Clockwork Chaos (16 page)

“Physics,” Grimstone corrected.

The cabby kept talking as if Grimstone hadn’t answered. “And here you’re notorious and rich. And what do I do? I have to drive a livery cab to survive. I hate horses. And with the Thames city subway, I never get long runs, just short rides—there’s no money in the short rides. Hell, I can’t even afford one of the autos here and they’re not even real cars. The damn things run on steam same as the trains. And those giant gears in everything are ridiculous. They don’t even try to miniaturize anything.”

“It’s part of the world’s Steampunk motif. That’s how things work here. And you are hardly an innocent. Weren’t you wanted for bilking some sweet old ladies out of their savings?”

“Rumors. Never proven.”

In the shadows of a nearby alley, something stirred. A man dressed in black pulled a pistol out of his inside breast pocket and pointed it at Grimstone. Before the muzzle could line up with the bald man’s head, Grimstone had already slipped a knife out of his sleeve and flipped his wrist, catching the would-be assassin in the throat with the throwing blade. The assassin was caught by surprise. His last sounds were a gurgle of blood as he fell back into the wall and slid down to the pavement, his gun falling harmlessly to the walkway.

“Holy shite!” Stevie yelled. “What the hell did you go and do that for?”

Grimstone didn’t answer. Instead he linked his hands behind his head, leaned back, and put his feet up on the front seat of the cab, which was built to hold four passengers, two in the front and two in the back.

“Get the hell out of my cab! You just killed that guy. I’m not going down for murder.”

“Not murder. Self-defense. You’d think the Duke would get tired of sending men to kill me and have them die senselessly in the process.”

“How’d you even know he was there?”

Again Grimstone stayed silent but adjusted the goggles he wore. Back home he needed glasses to see, but basic eyewear technology here was not up to par, at least for the masses. However, he managed to come across a pair of goggles in another playworld that not only corrected his vision, but had motion detectors, night vision, telescopic and microscopic abilities, along with a host of other visual enhancements.

“You can sit here and argue with me, but eventually someone will notice the corpse and call the cops. Do you really want to be here when they start asking questions? We both know you do more than drive this cab to make ends meet. You’re a courier for things quite illegal.”

“Hey, a guys got to make a living,” Stevie said, shrugging.

“Exactly. Which is what I’m trying to do. So if you would so kindly take me to Tenth and Dorchester, we can both get on with what we do.”

The driver grumbled and mumbled under his breath, but snapped the reins so his horse started pulling. They rode most of the way in silence until they passed a small boy on a corner hocking papers.

“The Spellpunk stops opium smuggling ring! Read all about it!” the boy shouted.

“Stop,” Grimstone ordered. The cabby grumbled, but pulled back on the reigns. The cab and buggy came to a halt.

“Boy, I’ll take one.”

The boy ran over to him and held up the paper in one hand, his other palm outstretched for a coin. As he looked up at Grimstone, his pupils went wide and he glanced first at the cover of the paper and then back at Grimstone.

“You’re him. You’re the Spellpunk.”

“Actually he is me, but not really worth arguing the point.” The boy, more than a little awed, broke with his normal practice of making sure he had payment first and handed the paper over.

Grimstone reached out his hand to drop a coin in the boy’s palm. The boy, a tiny bit of fear on his face, “No charge, sir. For you it’s free.”

Grimstone put his hand to his pocket and put the coin away and took out another.

“Nonsense, my boy. You have to make a living, just like the rest of us. And this job helps keep you out of the orphanages and the factories, I assume.”

“Actually it’s me and my mums, sir. We rent a room over on Locke Street.” Grimstone put a coin in the boy’s hand. When he saw it a huge smile came across his face. “Sir, that’s a gold pony—twenty five sovereigns. I wouldn’t make that much selling papers in a year.”

“Put it in your pocket and keep it hidden. Consider it a tip and see if you can’t get some better housing for you and your mother.”

“Yes sir, thank you, sir.” The boy took off his hat and started bowing. “If you ever need anything sir, me names Falkner. I’m at your service.”

“Thank you, Falkner. I will keep that in mind.” Grimstone snapped his fingers once. Stevie grimaced but started up the horse.

