Chapter
27
“LEAVE THE AUTOMATON
IN THE BATHTUB,” MARLOWE Jones ordered over the phone. “Don’t touch
it. Don’t let anyone else touch it. Sounds like you deactivated it
successfully but the tub will provide some additional protection in
case it’s still capable of generating energy. You’re sure it’s
facedown?”
“I’m sure,” Slade
said. He was standing in the bathroom, the phone clamped to his
ear, looking down at the Sylvester doll in the tub. “But I think
it’s safe to handle as long as the key is out.”
“Pay attention,
Attridge. You are not to take any more chances with that
device.”
“Well, it sure as
hell can’t remain here in my tub for long. I need to shower
occasionally.”
“My assistant is on
the phone to the lab people at the museum now. The
removal-and-transport specialists should be there sometime tomorrow
afternoon. The experts have ways of dealing with paranormal
artifacts. They’ve got a specially equipped van.”
“Good to know,”
Slade said. “But we’ve got a big storm coming in tonight. We’re
bracing for wind and rain damage. If there’s a lot of it the ferry
dock may be out of commission for a couple of days. Your lab people
may have to wait until the following day to get here.”
“I’ll let them know.
You say the automaton was made to resemble Sylvester?”
“The Old Bastard,
himself.” Slade walked out of the bathroom into the hall. “Sorry.
Sometimes I forget that he’s one of your ancestors.”
“Believe me when I
tell you that no one in the Jones family ever forgets that,”
Marlowe said. There was great depth of feeling in her
tone.
“Give me some
background on this clockwork weapon.”
“The original
clockwork curiosities were created by a brilliant clockmaker named
Millicent Bridewell back in the late Nineteenth Century, Old World
date. Mrs. Bridewell sold the devices to special customers who were
in the market for a discreet assassination machine that would not
leave any hard evidence at the scene. I gather from my ancestor,
Caleb Jones’s notes, that the toys caused a lot of trouble for
J&J at the time.”
“What happened to
them?”
“Most disappeared
after J&J worked a case that came to be known in the records as
the Quicksilver affair. But a few showed up a couple hundred years
later in the twenty-first century. That was back when Fallon Jones
was running J&J.”
“Which
Jones?”
“Never mind, take my
word for it, he was one of the legendary directors of J&J. He
got all sorts of interesting cases. Rogue psychics, Nightshade,
Mrs. Bridewell’s curiosities.”
Marlowe sounded
wistful, Slade thought. He smiled. “Well, it’s not like you and
your fiancé haven’t been busy lately. According to the press the
two of you saved the whole Underworld.”
“Yes, that was quite
exciting,” Marlowe said, brightening. “You say the device in your
bathtub is still in working order?”
Slade thought about
the cold energy that had almost iced his heart. “No doubt about
it.”
“Does the mechanism
look like Old World technology?”
“No, the escapement
and the other parts are all new,” he said. “So is the costume.
Everything about it was obviously constructed here on
Harmony.”
“Except for the
eyes. I’ll bet they’re original. They are the source of the killing
energy and no one has ever figured out how to re-create Mrs.
Bridewell’s brilliant work.”
“Not that you know
of.”
“True. But there is
absolutely no record of her work having been duplicated. Bridewell
found a way to infuse powerful energy in glass and hold it in
stasis until it is released by mechanical means. Her weapons-grade
automatons could be used again and again, like guns. Quite
unique.”
“The question now
is, how the hell did this thing end up on my island?”
There was the
faintest of pauses on the other end of the connection.
“Your island?”
Marlowe repeated neutrally. “Adam told me that as far as you were
concerned, the job on Rainshadow was strictly temporary. He said
you were planning to quit in a few months.”
“Right,” Slade said.
“But I’m here now and I’ve got a job to do. So for the time being,
this is my town and my island. Any idea how that curiosity got
here?”
“No,” Marlowe said.
“But believe me, J&J will be looking into the
matter.”
“Start with a dealer
who worked the paranormal artifacts black market. The name is
Jeremy Gaines.”
“Okay. Tell me about
Gaines.”
“The first thing you
should know is that he’s dead,” Slade said. “Murdered by paranormal
means. He was in the para-arms business and it looks like he may
have been killed by the two smugglers I just arrested but I’m not
sure about that. I’ll see what I can get out of them but they’re
obviously low-level muscle, not players.”
“What else do you
know about them?”
