Fiendish Schemes Read online

  There was no need for Stonebrake to reply—I could discern that I had laid my finger upon the precise motivator of his increasing agitation. He let go of my arm and leaned convulsively forward from the edge of the cell’s bunk, his hands seized into trembling, whiteknuckled fists. As I observed this response on his part, I heard the clanging sounds from the corridor outside increase in volume. The noises seemed to be coming steadily closer, the banging of metal upon metal now accompanied by what might have been cascades of brick and stone, as heard at the collapse of earthquake- stricken buildings.

  “Yes!” Wild-eyed, Stonebrake whirled about, the monosyllabic cry issuing from his lips. “They might have! The bastards . . . the skulking thieves . . .”

  “They are only doing,” I mildly pointed out, “what we ourselves have been engaged upon.”

  The comment seemed to enrage him. He seized the front of my shirt, drawing me close to his maddened gaze. For a moment, I anticipated renewed violence from the man—then he visibly gained control of himself once more. He let go again and drew back from me.

  “Yes . . .” He gave a slow nod. “Of course. And we must turn that to our advantage.”

  “Why not just let them have it? My father’s invention, that is—if this Department of Whatever has indeed found it. If it’s as important to Mrs. Fletcher as you’ve indicated, then perhaps it would not be a brilliant idea to attempt to take it away from her—even if we could, of course. From the little bit I saw, she doesn’t seem like the sort of person who lightly takes being crossed.”

  “I have two points in rejoinder.” Stonebrake spoke in a rigid and controlled manner, as though keeping his fiery emotions under tight control. “The first is that I will see you and Mrs. Fletcher in Hell before I allow that to happen. I have not come this far to let the prize slip out of my grasp. The second point is that we do not yet know whether her Department has obtained the Vox Universalis. This is what we must find out.”

  “Somehow . . . I am gaining the impression that this is where I make my entrance upon the scene.”

  “You surmise correctly. I have gone to great pains—and much subterfuge—to establish within the Department of Technography and Statistics that you represent a grave danger to Mrs. Fletcher.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “And indeed to the entirety of the British nation.”

  “What?” I had thought myself beyond further surprise by the man. In the event, I was proven wrong—again. “You told them . . . that I am . . .”

  “A falsehood, but a modest one. And all in service of our plan.”

  “How relieved I am to know that it wasn’t done for frivolous purposes. I’m sure I will take that comfort to my grave—likely any day now.”

  “Not quite that soon.” Stonebrake shook his head. “First there is the necessity of your interrogation.”

  “That sounds less than cordial.”

  “A mere formality. I am confident that you will endure it . . . tolerably well. Some of their methods might be a bit harsh, but you have considerable value to them. This is, of course, despite their belief that you are in league with bloodthirsty anarchists, bent on overthrow of the established order—for which your father’s creations are their chief means of destruction.”

  “I confess that you have me at a loss here.” This was the occasion for my shaken head. “Why in God’s name would you tell them something such as that? And do not say, The plan.”

  “It’s exceedingly simple, Dower.” He spoke over the advancing noises from the corridor. “We need to establish what the Department of Technography and Statistics knows regarding the locations of your father’s Vox Universalis device. What better way than to foster in their minds the desire to establish what you know about it?”

  “A moment. You told these people I am specifically eager to locate the Vox Universalis? What would they believe I want with such a thing, if they are unfamiliar with all the rest of your scheming? The negotiating with whales about the movements of lighthouses and all of that?”

  “They hardly need to know your exact purpose. All that is required is that they believe it somehow essential to you and your associates’ fiendish schemes. And I have convinced them of that.”

  How that served his purposes, I could well envision. But I failed to see how it accomplished much, if anything, for myself.

  I indicated as much to Stonebrake: “What happens when it is ascertained that I do not, in fact, know anything about the location of the Vox Universalis device? If this Department of Technography and Statistics does not already possess it, I rather imagine they wish to do so as speedily as possible, to prevent it from falling into the hands of these imagined seditious associates of mine. If I cannot assist the Department in this regard, I also imagine that my value to them is greatly lessened.”

  “Yes . . .” He nodded, mulling over my words. “And so . . . ?”

  “So they would make speedy dispatch of me. And in a permanent manner.”

  “Ah. So that is what you are concerned about, rather than the success or failure of—”

  “Don’t say it. And yes, I am concerned about my own survival. It is my life to dispose of, and I shall do so when I choose. Or not. Before that moment, I would prefer that the decision not be taken from me.”

  “As you wish. And to be certain, as I’ve assured you before, you have considerable value to me as well.”

  “And what am I to take as proof of that?”

  “You will have all the proof you require, Dower—if anything should go amiss. For in a similar fashion to that in which I inveigled myself into the confidences of the Department of Technography and Statistics, so have others. I speak of our associates, naturally. So great are the fortunes we pursue, that there are more than you can imagine who are aligned with us, seeking to become as wealthy as we shall be. A significant number have penetrated the ranks of the Department, in which they pass completely free of suspicion. If that moment should come—and it might—when your person is in actual danger, these persons will spring into action, all for the purpose of rescuing you therefrom.”

