the table, I thought fast.

“Gentlemen! I am from the British Admiralty. Doctor O’Malley’s the name, and I just wanted to extend my thanks to all you yanks serving over here. We thought we would have to fight this war alone until the Japs hit you chaps. Can I buy you all a drink? I am here to offer designs for a British torpedo. I couldn’t help overhearing the problems you seem to be having.” I kept my Irish accent, but I hoped my message was accepted.

“Doctor? Sure, why not? We need another torpedo on our boat,” said the short sailor who had complained. He looked around at his fellows and frowned. “Drinks are free, idiots. Doc here wants us to celebrate Christmas.”

I paid the bartender, and he delivered the drinks to the sailors’ table. I had the information I needed to know, so I left the bar and headed back up the hill to my time machine. Thankfully, it was still standing alone in the middle of the empty field. I climbed back inside the capsule and set the controls. I would now put a few more pieces together in my puzzle, just to be certain I was headed in the right direction.

The dark night on Pearl Harbor must have experienced a flash of light as I sent my time machine back home to 1868. I knew my mind was lighting up for perhaps the first time in this case, but I needed to be certain to plan my next steps very carefully.

April 20, 1869, New York City

During the months following my excursion to visit Pearl Harbor in the year 1941, following the Japanese sneak attack, the Society had extended its tentacles of influence deeper into New York. I knew we were getting closer to the 1870 take-over, and I also knew if we did not act quickly we would all become prisoners to these Steam City Pirates. I worked with Professor Thaddeus Lowe during these months to create a balloon modeled after a design he had been working on inside his farm laboratory at Valley Forge. This new airship of his could maneuver much more quickly than the ones he had used during the Civil War, and it also incorporated steam power because we assumed the pirates would have a craft just as fast and which also utilized the power of steam.

Bessie had released Hester Jane Haskins as soon as she found out Seth and I had arrived safely back in New York. She had two of her orderlies take the still-unconscious Jane the Grabber out to Central Park and place her near the Bethesda Angel Fountain. We knew Haskins would be able to find her way back to where she needed to be. All she would remember would be little Doctor Franklin’s dart injection entering her inside the Palace Hotel room. She had been kept well sedated for the weeks we were under Central Park.

When I finally took little Seth up in the balloon during our test, he was at first excited to be up in the air with us, but he soon became rather bored, except for wanting to play with the Gatling gun that was affixed to the inside of the airship’s gondola. In fact, at one point in our cruise over New York Harbor, the location where we would be facing off with the pirates’ craft, the little
mazikeen
started jumping from the balloon and flying about on his own. Even though Professor Lowe knew about Seth’s supernatural abilities, he was still quite shocked when he observed the lad actually accomplishing such an unbelievable feat.

“Good lord, man! I don’t know what you’ve gotten me into. They don’t teach you about these things at the academy,” said Professor Lowe, observing Seth as he came diving down at us from a cloud like a screaming eagle.

“Oh yes. I believe we have yet to see the most of these kinds of supernatural occurrences. The pirates have one of their own
mazikeen
, and if Seth leaves us to go flying about, she will take his place, and believe me, she is not going to stop if she dives at us,” I told him.

“You did say that the two of them repelled each other, and so they cannot be physically close together in the same area. I suppose that this new supernatural world we seem to have gotten ourselves into has its own rules,” observed the inventor. His frock coat was blowing in the wind as we glided past the Sandy Hook Lighthouse at the entrance to New York Harbor and headed back toward the city. The balloon was fifty-eight feet in circumference, and it used helium instead of hydrogen because Lowe believed hydrogen to be dangerous because of its flammability. We went up by dropping bags of sand overboard, and we drifted down by releasing helium from the balloon’s innards through a special lever at the pilot’s controls.

We kept the balloon in a warehouse on 42
^nd
Street near where I used to live in my apartment. When the first attack came, we would release our balloon and attempt to stop the pirates in the harbor. However, I now had another plan on the skillet based upon what I had learned in the future at Pearl Harbor. If what I believed would happen really did occur, then we might not need our balloon at all. In addition, ever since I discovered that Doctor Franklin Biggs-Pemberton may have lied to me about having worked for the pirates, he had been placed on my prime suspect list once again. The potential dangers from this one man were incalculable at this point, and I needed more evidence to verify my suspicions about him.

Meanwhile, the city was gearing up for the announced opening of the Colossal Steam City Carnival. Boss Tweed and the Tammany Hall group were all behind it, and I was certain they had concocted a deal with Manette’s representative, the Archduchess Beulah Brownfield-Coldicott. She was sending out posters to be plastered on every wall in Five Points, the Bowery, and all throughout the wealthier neighborhoods. Her personal flamboyance and sense of humor made her an attraction at civic organization meetings, church and temple groups and women’s auxiliaries. Everybody, it seemed, was looking forward to the grand festivities beginning on April 21.