“Officer Willis
called just before I phoned you. He did a quick background check
and confirmed that they are a couple of small-time
career-criminals. They’re brothers, incidentally. Not the hottest
amber in the drawer but they apparently had just enough
hunter-talent to make them well-qualified for a life of crime.
There are warrants out for their arrest from Frequency City. Most
of it B and E. My next call will be to the Frequency cops. They can
have both of them. I don’t want them on my island.”
“You said they’re
hunter-talents.” Marlowe spoke deliberately. “Probably going to be
hard to hold in a jail cell.”
“Very low-rent
hunters,” Slade said, putting equally strong emphasis on his own
words. “I don’t think it will be necessary for J&J to make any
special arrangements for those two.”
“You’re sure the
system can handle them?”
Slade thought about
the zones of energy that he had extinguished in the auras of the
two men. Psychic canyons of night, he thought. The two men who had
dared to put their hands on Charlotte would never recover their
talent. He had made sure of it. But he wasn’t about to explain that
to the new director of the Frequency City office of
J&J.
“If they get out of
jail,” he said, “it won’t be because of their talent. Can’t
guarantee what a jury will do. That’s always a
crapshoot.”
“Okay,” Marlowe
said. “I’ll take your word for it. Any idea why that pair of
smugglers murdered Jeremy Gaines?”
“I haven’t
questioned them yet but I’ve got one scenario that fits. We know
there’s a market for para-weapons.”
“Nobody ever went
broke selling guns, paranormal or otherwise,” Marlowe agreed. “It’s
like the drug business. There are always plenty of
buyers.”
“If I’m right about
Jeremy Gaines being involved in the psi-arms trade, he probably
needed a couple of tough guys to handle shipping and receiving.
That’s a rough market.”
“True.”
“The pair I picked
up knows how to operate a boat and they know enough about
Rainshadow to figure out where on the island they could conceal
illicit artifacts between shipments. It’s obvious they’ve been
using the island as a staging point for their products for some
time.”
“You’re thinking
this is a falling-out-among-thieves situation? The two smugglers
quarreled with Gaines and decided they didn’t need him
anymore?”
“Maybe.” But it
didn’t feel quite right, he thought. “I’ll have more for you after
they wake up and I’ve had a chance to question them.”
“Wake up?” Marlowe’s
voice sharpened. “They’re both asleep? You said they just got
locked up. How many criminals take a nap shortly after being
arrested? They should be busy calling their bail bondsmen and their
lawyers.”
“Turns out we don’t
have a lot of bail bondsmen and lawyers on the island. There was a
bit of a scuffle when I took the bad guys down. I’m going to have
to let you go. I’ve got a lot to do here between trying to close
out my case and prepare for the storm.”
“What does this have
to do with a storm?” Marlowe demanded.
“Big one coming in
tonight. Tomorrow there will be a lot of downed trees blocking
roads and causing power outages. Probably a fair amount of wind
damage.”
“So?”
“The local police
department is the closest thing Rainshadow has to an emergency
response agency. I’ve got one officer and a secretary. Come dawn,
we’re all going to be busy doing damage assessment and checking on
some of the folks who live in the more remote sections of the
island. Lots of our residents tend to be a bit eccentric and
reclusive. Some of them don’t even have phones. I’ll call you when
I have more information.”
“I see.” Marlowe
cleared her throat. “How are you doing there on Rainshadow? Is the
new job working out for you?”
“Working out fine,”
Slade said.
“Good. That’s good.
Glad to hear it.” She paused delicately. “Are you feeling all
right?”
“If you’re asking me
about my para-senses, which I assume is your real question, they
haven’t deteriorated any further.”
“I’m so glad. Adam
told me about what the explosion did to your senses. I’m so very
sorry.”
She meant well,
Slade thought, but the sympathy in her voice was
annoying.
“My talent has
stabilized, at least for now,” he said. He kept his own voice cool
and even, making it clear he was not inviting any more conversation
on the topic. Good-bye, Marlowe. Give my best to Adam. I’ll see you
both at the wedding.”
“Wait, don’t hang
up—”
Slade closed the
phone.
ADAM WINTERS TURNED
AWAY FROM THE WINDOW and watched Marlowe put down the phone. He
could tell from the tightness at the edges of her eyes that she was
annoyed. He loved looking at her, he thought, regardless of her
mood. She never ceased to fascinate him. Her energy worked
magic.