  The last of his words were delivered in a veritable shout, so loud had the surrounding noises become. It seemed as though the building above us were in the process of complete demolishment. Indeed, clouds of white dust began to float through the cell in which I had been incarcerated, the stones beneath our feet shivering with unseen impacts.

  I was unable to order my thoughts in such clamour. Whether I had any option other than to assume my role within Stonebrake’s intertwining subterfuges, I could not determine.

  “Very well!” I shouted back at him. “I will, as criminal types put it, play along with what you have contrived. But if the Department’s interrogators should lay a hand upon me—”

  “Interrogators?” Actual bits of stone and crumbling brick began to rain down upon our heads. “I don’t believe you realize how personally important this matter is to the Prime Minister—”

  I soon did. The walls on either side of the cell’s doorway crumbled into pieces, the door itself falling with a thud at our feet. Through the dust clouds, I was able to perceive hastening workmen hoisting mallets above their heads, then hammering the spikes of iron railway tracks into the corridor’s stone floor. They worked at frantic speed, seemingly unaware of the arched ceiling above their heads splitting open.

  With an ear-piercing shriek, billows of steam rolled into the cell. The mechanical noises reached a deafening pitch. For a moment, my hindered vision could just perceive great spoked wheels turning and thrusting pistons more enormous than imperial cannons—

  The wall behind me sundered to dust, pitching the unchained bunk to the cell’s floor. The clouds of steam parted and I found myself gazing up into the unsmiling visage of Mrs. Fletcher.

  CHAPTER

  16

  Mr. Dower Receives the

  Brunt of a Scalding Wrath

  SO you . . . are the person who has caused such an uproar.” Given the great rumbling a
nd shattering of the building’s firmament that had accompanied Mrs. Fletcher’s arrival, I had expected a deeper, more profound pitch to her voice. In this, I was disappointed. On the sole occasion I had opportunity to overhear some utterances from her, when Stonebrake had been secretively ensconced in the gallery overlooking the Commons’ erstwhile deliberations, I had thought that the noises I had perceived as emanating from the monstrous iron construction were but a malfunction, perhaps one of the alarm whistles bolted to the cylindrical boiler’s flank shrieking out of turn. But now that I was face-to-face with the transmogrified Prime Minister, I more correctly perceived that the sound was her actual voice—not the impressive bass that would seemingly have been more suited to both her immense form and position of power, but instead a nagging, wheedling verbal semblance, more suited to a schoolmistress than a despot.

  “You must excuse me—” After having been upended by the general collapse of the cell around me, I had regained my feet with as much dignity as I could muster, given the circumstances. “But I was not aware that I had caused any such disturbance. And if I have, it was not my intent.”

  “Perhaps not.” The square-jawed face surmounting the partial torso shifted in its squinting appraisal of me. Again, I was reminded of the manner in which a nominally female figurehead might be mounted to the prow of a large ocean-going vessel—though in this case, certainly not a fetching, bare-breasted mermaid with streaming tresses, but rather the more formidable shape of one of those termagant-like creatures whose masculinizing tendencies have rendered them as stevedores working the East London docks. “Now that I see you directly,” continued Mrs. Fletcher, “rather than merely listening to secondhand reports of your doings, I suspect that I might have been somewhat misled as to the threat you represent to Her Majesty’s government.”

  Despite its dismissive tone, I was heartened by this appraisal. With any luck, the Prime Minister might determine that I was not worthy of any further attention, not even to the point of being eliminated from the face of the Earth, and I would be set free to go about my inconsequential ways.

  “Appearances can be deceiving. . . .”

  This voice came from close behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Stonebrake brushing the powdery dust from his lapels. Straightening his garments, he gave a respectful nod of the head to Mrs. Fletcher.

  “It might be worth the Prime Minister’s time to undertake a thorough questioning of this man.” Stonebrake’s intent was obviously to raise the issue of the location of my father’s Vox Universalis device, rather than to acquire my freedom. “Just to definitively ascertain that he possesses no useful information.”

  “Indeed.” From above, Mrs. Fletcher squinted down at me. Behind the human component of her form, a corps of attendants— different from the sweating navvies who had lain down the railway tracks by which she traveled from place to place—swarmed over the greater mechanical bulk. Their busy hands made minute but essential adjustments to the various valves and other appurtenances that extended from the larger machinery. “Such is my intent.”

  My heart sank again within me, as the prospect of my release faded once more. This close to the Iron Lady’s intimidating construction, more steam engine than woman, it became apparent to me that any appeal to what arguably might have remained of her more tender feminine nature was doomed to failure. Only sheer bravado on my part, evoked by the desperate situation in which I was encumbered, kept me from flinging myself bodily to the cracked cell floor in despair.

  “My sources tell me,” continued the ever-helpful Stonebrake, “that this person and his heinous associates are endeavouring to locate a certain device capable of simulating not just human voices, but communications made by other species as well.”

  “Yes . . .” Mrs. Fletcher’s steely head gave a slow nod as she studied me. “I am familiar with the nature of the device of which you speak. The question, of course, is that of your knowledge.” Her narrow gaze fastened even harder upon me. “Tell us of your expertise, Mr. Dower.”