“I’ve driven you around close to a hundred times and you’ve never given me anything near that as a tip.”

“When I think you’ve earned it, I’ll give it to you. Now be quiet. I want to read about my latest adventure.”

“But you were there. Don’t you know what happened?”

“Sure I do, but the papers tend to make up the details they don’t know. I always find it interesting to see how it compares to the real thing.”

As the cab neared its destination the driver pulled up short. “We’re here.”

“I said Tenth and Dorchester. That’s a block away.”

“The coppers are all over down there. You get off here, Grimstone.”

“Really?” Grimstone said. “Squire, I think you should check under the driver’s seat. There a hidden compartment with...”

“Shush! Fine, but not a word to them, okay?”

Grimstone didn’t reply and the cab moved slowly down the street until a kid of about sixteen dressed in a police squire uniform held up his hand to stop them. “Sorry, but this area is closed off for a police investigation. You’ll have to turn back and go around.”

“Oh, well then. Nothing to do about it, we’ll get out of your way,” Stevie said, all too happy to listen.

“Actually son, I’m expected. I’m Jackson Grimstone.”

“The Spellpunk. No one would lie about being you, but I was not informed that you would be arriving. I will let you through, but you should know that Sir Reginald is in charge of the investigation. Should you not be expected, things will not go well for you.”

“Duly noted, Squire. Now step aside and let us pass.”

The crime scene was in an alley near the cross streets. The cab took him as far as the police vehicles.

“Good riddance, Grimstone,” Stevie said.

“Such a harsh way to speak to such an old friend.” Stevie snorted and made ready to leave. “Don’t be going anywhere just yet. I will need a ride when I leave here.”

“Find yourself another cab. I’m off duty.”

“You will wait for me.”

“And exactly how do you plan on making me do that?”

The men’s eyes met. Stevie tried to look dark and menacing. Grimstone simply smiled, but it was not a happy grin and in reality the slight upturn of his lips was far more menacing than Stevie could manage to be with his entire body. The cabby broke eye contact first.

“Fine. I’ll wait.”

Grimstone opened the door and stepped from the cab carrying his cane with him. It wasn’t something he needed to walk. It was partially for show, carved from rare black ivory that was tougher than steel and sported a small dragon head atop it for a handle. It was a weapon disguised as a walking stick. Instead of using it in the normal fashion, Grimstone held the bottom and put the upper end on his shoulder as he strolled jauntily toward the dead and bloody body of a young woman. His arrival did not go unnoticed.

“Grimstone, you get away from the body,” Sir Reginald said. The knight cop was a big man both in height and girth, not so much fat as large. His strength was legendary, often being called in to singlehandedly break up fights among a dozen or more men. His dislike of anyone who wasn’t a fellow knight cop was as almost as well known. At the top of his particular list of those he disliked, Jackson Grimstone probably held the top spot. “What the blazes are you doing here?”

“Sir Reginald! A pleasure as always. How are the wife and children? Haven’t eaten the wee little ones yet, have you?”

“Grimstone, that is enough of yer mouth. Leave before I bodily throw you back into the gutter where you belong.”

“Well, that is certainly something you and those big arms of yours might actually manage if I decided to let you. However, then you would have to explain why you did that after I was asked to come here and lend you my assistance.”

“Who would ask you to come here?”

“Why, her majesty, of course,” Grimstone said.

“You’re bluffing,” Reginald said, as a small metallic sphere hovered around him. The gawker had a large lens making it look like a metallic eye was floating to one side of the knight cop, turning back and forth between the two men as they exchanged barbs. “As you can see I have the matter well in hand.” The knight cop had a sense of pride that the gawker had been following him. The flying spheres had a tendency to be around when interesting things happened. Of course, Grimstone was the only one who both knew and was troubled by the curse may you live in interesting times.

“Showboating for the bug eyes and their little cameras? Reggie, it’s so beneath you.”

The big knight cop began to look nervous. “I’m not ... what are you talking about ...”

“Oh come now. We both know your alien masters watch life through the gawkers.”

“Grimstone, be silent!”