Evidently sensing
that she was irritated, Gibson, Marlowe’s dust bunny companion,
vaulted up onto the desk and offered her a High-Rez Energy Bar from
his precious stash. Gibson was a member of the High-Rez Energy Bar
of the Month Club. He received a box of the treats every four
weeks, courtesy of the Frequency City Ghost Hunters Guild. Gibson
had helped save the Underworld but figuring out how to thank a dust
bunny for service above and beyond the call of duty was no easy
task. He seemed thrilled with his monthly energy bar shipments,
though.
“Thanks, Gibson,”
Marlowe said. Her expression lightened with affection. She accepted
the energy bar and switched her attention back to Adam as she
started to unwrap the snack. “Slade said to give you his best. Said
he’d see us at the wedding.”
Adam raised his
brows. “He said he would be coming to our wedding?”
“Uh-huh.” Marlowe
took a bite of the energy bar. “Seemed in pretty good spirits for a
guy who is supposed to be going psi-blind.”
“Is that
so?”
“Said he was busy
there on Rainshadow. Thinks he’s got the clockwork curiosities case
almost closed at his end. Of course, I’ve still got a lot of work
to do. I need to find out if there are any more of those Bridewell
toys floating around. One of the real problems is that none of the
Arcane museums have accurate records of what artifacts were brought
through the Curtain legally, let alone what collectors might have
smuggled.”
“You said Slade
sounded good?”
“Yes.”
“Did he mention the
status of his talent?”
Marlowe munched
reflectively for a time. “Said his talent had
stabilized.”
“I’m glad to hear
it.”
“He said a couple of
other things, too. He referred to Rainshadow as his
island.”
Adam nodded. “He’s
taking his job seriously. That’s Slade. He’s a lawman to the
bone.”
Marlowe gave the
foil wrapper from the energy bar to Gibson, who chortled and raced
off to add it to his collection of wrappers.
“Slade said
something else, too,” Marlowe volunteered.
“What?”
“He told me that the
two hunter-talents he has in jail won’t be a problem for regular
law enforcement after they wake up.”
“They’re
asleep?”
“From what I can
gather they fell asleep during what Slade referred to as a scuffle
that occurred when he took them down.”
“That would have
been when they were holding Charlotte Enright hostage with the
intent to kill her.”
“Yes.”
Adam smiled slowly.
“And now he’s not the least bit concerned that they may be able to
use their talent to escape jail.”
“Nope.” Marlowe ate
the last of the energy bar. “Are you thinking what I’m
thinking?”
“That Slade’s talent
has not only stabilized but that it may be of a slightly different
nature than it was before he was caught in that explosion? Yes,
that is exactly what I’m thinking.”
“Think it’s going to
be a problem?”
“No,” Adam said. “I
know him. He got the protect-and-defend gene. It’s encoded in his
DNA.”
“The ability to
psi-blind another talent is heavy-duty stuff.”
“No more heavy duty
than our ability to work the Burning Lamp.”
“Okay,” Marlowe
allowed. “I’ll give you that.”
“For obvious reasons
we will not be making our speculations known to others,” Adam
said.
“Absolutely not.
People would freak. I wonder if those two hunter-talents will ever
figure out why they both went blind.”
“If they’ve got any
sense they’ll realize they got off lightly.”
Marlowe frowned.
“Think so?”
“I know what I’d do
to anyone who threatened to murder you,” Adam said
simply.
“Oh.” She smiled.
“Right. They’re lucky to be alive, aren’t they?”
“Yes,” Adam said.
“But, then, there’s probably a reason for that, as
well.”
“What reason would
that be?”
“Slade wants
information from them.”
“Ah, yes.” Marlowe
nodded. “Of course.”
“Like I said, he’s a
natural-born crime fighter.”
The office door
opened. Rick Pratt, Marlowe’s administrative assistant, put his
head around the corner.
“Don’t forget your
appointment with the wedding planner, boss,” Rick said. “You and
Mr. Winters are due in her office in twenty minutes. Big decision
today regarding the flowers.”
Adam groaned. “You
know, this would be so much simpler if we just
eloped.”
Rick gave him a
stern look. “You can’t elope. You’re a Guild boss and this is a
full Covenant Marriage ceremony. Your wedding to Marlowe is going
to be the social event of the season
here in Frequency.”
“I’ve heard that,”
Adam said.
Marlowe laughed.
“Come on, how hard can it be to choose a few flowers?”
Adam looked at her
and fell in love all over again, just as he had the first time she
rode into his life on the back of a motorcycle. Marlowe’s love for
him glowed in her eyes. He knew it would be like this all the days
of their lives.
“I will do whatever
it takes to marry you,” he vowed. “Bring on the
flowers.”