  “I make no claim to any.” In this situation, I had decided that honesty might be the wisest course. If nothing else, it might be considered disarming, given how unusual it was in these various interlocking circles. “Other than that my father was the creator of the device being discussed. There are some who feel that such a filial status might give me a unique insight to its operations. Whether that is true or not remains to be seen, as I have yet to even see this allpurpose vocalizing apparatus.”

  From my position in the jumbled ruins of the cell, I kept close watch upon Mrs. Fletcher’s reaction to my words. Even though her face seemed more composed of grey iron than pinkish skin, as though the sturdier atoms of her mechanical bulk had somehow insinuated themselves into her flesh, a few flashes of the human were still discernible, like muted lightning in overhanging storm clouds. To the degree I was capable upon such short notice, I had crafted my statement as much in pursuit of Stonebrake’s goal as my own. If the Prime Minister and her associates at the Department of Technography and Statistics were indeed in possession of the Vox Universalis, there was a good chance that they were as stymied about its functions as were most people who came into contact with my father’s devices. And if that were the case, the response I was hoping to evoke from her would establish not only the machine’s location, but also some continued value to her, in regard to my remaining alive.

  A scalding gout of steam jetted from one of the valves closest behind her torso, as though her darkly musing cogitations had triggered some expression of force from the immense cylindrical boiler. “You haven’t seen it?” The expression on Mrs. Fletcher’s stiffened face turned even grimmer. “I had been led to believe—indeed, on the assurances that the informant standing behind you had given to my Department of Technography and Statistics—that you had not just a connection through your father to the apparatus under discussion, but also extensive experience in its operation. Hands on, as it were.”

  “So he does—” Stonebrake hastened to interject his putative correction. “Disregard this comment he has just made. The man is a desperate and violent criminal, fully in league with the worst rampageous groups. Thus, it was necessary for the constables to apply a rigorous amount of physical force in order to make his apprehension. Very likely, his memory has been temporarily deranged by these events.” With the sharp point of his elbow, he gave me an admonishing dig in the ribs. After a quick, scathing glance, he turned his gaze back toward the Prime Minister. “I’m sure it will all come back to him in short order, though.”

  “You seem to know a great deal about him. How is that?”

  “Entirely done in your service.” Stonebrake spread his hands wide. “I have kept this individual under the closest scrutiny. I can give you a complete account, if you were to be interested, of his various peregrinations about the city. As I have trailed behind him, he has led me through some of the most secretive locales possible, the very knowledge of which on his part indicates his association with those evildoers who skulk about at our world’s nocturnal fringes. How else would he have gained secretive entry to not just the intimate chambers of that certain emporium catering to those transformed similarly to yourself, not to mention spying upon you at the House of Commons?”

  “Yes, yes; that has all been reported to me. In great detail. His identity as a thorough felon is well established thereby.”

  I turned and looked at Stonebrake beside me, a new revelation dawning in my mind as to his recent actions. Previously, I been considerably doubtful as to why he was going to such great efforts to shuttle me about from place to place, all unbidden on my part. His protestations that this long travail had somehow been designed as a means of locating my father’s Vox Universalis device, by way of the supposed ethereal vibrations emitted by my brain, I now saw as a hollow sham. My exhausting journey had been merely for the purpose of convincing those agents of the Prime Minister, all of whom must have been keeping us under their own observance, that I was engaged upon som
e nefarious errands—presumably at the bidding of these malignant anarchists with which I was presumed to be in sympathy. And thus it had been conveyed to the Prime Minister. To what ultimate effect, though, I was still not sure.

  “I feel, however, that your confidence on this point is misplaced.” As she spoke again, more geyser-like spouts of steam burst from various apertures arrayed on Mrs. Fletcher’s mechanical bulk. “And more than any other failing that ordinary men are capable of, expressing deliberate falsehoods to me is the one that I find the most grievous.”

  Chastened—and deservedly so—by the Prime Minister’s admonishment, Stonebrake shrank backward, as though to shelter himself as best he could behind me.

  “Let me bluntly ask you this much.” Her gaze, like gun slits in a military fortification, fastened with greater force upon me. “The Department of Technography and Statistics have established that your father devised a certain apparatus, designated as the Vox Universalis. Do you know of it? Pray keep your reply as brief as possible.”

  “As I attempted to indicate to you—I have been told about it.”

  “More briefly than that—to match my waning patience. Do you know if this device still exists?”

  For my own sake, I knew I should have attempted prevarication on these points. If I wanted her to place even a slight value on my continued existence, it would have been better for her to believe that the Vox Universalis, if not yet in her possession, might still be acquired by her agents. And when that at last happened, the result of the Department of Technography and Statistics’ diligent scouring of every obscure hiding-place in which the device might reside, then I would presumably be able to assist in determining its exact functions and mode of operation. If I sought to ensure my own survival, such were the notions that I should have attempted to more firmly embed in her thoughts. But the withering scorn she had just directed at Stonebrake, for his failed attempts along these lines, spoke volumes about the possible fate I would endure for a similar effort, if my statements were to be discerned as untruthful.