“Yes, yes. I know the Steam Table Knights are aware of the existence of the bug eyes and know this world is merely a stage for them to watch. One of many in fact. They have forgotten how to live so they choose to live vicariously through others. That’s the truth, even if you are under orders not to let the populous know. But there are rumors. They see the gawkers and the robotic tourists. They suspect the truth. They may be able to set hoops on fire and force us to jump through them, but you don’t have to look so happy about it. Personally, I try to put a sausage on a stick when I have to jump in order to at least get a hot snack out of it. However, if you don’t believe me about Her Majesty, why don’t you send one of your squires to a call box? Or contact one of your zeppelin watch stations and find out if I’m speaking the truth. If I’m not, you’re welcome to try to send me back into the gutter, but even if you do I shall be looking toward the stars.”

The knight looked at him confused.

“A bastardization of a quote from Oscar Wilde.”

“Who?”

“A writer you shall sadly never have the pleasure of reading.”

The knight cop was not happy, but he called up one of his squires and sent him to a call box. The lad returned soon after, informing Sir Reginald that her majesty, Queen Theodora, had indeed requested Grimstone’s assistance.

Grumbling, the knight cop motioned for the Spellpunk to follow him.

“This is the fourth girl we’ve found this month. They have all been prostitutes, each of them cut up in similar fashion with a blade.”

“Damn bug eyes. So obsessed with The Ripper that they can’t get enough so they have to make more. They choose to prey upon the weak-minded.”

“Are you saying the
aloff
are behind this?” Sir Reginald whispered.

“They are behind everything, pulling puppet strings, putting schemes into place that might not play out for years just to entertain their sick, twisted masses. Or haven’t you noticed that every few years there is a new knife-welding killer that has to be stopped?”

“I admit I do find it disturbing.”

“The bug eyes take a child, make sure he is abused, and then arrange for a patron to adopt him so he may rise up in society. More often than not, the boy becomes a doctor. Although I admit this is the first one in some time that has focused back on the ladies of the evening. Do you have any witnesses?”

“None yet, but the squires are still canvassing. Not one clue left behind as to who or what did this.”

“So, Sir Reginald, what are your plans to catch this murdering bastard?”

“We will put undercover knights in the areas where the prostitutes frequent. We were thinking of taking most of the women off the streets and closely watching the few that we allow on in order to set a trap,” the knight cop said.

“Sir Reginald, on a personal level I may find you to be a bore, but you are a quite a decent cop. I will help you set the trap, but it would hardly be chivalrous to put a young lady at risk. Perhaps we should provide other bait.”

“Not a bad suggestion,” Sir Reginald said.

“I’m glad you agree. Which one of us do you think should dress as a woman? Personally I would love it to be you, but you may have to shave that lovely handle bar moustache and we may have to convert a tent into a dress.”

The knight cop scowled at Grimstone. “I was thinking more along the lines of using one of the squires. Many of them have not even grown their first beard and could more easily pass as a woman.”

“It makes sense, but hardly as much fun as getting you in a dress. Where shall we dangle our bait?”

“All of the murders have been within a mile of this spot, although none have repeated locations. That leaves only two areas for the working girls to be.”

Then we best get our plans in action. Shall I ride to the zeppelin watch station with you?” Grimstone asked.

The knight cop grumbled, almost growling. “Fine. Shall I send out one of the squires to dismiss your cab?”

“Nah.” Grimstone grinned. “Let him wait.”

As night fell across the city of Thames a different element took to the streets, especially in the poorer neighborhoods. Some were criminal, most were not, at least in the strictest sense in that they were not actively engaged in criminal enterprises. These denizens of the night were concerned with the pursuit of pleasures, whether they be of the flesh, mind, or soul or sometimes a mixture of any or all of the three.

True to his word, Sir Reginald had set up traps in the most likely areas to catch the latest Ripper. Both he and Grimstone decided to wait at the most likely spot. Hours past without so much as a customer browsing, let alone partaking of the secret and carnal pleasures being laid out for sale on the shadowy street corner.

“This isn’t working,” Grimstone said, tapping his shaved head with the dragon’s head. The gawker floated down as he spoke. “And I told you to back off out of sight or I’ll melt you down for scrap.” He pointed the tip of his black cane at the gawker and it floated behind some ivy on the nearby building.